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escapewithbts · 3 years

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“Do you know BTS?” - Yoongi

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“I have an iced cappuccino with an extra shot of espresso and 2 Splenda!” You called out, placing the drink on the counter.

It was a busy morning at the local coffee shop you worked at downtown, all the business men and women looking to get their usual morning caffeine fix. You were short staffed, of course, so you were doing way more than you were supposed to; making drinks, taking orders, bringing food to the people who sat at the tables. You were running around frantically trying to keep up, and apparently not succeeding.

“Umm excuse me?” An annoyed looking woman in a black pantsuit approached the pick up counter, drumming her long manicured nails on it’s marble surface, “this was supposed to be a hot cappuccino, NOT iced.”

You furrowed your brows and looked at the label stuck to the cup which clearly read “iced”. In fact, you were the one who took her order, and specifically remember the word iced coming out of her mouth.

But you knew better than to argue, so instead you grabbed the cup and said,

“I’m sorry, m’am, let me remake it hot for you.”

She rolled her eyes and scoffed.

“How long will it take?? I really don’t have time to wait around again.”

You shook your head and tried your best to smile, not very well succeeding.

“Just a couple minutes, I’m making it now.”

She let out a loud sigh and crossed her arms. You could feel her staring daggers into your back as you started the espresso machine.

“Hey, (y/n),” your coworker came up behind you with a tray of iced coffees in her hand, “these are for table 4, they’ve been waiting for a while, do you think you could run them over? I have got to get this man’s quiche in the oven.”

You nodded, not taking your eyes off the drink you were remaking in front of you.

“Yeah, sure, but can you please finish this woman’s cap first? She’ll probably prefer you making it over me anyway.”

She nodded as she handed you the tray of drinks and took over your spot at the coffee machines. Then you walked out from behind the counter and onto the floor, navigating through the people waiting to order and the people waiting for their drinks.

Suddenly, without warning, someone bumped into you from behind. Hard. You let out a yelp and stumbled forward, the coffees slipping off the tray and splashing all over a man who had been standing in front of you. He jumped a little, startled from the sudden wet and cold sensation on his back. His black t shirt was soaked, clinging to the skin underneath. His arms raised from his sides as he turned around slowly. A few people were staring, but most were too preoccupied with themselves to notice what happened.

Upon the man turning around, you noticed he had wireless headphones in, a black baseball cap on his head, and a face mask over his nose and mouth. You could barely see his eyes as he raised his head up to look at you and removed one of the earbuds from his ear.

“Oh my gosh, I am so sorry sir let me-“ you started.

“What the fuck?” He interrupted, glaring at you from under the rim of his cap, “Are you serious?”

He fiddled with his shirt, pulling it around forward to see the damage behind and muttered something to himself in what sounded like another language. Korean maybe?

Your face turned beet red and you frantically tried to figure out what to do.

“I-I’m so sorry, can I get you some napkins, um or-or a cloth, um maybe a towel I-“

“No. Just stop.” He interrupted again.

You shut your mouth, feeling horrible at your inability to rectifying the situation.

“Fuck. You should look where you’re going,” he snapped, his voice thick with a foreign accent.

He didn’t have to be so rude.

“I said I was sorry, okay?? It was an accident.”

The man rolled his dark brown eyes and mumbled a quick “whatever” before turning and storming out of the shop.

You sighed and bent down to pick up the now empty glasses off the floor before retreating to the back to get towels to wipe up the mess.

This was so not your day.

Finally, after 10 more long hours, 6pm came. Thank god it was closing time. You were exhausted and couldn’t wait to close up shop and go home. You didn’t mind volunteering to work a double shift as you appreciated the pay, but that didn’t mean it still didn’t take a lot out of you.

The setting sun shone through the large glass windows at the front of the shop creating a beautiful orange glow. You loved this time of day. You had to finish closing alone but you really didn’t mind. It felt calming and quiet and warm, making the cleaning process almost therapeutic.

As you were setting the chairs up on top of the tables to start sweeping, you heard the bell on the front door jingle, signaling it had been opened. You had turned the chalkboard sign outside to read ‘CLOSED’ right at 6, so you were confused as to who it could be.

“Sorry, we are actually closed now,” you said, looking up.

Right away you recognized the same guy you had spilled the iced coffees on earlier during rush hour. He wore the same black hat, same pants and shoes, but this time he bore no face mask and had changed into a white t shirt. Your cheeks immediately turned warm. What did he want? You mentally cursed yourself for not locking the door.

“I know,” he said quietly, walking towards you, “I wanted to be back earlier...”

You swallowed as he got closer, your heart pounding in your ears.

You tried to sound confident but was only able to squeak out,

“What do you want?”

He stopped a few feet from you and removed his hat to reveal soft looking jet black hair, his bangs falling over his forehead and almost covering his eyes. He ran a hand through it and you couldn’t help but notice his soft facial features and pale white skin. Silver hoop earrings hung from both his ears, a collection of thin bracelets wrapped around his thin wrists. He bit his lip hesitantly and looked at the ground before speaking.

“I came back... here to say I am sorry.” He spoke slowly, like he didn’t know English very well. Or rather he did, but was not confident in his abilities.

You let out a sigh of relief.

“Oh.”

He scratched the back of his head.

“I, um, was not nice. I am a little stressed this morning, but I should not have been rude to you,” he still didn’t look at you, his shyness evident, “I know it was accident, so I am sorry for how angry I was.”

He took a deep breath, almost like he was relieved to get that off his chest.

“It’s okay,” you responded with a small smile, beginning to take notice of how handsome he was, especially in this light, but also how adorable his apology was, “I, too, was having a stressful morning. I shouldn’t have snapped back at you.”

He nodded, gazing off to the side.

“No, it is okay. It was all me.”

He smiled slightly and finally looked at you. You felt butterflies in your stomach at the eye contact. You were suddenly flustered.

“Do you, um, want something now maybe? Since you didn’t get anything this morning? It’s on me.”

You walked back behind the counter, tying your apron in the process.

“Oh no, no you don’t have to do that,” he protested, “I am fine.”

“Please,” you insisted, “it’s the least I can do. What do you like?”

He thought for a moment.

“Umm, can you make a iced americano?”

You nodded confidently.

“Of course. One iced americano coming right up.”

You felt him watching you as you mixed the espresso shots with cold water before pouring in ice to fill the cup to the brim. You set it on the counter in front of him.

“Here you go.”

He nodded and took the drink in his hand.

“Thank you,” he paused, “Um, also... My name is Yoongi.”

You smiled.

“I’m (y/n). It’s nice to meet you, Yoongi.”

“You too.”

He took a small sip of the coffee and his eyes got wide.

“Wow. This is the best iced americano I have had ever. Number one iced americano.”

You blushed and looked down.

“Well thank you... but shouldn’t I be the one complimenting you? After all, I’m the one who spilled coffee all over you this morning.”

He let out a chuckle, his mouth wider this time revealing perfect teeth and a gummy smile. He really was adorable.

“Maybe.”

There was a pause as you two just stood there awkwardly.

“Do you...” Yoongi finally spoke, fiddling with the straw in his drink, “Do you know BTS?”

You cocked your head and thought for a moment, wondering why the sudden random question.

“Yes, I think I have heard of them. They are a K-pop boyband, right?”

He nodded gently.

“Yes.”

“I thought so. I don’t know much about them, and I haven’t heard any of their music, but I know so many people adore them. Why do you ask?”

He hesitated, shuffling a little and rubbing the back of his head with his free hand.

“That’s me,” he stated, “I am BTS. My group name is Suga.”

Your eyes got wide. Whoa. A famous artist had come to your coffee shop! You suddenly wished you knew more about them.

“Oh wow! That’s really cool! I’m sorry I don’t know you or your music... But, um, congratulations on all your successes here in the US and around the world. I know you guys are quite well known for breaking that barrier.”

Yoongi chuckled and looked down timidly. Now aware of how well-known and successful he was, his obvious bashfulness really surprised you.

“Thank you. It is an honor, really.”

You smiled at him admiring his humbleness.

“I am here in New York for two more weeks,” he continued, “Ummm maybe... I could come back here and we could drink coffee together?”

He looked up at you again, a rosy colored blush forming across his cheeks.

Your heart sped up. Was he asking you on a date? You suddenly felt giddy and flustered.

“Oh, um, yes. Sure, yes. I would really like that.”

“But maybe next time,” he said with a grin, “I drink the coffee, not wear it. Okay?”

Your face turned red of embarrassment again and you covered it with your hand.

“Well I can’t make any promises,” you laughed, “but I will try my best.”

Masterlist

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telekinesiswrites · 4 years

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Ashley Brown Relationship Headcanons

I can imagine Ashley meeting someone in the library. She’s sitting in her usual place in the corner, surrounded by textbooks, and when she briefly looks up to glare at some noisy students, she sees you. You’re sitting there with your nose in a book, looking pensive, and that’s when Ashley’s mind starts whirring. Every day after that, she looks for you, and seeks comfort when you’re there. You’re a constant. What she doesn’t know is that you’ve been noticing her staring and that if she looks over at you one more time, you’re going to march over and introduce yourself to her. Thankfully, she does.

Ashley loves being the little spoon when it comes to snuggling. She feels so safe when she’s surrounded by you and after the events of Blackwood, she craves that security.

She’s always been skittish due to her overactive imagination spurring into slight paranoia, but after Blackwood, Ashley’s jumpiness only worsens. She flinches at slamming classroom doors or car horns blaring when she’s walking around campus. If someone is walking behind her, and has been for some time, she’ll walk a little faster and try her best to ignore the hair raising on the back of her neck. However, when she’s with you, her worries begin to disappear slowly. She would squeeze her hand tightly and mold herself into your side. Ashley looks to you for protection and you provide it every time.

She adores nose kisses and how can you resist when she has a nose as cute as a button?

Don’t expect a full night’s rest when Ashley spends the night. She’ll shake you awake, whispering frantically about hearing a noise int he living room, or that she swore she heard the front door creak open. That’s when you sleepily trudge out to wherever she heard the sound, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, with Ashley clenching at the back of your shirt, peeking over your shoulder. Ashley will apologize for every single false alarm and sometimes even start crying because she knows her paranoia isn’t normal. She’ll always, always, be surprised by your patience.

Ashley relishes in the moments she has alone with you. Her favorite pastime is having your head in her lap, dozing off, while she reads aloud to you and softly strokes your hair.

Ashley doesn’t have to be in a relationship for very long before she starts daydreaming about a future with her lover. Like, will you live in a trendy loft apartment in New York City? Will you have kids? Will you walk her down the red carpet at the premiere of a movie that’s based off her best-selling novel? Of course, she’ll never admit to her fantasies right away; they’re her secrets until the timing is right.

You’ll always find it adorable at how she snorts when she laughs. Pulling her beanie down over her eyes is a surefire way to pull this laugh from her.

When she’s not sleeping over, Ashley will sometimes show up at your front door at two in the morning, seeking comfort after a night terror. A simple phone call won’t do; she needs you to pull her into a loving embrace and console her.

One of the more serious moments you have with her is when you find a box in her apartment that contains pictures of people you’ve never met before. She snatches the box away from you, chastising you for being so nosy, but when you ask her about it, Ashley sighs. That’s when she tells you everything: Beth and Hannah’s deaths and the prank that lead to their demise; the twisted pranks Josh pulled and how she still has nightmare about them; the Wendigos; and everything else. She tears up when she tells you that she tried to stay friends with everyone, but being with them reminded her too much of everything that happened at Blackwood. She confesses at how easy it was to slip into reticence, only leaving her apartment for classes and study sessions at the library. She’s still friends with everyone on Facebook and she wonders if she’ll ever be friends with them again. She sobs when she brings up Chris, who she admits to having feelings for at one time, but she felt guilty about putting him through life-or-death decisions. You hold her all night as she reminisces because that’s the only thing you can do for her other than listen.

One of your favorite memories with Ashley is the time you put on some upbeat music, notched it up to maximum volume (though you did receive a noise complaint later), and started dancing with her. At first she was hesitant, insisting that you turn it down before you get in trouble, but pretty soon she’s jamming out right along with you. She’s laughing, face turning red from dancing so hard, spinning in circles as she moves with the music. You stop and watch her because for the first time, you’re seeing the real Ashley. She’s not flinching at loud sounds, or checking over her shoulder constantly, or crying her eyes out when she feels like she’s inconvenienced you. She’s…happy. When Ashley noticed that you’re not dancing anymore, she asks you what’s wrong, and that’s when you sweep her into a passionate kiss.

Ashley’s a cheater when it comes to games. She would be the kind of person to knock the controller out of your hands during Mario Kart, switches chess pieces when you’re not looking, etc. You’re aware of what she’s doing, but you let her get away with it because the victory dance she does when she wins is fucking adorable.

Loves Pinterest. She has a whole board dedicated to you, filled with date ideas, relationship quotes, those cheesy relationship goal posts, etc.

She prefers dates in secluded spots. A park with a playground with no people or a nearly empty theater are ideal for her.

You both adopt a cat which Ashley refers to her as ‘her child’.

Ashley is an extremely good writer, but she doubts herself a lot, which causes her to give up and start over whenever she thinks a project isn’t perfect. She has to have constant feedback and she’ll come to you a lot for help. Since honesty is one of her strongest traits, Ashley appreciates it when you give her balanced critique, telling her both the good and bad things about her writing. You love every story she gives you though because they are truly beautiful and poetic and well thought out. You just wish she would stop criticizing her own work so much.

Some nights are spend outside, stargazing. You two have long talks about life and the meaning of it, among other philosophical things. Ashley is extremely intelligent and she longs for the moments where she can get into the mind of another.

When it comes to Facebook, Ashley’s the kind of person who doesn’t post much. She’s extremely private, but when she changes her status to ‘in a relationship’, you’re so happy.

Following this, you start getting messages from that Chris guy Ashley mentioned before. He worries about her and wonder if she’s doing okay because she always ignores his messages. You and Chris start talking and eventually start planning on a way to get Ashley to meet up with everyone again. When you two finally schedule a meet-up, you start getting more and more nervous about Ashley’s reaction. Will she be happy? Angry that you went behind her back and invaded her privacy? Will she break up with you because of it? The day of the meet-up happens and your nerves are shot, but you mask it pretty well. When you and Ashley walk into the coffeehouse, you and Ashley are waiting in line when Jessica comes up behind Ashley and hugs her. When Ashley turns around, she’s met with the whole gang, and she’s utterly speechless. Then the tears start. In the end, she’s not angry. She’s so fucking happy to be with her friends again. And when she finds out that you and Chris planned the whole thing, she hugs you both the hardest.

Months pass and you start to see Ashley get better. She isn’t isolating herself anymore, instead seeking out the company of her friends, and she even started seeing a therapist to help her cope with the events of Blackwood. Eventually, your one year anniversary arrives. To celebrate, you gift her with a new locket. It’s not as romantic as it is symbolic. She had worn her old locket during the events of Blackwood so it was tied to some pretty dark memories, but her new locket represents all the time she spent with you, all the progress she had made in getting better, and to the future you and her were working towards.

Ashley’s eyes begin to water as she opens it, seeing a miniature picture of you and her inside. “Can you…can you help me put it on?”

She never fails to wear it every single day.

#until dawn headcanons #Until Dawn #Ashley Brown #ud ashley #ashley until dawn #ashley brown x reader

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lalainajanes · 4 years

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I teased this one ages ago! Sorry, rl got in the way! Do me a favor and cross your fingers that my bosses agree to start letting ups work from home a couple days a week next year bc that will make my life waaaayyy easier.

You’re Better Than Normal (Part Two)

Part One

Caroline shifts from sleep to wakefulness violently, with a jerk and a gasp. She can’t trust the fuzzy place between the two.

She’s yet to manage a decent stretch of rest. She dreams of walls that shift closer and closer no matter how hard she tries to force them back. Of Bonnie fading and weakening when no rescue comes. Of Bonnie hanging in there until Caroline gets so thirsty.

Those are the worst.

She fights her way out of the nightmares and her body reacts accordingly. Each time she wakes she’s rigid, ready to use every ounce of her strength to get free.

Klaus is always there to remind her that she is.

This time her palms slam into his chest when she tries to spring to her feet. She snaps into lucidity when his body gives in a way the ground wouldn’t. He inhales sharply but makes no other noise of shock or pain, just grabs her wrists firmly. “Caroline, wake up.”

Caroline’s eyes pop open, only to close quickly when the light stings. She relaxes as the memories – of the last few hours, of yesterday - flood her. She inhales deeply in relief before she slumps back down. There’s a lamp on the bedside table, the shade off so it’s as bright as possible. “Ouch,” she grumbles, tucking her forehead against Klaus’ chest.

He laughs and his hands glide up her arms, his thumbs rubbing circles against her stiff shoulders. “You seemed not to appreciate the lack of light the last, oh, half-dozen times you woke.”

She’d been so sure she was back in the cave when she’d found herself in an unfamiliar place, surrounded by unbroken darkness. Her throat had tightened, her breathing growing ragged and painful. Klaus had asked what was wrong and parsed the issue from her frantic gestures and garbled words.

He’d left the bed long enough to solve the problem, had brushed off her weak protests that he wouldn’t be able to sleep. He’d said he’s gone weeks without sleeping while on the run, without slowing or resting, so he wouldn’t even notice a few nights spent awake in the comfort of a bed.

When it had been silence that made her uneasy, he’d talked. About what Caroline’s not quite sure because the words had mattered less than his voice.

She’d grown used to noise while she slept in various hostels and hotels in Europe. People shifting across the room or through too thin walls, city noise streaming in through open windows. Birds chirping and trees rustling the few times they’d ventured somewhere more rustic.

The cave had been quiet.

“Sorry,” Caroline says, not for the first time. “For, well, you know.”

Keeping him up, invading his bed, being so freaking needy. It’s an ever-lengthening list.

She bites back a moan when he digs into a particularly tight knot near her spine. “Stop apologizing,” Klaus chides.

Again.

The first ‘I’m sorry’ she’d muttered had been mortified. They’d moved to a bed but she hadn’t allowed Klaus even a fraction of an inch of personal space. Each time she barrels into alertness she’s half on top of him. Her hands are always on his skin, gripping too tightly.

He’s yet to complain.

She sighs, turns her head to rest her ear against his heart. “It must be almost morning.”

“Nearly.” He doesn’t seem particularly eager to start his day.

“Bonnie’s still asleep?”

“Yes. We’ll know when she stirs,” Klaus promises. Elijah’s with her, he’d explained. That there were plenty of other vampires he could have posted but Elijah had offered, reasoning it was best that someone familiar attend to Bon.

“How long has it been now?”

“About fourteen hours.”

So an hour longer than when she’d last asked. She’s kind of impressed that Klaus doesn’t sound more annoyed. “I’m…”

This time Klaus doesn’t allow the apology. “Worried about your oldest friend, I know. If she’s not up in another few hours I’ll send someone to fetch a doctor.”

“Have house calls made a comeback in the twenty…” Caroline pauses abruptly, lets the joke die. She doesn’t even know what century it is.

“Second,” Klaus tells her softly, his palm flattening on her back like he’s braced for her to rear away.

Caroline doesn’t move much, lets the news sink in. Honestly, she’s kind of relieved. She’s had no real way to guess – Klaus and his siblings will look the same if a hundred or a thousand years had passed. “Are we talking early twenty-second century?”

Hey, she’s always been an optimist.

“Mid,” Klaus says, a touch regretfully. “Just on the cusp of late, mathematically speaking.”

That startles a choked noise of amusement from Caroline. She taps his chest lightly, “Nerd.”

Klaus doesn’t react much to the teasing but then he’s definitely been called worse. “Do you want a specific date? Or would you prefer to ease into it a bit?”

Caroline takes a deep breath, then another. She’d told herself she’d face her problems head on in the morning. It’s time to stop procrastinating. “No, let’s get it over with. How long did I spend molding in a cave, Klaus?”

She shivers involuntarily, remembering just how long it had taken for the water in the shower to run clean.

His hand starts to move, gliding up and down the length of her back. It’s an attempt at comfort that she wouldn’t have thought Klaus capable of, once upon a time. “One hundred and forty-seven years.”

She’s always been a fan of numbers. In goals that could be measured. Timelines. When Klaus gives her the number – the length of time she’s been gone – her brain whirls, trying to quantify it.

One hundred and forty-seven years equals two human lifetimes, almost. It’s roughly ten percent of Klaus’ very long life. Almost eight times as many years as she’d lived. Caroline can’t decide whether she should laugh or cry or scream.

“And a few months, I believe,” Klaus adds softly.

A few months doesn’t really matter in the grand scheme of things but Caroline does appreciate precision. It had been the very beginning of spring when they’d returned to Mystic Falls. After a winter in Greece neither she nor Bonnie had been happy to find their hometown chilly and damp. “What’s the date?”

“September 30th. Twenty-one-sixty-four.”

“Huh. Just in time for my…” Caroline thinks for a minute, “…172nd birthday.” She’s technically older than Stefan had been when they’d met. Damon too, she’s pretty sure.

“I know,” Klaus murmurs. “I’ll have to scrounge you up a gift.”

Caroline lifts her head, glad he’s given her an opening to quit obsessing over a length of time she truly can’t even fathom. She glares at him playfully, “You’ll scrounge? You, a birthday enthusiast, will scrounge for a gift for the first birthday I’ve been aware of in a century and a half?”

He smiles at her and shifts so he’s propped against the bed’s padded headboard, easily moving Caroline with him. She stretches out her legs, wonders if she should move. Discards the idea when Klaus’ fingers sink into her hair. He matches her feigned outrage with a taunt, “I know you love surprises so I wouldn’t want to spoil anything. I may have a suitable item or two laying around.”

Hmm. Would it be rude to snoop? Probably. Is she going to do it anyway? Of course. Hopefully cake is still a thing in the twenty-second century.

“I hate surprises.”

She feels his amusement this time, rumbling through his chest under her head. “I’m well aware, love.” Klaus rubs at the base of her skull and Caroline finds her eyes drooping, unable to form a clever comeback. She knows she won’t sleep properly but a few more minutes of rest might be a good idea.

She wants to be sharp when Klaus’ guests arrive.

* * * * *

Caroline paces, waiting for Bonnie to wake. It's been at nearly eighteen hours and Caroline’s worry is mounting. Bonnie seems okay – she’s not too hot or too cold, doesn’t look like she’s in any pain or distress. She looks like she’s just sleeping well.

Kol’s insisting that’s exactly what’s happening, that it’s normal for witches to need to rest after big spells to recharge. He’s made the proclamation at breakfast, while double fisting blood and bourbon, in the most man-splain-y way possible, and Caroline’s temper had flared.

"Bonnie is not a freaking battery!" She’d snapped, her hands hitting the table hard enough to send cutlery rattling. Kol had leaned forward, his lips twisted condescendingly. Whatever he’d been about to say had been cut off by the warning look Klaus had leveled his way. It had promised retribution and so Kol had refrained from snapping back.

Or snapping Caroline’s neck.

She'd left the breakfast table (and it's weird, unidentifiable, array of food-like things) in a huff. After a few wrong turns she’d found her way to the room they'd deposited Bonnie in last night. She'd been soothed by Bonnie's strong heartbeat, by the steady rhythm of her breaths. She'd relaxed enough to accept the glass of blood Rebekah had dropped off, had even remembered her manners and muttered a thanks.

Rebekah had left quickly, telling Caroline to yell if she was too dim to remember how to work the shower, leaving the door ajar.

She'd downed the blood quickly and rinsed the glass (managing just fine, Rebekah). Bonnie’s a little uneasy about the whole blood drinking vampire thing. Better than she had been but, when they’d been travelling together, Caroline had gotten into the habit of hiding her meals as much as possible.

Unable to sit still any longer, nervous energy thrumming through her body, she'd started to move.

It takes fourteen strides, from wall to wall, and she's never been more grateful for Klaus' penchant for opulence. She's making lists in her head. There’s so much she’ll need to know, a million things she'll have to do. Like, how's she going to go about getting a driver's license? Do people still have those? Or is there a retinal scan, or some creepy microchip implanted in your body? Caroline had never been much for sci fi movies, something she deeply regrets now that her life has become one.

She's got her ears focused on Bonnie, however, recognizes the little annoyed noise Bonnie always makes when she's about to wake up. Caroline's in the chair beside the bed in under a second, legs pulled up under her, trying to look casual and like she's not freaking out.

The attempt is pointless, Bonnie's known her forever, and it only takes a second before her green eyes sharpen and focus on Caroline. "How bad is it?" Bonnie asks, resigned because she’s way too accustomed to doom and gloom.

They’d been doing so well on their own. They’d been away for months without even the tiniest threat of danger.

Caroline chews on the inside of her lip for a second, considering how to answer. She can't lie, won't lie, but a little stalling might be a kindness. Just until Bonnie has a chance to shower and eat. "Honestly? It's not great, Bon. But we're alive. We’ve got… help.” She’d almost said friends but that would have been pushing it.

Bonnie closes her eyes again, “This bed is an improvement over the cave.”

“That’s the spirit. I felt a bajillion times better after a shower.”

When Bonnie sits up and kicks the blankets aside, the sheets are no longer white. She makes a disgusted face at the grit and grime covering her body, "Gross. I can't believe I fell asleep like this."

"You were right out," Caroline tells her. "Rebekah tucked you in and you didn't even notice."

"Weird. I wish you hadn't told me that."

Caroline cracks a smile at the mildly disgusted look Bonnie wears, "Don't worry. I have it on good authority that Nice Rebekah will be a fleeting presence. We'll probably miss her once Bitch Rebekah rears her ugly head."

"I heard that!" Rebekah bellows from several rooms away.

Caroline looks away, from Bonnie. She'll start giggling if she doesn't and that will likely not endear either of them to Rebekah.

Caroline’s stronger than she had been but Damon will be too. If things get violent, well, she wants all The Originals on her side.

Once she's swallowed down her laughter she stands, brushing her hands together, "You'll have to bear with me. Everything in the bathroom is crazy fancy and I've only been in it once. I'm pretty sure there's no boil humans alive setting though."

"Are you sure?" Bonnie asks dryly. "You're aware of just who lives here? Might be something they do for fun."

Klaus, with his impeccable timing, chooses that moment to poke his head in the door, "Now why would we overcook a perfectly good meal?"

Bonnie glares, dark and deadly, and Caroline hastily steps into her line of sight, in case she starts throwing magic around. "He's joking, Bon. Klaus just doesn't realize that he's not actually funny."

She shoots him her own quelling look, more exasperated than upset, and he merely smirks back, leaning against the open doorway. "Nonsense, my sense of humor is delightful, everyone says so."

"People you're attempting to kill, I'm guessing? I think that counts as duress and you should assume they're lying."

Klaus places a hand over his heart, his face dropping into an exaggeratedly wounded expression. Caroline rolls her eyes, "Did you need something?"

He turns serious in an instant, "Yes, actually. Our guests will be arriving within the hour." Klaus' eyes flit over to Bonnie, and Caroline glances over to find her friend looking puzzled at Klaus' words. She’s not going to start explaining with Klaus in the room. There are things Bonnie needs to hear from Caroline. Privately. "I'll let you know when I'm ready to see them," she says.

He nods in acceptance, rocks back a step, before turning to leave. A thought occurs to Caroline, one she's kind of ashamed is just now popping up. "One sec, Bon," she says, before darting out the room after Klaus. He turns, a brow raised, and she invades his personal space to speak quietly.

It’s weird she even notices considering how she’d spent last night draped all over him.

"Bonnie's mom was a vampire. Can you find out what happened to her? If she's still around?"

"I can," Klaus says. "I even have a reasonably good idea of where to start looking."

"Good. Thank you. Can you let Enzo know what I'm doing? I'll find him as soon as I can."

"And our other guests?" Klaus asks mildly. "Any specifications for how I treat them?"

She knows what he's asking, wonders what it says about her that her first instinct is to ask for a little bloodshed, Damon's in particular. "Are their memories still gone?"

"Yes. It was a clever spell. Your little witch friend is the only person who can break it."

Caroline's not surprised. Of course Damon would craft the tiniest loophole possible. "Then I think they should be comfortable."

“Such generosity.”

“Comfortable for now.” Until their memories have returned, and they’ve confessed to the exact series of events that had led to Caroline and Bonnie losing so many years.

Klaus' eyes gleam, a slow, pleased smile tugging at his lips, "I’ve always enjoyed the way your mind works."

She remembers, had always found it flattering, his intrigue with her brain when so many had only seen a pretty face or attractive body. What does it mean that it's endured?

Klaus tips his head, gestures to the room behind her, "You'd best return, it sounds like someone's getting impatient."

She can hear Bonnie moving around, now that he mentions it, "Right. I should," Still Caroline hesitates. She wants to say thank you, again, but she feels like she's already said it so many times. Knows she'll probably need to say it more, over the coming days and weeks.

"I'll send someone with a tray of food, in a bit. And you may find me, if you need anything."

"Klaus…" Caroline murmurs, trailing off helplessly. She can't find the words but she's always been good at actions. Before she can second guess herself, she puts her hand on his shoulder, rises and brushes her lips over his cheek. He stiffens, and his eyes are slightly wider when she pulls back, trained on her face. She feels a momentary surge of satisfaction at having caught him off guard.

Surely not many can claim the same.

Caroline lets her hand slide down his arm, before she steps back. Throws him on last smile, before she turns on her heel.

Klaus, and all the things between them, will keep. He's proven that. Right now, Bonnie needs her more.

* * * * *

“What? That’s insane. Impossible. She can’t be a vampire. She took the cure. Katherine tried to turn back, remember?”

Bonnie’s restless, crackling with energy. She’s pacing the room, just as Caroline had earlier. They’ve thrown all the curtains in but there’s not a whole lot of natural light to be found. Clouds pack the sky, sitting low and heavy, like a storm threatens. They hadn’t been able to figure out how to open the windows but at least the room is big and well lit.

They’re avoiding the view. Caroline vaguely recognizes the back grounds of Klaus’ Mystic Falls home but it looks way different. Once carefully manicured it’s now little more than a few scraggly patches of brown-yellow grass dotted over rocks and cracked soil. The outbuildings are crumbling and weather beaten and the stone paths that had once wound around the house no longer visible.

Caroline’s doing her best to project calm. So not her forte but she’s had a good chunk of time to process. Someone to lean on (in the most literal sense of the word) and answer her questions. “Bon, you’re a witch. Once upon a time we thought that was impossible.”

Bonnie’s head swivels to shoot Caroline an annoyed look. Caroline’s sitting cross legged at the end of the bed and she tips her head to the side and maintains eye contact until Bonnie huffs out an irritated sigh and resumes walking. “Fine, I will give you that one.”

“Why thank you.”

“She wouldn’t though. Elena never wanted to be a vampire.”

That’s kind of a sticking point for Caroline too. Klaus hadn’t known how or why Elena had turned but he’d had theories. Caroline goes with the most generous, “Maybe it was life or death again. She chose to be a vampire rather than die the first time. If she had to choose again...”

“She wouldn’t sacrifice us though. That’s not Elena.”

Caroline’s not so sure.

Elena had chosen sleep knowing that the future she wanted was on pause. That Damon would be waiting for her, and Stefan would remain unchanged. That she could have everything her little heart desired when she woke up and that she wouldn’t even suffer the agony of waiting. If something threatened that future? Caroline doesn’t trust that Elena’s selflessness would have held.

She’d let go of the things Elena had said and done with her humanity off, had known that holding on to her anger was pointless when Elena hadn’t even been willing to entertain the idea of an apology. She’d rationalized that it wasn’t really Elena. Then she’d flipped her own switch and she’d been entirely herself. The worst parts of herself that she’d tried to temper, yes, but she’s not going to deny they exist. She’s ruthless and blunt, and capable of terrible things in pursuit of her goals.

Some might label those traits as flaws but privately Caroline thinks they can be strengths too.

Elena had always been selective about the flaws she was willing to overlook, a teeny bit in denial about the ones she possessed.

Damon and Stefan were gifted limitless chances. Other people not so much.

Sometime after Damon and Stefan had shown up Elena’s universe had narrowed. Caroline had been aware of just who existed at the center of it. If Damon was the sun and Stefan the moon, destined to be stuck to Elena’s side, Caroline had figured she and Bonnie were planets. Their orbits would grow bigger, away from Mystic Falls, but that they’d still be important. They’d keep track of each other, share milestones, celebrate success and band together in tragedy.

That may have been too rosy a view. Maybe, to Elena, she’s Pluto. Easily demoted.

“She’s here, according to Klaus. Damon and Stefan too. That wouldn’t be possible if she hadn’t turned.”

Bonnie pauses, her head snapping up and her eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Are they the guests Klaus was talking about? He sounded extra smarmy.”

“Yup. Their memories are all messed up. Klaus thinks you’re the only witch on the planet with a fix.”

“Klaus thinks,” Bonnie repeats and there’s a whole heap of distaste in those two little words.

Oh boy.

“I know you don’t like him,” Caroline begins.

“That’s understating it a bit.”

Caroline decides it’s prudent to ignore the interruption. “Or trust him. And you don’t have to. But maybe give him some credit for springing us yesterday.” Caroline’s not sure she would have been able to do it on her own. She’s definitely sure that she wouldn’t have been fast enough for Bonnie to make it out with no ill effects.

“Yeah, about that. He says it’s been a hundred and forty seven years, how did he happen to show up in the exact right place at the exact right time?”

Caroline had really been hoping to avoid that question.

But she’s not going to lie. Or even sugar coat. She and Bonnie need to be a united front.

“Klaus has been… searching for descendants of the witch who sealed us in.”

“And?” Bonnie prompts because she really knows Caroline too well.

“And killing them. If they proved unable to help.” She’s not well versed in the intricacies of magic. Only knows that there’s usually a whole heap of terms and conditions. Klaus had explained, sometime last night, when Caroline had been failing at sleep, that the original witch had anchored the spell to her line. That Damon had compelled her very human husband as a means of making her cooperate. She’d refused to lift it no matter what Klaus had offered or threatened.

Damon had, apparently, used every ounce of self-serving cunning and self-preserving intelligence he’d possessed. Without any memory of the undoubtedly heinous orders he’d given the witch’s husband, Damon couldn’t be forced to undo his compulsion. The spell to seal his memories away had involved Bonnie’s blood and the spell to return them required the same ingredients.

And Bonnie was trapped, her blood well out of reach.

Klaus had seethed with frustration as he’d explained, his body a solid mass of tension where they’d been pressed together. His hands had remained gentle, however, his fingers in her hair soothing.

Caroline still wears his scent on her skin and she’s glad Bonnie’s human senses can’t detect it.

“How many?” Bonnie demands.

“You know, I didn’t ask,” Caroline replies, and that’s not a lie. She hadn’t wanted a count for this very reason.

Bonnie rolls her shoulders, a hand coming up to rub at the back of her neck. “I think I need a couple minutes. To make this all make sense. Is that okay?”

Caroline’s already rising and she scoffs, “Of course it’s okay. We’ve dealt with a whole lot of crazy but this is a brand-new level of nuts. You can have all the time you need to process.”

Bonnie smiles. Just a tiny wan quirk of her lips but Caroline will take it. “Thanks, Care.”

“Come downstairs whenever you’re ready. Klaus has been hoarding spell books that might help with the memory thing but honestly, there’s no rush.”

“Who are you and what have you done with Caroline Forbes?”

It’s a terrible joke but Caroline lets that slide. She shrugs, turning when she reaches the door. “It’s not life or death. I’m alive, you’re alive. Everything else we can figure out, right?”

Bon blinks a little, her eyes shining, and Caroline swallows passed a lump in her throat, rushing forward and throwing her arms around Bonnie. She watches her strength, mindful of how much it’s grown, how weak Bonnie had been just yesterday. Bonnie returns the pressure, her breathing shaky, “We’ll figure it out,” Caroline repeats.

This time it’s a promise, one she intends to keep.

* * * * *

Caroline had been on her way back to her room to wash her face and fix her hair. When she’d gotten closer to the staircase she’d heard the voices. They’re too quiet for her to make out the words but one voice is new, just slightly familiar. Her feet take her down the steps quickly, towards an open door.

There’s no real point in cleaning away the evidence of tears. Enzo had always been annoyingly perceptive about her emotional state and, with the events of the last 24 hours, Caroline’s in no position to attempt to act like she’s okay.

Besides, he’s seen her look far worse.

Caroline deeply regrets the hair and leather pants related mistakes she’d made with her humanity off.

She’s not trying to be stealthy and the conversation pauses, a glass hits a table with a clink.

Her hand touches the door and then everything gets blurry. There’s a crash, she feels a whoosh of air, hears a groan and a tear. Caroline shakes her head, blinks, finds herself staring at the back of Klaus’ neck. Enzo’s there too, right in front of Klaus, wide-eyed and unconcerned about the death grip Klaus has on the collar of his jacket.

She’ll chalk that up to his total lack of a survival instinct.

“Manners, Lorenzo,” Klaus warns, mostly friendly but with the tiniest edge of a threat.

Caroline brushes passed Klaus, a laugh bubbling out of her. She plows into Enzo and he grunts but lifts her off her feet in a bone crushing hug. “It has been far too long,” he mutters into her hair.

She returns the embrace just as fiercely, “Doesn’t feel that long for me but I have missed you.” Enzo sets her down and Caroline notes the room’s other occupant. Kol’s here, slouched on a leather sofa. He lifts his glass in her direction in welcome, Caroline supposes he’s over their breakfast table spat.

“Aren’t you two adorable?” Kol drawls.

Enzo shoots him a casual rude gesture and Klaus laughs softly behind her. His hand presses into her hip briefly, drawing Caroline’s attention. “Drink, love?” he murmurs.

She’s hopeful the booze is less terrible than the food. “Yes, please.”

He makes his way to a cart across the room. It holds glasses, several crystal decanters, Klaus pops the top on one and pours a more than healthy portion. Caroline drops down into an armchair, curls her legs under her. Enzo pats her head and she swats at him but he’s still much faster than her, dodging easily as he throws himself down next to Kol.

And props his feet on the coffee table. Caroline glares a little but he grins at her, unrepentant. Caroline half expects Klaus to comment but he doesn’t seem bothered, leans against the arm of her chair after handing her a glass.

“How’s the little witch?” Kol asks, as if he’s genuinely interested.

“Fully recharged,” Caroline tells him. “She wanted a little time alone to process but she’ll be down later.”

“Have you told her…” Klaus lets the sentence hang.

“Everything I know, she knows.” Caroline twists her head to study Klaus’ reaction, searching for a hint of displeasure of disapproval.

Klaus only nods, “Did you discuss what we’d like done with our other guests?”

“Not really.” She and Bonnie had only decided that the first order of business would be to figure out how to restore the memories that Elena and the Salvatores apparently lacked. “I’d like for them to be kept comfortable. Until we can make them remember.”

AKA warm and fed with all their organs and extremities intact.

She watches Kol as she says it. Klaus had already agreed but she remembers Kol being volatile, fond of bats and not a big fan of Damon.

He moans in exaggerated disappointment, his head rolling back against the couch, his expression growing petulant. “You, darling, are a bit of a fun killer, aren’t you?”

“Elijah’s settling them,” Klaus tells her, ignoring his brother’s complaint. “In separate, well stocked rooms.”

“Cells, technically,” Enzo pipes up.

Kol cheers up a bit, “Well, at least that’s a little bit of torture. As clingy and nauseating at their little triangle is.”

“Did Elena go back to Stefan?”

“Back and forth. Back and forth,” Enzo drawls. “For ages.”

“Took her far too long to work out that she didn’t have to,” Kol adds. “Imagine, being a hundred years old and only just realizing you’ve options other than monogamy?”

Unfortunately, Caroline had just taken a sip of her drink. She chokes on it and her throat burns. Her eyes water and she coughs while Klaus pats her on the back. He sounds distinctly amused when he speaks, “She insisted on living with humans. Got a little caught up in the norms.”

“This is really too much information,” Caroline manages, her voice weak. She’s also seriously regretting her honesty is the best policy vow. This is not gossip she wants to have to relay to Bonnie.

“Jealous? You’d developed a bit of a thing for Stefan, hadn’t you?”

Ugh. Had it just been a few minutes ago that she’d been elated to see Enzo?

Klaus straightens next to her, putting more distance between their bodies and lifting his hand away. This time, Caroline does not check his reaction. “I got over that pretty quickly, thank you very much.”

“Oh?” Enzo asks, like he doesn’t believe her.

Caroline takes another sip of her drink, this time welcoming the fire when she swallows. “I wasn’t good with change. With everything that happened with my mom…” Caroline hadn’t been ready to lose her mother. She’d had plans – she’d wanted to graduate college and get a job, to make her mom proud while she could, knowing that by the time she hit thirty-five or so she wouldn’t be able to show her face in Mystic Falls without whispers starting.

With her mother’s death Caroline’s reasons for playing at being human evaporated. She’d taken a leap, dropped out of college, and bought a plane ticket. Had quickly realized that there were plenty of new experiences worth having.

“Stefan was familiar,” Caroline says, keeping it simple because Kol really doesn’t need to know her personal business, outdated though it is. “After I left I found I didn’t actually need familiar.”

“I could have told you that.”

She makes a face, barely resists the urge to stick out her tongue. Enzo’s not the least bit chastised. His boots squeak against the polished coffee table as he gets comfortable. “Tell me, Gorgeous, what’s the plan then? We just wait?”

She’s about to snap an apology for inconveniencing him but Klaus speaks first, “It shouldn’t be too long. I believe we have the spell, the wi…” Caroline sees him glance at her when he pauses. He smiles at her, all warmth and dimples, and corrects himself. “Bonnie just has to look it over. It’ll take a few days to track down the necessary ingredients but she likely shouldn’t be spilling blood immediately, given her condition.”

“Is my usual room ready?” Enzo asks.

It’s so weird that he has a usual freaking room.

“Of course,” Klaus answers, the tiniest hint of offense making the words come out clipped.

Caroline takes another drink. A bigger one. “I’m going to need the full story of how you two became bffs. Like, right now.”

Enzo smirks, his eyes growing gleeful, “It was a rocky road, Gorgeous. There was bloodshed, severed limbs.”

“His,” Klaus mutters darkly.

He doesn’t try to stop the story, however. Only interjects when Enzo begins to embellish and occasionally to supply extra details.

It’s not long until Caroline’s sides hurt from laughing.

For the first time she feels like maybe, somehow, she really will be okay.

* * * * *

It takes a minute for Elena to realize she’s no longer alone. Caroline hadn’t announced herself but she’s kind of surprised Elena’s not more alert. She looks miserable, wrapped in a blanket on the mattress in the corner of the cell. It’s not her only blanket, she’s got a whole pile. Pillows too. It’s only the locked door that makes the room a cell because it’s clean and dry and well lit.

Far nicer than a cave.

The door’s feature small barred cut-outs, high enough that Caroline doesn’t have to duck to look through them.

There are guards behind her, at the bottom of the staircase, but they hadn’t tried to stop or discourage her. Caroline thinks they’re hybrids but she’s not sure how that’s possible. It’s another question to add to her endless list. It’s mental list for now. Klaus had informed her that paper and pens were no longer commonly used. She’d been horrified and he’d smiled, had told he’d sacrifice one of his sketchbooks and some pencils for her until he could track down something suitable.

He’d offered a tablet too but nothing is as satisfying as striking off a task on paper.

Stefan had glanced up as she’d passed his cell. They’d eyed each other for a moment before he’d bowed his head once more.

It had felt like a dismissal and she’d be lying if she claimed it hadn’t annoyed her.

She can hear Damon moving, breathing harshly. Dull thuds that must be him slamming into the walls. Idly, she wonders if putting Elena in the center cell had been purposeful or coincidence. She doesn’t travel beyond Elena’s cell, has no pressing need to check on Damon.

Elena’s still a pretty crier, no snot or splotchy skin, just big fat tears and attractively clumped lashes. Her hair is shorter than Caroline’s ever seen it, resting just at her collarbones but that’s it. Physically, the Elena before her is identical to the Elena she’d always known.

Caroline taps at the door and Elena startles, springing from the bed and pressing her back to the wall. Her face is twisted in anger but confusion takes over when she spots Caroline. “Who are you?” she asks warily.

Well. That’s weird. She’d shared dolls with Elena, games of Candyland. Giggled about crushes and complained about pop quizzes. There’s no hint recognition in Elena’s red-rimmed eyes.

She takes another step closer, “My name’s Caroline.”

Damon’s stilled and Stefan’s risen. A glance to her left and right shows the they’re peering out at her. Elena can’t see them and she’s waiting, like she expects a longer explanation. “Where’s your boss?” she spits, when Caroline remains quiet.

“I don’t have one of those.” Technically, she’s never had one of those. She’d had ideas about trying her hand at a career or two, hadn’t gotten the chance.

“Klaus,” Stefan cuts in. “Where is Klaus?”

Caroline shrugs, points upwards. He’s somewhere upstairs. Bonnie had emerged from her room, had begun to go through the research Klaus has compiled over the years. He’d excused himself to make a call, had said something about arranging for reinforcements. “I’m not a hybrid. Just a regular ol’ vampire. About the same age as you, actually. And I don’t work for Klaus.”

The noise Elena makes is disbelieving. “Sure you don’t. Why else would you be here? Unless you’re…” she trails off, her eyes flitting over Caroline in a way that’s familiar in it’s silent judgement. Caroline’s sure she’s trying to find a safe euphemism but she apparently fails. “…with him,” Elena finishes.

Caroline keeps her reply simple. She doesn’t owe anyone in this basement an explanation. “He’s helping me with something.”

“Klaus doesn’t help people.”

Technically false. “Really? I thought it was pretty helpful when he offered up a hybrid for you to kill so you didn’t spend a few decades going insane.”

Elena shrinks back, growing fearful once more. “How do you know about that?”

“We used to know each other.” Kind of an understatement but Elena’s not going to believe her anyway.

“We’ve never met.”

“We have,” Caroline counters. “I don’t actually remember when.”

Mystic Falls had been small, and big on community celebrations. She assumes she’d met Elena and Bonnie at one of them, had been plopped in a group with kids her age under the semi-attentive eye of whatever grown up was the most likely to go easy on the spiked punch.

Elena’s watching her with some measure of concern. Caroline can’t blame her. A stranger, talking nonsense, while you’re trapped in a cell is bound to be alarming.

She should probably apologize for the kidnapping thing but she’s not sure if Elena deserves it.

Elena moves forward again, her big brown eyes once again pleading, and her voice turns soft. “Listen, Caroline. If you need help, I’ll help you. We’ll help you if you get us out. But Klaus is… Klaus is bad news, okay? You need to get me out of here. Damon and Stefan too. He’s going to kill us. Torture us.”

A demand, one that’s annoyingly condescending. Not even a request.

“He’s not going to torture you.”

Caroline’s hoping that, whatever went down, Elena had been kept in the dark. Damon and Stefan had tended to get high handed and she thinks it’s plausible that they’d decided on a course of action for Elena, had decided what her best interest was and hadn’t cared about collateral damage.

The door to the next cell rattles and she hears a strangled grunt. Glancing over Caroline sees Damon, his pale blue eyes just as startling as she remembers. He’s livid, his color high and his mouth is ringed with dried blood. He makes more sounds, feral inarticulate noises that don’t resemble actual words.

Elena’s frantic, stretched up on her toes, her head pressed to the bars but there’s no way she can see Damon. She glares at Caroline, “Do you not consider cutting out a tongue torture?”

A throat clears behind her and one of the guard pipes up, “Technically, that was Kol.”

Ah. She should have known. He’d acquiesced so easily.

Caroline wonders if she should be outraged but she finds she can’t muster the energy. ““I mean, it is but it’ll grow back.”

Elena gasps, “That’s not the point.”

“The Damon I remember was really bad at knowing when to shut up.”

Elena recoils, watching Caroline warily now. “And that makes it okay?”

It’s not a debate Caroline’s willing to entertain, especially when there’s no point in reminding Elena what a giant freaking hypocrite she’s being.

Stefan says her name, catching her attention. “Caroline,” he repeats, drawing out the syllables. “Klaus asked us about you. Several times.”

This time the noise Damon makes is a snarl and Caroline figures those were not civilized conversations. “Like I said, he’s been helping me.”

“For a hundred years?”

“More like a hundred and fifty.”

She can still read Stefan. He’s measuring her, trying to figure out how loyal she is to Klaus, if he can use her. He’s going to be disappointed. “An awfully long time,” he finally says, carefully neutral.

Caroline laughs even though none of her present company will get the joke, “Didn’t feel like it.”

She studies each of her old friends in turn. Stefan’s got his brows furrowed in frustration, Damon’s tense like he’s considering going for her throat, thick doors be damned. Elena’s sad and anxious, her knuckles white where they clutch the edge of the window.

Part of her hadn’t understood what it meant that she’d been erased. She’d half expected recognition. That seeing her in the flesh would shake whatever magic that had been weaved loose. She’d hoped for answers. At the very least she’d wanted a target for her anger.

Of course it’s not that simple.

* * * * *

She’d planned to sleep in her own bed.

Had showered, explored the bottles and tubes of sweet-smelling lotions and creams that had appeared in the bathroom adjacent to the room she’d been given. Had used up several hours making notes in the sketchbook Klaus had provided while scouring the internet for answers to some of her more practical questions.

She’s super disappointed that flying cars still haven’t become a common mode of transportation.

When she’d settled under the covers and closed her eyes she’d begun to get anxious. It wasn’t the silence because music hadn’t help. She’d turned on a lamp, just in case it was the dark. She’d grown tense as she’d lain there, struggling to take even inhales and exhales. Had thrown off the blankets once she’d grown hot and sweat slicked.

Her mind had kept returning to waking up alone, in the cave. To the moment when she’d realized she was trapped, when she hadn’t been sure if Bonnie was alive. She’d felt utterly alone and so scared. That same terror creeps into her bones, until she’s shaking and curled into a tight ball, her teeth grinding together.

Maybe she should have stuck it out. She’d known she was safe. That Bonnie was just next door, that it would be daylight again in just a few hours.

The longer she’d lain there, unsleeping, the harder it had been to tell herself that she needed to.

Why she should have to suffer? It’s not like Klaus is going to judge her or turn her away. He’d made that clear last night. She’s not sure what time it is when she gives up, only knows that she can’t hear a peep from any of the other occupants of the house.

She finds Klaus’ door wide open.

She can see him propped up in the center of his bed. He watches her approach, shifts to one side, an invitation he doesn’t bother to voice.

She reaches behind her once she crosses the threshold and shuts the door, fingers fumbling for a lock.

It’s warm when she tucks herself under the covers and she sighs and stretches out her legs, her muscles unclenching in relief. Klaus sinks down until his head rests on a pillow, on his side facing her. There’s no hint that she’s not welcome.

It used to make her jittery, the way Klaus looked at her. She’d tried to tell herself that he wasn’t actually interested, that he had a motive or a lack of other prospects in the immediate vicinity. That his pretty words were practiced lines and that he’d offered trips and trinkets to a thousand people before her.

Caroline knows she was wrong. That if she’d been only convenient he never would have bothered digging her out of that cave.

That should scare her.

Should.

Caroline pulls the heavy comforter over her shoulders, wonders if she should just say screw it and cross the few inches that separate her from Klaus now, or if she should make a show of getting heavy eyed and sleepy first.

“Something wrong with your bed, love?” Klaus teases.

Ugh, he’s so not going to let her get away with faking sleep before she gets hands-y, is he?

She rolls until she faces away from Klaus but rests against him. “Shut up,” she mutters, reaching back to grab his arm. She wraps it around her middle, rests her hand over top of his and squirms until they’re comfortably pressed together. He takes the hint beautifully, his legs bending to tangle with hers.

She feels him laughing, his breath against the back of her neck. “I’ll take that as a no, then.”

They shift, settling, and Caroline finds that she can breathe easy now that she can focus on the faint thrum of Klaus’ heartbeat. “How did your visit downstairs go?” he asks.

Caroline scoffs, tugs at a leather cord on his wrist, “Like your minions didn’t report back my every word.”

“They would have. I didn’t ask.”

Caroline finds that she’s smiling, presses her face into the pillow to try to hide it. It’s a simple statement but it tells her that Klaus trusts her. She hadn’t expected that.

“They don’t remember me. I knew they wouldn’t but I still didn’t totally expect it. I felt… expendable a lot, you know? I thought I’d gotten past that but… they kind of brought that all back.”

His grip on her tightens, his stubble scraping her skin as he shakes his head. “You are not expendable.”

“I know,” she answers, firm and steady.

Caroline isn’t who she’d been when she’d called Mystic Falls home. Getting out had been good to her. She’d lost the instinct to second guess her actions, to wonder if her choices would negatively impact her friends. Outside of the tiny town, away from all the people who’d known her all her life, she hadn’t worried about anyone whispering about how she was disgracing her family name or embarrassing her mother.

She’d shed insecurities as she’d hopped planes and trains.

Caroline knows she deserves to be happy, that she matters. Leap frogging into the future hasn’t changed her mind.

“Good,” Klaus rumbles, a wealth of satisfaction in his tone.

Caroline shifts back slightly, nudging him with her elbow, “What? Did you seriously expect me to argue?”

She knows he’s smiling, can hear it in his taunt, “Are you implying that you’re not argumentative, love?”

Caroline twists to glare at him, “I’m going to ignore that obvious baiting because I recognize that I’m totally invading your space right now.”

“It’s not baiting, it’s a statement of fact. And I’m not implying it’s a defect. Quite the opposite, really.”

She studies Klaus carefully, judges that he’s being honest, and turns until her head’s once more resting on the pillow. “So I like a lively debate, sue me,” she mutters.

Klaus laughs, so softly that she feels it more than hears it. Caroline closes her eyes, lets the warmth of him behind her help ease her into sleep.

Tomorrow’s bound to be another whirlwind of a day.

#klaroline #klaroline drabbles #yay sequels finally #ybtn

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galahadwilder · 5 years

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We Break Things Down Just to Build Them Back Up Again, Ch. 2: Numb

We Break Things Down Archive

Adrien walks through the rest of his day completely numb. He can't even process the things Marinette said to him; he thought she—that they were—he thought—he was trying to—

When he gets home, he shuts himself in his room, away from anyone who can see him, and collapses onto his bed. He's curled up in a fetal position, and he can't feel his fingers, and he can't stop shivering...

Don't be so dramatic, he hears in his father's voice. It's unbecoming. He stays as quiet as possible so nobody else hears him, nobody else comes in, nobody sees him like this. Weak. Helpless. Vulnerable.

It's bad enough that Plagg sees him like this.

"Kid?"

Adrien shuts his eyes.

"Kid, come on. Talk to me."

Adrien sobs, then immediately snaps his mouth shut, trying to trap the sound back in his throat.

"Adrien," Plagg breathes, and Adrien breaks.

It's only seconds before his pillowcase is soaked through, because he's done exactly what he's been trying so hard to avoid—he's lost someone, and worse, that someone is Marinette. Kind, gentle, sweet Marinette, Marinette who always gives everyone a second chance, Marinette who—who—

Marinette who said she was in love with him.

Every part of him is collapsing. She was—she was—he can't deal with this. She's—he's ruined everything.

She needed him. She needed him, and he failed her. He's destruction and bad luck, he should've known better than to try to fix things when he breaks everything he touches. His father's right—he's just a disappointment—

"Kid!" Plagg shouts. "We gotta move!"

Adrien looks up, sees the black butterfly fluttering around his room, and his heart squeezes. For a moment, he thinks... maybe it'll be better to just surrender to it. To let go. To have someone else drive for a change, someone else to be responsible for his mistakes. Maybe Hawkmoth would do a better job.

But he can't betray Ladybug. And if Chloé can fight off being Akumatized...

He looks up at Plagg, Plagg who is frantically swinging his paws around with crackling black energy, trying to atomize the butterfly before it can reach his charge. Plagg, who despite being a curmudgeonly glutton who never really says thank you for anything, despite being lazy and apathetic, cares more about Adrien than anyone he's ever known. Knows his failings, knows how bad a friend, bad a son, he is, and yet has never asked to leave, never given him anything but support (in his own cantankerous way). He feels a single bright spark of warmth flare in his chest.

He pictures feeding each of his emotions into that spark, letting himself go numb, burning away every single feeling of doubt or inadequacy that the Akuma could latch onto. Focusing on feeling nothing. Feels nothing.

The Akuma's headlong advance toward him stops, and it flutters, confused, before Plagg catches it and it bursts into a cloud of black dust. Plagg turns to him with a barely perceptible grin on his tiny face. "Nice work, Kid," he says—and then he sees Adrien's face, and his expression drops.

"Adrien," he says, "what did you do?"

"Does it matter?" Adrien snaps, rolling back into bed. "It worked."

Plagg is silent for a moment, but then Adrien feels him settle in next to his sternum—right on his heart, in fact—where he curls up and begins purring.

***

Adrien wakes up to the sudden cold shock of Plagg slipping inside his ribcage, and he instantly knows there's someone in his room. He strains his ears—the creak is coming from the window hinges, not the door. Someone is breaking into his room.

He lies on his bed, frozen. There aren't any weapons in his room, he can't transform, and without the suit he can't fight. His heart starts beating faster and faster, his pulse pounding in his ears—

And then the backs of his eyelids light up pink, and he hears a soft and familiar voice.

"Adrien?"

Instantly, his eyes snap open, and he twists to see Marinette kneeling next to his bed. Her hair is down, he notices, and something about that strikes him in the chest just above where Plagg is hiding—it's beautiful. She looks like she's been crying, but... like it was hours ago. Now she looks worried, determined.

"Marinette?" he whispers. "What—what are—" He looks over at the window. "How did you even get in here?"

"I... climbed," Marinette says, like it's the easiest thing in the world. And maybe it is—he's never tried it without the suit. Adrien makes a mental note that it is (unsurprisingly) physically impossible to keep Marinette out of places where she wants to be, but—

Why does she want to be here?

He's pretty sure, after the way they parted this afternoon, that she never should've wanted to see him again. Instead, she didn't just come to him, she broke into his house to talk to him.

"What are you doing here?" he manages to croak. Barely. Like if he says the words, she'll vanish, either like a hallucination or because she's realized she doesn't want to be here, and...

"I came," she whispers, taking his hand, "to apologize."

He boggles at her, speechless, and she averts her gaze. "Can I..." she says, her eyes moving to the bed. "Can I sit?"

He shifts, sitting up, making room for her in the bed, and she climbs in next to him, drawing her knees up to her chest. Neither of them speaks for a moment—he's wracking his brain, trying to figure out why she wants to apologize, he's the one at fault here and she made that perfectly clear, when—

"You don't feel safe in your house." She whispers it so softly he almost doesn't hear it, and it's not a question—she says it like a certainty.

He blinks. "It's—it's my house," he says, but she turns her eyes to him, and they're so blue, and it shoots right into his chest that she's right: he doesn't feel safe here. Not like he does at school. Not like he does at Nino's. Not like he does... not like he did with her.

He starts shaking. "Oh my god," he mumbles, and he's trying to grab himself but his hands won't stay still...

And Marinette, bless her, sees his hands and smiles. "You're stimming!" she whispers, excited. She holds up her hand. "Here, try snapping," she says, proceeding to do exactly that.

He repeats the motion, and his chest sparks—he feels, not good, but better, like some of the discomfort has drained out of him through sound. He does it again, one more snap filling the room, and suddenly he giggles.

Marinette's beaming at him. "I didn't know you stimmed," she says.

”I don’t know what that is,” Adrien says. He snaps again, and wow does that feel good.

Her tongue pokes out of her mouth as she thinks. “You know how I... I flap my arms around when I’m anxious?”

”Oh,” Adrien says, his hand falling to the bed. “Father... Father doesn’t let me do that.”

Marinette’s face falls. “Should’ve known,” she says. She places a hand on his shoulder. “Adrien, the things I said today...” She chews on her lip, not looking at him. “I didn’t... it’s hard for you to stand up to people, isn’t it.”

He laughs. “Hard?” he says. How can it be hard? He’s Chat Noir. He stands up to supervillains.

Marinette stares down at her hands as her fingers wander aimlessly. “Yeah,” she says. “I... you’re always so uncomfortable when Chloé throws herself at you, but you never ask her to stop.”

”I don’t mind.”

Marinette grabs his wrist, shakes her head. “Yes, you do,” she insists. “You don’t like it.”

Adrien tries to argue, but... but she’s right. He hates it. He hates the way Chloé touches him. And... and...

He gasps.

”Shh, shh shh,” Marinette says. She wraps her arms around his head, pulls him down, pats his back. He sobs into her shoulder.

”Marinette,” he says, finally. “Am I... am I a bad friend?”

She swallows. “I...” she begins, stops, closes her eyes. “You don’t mean to be.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that.

***

”I’m sorry I haven’t been... been standing by you,” he says eventually, once he’s calmed down. “This is—” He chokes. “This is all my fault.”

“It’s not your fault,” Marinette murmurs. “It’s Lila’s and your father’s. Never yours.” She pulls back, looks him in the eye. “I’m sorry I blew up at you today,” she says. “I was just... frustrated and hurting, and I took it out on you.”

”It’s okay,” Adrien says. “I’m okay.”

Marinette purses her lips. “You know you don’t have to be,” she says. “Okay, I mean.”

He—he doesn’t know what to make of that either. Nobody’s ever said that to him before—he’s always had to be okay, he’s always had to forgive and move on, he’s always had to “be the bigger person,” even than the adults around him. And it strikes him for the first time how unfair that is.

Marinette grips his shoulder, massaging it slightly. “Adrien,” she says. “I—I want you to know... you will ALWAYS be welcome at the bakery.”

He states at her, uncomprehending.

She smiles. “Any time you need to get away from...” She gestures in a wide circle, encompassing his entire room. “...this, any time you need somewhere safe, my parents and I will do our best to be there for you.” She smiles, reaching into her purse and lifting her phone. “And if you can’t get away physically, I’m just ten digits away.”

His throat trembles as he tries to speak. “You—you mean it?” he says.

”Yeah,” she says, squeezing his hand. “I do.”

Then she looks away. “I should probably... go,” she says. “My parents don’t exactly know I’m here.”

A nervous giggle escaped Adrien’s mouth. He clamps his jaw shut immediately, but she’s already heard it, and she turns to him and smiles.

”I’ll see you in school tomorrow,” she says, then walks over to the window, opens it, slips out onto the balcony, climbs over the railing, and then completely disappears from sight.

Plagg emerges from Adrien’s chest, staring after her. “Well,” he says. “That was unexpected.” He looks up at his charge. “How’re you feeling?”

”I’m... not sure,” Adrien confesses, standing up and walking over to the window, swinging it shut. “It’s been a really weird day.”

It’s only once the latch clicks shut that he realizes that he’s forgotten to ask Marinette what she meant when she told him she was in love with him.

Remember to follow this fic on my AO3!

@katieykat513 @alexseanchai @kiritomarshelllee @mayumikurosake @flightfoot @dawnonfireinferno @dont-call-me-a-faerie @kaydenth3gayden @h2onima @everywhichwaymb @facegun @varikasnuori @marichams @smackthat-allonthefloor @definetlydorkybandgirl @gingerdaile @dani-ari @ouatpancakes @theblogthatnoneknewabout @waiting-for-the-barbarians @digitalmagpie @starshine89561 @eleventhdivision @jessielefey @jawnlawk @ladynodrinette @certainloverjudgepatrol @donegonewrong @juhavs @the-wizard-sam @littlechaoslady @rena-rain

#we break things down just to build them back up again #miraculous ladybug #miraculous #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #chat noir #adrienette #adrinette #fic #my fic #original content #abuse #tw abuse #abuse tw #plagg

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starrystarrybabe · 5 years

Text

Oh, How the Mighty Fall [In Love] CHAPTER SEVEN (Ben Hardy x OC)

Lily Anne Mercury is brought in to help with Bohemian Rhapsody at the request of her Uncle Bri and Uncle Rog, and along the way, she might meet someone to share her life with. The only problem with this is that while their friends and the world can see that they’re perfect for each other, they’re going to be fully blind to this for a while.

CHAPTER ONE, CHAPTER TWO, CHAPTER THREE, CHAPTER FOUR, CHAPTER FIVE, CHAPTER SIX

DISCLAIMER: I’m fully aware that it would’ve been physically impossible for Jim and Freddie to have a child even with this method during the time they were alive, but the idea of Freddie as a dad and the idea of how his child would turn out to be was just too sweet for me to not write.

Hello everyone! I apologize for the long ass wait time. Emotionally and mentally, I’m not doing the best rn, and it’s really kicking my ass. I tried my hardest on this chapter, and I hope y’all like it!

-- casey

TRIGGERS: mentions of alcoholism? Honestly nothing is really that spicy in this installment of the story

FACECLAIMS:

Kelly Gale as Lily Anne Mercury

Sira P. Kante as Ezichi Adebayo

Erika Linder as Bronwyn Ryan-Hughes

Bree Kish as Madigan Ryan-Hughes

“Can you believe this shit? I’m not invited to the Golden Globes because I wasn’t ‘close enough to the project!’” Lily Anne scoffs, pacing in the studio as she rants to Zichi. “That’s complete and utter horseshit and we all know it. I was there almost every day we weren’t on tour! Fuck the Golden Globes!”

Ezichi sips her tea, frowning in confusion. “You’re Freddie’s daughter. You helped in every step of the project. You’re dedicated to keeping his memory alive. Why wouldn’t you be invited to an event celebrating a movie that created a whole new generation of Queen fans to help in those efforts?”

Lily Anne nods furiously, flailing her arms in distress. “Exactly! I don’t get it.”

Zichi nods. “It makes no sense. I’m going as Gwil’s plus one, but if you really want to be there, I would give up my spot for you.”

Lily Anne shakes her head. “No, please don’t do that. You and Gwil deserve to have a nice night out and some rocking sex in a hotel bed. I won’t take that away from you.”

Ezichi blushes at Lily’s comment. “Really, Lily. My sex life is fine without hotel rooms. I don’t need to go.”

She raises a brow. “Just fine? That’s upsetting, I thought Gwil would do better than fine.”

Ezichi rolls her eyes before putting down her cup. “Lily, tell Ben and Joe that you’re not invited to the Globes.”

Lily frowns. “Why?”

Ezichi grins. “If Gwil got a plus one, I’m sure that the same invitation went out to Ben and Joe. Either of them could bring you.”

She perks up and kisses Zichi’s forehead, cupping her cheeks. “Ezichi Adebayo, you absolute genius of a woman. I love you to the moon and back.”

She takes out her phone as Ezichi grins.

Lily Anne: IM SENDING OUT AN SOS TO EVERYONE

Lily Anne: I HAVE NOT BEEN INVITED TO THE GOLDEN GLOBES

Lily Anne: I NEED TO BE SOMEONE’S PLUS ONE

Dinosaur Boy: why didn’t they invite you???

Lily Anne: i wasn’t “close enough to the project”

Benjamin Jones: that’s absolute bullshit!

Benjamin Jones: fuckin wankers

Lily Anne: i know, right? anyways, if one of you lovely men could take me as a plus one, i’d fucking love that.

---

“Hello?” Joe picks up his phone, leaning back on his couch.

“Hey. It’s Ben. I need a favor,” his friend frantically asks.

“Sure thing, Benny. What do you need?” Joe asks, perking up.

“Ask Lily to be your plus one,” he says.

“But-- but she loves you, not me! She’d like it more if you brought her,” Joe says, frowning.

Ben lets out a whine of distress. “Please, Joe. I’ll get too nervous, and fuck something up, and I can’t afford to lose this-- I can’t afford to lose her.”

Joe nods slowly, biting his lip. “Okay. I get what you’re saying--”

“--then do this one favor for me, please!” Ben interrupts, stressed out.

“I will! Just promise me one thing,” Joe says.

“What is it? I’ll do literally anything to repay you for this,” Ben asks.

“You ask her to the Oscars,” Joe responds.

Ben fumbles with his words for a minute before sighing heavily. “Sure. I’ll do that.”

Joe grins. “Good. I’ll ask her later today, okay?”

“Okay. Thank you so much, buddy,” Ben says, sounding much more relaxed.

“You’re welcome, Ben,” Joe says. “Remember, you’re asking her to the Oscars!”

“Don’t worry, I will!” Ben insists.

“Alright. I’ll see you soon, Ben.”

“Thanks, mate. Bye.”

When Ben hangs up, he sees Frankie looking at him with a distinctly unimpressed expression.

“You wouldn’t understand, Frankie.”

The dog huffs and walks out of the room.

---

Lily Anne is reclining in her oversized bathtub, enjoying a bath bomb and a face mask. Reykja sits on the bath mat, chewing on her bone, and Lily Anne has her eyes closed and is listening to royalty-free spa music she downloaded online onto her phone. She’s very zen at the moment. Suddenly her phone rings, and she frowns, opening one eye in annoyance. This is her free time. How dare someone interrupt it.

She looks at the phone and sees that Joe is calling, and picks up. “Lily Anne Mercury, speaking. You’ve interrupted my bath time, so this better be worth it, Dinosaur Boy.”

Joe gasps. “Oh, no! I’m so sorry, Lily. I can call later, but I think you’d want to hear this.”

She nods and leans back. “Alright. What’s going on?”

“Ben asked me to do something,” he says.

Lily Anne perks up, smiling. “Oh?”

“Don’t get too happy. He asked me to ask you to the Golden Globes.”

She sighs and leans back in the tub. “Oh… why isn’t he asking me?”

“He got scared, alright? I know I’m not him, and you’d rather be with him, but would you like to go to the Golden Globes with me? You don’t need to be by my side the entire time, just on the red carpet. Once that’s over, feel free to do whatever--” Joe begins ranting, and it’s the most considerate rant Lily Anne has ever heard.

“I’d love to go to the Golden Globes with you, Joe,” Lily says, smiling fondly.

“Great! It’s a date then,” Joe responds.

“What color is your bow tie? I can try to match it, if you’d like,” Lily asks, petting her pup lazily with one hand.

“I was thinking just doing a black one. Wear whatever you want. You’ll look good in anything.”

Lily laughs. “You’re too kind, darling. I’ll try not to overdress.”

Joe lets out a breath of laughter. “Alright. I’ll see you soon, Lily. Get back to your bath.”

“Have a nice night, Joe,” she responds before hanging up and letting out a deep sigh.

She looks down as Reykja blinks up at her curiously.

“I really thought Ben was going to ask me, didn’t you, girl?”

The dog lets out a yip of agreement.

“It’s alright, though. I’ll be fine, love. There’s always other events.”

1991

“Darling, must you do this?” Freddie asks from the tub filled with bubbles, looking over at Jim. “She’s still so young.”

Jim raises a brow and looks over at Freddie. “I found a knot in her hair yesterday that looked like it could be a bird’s nest, Freddie. It’s time.”

Freddie takes time to release a bone-shaking cough and leans back in the tub. “It’s such a shame, though. Her curls are immaculate!”

Jim sighs. “She’ll still have the curls afterward. If anything they’ll be more pronounced since her hair will be shorter.”

Lily Anne’s hair has gotten out of control, lately. It is past her butt, and the Indian genetics she has makes it very thick. Nobody in their right mind would be alright with spending over an hour detangling a two-year-old’s hair every day.

Freddie frowns. “Oh, alright. Just make sure she looks cute.”

Jim grins and kisses the little girl propped up on the bathroom counter. “She’s half you. Of course she’ll look cute. She’ll be beautiful no matter what haircut she has.”

Lily Anne coos, waving her little hands around. Her parents grin at her, and Freddie looks on with a happy gaze. He’s so lucky to be able to see her grow at least this much, though he knows that his time in this world is coming to its close.

“Ready for the cut, flower?” Jim asks. “It won’t hurt, sweetie.”

Lily blows a spit bubble and as Jim cuts her wet curls, she makes her mouth into an ‘o’ shape and watches in the mirror. She giggles and takes a handful of her hair, giving it a gentle tug. Jim pries her fingers away and quickly finishes the job, and Lily grins, looking at her shoulder-length curls.

Jim turns the girl towards Freddie and grins.

“You look amazing, darling girl!” Freddie coos hoarsely, smiling at his baby girl.

“You really should trust me more, love. I told you she’d look wonderful no matter what haircut she has,” Jim chuckles, kissing Lily’s cheek.

Preparing for the Golden Globes

Lily Anne smiles as her ends are trimmed, watching in the mirror. “My dad gave me my first haircut, you know. He was a barber before becoming the gardener at Garden Lodge,” she says, smiling wistfully.

The hair stylist smiles, trimming a little bit more off her ends. “That’s so sweet! Did he always cut your hair?”

She laughs. “Yes, until I began dying my hair in college and doing crazy punk hairstyles by myself. He seemed horrified but didn’t complain. He even bought me a hair straightener that wouldn’t fry it nearly as much as the cheap one I had.”

The stylist nods. “I remember when you would come out with crazy hair colors and choppy bangs and I really loved it.”

She grins. “Thank you, darling. That’s so sweet!”

The rest of the time passes and by the end of it, Lily’s hair is in a half bun, with the rest of it gently curled. Then, the makeup artist comes in and does a fairly natural look on her, but with an intense smokey eye. When she looks in the mirror, she smiles.

“Oh, it’s perfect, darling! Thank you so much!”

The artist smiles and shrugs. “You were a wonderful canvas. Thank you for the opportunity, Miss Mercury.”

She scoffs. “Call me Lily. I will be calling you the next time I’m in Los Angeles. Consider yourself booked for the Oscars, love.”

The makeup artist leaves and Lily changes into her dress, which is a stunning custom McQueen mermaid gown, emerald green with Swarovski crystals adorning the entire thing in place of embroidery. It dips low and creates a lot of cleavage, and the crystals are in the shape of Freddie’s face. Her assistant helps her put on her crystal choker and hoops, and she smiles as she looks in the mirror. Finally, her Louboutins are put on, and she hears a knock on the door.

“Who is it?” She asks.

“Your hot date,” Joe replies.

She picks up her matching clutch and opens the door, revealing Joe in a nicely tailored suit. He looks her over, in awe.

“Wow, Lily… I’m the one with the hot date,” he says, looking at the dress. “That’s Freddie’s face! Holy shit!”

She shakes her head. “The suit fits you perfectly, Mr. Mazzello. You look absolutely dashing. How are you still single?”

Joe shrugs. “I dunno. Must be my personality, I guess.”

Lily scoffs and shakes her head. “I’ll have none of that self-depricating nonsense tonight. Now, let’s get to the car, shall we?”

Joe holds out his arm for her and she takes it, smiling as they walk downstairs to the car, where Gwil and Ezichi are waiting. Allen, his daughter, Ben, Rami, and Lucy have already left for the event.

They enter the car and Gwil looks at Lily’s dress, nodding in approval. “You look very nice tonight, Lily. I love the dress.”

She grins. “Why thank you, Gwil! The suit is fabulous. Did Ezichi have the final say?”

Ezichi kisses Gwil’s cheek and nods. “Of course I did, and didn’t I do well?”

Joe nods. “Hell yeah, you did. You didn’t do too badly yourself, Zichi. That’s a wonderful pantsuit.”

Ezichi is wearing a white and black harlequin wide leg pantsuit with small diamonds on the edges of it, and she looks stunning.

Ezichi grins. “Thank you, Joe. It might be hard to piss in, but at least I look great.”

Gwil wraps an arm around his girlfriend. “You look magnificent, Zichi.”

Ezichi leans into her boyfriend and Lily lets out a fake vomit noise with Joe.

“Disgusting,” Lily says.

“Find a room,” Joe adds.

“If you wanted to fuck that badly, you shouldn’t have chosen a pantsuit,” Lily comments.

The pair blushes and Lily and Joe crack up, leaning back in their seats.

---

When they’re escorted to the red carpet, Ben is waiting for Joe to arrive, and when he sees Lily Anne--

Wow. She looks gorgeous.

Instant regret fills his head, and thoughts swirl as she approaches in her green gown.

‘Why didn’t you ask you, you bloody idiot? She’s stunning, and she could be on your arm right now if you had the fucking balls to ask her to the event. You’re an idiot, a right idiot, and you blew it.’

He’s forced out of his thoughts when she comes up to him, smiling. “No plus one, Ben?”

Ben refocuses on her. “A-ah, no. No plus one. My mum couldn’t come with me, and I didn’t want to ask anyone on Tinder.” He lets out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck.

She shrugs. “Oh, well. It’s a shame.” She thinks for a moment before smiling. “You know what? I can be both yours and Joe’s plus one. I’m alright with being shared for the night.”

Joe comes up to Ben and gives him a hug. “Looking good, buddy.”

Ben grins at Joe. “Better than Cardy B?”

Joe laughs and nods. “Much better than Cardy B.”

Lily grins, taking both boys’ arms. “It’s showtime, boys. Let’s show them all how wonderful we are.”

The trio walks down the red carpet, and their names are screamed by the masses. Cameras flash, and Lily helps them navigate with practiced poise. She’s been doing this since she was a child, and the spotlight is where she belongs. They split up once it gets to the photos, and she puts on a smile, showing off her custom gown.

After some group photo ops, Lily goes off with Zichi and Lucy, and the girls enter the building.

Lucy smiles at Lily as they stop by the bar, and squeezes her hand. “What was your favorite cocktail when you drank?”

Lily looks at Lucy and smiles. “I loved Moscow mules.”

Lucy nods and looks to the bartender. “Can you make a vodka tonic and a virgin Moscow mule, please?” The bartender nods, and Lucy turns back to Lily. “You look upset. Is it because Ben didn’t ask you to the event?”

She lets out a deep sigh and Zichi rubs her back. “He loves you, Lily. It’s just because he’s nervous.”

Lily shakes her head. “Everyone is saying that, but… I need to hear it from him before I fully let myself believe it. I mean, him loving me would be a dream come true. I’ve never experienced my dreams going according to plan. Most times they backfire. I can’t risk losing this one. If I do… I’ll never find anyone I love as much as I love him.”

The bartender passes them their drinks, and Lily Anne tries hers. It tastes… delicious. Her face lights up.

“Excuse me, darling? I must have the recipe for this drink. It’s amazing, and to do it without alcohol is impressive.”

The bartender nods and writes down the recipe on a napkin, grinning. “I’m glad you like it! Here you go. Enjoy.”

She takes the napkin and places it in her clutch, grinning.

Lucy smiles. “Did that make tonight a little better?”

Lily nods, and Zichi hugs her friend. “You deserve nice things, Lily. One of those nice things can be Ben.”

Lily smiles and when she pulls away, she smirks. “One of your nice things can be rocking hotel sex. You don’t have to clean the sheets the next day, so go wild!”

Ezichi coughs, keeling over at Lily’s words. Lucy laughs, leaning against the bar. Lily sips her drink, pleased with herself.

When Brian and Roger enter and see the scene, immediately they tense up as they see a drink in Lily’s hand.

“That better be bloody virgin, Lily,” Roger says, raising a brow.

She nods and smiles, holding out her drink for him to try. “100% virgin, unlike us.”

He sips the drink and nods before handing it back to her. “Not bad. I like it. What’s got Zichi so red?”

She smirks. “I told her that she deserves good hotel sex.”

Roger scoffs and nods. “Hell yeah, she does! The best part is that you don’t have to wash the sheets afterward!”

Lily grins. “That’s what I said.”

Ezichi grimaces. “He’s corrupted you.”

Roger grins and kisses Lily’s forehead, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and jostling her. “Been doing that since day one.”

Brian speaks up, rubbing Ezichi’s back. “We’re going to take our seats with Rami, but we’ll see you later. Hopefully, we win something,” he says, crossing his fingers.

Lily nods and hugs her uncle. “Of course you will. Freddie’s energy was central in the movie, and he thrived despite the odds. This movie will too.”

Brian kisses the top of her head and smiles. “Send some good energy to us, alright?”

She nods. “Of course we will. You go sit down.”

Rami is walking by and comes over, kissing Lucy. She smiles and as he leaves, he yells, “Let's do this shit!”

Brian and Roger join the younger man and Lily laughs.

“He’s so strange and wonderful,” Lucy says, placing her hand on her cheek.

Lily nods. “I agree. Let’s go to our seats.”

The girls head off to get to their seats.

—-

Ben leans back on the couch, nursing a glass of sparkling water. Joe comes over to join him, holding a vodka tonic.

“Not drinking yet, Ben?” He asks, sitting next to his friend.

Ben shakes his head. “Nah. I don’t want Lily to be the only sober one and have to take care of us both. I’d feel bad if she had to do that.”

Joe presses his lips together. “You regret not asking her, don’t you?”

Ben nods, closing his eyes. “She looks… so beautiful. To think I could’ve had her on my arm but I chickened out makes me feel like an idiot.”

Joe nods. “She looks amazing. You know what? Don’t be sad.” He slaps Ben’s thigh. “She can sit in between us. You’ll get to have time with her alone later, alright?”

Ben rubs his thigh. “Sure. Thanks, mate. I really appreciate it.”

Lily walks in with Zichi and Lucy, and Gwil wraps an arm around his girlfriend, leading her over to the couch, where she promptly leans her head on his chest. Lucy sits next to Rami’s mother.

Joe and Ben part and pat the seat in between them, and Lily sits in between the pair, smiling.

Joe stands up and looks over the crowd. “I’m going to get a refill. Does anyone want anything?”

The group gives Joe their orders, and he walks over to the bar. Lily Anne leans back, squeezing Ben’s hand.

“How’d the red carpet stuff go?” she asks him, smiling.

“Good,” he says, smiling. “The interviews went well.”

She smiles and nods. “Great! That’s wonderful, Ben! Interviewers can be shitty and ask dumb questions, so I’m glad yours were good.”

He laughs and shakes his head. “One of them implied that Roger in the 70’s wasn’t beautiful, so I replied and said that he was wrong, and if I was around, I may have turned.”

She snorts, covering her mouth. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate that answer.”

Joe comes back and hands people their drinks. He takes his seat and sips his own, watching as the T.V. turns on the awards show starting. The crowd quiets, and Lily smiles. Her parents are watching fondly from above.

---

The anticipation in the room is palpable when the announcer opens the envelope containing the name of the winner. Lily squeezes Ben and Joe’s hands and prays a silent prayer that Rami wins.

When his name is announced, they stand and scream, hugging each other and laughing. There is no sweeter feeling than a well-earned victory. She launches herself into Ben’s arms, and the sound of his laughter fills her with joy. She looks up at him, and their noses touch, and she freezes up because if she just leaned in a few inches closer she’d be kissing him, and he’s looking down at her and panicking--

Joe comes up behind her and turns the affair into a group hug, and she’s snapped out of her thoughts, laughing once more. When they sit down, she takes a deep breath and looks at Ben, who’s staring straight ahead with a wide eyed look on his face.

Oh, God. That could’ve been fucked up so quickly.

When she turns back to the screen to watch Rami’s acceptance speech, she feels Ben’s eyes on her and blushes.

The second win garners a similar reaction, but this time, Lily hugs Joe, just to avoid making a mistake with Ben. Lord knows that this time, she might not have been able to restrain herself.

---

The afterparty is hosted in Roger’s suite, and after being so kind as to ask permission to drink from Lily, she tells Ben that he can drink however much he wants. He promptly downs four shots of vodka without blinking, and Lily is shocked. The alcohol will hit hard and she knows it. However, she’s curious to see what the alcohol does to Ben.

Apparently, he becomes a frat boy. He’s with Joe, who’s honestly just a sillier version of himself under the influence of alcohol, and they walk over to where she’s sitting.

“Are you from Tennessee?” Ben asks her, grinning.

“I’m from London, you know that, Ben,” she says, raising one unimpressed brow.

“‘Cause you’re the only ten I see,” he continues, laughing at his own joke.

She snorts and sips her sparkling water, shaking her head. “Those four shots hit you hard, didn’t they, Ben?”

“Okay, okay. Let’s try another one.” He laughs, running a hand through his hair, and Lily Anne is so confused as to why she isn’t completely turned off by this behavior. “I hope you know CPR.”

“I’m certified,” Lily Anne replies, nodding matter of factly.

“Because you’re taking my breath away!” Ben finishes, a grin only growing on his face.

Joe is leaning on Ben, laughing heartily. Lily purses her lips, sighing.

“Still not impressed?” Ben asks, pouting. “Fine. One more.” He holds out his arm to her. “Feel my shirt.”

“This is your jacket, Ben,” she states, looking up at him.

He shakes his arm, whining. “Just feel it, okay?”

She sighs and feels the jacket material before looking up to see a smirk on his face.

He leans down and grins, his breath smelling like alcohol. “It’s boyfriend material.”

She rolls her eyes, shaking her head. “That was great, Ben.”

Ben giggles and looks at Joe with excitement in his eyes. “Mate, she likes me! Your lines worked!”

Lily laughs. She likes Ben, but not because of some cheesy pick up lines. Joe grins and hugs Ben, and she watches them tackle each other happily.

“I think someone had pizza delivered. Why don’t you two get some?” Lily comments, smiling.

The two boys grin at each other and stumble through the crowd towards the kitchen for food.

When they leave, Lucy sits down next to her, and holds her free hand. “Are you having fun, Lily?”

She nods, smiling. “Of course I am! I love seeing all my friends happy.”

Lucy grins. “Oh, that’s wonderful!” She leans in, her smile widening. “I saw Ben and Joe coming over here. What happened?”

She rolls her eyes. “Ben tried to use some pick up lines Joe taught him on me. They were exceptionally bad.”

She laughs, and sips her champagne. “He really does like you, Lily.”

She nods, rubbing her temples. “I know. We nearly kissed earlier, but stopped before it happened.”

Lucy gasps. “Oh my god, when? How did I miss it? Why did you stop?”

Lily sighs. “When Rami won, we hugged, our noses touched, and I froze up, panicking. I don’t want to ruin anything between him and I, so we both didn’t go any closer.”

Lucy squeals. “But that would’ve been so cute!”

Lily raises a brow. “It wouldn’t have been cute once I found out that he doesn’t love me as deeply as I love him.”

Lucy nods, pursing her lips. “I understand why you’re scared. You don’t want to lose a good thing. I get it. But one of these days, you’ll need to confess.”

Lily nods. “I know. I’ll do it eventually.”

Lucy shrugs. “Who knows? It could lead to something beautiful.”

She smiles and squeezes Lucy’s hand. “You should probably find Rami. He’s a mess navigating a party without you.”

Lucy smiles. “I should. Take what I said into consideration though, alright?”

Lily nods. “Alright. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

Lucy leaves to find her man, and Lily sits back, watching as everyone enjoys themselves.

---

After frat boy Ben comes clingy Ben. Joe brings him over, and Lily raises a brow.

“I surely hope you’re not here for more bad pick up lines,” she says.

Joe shakes his head. “Nah. He just started whining and wanted to see you, so I brought him over before he could start crying.”

Ben whines into Joe’s shoulder, mumbling incoherently.

Lily nods. “I think we should take him back to his hotel room. He seems a little too far gone.”

Joe nods in agreement. “Yeah. I’m going to stay a little longer and make sure everyone gets back safely, but if you don’t mind taking him back, I’d appreciate it.”

She smiles and nods. “I’ll manage him.” She stands up and lets Joe drape Ben onto her.

Joe smiles and looks at Ben. “You’re with Lily now. Are you happy?”

Ben nuzzles into Lily and nods, mumbling, “Yay. Finally.”

Joe lets out a little laugh. “I’m going to go now. Get back safe, alright?”

She smiles and nods. “Of course. Come along, Ben. Let’s get you home.”

Ben looks up at her and blinks, confused. “Home is in London.” He gasps, eyes wide. “We’re not in London, are we?”

She shakes her head. “No, darling. We’re in Los Angeles. I meant home as in your hotel room.”

Ben blinks, pouting slightly. “I wanna go home.”

She nods, placing a hand on his cheek. “We’re going home tomorrow, lovie.”

He whines, shaking his head. “No, like-- like my room.”

She sighs and supports his waist as he follows her out of the suite and down the hallway. He begins to ramble, and she simply entertains his commentary.

“You look real pretty tonight, Lily.”

“Thank you, Ben. You looked very pretty as well.”

“My stylist chose the suit. I like it.”

“I like it too, Ben.”

“Who chose your outfit?”

“I helped design it with the head fashion stylist at Alexander McQueen.”

“Wow. You did good.”

“I know, love.”

“Can you design something for me?”

“I can do that, Ben.”

Ben squeals happily and buries his head in her shoulder, squeezing her waist tightly. “Yay!”

They get to the elevator and walk in, and Lily presses the button, keeping Ben’s hands away from the console as he reaches for it. He whines and shakes his head, and as the bell dings and they get to the lobby, a chauffer for the BoRhap cast sees them and helps them into the car, where Ben promptly lays his head down in Lily’s lap. He mumbles something as she straps him in and she looks down at him.

“What did you say, darling?”

“Touch my hair.”

She frowns. “Why?”

He looks up at her with pleading eyes. “It feels good.”

She sighs and obliges, running her hands through his hair, and within five minutes of the ride, he’s snoring into her lap. It feels comfortable and soft and she takes a picture of him, smiling. She’s saving that to her hidden files in her camera roll.

When they get to the hotel ten minutes later, she shakes Ben awake, and he lets out a confused noise, lifting his head.

“It’s time to get up, love.”

“We’re home?”

“Mhm. We’re home.”

The driver helps her get Ben out of the car, and he leans heavily on her as they walk inside and to the elevator. They get to Ben’s floor and she takes the key card from his pocket, helping him inside. He flops onto his bed, and she sighs heavily.

“Ben.”

A tired groan.

“Take off your jacket, at least.”

“You do it.”

“Turn over, and I will.”

Ben slowly obliges, and Lily walks over, unbuttoning the jacket. She heaves him up to take it off, and he looks at her, smiling. She looks down at him and raises a brow.

“What’s that look for, Ben?”

“Thanks, Lil.”

She smiles and helps him back down, squeezing his hand. “Of course. It’s no problem, darling. You’d do the same for me.”

She hangs up the jacket and looks back to see Ben failing to unlace his shoes. She leans down and helps him, and when he curls up on the bed, she covers him with a hotel blanket. Immediately, she hears snores, and leaves the room, heading back for her own.

---

Ben wakes up and blinks, confused. He has no idea how he got here, and no idea how he managed to take off and hang his suit jacket and untie his shoe laces. He drank far too much last night, and doesn’t remember much after eating pizza with Joe.

When he sits up, he groans from a pounding headache, and lays back down. He reaches for his phone on the bedside table and groggily tells Siri to call Joe. After putting the phone on speaker phone mode, and a few rings, Joe answers him.

“How much do you hurt?” he asks.

“More than I ever have in my life. Will you tell me what happened?” Ben asks, rubbing his eyes.

“You took some shots, drank some more, hit on Lily with bad pick up lines I gave you, and almost cried when I wouldn’t bring you immediately to her, but ultimately, she brought you back.”

He frowns and groans, burying his face in his hands. “Oh, God… First I almost kiss her, then I hit on her, then she drags my ass back?”

Joe chokes on the water he’s drinking. “You almost did what?!”

“When Rami won, she hugged me, our noses touched, and shit-- I almost leaned in, but I panicked, and then she panicked, and then you made it a group hug.”

Joe lets out a groan. “Why’d I third wheel that? Jesus, Ben, I’m so sorry.”

Ben frowns. “What? You want me to have kissed her?”

Joe scoffs. “Of fucking course I want you to kiss her! You two are soulmates! I want you to get married and have babies!”

Ben shakes his head. “Get the fuck out of here with that crap, mate. I can’t think about things like that.”

Someone opens the hotel room door, and the smell of breakfast wafts into the room. Ben groans and opens one eye, and when he sees Lily walking in with a tray of eggs, salsa, and buttered toast, he blinks, confused.

“Lily? What’s all this?” he asks, slowly sitting up in bed.

“Hangover food. I had a feeling you’d need it.” She holds out a water bottle and two advil. “Take these first.”

Joe greets Lily. “Hi, Lily! How did getting Ben home go?”

She shrugs. “It was fine. He was a bit heavy to carry, but I managed.”

Joe laughs. “Well, I’m gonna let you go now, buddy. Enjoy your meal.”

Joe hangs up, and Ben blushes, unable to meet Lily’s gaze once he’s taken the advil and downed some water. “How’d you get in?”

She holds up his keycard. “I took this from you, because I knew you’d need the meal and I’d need a way to get in.”

He nods, and looks at the meal. “Why salsa?”

She smiles. “Put it in with the eggs. The spice helps immensely. Don’t worry. I told them to give you mild.”

He nods, and does as she says. He bites his lip, leaning back in bed. “Lily, I am so sorry for what I did when I was drunk. How bad were the pick up lines?”

Lily winces. “Pretty bad, mate. I’ll spare you the details.”

He groans, and takes a bite of the food. In a moment, he feels… almost better? He looks up at Lily as if she’s God.

“That already helped. How do you know such good hangover food?”

She looks down at him, and with a straight face, says, “I was an alcoholic, Benjamin.”

Ben covers his mouth, his face flushing bright red. “Oh, shit. I’m so sorry. I absolutely forgot about that.”

Lily smiles gently and ruffles his hair fondly. “It’s alright, Ben. I take no offense.”

He continues eating, and looks absolutely miserable. She sits in a chair in the corner of the room and checks her emails. After a few minutes of silence, Ben speaks up.

“When do we leave the hotel?”

Lily looks at the itinerary and shrugs. “At six tonight. It’s currently eleven a.m., so you have plenty of time to recover and pack.”

Ben nods, slowly chewing his toast. “Okay. Good. If I were to get in a car right now, this meal would go to waste.”

She laughs and nods, rubbing the back of her neck. “I can’t say that’s never happened to me. Taking a bath always helped me with the nausea, so when you’re ready to get up, try that.”

Ben smiles at her and swallows. “Thanks, Lil.”

She smiles back at him. “Don’t mention it.” Her phone buzzes and she looks down at it. “Business call. I have to go, but if you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask, alright?”

He nods, and watches as she leaves the room.

Maybe if after all he did to be a nuisance while drunk didn’t drive her away, she truly is his soulmate.

TAGLIST: @andtheytoldustotellyouhello @plethora-of-things @borhap-socials @everybodyplaythegame @i-the-fangirl @deakydeakydeaky @shisterfackisback @samanthadegaro @lv7867 @fatbottomedcurls @redspecialty @haisimsim @peterparkeroos @teenwolflover28 @ixchel-9275 @alessandra-elle @onexlittlespark @queenficarchive @leah-halliwell92 @rrrogah-tayluhh @maddistudiess @queen-fam @evrsncnewyork @reddiefreddieee @babebenhardy

#starry writes #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy #joe mazzello #gwilym lee #lucy boynton #rami malek #borhap fics #borhap imagine

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marvel-af · 5 years

Text

For The Best (Part 2)

Nurse!Peter Parker x Reader AU

Hey I’M kinda proud of this? thanks to @petey-verse for letting me bounce ideas off of her :) ily girlie

Warnings: Needles, Blood, Vomit, theres a little bit of fluff,,but the angst outweighs it

Word Count: 2400 wordsssss

My Masterlist is linked in my bio, and the series masterlist is in that one :)

Y/N wakes to a hand running through her sweaty, greasy hair. She groans and attempts to rise up from her place on the floor of the bathroom, feeling the tightness in her stomach as she pulls herself up.

“Woah, take it easy Y/N.” Sarah whispers, her voice hoarse from waking up. A straw is brought to Y/N’s lips, but she frowns and tightens her lips.

“So help me God. Y/N drink the water.” Sarah grumbles. It has been over a week since Sarah originally came over and she had only left to get a change of clothes. She was almost fed up with her sick, stubborn friend. Sarah attempts to push the straw through her friend's lips one more time before pushing herself up off the floor.

“I need some coffee, and when I come back, this water better be gone.” Sarah says, leaving the bathroom.

The cup sits on the floor, mocking Y/N with the clear liquid. She lifts the glass and dumps it into the toilet, not wanting to allow anything into her stomach. The glass makes a clink when it hits the tile of the floor. Y/N moves to lay back down on the floor, but her stomach grumbles, indicating another session of dry heaving. She leans her head over the toilet and heaves a few times before she feels something coming up. She spits, what she assumed was stomach acid, into the bowl, only to have a red tinted liquid in the water. She furrows her brow before another wave of muscle contraction pushes more of the red liquid out of her mouth.

“Y/N did you drink that water?” Sarah says looking down at her phone. Y/N turns from the toilet, and there’s red drool dripping down her chin.

“Sarah!” Y/N yells, clenching her stomach and releasing more blood into the toilet.

“Oh my God! Y/N!” Sarah yells. The out pour of blood finally stops and Sarah pulls Y/N up off the floor, much to her dismay. Y/N tries to fight her friend, opting to stay on the floor, but Sarah is insistent.

“Hey, we have to get you to the hospital.”

Y/N only nods, the severity of the situation hit her like a stack of bricks. Her eyes sting as hot tear pour down her cheeks. Sarah quickly puts shoes on Y/N, then drags her out to her car and drives as quickly as possible to the hospital.

The bed groans as Peter shifts awake. The boy rolls over, glancing at the clock that reads 6:28 AM. Two minutes before his alarm is set to go off. He hears the footsteps of his two roommates shuffling around, getting ready for work. Peter yawns and rubs his eyes before throwing off his blankets. He emerges from his room and into the main living area of his apartment, his friends already dressed and eating breakfast.

“Look who decided to finally show up.” MJ laughs as she takes a big bite of her toast. Ned giggles and fist bumps MJ.

“That was my only sleep after a twenty-four-hour shift. You guys are lucky I’m even up.” Peter quips, grabbing the orange juice from the fridge and drinking right from the bottle. MJ wrinkles her nose at this.

“Well, go get ready. We’re leaving for the hospital in fifteen.” Ned says. Peter nods and quickly gets ready.

The group of nurses leaves their apartment and make their way to work. They arrive and make their way to their station. The station they usually work in is in the emergency room, which means they get to see all the cool cases, before the doctors whisk them away. Most of their days are filled with helping paranoid people with the sniffles or small stitches and broken bones. But occasionally, they get to help the doctors out, where the interns can’t.

Peter was helping a young boy who had sprained his wrist when a woman ran in supporting another woman who was vomiting into a bag. He saw MJ approach her, placing her hand on the sick woman’s back, as Ned pulls the other frantic woman aside to get paperwork done. The young woman honestly looked like shit. When MJ switches the vomit filled bag to a bowl, Peter sees how bad the situation really was.

“Alright, your cast’s done, I’ll send someone over to help with your discharge.” Peter says to the mother of the child to which she nodded. Peter quickly makes his way over to the crying woman, who is sat on a bed clutching her friends hand as MJ trieds putting the IV in.

“Ma’am I know this is scary, but you have to stay still so I can put in your IV.” MJ says. The woman nods, but when the needle touches her arm, she jerks away again.

“Sorry, she really hates needles.” Sarah whispers, trying to calm Y/N down. The fear in Y/N’s eyes was so evident to her best friend, and Sarah’s heart breaks to see this. She thought it was just a stomach bug, but those don’t make people vomit blood. The car ride over only scared Sarah more, Y/N groaning in pain and clutching her stomach before grabbing a plastic bag from a side compartment and filling it with her bloody vomit.

Peter notices the far-away look in the sick woman's friend and decides to walk over to the other side of her bed and grabs ahold of her hand.

“Hey, I’m Peter. What’s your name?” Peter says in the calmest, most soothing voice he could muster. The girl sniffles and takes a gasping breath, tears still streaming down her face.

“I’m Y/N.” The girl whimpers. MJ takes the opportunity Peter gave her to stick the needle in Y/N’s arm. Y/N yelps and grabs Peters hand harder

“Well, it was very nice to meet you Y/N.” Peter whispers. The girl begins to smile, tears still rolling down her face.

“Thats a great smile Y/N! You’ve gotta wear it more often.” Peter laughs, trying to cheer the scared woman up. Y/N begins to laugh, but only seconds after she opens her mouth she begins to throw up more blood. Luckily MJ was ready with a new clean bowl, which caught the bloody vomit before it could hit Peters scrubs.

“Well, Mr. Parker, if you’re done flirting with sick patients, I would like to give this woman the treatment she came to the hospital for.” Dr. Rogers says.

“Oh, yes sir.” Peter says, quickly walking back to the nurses station where Ned was entering some information onto a tablet.

“Dude what was that?” Ned chuckles. Peter rolls his eyes.

“I was trying to calm a very scared patient down and Dr. Rogers basically yelled at me for it. He’s not my boss, so I don’t know who he thinks he is.” Peter complains.

“Well he’s bound to be the new chief of surgery when Dr. Fury retires or dies or something.” Ned says. Peter laughs. Just then, another trauma comes in, this time with an EMT, to which Dr. Maximoff takes the lead and Peter jumps at the chance to work with her.

Ned laughs and shakes his head and his friends enthusiasm and he walks off to help another patient.

Y/N looks at Dr. Rogers as he rattles off a list of tests he wants done to another doctor standing behind him. Sarah notices the terrified look on Y/N’s face and grabs her hand. Y/N looks over and smiled at her friend. Dr. Rogers says a few quick comforting words, but they barely register in Y/N or Sarahs ears. He gives a warm smile before he and the other doctor leave and close the curtain behind them.

“Thank you.” Y/N says, trying to keep a semi-calm composure.

“No need to thank me Y/N.” Sarah smiles. Y/N looks down at her hands.

“I’m scared. What if I’m really sick?” Y/N frowns.

“Y/N, I’m sure you’ll be fine, but, uh, do you want me to call Derek?” Sarah asks timidly.

“No.” Y/N shakes her head.

“What about your mom, or maybe your dad?”

Y/N lets out a small chuckle. “I don’t want either of them anywhere near me. And I don’t have to worry my dad yet.”

“Y/N-” Sarah starts.

“No, I’m not calling them and you sure as hell aren’t either.” Y/N says, slightly raising her voice.

“Okay.” Sarah backs off.

“Ms. Y/L/N? I’m here to take some blood, then I’ll take you for a MRI.” A new doctor says.

“More needles?” Y/N sighs.

“Afraid so ma’am.” The doctor, whose badge reads Barton, apologizes. Y/N grabs Sarah’s hand again to stop her own from shaking.

“Just do it quickly.” Y/N says, furrowing her eyebrows and clamping her eyes shut. Dr. Barton quickly draws the blood and places the vials into an envelope.

“All done, Dr. Wilson, please take this up to the labs,” Dr. Barton says, “and I will take you up to get an MRI.”

“Where should I go?” Sarah asks.

“You can go to the nurses station, and they can help you out over there.” Dr. Barton says, releasing the safety on the wheels of the bed Y/N is laying in and wheeling her into the elevator. Y/N and Sarah don’t break eye contact until the doors close, but once they do, Sarah collects herself and walks over to the nurses station. She sees a young nurse leaning on the counter fiddling with a tablet.

“Damn thing-” The man says.

“Uh, excuse me?” Sarah asks. The man looks up form the tablet and smiles.

“How can I help you, miss?” The man smiles.

“I, uh, brought my friend in, and they took her up for a test?” Sarah says. The man stands up straighter and she can see his badge that says Ned Leeds.

“Oh right, you filled out her information. What’s her name?” Ned asks.

“Y/N Y/L/N.” Ned taps on the tablet a few times before nodding.

“Okay, your friend is currently waiting upstairs for an MRI, she’ll probably be around two hours. If you want to wait here you can wait in the waiting room, or the cafeteria.” Ned smiles.

“Okay thank you so much.” Sarah says.

“No problem ma’am.”

Sarah walks over and sits in an uncomfortable seat in the waiting room and sticks her nail in her mouth, biting on it trying to relieve the nerves she has for her best friend.

The elevator door closes on Y/N and she feels a pit grow in her stomach. She begins to wring her hands in an attempt to keep her calm.

“No need to be nervous.” Dr. Barton smiles.

“I threw up blood this morning. I am nervous.” Y/N deadpans.

“So you’re not in the mood for jokes then.” Dr. Barton laughs. The elevator doors open and Dr. Barton pushes the bed out and down the hall a bit. There is a line of a few people waiting for what Y/N assumes is the same test she has to get.

“Well looks like we might be here for a few, tell me about yourself.” Dr. Barton suggests. Y/N only frowns and shifts further into the bed.

“No thanks.” Y/N mumbles. She lays silently in the bed for a few minutes before she feels a sharp pain in her stomach.

“Dr. Barton!” Y/N yells. A nurse runs over with a bowl and shoves it into her hands and she promptly vomits into it. Dr. Barton takes the bowl from her when she’s done, but the nurse stays, rubbing his hand on her back.

“Thank you.” Y/N looks up.

“No problem Y/N. We really have to stop meeting like this.” Peter says. Y/N smiles at the man.

“Alright, it’s our turn Y/N, think you can hold your beans ‘till this is over.” Dr. Barton says. Y/N nods and waves bye to Peter.

Dr. Barton pushes Y/N into the room with the MRI machine in it and helps her from her bed onto the bed of the machine. He maneuvers her into the position she needs to lay in and then steps back.

“Okay, so you stay here and make sure you stay still. I’ll be behind that glass over there.” Dr. Barton says before pushing the empty bed out of the room and closing the door.

The room is too quiet, not allowing any noise to distract Y/N from the nerves eating away at her stomach. She wants the wring her hands but the words of Dr. Barton float through her head, telling her to stay still.

“Alright Y/N, you’re going to hear some noises as the machine starts up, then the table you’re on is going to move into that doughnut thing and it’ll snap your picture, okay?” Dr. Barton asks through the intercom system.

“Yeah.” Y/N yells back. The machine does start to make some noise and the table does start to move a little bit. Y/N tenses her muscles and tries to think about other things.

She thinks about Sarah and how grateful she is to have such a great best friend. She thinks about Derek and how he’s handling the breakup. She thinks about how Derek would react if he found out she got so upset over their breakup that she put herself in the hospital. She thinks about Dr. Barton and his attempts to cheer her up, which reminds her to apologize when this is over. She thinks about that nurse, Peter, that helped her with the needles and the vomit, and she thought about how good his hand felt on her back. She thought about Dr. Rogers and his dismissive behavior. She thinks about the woman nurse who helped her when she first came in. She thinks about her Dad, and how she almost wishes he was here with her. She then thinks about her Mom, and is glad that she has no idea where she is.

“Alright, Y/N you did great. Let’s get you out of there.” Dr. Barton says, but Y/N can hear that something is off with his voice.

Taglist:

@xxxxdelenaxxxx @dashlilymark

102 notes · View notes

occasionalfics · 5 years

Text

into you // p. 13

Summary: Just as Steve begins to wonder why he’s been sent on a mission well below his pay grade, a mysterious, unscented woman steps in and does his job for him. He’s immediately drawn into her allure, and he needs to know who she is, why she’s on a mission to take out some of the city’s most powerful alphas, and why he can’t get her off his mind.

A/N: All of your earlier comments about how much you liked seeing Bucky and Steve interact made me so happy, you have no idea. I’m almost always worried I’m not getting characters right or getting their relationships right, so that was really validating. Thank you!

Warnings: Steve is the walking embodiment of unnecessary angst and Bucky is 100% calling him out on it.

Word: 2,612

Days and weeks and a whole month goes by and Steve hates himself more every minute. Every second that (Y/N) thinks he hates her, every moment of every day that he goes on pretending to be angry for Bucky’s sake nearly kills him.

But he has to. She’s Hydra. He can’t love someone from Hydra. Yes, he loves Bucky, but his best friend never chose to be Hydra. Even if (Y/N) really didn’t know about her boss, she still made that decision.

She still made the decision to be a vigilante murderer. Which he’s never judged her for until that Skype call from hell.

He’s finally able to get Bucky to at least answer his texts a month after the incident. A week later, Steve’s flying to Wakanda again, and when he gets there, he and Bucky immediately go out to his new apartment. He lives in the city center now, rather than in the palace or out in the hut in border tribe territory.

“It doesn’t make sense,” Steve insists on the first night over bowls of stew. “I should be able to pull up information on this operation if it’s Hydra. There isn’t a secret they have that Tony or I shouldn’t be able to find!”

Bucky sighs heavily. “I know,” he says, “but I’m telling you, that woman is evil.”

Steve nods. “I found out that much already. Viper I could find.”

“Don’t call her that,” Bucky says quickly. He pauses, then makes eye contact with Steve before finishing with, “Please.”

There is no level of comprehension for what this woman has done to or with Bucky to make Steve know what the right thing to say is. Other than to agree, to apologize for ever using the title Hydra gave that woman, to try to work through everything surrounding her instead of focusing on her.

He does it all, and then goes on with, “I just...this doesn’t make sense.”

“You already said that,” Bucky states, mouth half-full of food.

“It doesn’t!” Steve lifts his bowl and almost has his hand covered in the hot stew, not to mention Bucky’s carpeting. “I can’t stop looking, Buck. Because if I don’t prove that this operation is Hydra, then I-” He stares at his best friend, unable to say what’s next.

Thankfully, Bucky knows Steve well enough to finish for him.

“You’ve broken (Y/N)’s heart for no reason.” He nudges Steve’s arm with his Vibranium elbow. “I saw how serious you were about her, Punk.” With that, he continues eating.

Steve stares, eyes widening while his brows furrow. “You’re being shockingly cavalier about this.” Does his best friend not get that the girl of his dreams thinks that he thinks she’s the scum of the Earth? How is Bucky, of all people, missing the fact that Steve made a huge mistake but just can’t find the proof as to why?

“You think I didn’t already search every database the Wakandan government would let me into to try to find that woman?” Bucky asks. “You think I didn’t beg Shuri for her help because she’s literally the smartest person I know?”

Well. That explains a few things. Just not Bucky’s very casual attitude toward everything, especially not the lack of acknowledging that (Y/N) still works for a Hydra agent - past, present, or future.

“There’s nothing on this, Steve. The last bit I found says Ophelia Sarkissian left Hydra before the fall of Shield.” Almost infuriatingly, Bucky dips back into the stew again.

“And you waited to tell me until this moment because?” Steve asks, his eyelids lowering into something short of a scowl. After all, the life and future of the girl of his motherfucking dreams is on the line.

The girl Steve’s been blocking from his actual dreams. The girl his body desperately calls for, while his mind and heart shut her out.

Bucky shrugs. “I don’t trust them,” he says. “They could say whatever they want, and they would to cover their own tracks.”

Steve attempts not to condescendingly sigh. “Bucky, they’re kind of known for keeping meticulous records.” He thinks about all the things he’s read about the Winter Soldier since Hydra’s files were released. Since Nat made them public, along with all of his own dirty secrets. At least then, one of them wasn’t that his girlfriend was even unwittingly working for Hydra. “And if one of their top operatives split, don’t you think they’d be honest about that?”

“Why should they?” Bucky asks. “Having information like that down - with or without the info hack - could’ve been the downfall of the organization. She just...walked out, Steve. Didn’t even turn around to say goodbye or anything.”

“Is that why you don’t remember her leaving?”

Bucky pauses. Steve can see a moment of recognition wash over his face. “I guess so.”

They sit quietly together. Steve stirs his stew, and Bucky continues to eat until his bowl is empty. He puts it on the table in front of them without a word, then clasps his hands together between his knees and seems to be lost in thought.

After a bit, Steve asks, “What do I do now?” He’s never felt quite so useless, quite so guilty. “I broke her heart, Buck. All because I thought she’d put you in danger.”

“What?” Bucky asks, face scrunching. “In danger?”

“I told her you were here, so the first thing in my head when you heard that name was that (Y/N) was using me to get information on you, so Hydra could take you back-”

“Jesus,” Bucky mutters, his head falling as he breathes deep. He pushes hair out of his face and tells Steve, “You’re real fuckin’ dense sometimes, you know?” When Steve doesn’t answer, he rolls his eyes and throws his arms out in a wide, ridiculous gesture. “You do know it’s nearly impossible to get in and out of Wakanda without knowing exactly where you’re going, right?”

He takes a minute, but then Steve sighs, shuts his eyes, and can’t believe what kind of an idiot he’s been.

He brought Bucky to Wakanda years ago to keep him safe - specifically because of how safe it is. Sure, the borders are open and trade agreements have been made, but you still need to know the exact coordinates of Wakanda to get in. You still have to have a point of contact from within the country to even be invited! Steve knows all of this!

But his instinct, during that conversation about Ophelia Sarkissian, was to protect his brother. His friend. The only remaining part of his past self. It didn’t matter, at the time, that (Y/N) took the brunt of the punishment.

More heapings of self loathing weigh his body down.

Bucky puts his cold Vibranium hand on Steve’s shoulder. “The second you get back to New York, you go directly to her. You ask her for whatever information she’ll give you, then you go from there.” He gives Steve’s shoulder a squeeze. “I’ve never seen you as happy as you are with her. If she’s not Hydra, then you two deserve to be happy together, regardless of her job. We both know you’d do the same for me if you had to.”

He stands outside her building, pressing her call button over and over and over again with no answer. He holds it down and tries to call out, “(Y/N), please, it’s me. Let me in.” But the buzzer is too loud and he’s sure the intercom doesn’t work like that.

Even if it did, he can’t blame her for shutting him out. It’s his own fault he’s stuck on her stoop.

After ten minutes, he’s on edge. His heart is thumping out of his chest. He can’t smell her - not the lavender and lemon and rosemary, not the ocean spray and jasmine. Just a building full of not-scented-but-smelly omegas.

He tells himself not to worry, that she might just be on a job. But that does worry him. He’s read up on Viper. If she knows about him and (Y/N), even if she’s not Hydra anymore, it could mean the worst for (Y/N).

Steve is astounded, once more, at how little he knows about (Y/N) and her world. He should’ve asked more questions, should’ve paid more attention, should’ve been a better fucking alpha than he was.

But most of all, he should’ve listened that night, after Bucky had hung up on them. He shouldn’t have pushed her away.

He starts buzzing other call buttons. Most don’t buzz back, but one does. He checks which one he hit last, then sprints into the building, up the main stairs, and down a hallway on the third floor. He finds the corresponding apartment, knocks on the door, and breathes heavy.

A petite blonde woman opens the door. There are two men behind her - one that looks identical to her, only with smaller hips and wider shoulders, and smells like a beta; and another with dark skin, a newly touched-up fade, and a light green shirt. That one’s an alpha for sure.

“You’re not takeout,” the blonde says.

“Have you seen (Y/N)?” Steve asks. He can hear how frantic his voice is, still feels the burn in his lungs from catching up and the rush of adrenaline coursing through him.

The woman shakes her head. “She went out a few days ago, hasn’t been back since. I figured she was staying with a boyfriend.”

Steve wonders, in the back of his head, how they all live in the same building and do the same job and know so little about one another. But then, he remembers that he’s known (Y/N) for months and doesn’t know anyone that she works with, no friends or family that he can name off the top of his head.

“You must be him, though. You smell familiar,” she says. And then her face goes blank as pieces click together in her head.

“Where can I find Ophelia?” he asks her, not even caring if she puts up a fight. The sinking feeling in him spreads, causes dread to set in because now it doesn’t really matter that he’s broken (Y/N)’s heart, that he hasn’t tried to contact her before now. What matters now is that she’s clearly in danger.

“I’m not supposed to-”

“If you don’t, she could die.”

Recognition dawns on the woman’s face. He takes a deep breath - for whose sake, he can’t say.

“Please.”

She must be able to see the desperation in his eyes. She can probably feel the anxiety and helplessness rolling off of him in waves. The alpha behind her stands, comes to the door, puts a protective hand on her hip.

“You got a problem, buddy?” he asks. But then he stops, too, and his eyes widen. “You’re-”

“Yeah,” Steve says, waving him off. He’s gone too many missions without a helmet or a mask and people recognize him now whether he likes it or not. But right now, he has to stay focused. He needs an address, coordinates, a clue - anything that will get him closer to (Y/N). “Just- please,” he pleads with the woman, ignoring the alpha, who still doesn’t remove his hand from this woman’s hip.

Slowly, she nods, then turns to face the alpha. “It’s okay,” she says softly. She grips the doorknob in her hand and, over her shoulder, tells Steve to stay where he is. He’s sure his scent mixing with her alpha’s will cause problems if he comes in, so he takes her word and tries not to tell himself that he’s a fool for trusting another one of Viper’s girls.

He knows that, really, Viper is the one behind all of this. He doesn’t know to what end, but he knows that these girls probably all came from desperate places. No one that isn’t intentionally Hydra gets into the hitman business without a good, hard reason.

When she comes back, she shuts the door behind her and hands him a small slip of paper. “That’s the only way I know to find Ophelia,” she says, one hand still on the doorknob. “Just know that, if you’re going looking for her, I wouldn’t come back here. Maybe ever.”

He can see the seriousness in her eyes. He nods, breathes out a harsh, “Thank you,” before heading back downstairs. He pauses on (Y/N)’s floor and tries to decide if he should barge into her apartment, at least to grab some of her things if she should need them, but ultimately decides against it. She’s not here, and he has a lot of things to say to her before he goes and makes the situation potentially more dangerous for them both.

He’s not stupid enough to try to find them on his own. Like, maybe he could be, but he’s been level headed enough already. Why stop now? Especially as Tony, Nat, Sam, and Clint all agree that he should wait until they have more information, can secure backup.

Steve hates that he has to sleep before he can find her. He doubts he’ll sleep through the night, basically hopes someone finds something in the middle of the darkness so they can get moving already. But he decides to make the most of his time, in any way he can.

For the first time in a month, he opens his mind to her. Calls out her name, shuts his eyes as tight as they go, and waits for an answer.

And waits. And waits.

He’s just about ready to give up, to pull himself out of sleep and take a long, hot shower. Maybe a cold one, just to punish himself.

But then he hears her voice, gently calling him, too. He hears his name, then, “P-please, don’t l-leave.”

He clings to whatever he can, calls out for her again as if that might bring her closer. He has no real clue how this works, beyond what she’s already told him.

The image of her face comes into focus. She looks a little worn, a little too exhausted for his liking. She’s sweaty, and as he examines her, he can see there’s a tiny cut above one of her eyebrows. She’s in a dark room, eyes shut, legs pulled all the way up to her chest. Her head’s resting on a window, but he can’t tell what she’s sitting on or where she actually is.

He sits in front of her, reaches out and has to stop himself from touching her. He doesn’t deserve to touch her, not after what he’s done. “(Y/N),” he says softly.

She opens her eyes, which are red and dull. His whole body pulses as he shakes his head.

“What happened?” he asks, even though he’s pretty sure he can put the pieces together himself. If Ophelia actually does have her, then the answer is staring him right in the face. So he shakes his head and says, “Nevermind. (Y/N), please. I’m so sorry - I promise I’ll make everything better but I just need you to tell me where you are.”

“Don’t come for me, Steve,” she says. “She’ll kill you.”

Again, he shakes his head. “(Y/N), no, listen to me.” He hates how demanding he sounds, knows he doesn’t deserve to take that tone, either. “I need to find you. Please.”

“You don’t.” She slowly raises an arm, puts a hand on his shoulder so lightly he barely even feels it, and pushes. “Don’t come.”

And he falls back into the bleak darkness of his own room.

Tags!

Global: @wonderlandfandomkingdom @samanthasmileys @sunigyrl @mysweetcookie99 @punkrockhufflefluff @lady-thor-foster @the-resal10 @rogrsnbarnes @xxashy999xx @badassbaker @frenfics @feelmyroarrrr

Steve: @girlwhoisfearless @mrsdeanwinchester19 @cherrysfandom @captainradicalpassion @patzammit @coffeebooksandfandom @angryteapot

Series: @whatdoyxumean @part-time-patronus @theunsweetenedtruth

#steve x reader #steve rogers x reader #alpha!steve x reader #captain america x reader #into you fic #a/b/o

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dragonkeeper19600 · 6 years

Text

New Mario Movie: Plot Prediction (Part 1)

Yo, folks!

As you may recall, around six months ago, we received word that a new Mario movie was in development over at Illumination Studios.

I’m pretty optimistic about this movie, but I feel like I might be in the minority here. Yes, Minions are oversaturated, but it’s not like Illumination makes bad films. The Despicable Me movies do so well not just because of Minions but because they’re genuinely funny and fun. All of Illumination’s work is gorgeously animated, even the stuff that doesn’t do well, and I feel like their fun and bouncy animation style suits Mario pretty well. I feel like the Mario characters may end up looking and moving like they do in Mario + Rabbids, which had a more fluid and expressive style than Nintendo’s usual cutscenes.

But, a lot of you may be wondering, as I am, what the plot of this movie will be. Mario games, with a few exceptions, tend to be light on plot, at the request of Shigeru Miyamoto himself, who thinks games are at their best when they’re light on story. It was also Miyamoto who approached Illumination for a Mario movie and is producing the film, so presumably he’s not against a story with Mario, just a story in a Mario game.

Well, I’ve given in a lot of thought (more than I probably should), and I’ve come with a story that might work as an animated film. The story below may have no similarity at all with the actual plot of the actual film, but at this point in development, I have just as much a clue as anybody else what that film will be like.

This is the first of several parts, so please bear with me:

Right, so, in my mind, this movie will be in a separate continuity from the games. Whether or not a whole AU will branch off from the movie depends on if the movie is successful enough to get sequels, which, to be honest, it probably will be.

As such, the film, will serve as an introduction to the Mario world and characters to attract movie goers who have never touched a video game. So, this will be a retelling of Mario’s first adventure. However, simply adapting the first Super Mario Bros. will not work. Traveling from world to world fighting silent monsters only to get cockblocked by seven Toads does not a movie make.

Instead, they’ll have to come up with something more dramatic for Mario’s first rescue.

But, first, we open with a prologue that goes something like this:

Once upon a time, there were two neighboring kingdoms.

A kingdom of light

and a kingdom of darkness.

The kingdom of darkness was a place of smoke and fire and fearsome monsters. But, the kingdom of light was blessed by the goodness of their ruler and the power of the stars.

You see, whenever the denizens of the kingdom performed an act of kindness, selflessness, or goodwill, a star would appear. And the people were so good to each other that there was never a short supply of stars.

The people of the Mushroom Kingdom used these stars as a source of power. The stars were powerful enough to keep the lights on at night, their homes warm in winter, their appliances running smoothly. Everyone in the Mushroom Kingdom lived comfortably because of the stars.

But the neighboring kingdom, sadly, was not so blessed. No matter how kind or good anybody was to anybody else, no stars would appear. And so, the people of the kingdom lived in darkness.

The fearsome ruler of the kingdom of darkness envied the light of the neighboring kingdom.

“Light,” we are to understand, refers both to the stars and to the fair princess.

So, he decided to take them both for himself.

The film proper opens with Bowser’s forces invading Peach’s Castle.

Oh, yes, that’s how we’re starting.

Because there’s no hero to stop them, you see.

So, a couple of Toads are up on the battlements, patrolling idly, asking about baseball scores

WHEN SUDDENLY the air becomes smoky and ashy. The smell is horrible.

They cough and cover their faces. “What is that smell?”

A shadow falls. They look up and see Bowser’s airship hovering just overhead.

Without any power stars, it runs on coal, and a huge plume of black smoke rises behind it. Monsters begin to drop from above onto the castle. Fly Guys dropping Goombas, Lakitus dropping Spinies, Paratroopas dropping themselves. The scene turns to chaos within seconds.

The Toads on the roof are swatted aside like flies. But a few manage to get inside and sound the alarm.

The scene that follows is not unlike the opening of Mario Galaxy, except it in the castle, rather than outdoors. Toads fight valiantly against the onslaught of monsters. What’s more, the Toads receive assistance from the power stars.

When a Toad protects another in battle or takes a risk, a star appears, and he grabs it for a power boost, giving him an edge against the monsters.

However, the power of the star soon fades, and even with the stars, the Toads aren’t battle-ready enough to stop the invaders.

Joining the battle is none other than the princess herself, aglow with star power (tee hee!)

But as soon as her star wears off, Toadsworth pulls her aside.

He tells her to wait in a hidden compartment in the wall, where she’ll be safe.

Peach is reluctant, but Toadsworth half-convinces, half-shoves her into compliance.

Not long after Peach hides, the battle is brought to a halt with the Boos appear and use their powers to rust through the bolt holding the door outside shut.

And that thing flies off its hinges.

The Toads cower as Bowser himself steps into the room

Preceded by Kamek, who’s in this movie, too.

Bowser grabs Toadsworth and demands that he tell him where the princess is.

Toadsworth claims that Peach has already fled the castle, but Bowser’s not convinced.

“What kind of ruler turns and runs while her people fight?

“You calling Peach a chicken?”

Bowser’s about to sauté Toadsworth right there in front of everybody when someone yells, “STOP!”

Bowser turns and sees Peach herself.

“I’m right here, Bowser.”

Bowser is all simpering smiles as he drops Toadsworth like seven feet to the ground.

“Princess, look at you!

“Lovely as ever, I see~!”

Peach ignores him and runs over to Toadsworth.

“Princess, what are you doing out here?”

Peach: “Bowser, please don’t hurt them anymore.

“I’ll go with you. Just leave them alone.”

Bowser is thrilled. “You mean it?”

Peach: “I’ll go wherever you want. All I ask is that no harm comes to my citizens.”

The Toads are frantic. “No, Princess! Don’t leave us!”

Toadsworth is the most heartbroken of them all.

“Princess, you can’t!”

Peach helps Toadsworth to his feet and whispers.

“Toadsworth, I need to take care of everyone while I’m away. Promise me.

“And, Toadsworth, find someone who can help us.

“I’m counting on you!”

At this moment, two Hammer Bros. grab Peach and physically drag her away from Toadsworth, onto the airship parked outside.

A star float behind her in her wake, created by her choice to sacrifice herself.

That star is clenched in Bowser’s fist.

“Finally. Everything is mine!”

Toadsworth is still defiant.

“You're not my ruler or any of ours!

“This kingdom belongs to Princess Peach!”

Bowser: “Yeah, but see, Peach belongs to me.

“Funny how that works out.

“This is your own fault, you know.

“None of you weaklings were tough enough to save her.

“You twerps don’t get to decide anything. I do.

“And nobody can save you.”

Cut, that same night, to the home of the Mario Bros.

The phone is ringing, and Mario is asleep.

I mean, mouth open, drool on pillow, covers kicked off the bed ASLEEP.

The phone rings four times, goes silent, then starts ringing again.

So Mario has no choice but to get up.

He blearily gets up, moves past Luigi on the bottom bunk, who has not stirred at all, by the way, and answers the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hi, is this Mario Bros. Plumbing?”

Mario and Luigi run a plumbing service in the Metro Kingdom. They barely make enough to get by.

Mario apologizes. We don’t take business calls before eight am... which is four hours from now.

The woman on the other line insists its an emergency.

Mario can hear water running over the phone. Wait, what’s going on?

It turns out the woman is standing in her kitchen up to her waist in water. The sink is spraying like a Super Soaker.

Mario gently suggests she try shutting off the water.

She insists that she did, but the handle on the faucet twisted off in her hand.

Mario attempts to clarify. “No, not the sink, I mean-”

But then thinks better of it. “On second thought, we’ll be right there. What’s your address again?”

Thus begins the long process of getting Luigi out of bed. Mario resorts to dragging Luigi out by his ankle. His face drags on the floor.

Our heroes, ladies and gentlemen.

It’s still dark when the Bros. arrive in their van at the woman’s house.

The job is a real drag, not just because the Bros. are walking around in water almost to their shoulders and have to bail out with the house with buckets before they can work on the sink

But also because the woman herself is an absolute nightmare.

She frequently berates them for working too slow, watches them like a hawk out of paranoia that they’ll steal something, and weirdest of all, seems to object very strongly to them speaking Italian.

Even when they’re just speaking to each other about the sink.

“Don’t you know, English?” she asks.

Mario dearly wants to say, “Of course I do. Did you not hear me speaking English on the phone with you at four am this morning?”

But, of course, he can’t say that, so he just apologizes and whispers to Luigi: “English.”

Which leads to an awkward moment when Luigi can’t remember the English word for a chiave,

So he asks Mario for a “swish-swish!” while awkwardly pantomiming.

By the time the job is done, the sun is up. Both boys are sitting in the van completely soaked. Their hats are still dripping and everything.

They both look incredibly exhausted.

Mario, a little punchy: “Hey, Luigi,

“You think people would like us better if we were buttons?”

Luigi has no idea what Mario is talking about.

“You’re driving. Don’t fall asleep yet, bro.”

“You know, if we were like buttons. All you had to do was push us and the sink was fixed. It seems like people would be happier if they didn’t have to deal with us talking or thinking or whatever. Just push the button and we go.”

Luigi shrugs. They’re little guys. People don’t care about them. He’s used to that.

Luigi is asleep by the time the van pulls back up to their house. Mario looks down at his brother and wishes he could give him more.

To be continued...

#mario #super mario bros #movie #illumination studios #princess peach #bowser #luigi #toadsworth #prediction

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diabolikblooddoll · 6 years

Text

Clare & Abigail Side Story: The Beginning

It was cold.

When Abigail had arrived back in September, it was warm and wet, the rain becoming a constant companion for her. It still rained most of the time, but the soothing sound of water hitting the window was now accompanied by the bite of the January air. She wasn’t complaining, she loved the weather, but the chill settled deep within as she stood in her room. Dark, empty, silent.

Cold.

‘I need to stop before I end up depressing myself any further. Honestly, why do I do that?’

She shook her head, shutting the window, and wheeled around to leave her room on the quest for some hot cocoa. ‘Or coffee. Coffee would be good too, as long as Ayato didn’t switch out the sugar for flour again.’

She had only made it halfway to the kitchen before Kanato appeared in front of her. It wasn’t out of the ordinary, but she still startled.

“You weren’t in your room. What are you doing?”

Abigail smiled, sighing lightly. “Sorry, I was going to go make some hot chocolate since it’s so cold. Do you want some too?”

He paused before nodding, turning to walk ahead. “Okay. But hurry. Someone’s arriving soon and I don’t want us to be bothered.” A

bigail titled her head, jogging to close the distance between them. “Who’s coming? Nobody ever comes here.”

Kanato glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “Does it matter? You’re not to talk to them or interact with them in any way, do you understand?”

She blinked, looking forward again. “Alright, I won’t.”

They were in front of the kitchen. Kanato stopped, raising his head in silence and looking past her.

“…What’s wrong?”

“…Nothing. Come on, make me cocoa.”

She furrowed her brow, but entered the kitchen without protest and began to work. Kanato stood by, wordless, watching the door.

Feeling unnerved, Abigail rushed to complete the task, finally setting two mugs on the counter.

“You took a long time, now we’ll have to pass everyone. Just follow me, and be quiet. Remember what I told you.” She inclined her head slightly, gripping onto her mug and trailing behind him in silence.

She wasn’t sure why he was acting this way, but she’d rather do as he said than risk anything. The walk towards the foyer was soundless save for the pattering of rain & the two soft pairs of footsteps.

As they grew closer though, the muffled sound of voices became clearer. Abigail walked faster, closer to Kanato. The opening of the doors ceased any conversation in the room as the pair entered.

The first thing Abigail noticed was the lone girl in front of the manor’s doors. She nearly stopped walking, staring wide-eyed at the stranger, who mirrored her own look of surprise. The rest of the brothers had turned to look at the two, Reiji being the most disapproving in his glare. Kanato returned it, huffing as he grabbed onto Abigail’s wrist and pulling her along faster. She pursed her lips and pointedly looked away from the girl who had been trying to smile hopefully at her. ‘I’m sorry. I can’t give you that. For your sake, you should give it up now.’

As they stalked out of the foyer, she could hear Reiji speaking again. “…And that was Kanato, with his ward, Abigail.” The door closed before she could begin to make out what the girl had started saying.

Kanato kept his grip on her wrist, tugging her along as she struggled to keep up without spilling anything. “I told you not to interact with her.”

Abigail looked up at the back of his head. “I…” Her words died off. ‘I didn’t talk to her, I only looked at her…I can’t say I’m sorry though, he hates it when I apologize constantly.’

She settled for for slipping her hand back to rest in his, squeezing it. They didn’t talk the rest of the way.

‘He must not be that mad...otherwise he would have stopped to yell.’

She thought back to the girl. ‘Who was that? Why is she here? Is she just food for them?’

Abigail bit her lip. ‘I can’t do anything. Honestly, I’m not sure I want to. I feel bad, but I’m not risking how far I’ve gotten with Kanato just because of some stranger. If she tries to talk to me...she’ll learn soon enough that she won’t get anything out of it.’

Somewhere far behind her, a door slammed, but was drowned out by the thunder.

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A few weeks had passed since the new girl had arrived. Abigail kept referring to her as just that, because she still didn’t know her name. While a slight inconvenience and social faux pas to never use her name, Kanato had been rather adept at keeping the contact between them to the absolute minimum. Every time they chanced upon the girl he would either glare at her until she left, or would take the initiative himself and exit the area with Abigail in tow. The few times she had encountered the girl without Kanato, Abigail would flee as quickly as possible. Those times were becoming more and more frequent, a bit to her annoyance.

‘Why hasn’t she gotten the hint yet? It’s easier for both of us just to keep to ourselves. Is she that stupid?’

She sighed, shaking her head.

No, that wasn’t fair. The girl was in a bad situation, and she just wanted someone to relate to and talk with. ‘That still doesn’t excuse her blatant disregard for possible consequences...’

Abigail looked over to the window, having lost interest in her book. It wasn’t raining for once.

The sky was surprisingly clear, and she could see the moon peeking out from behind a curtain. She smiled, closing her book and getting up quietly, trying not to disturb Kanato, who had fallen asleep beside her on the bed. Of course, being him, he immediately grabbed onto her arm to stop her from moving.

“Where are you going? To see someone else? To see that human?”

Abigail shook her head frantically, settling back down on the bed and leaning over to him. “No, of course not...I was just going to go look at the sky. The moon looks lovely tonight.” Kanato narrowed his eyes, shifting up to be face to face with her.

“You’re not lying, are you?”

She met his stare evenly. Earnestly.

“No, I’m not. I promise..”

He relaxed his glare, laying back down. “Although...would it be okay if I dropped by the library to switch books? This one’s boring me. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

The glare returned, and his nails dug into her arm.

“Why don’t you spend your time and attention on me instead of those books? Am I lower than those?”

Abigail grit her teeth, looking down before settling fully on the bed next to him. “No, no, of course not. You’re more important to me than anything, I just…” She trailed off, unsure of how to phrase it without upsetting him. An idea struck, and she met his eyes. “What if I brought a book you like? Whatever you want. We can read it together.”

Kanato scoffed. “What good would that do? Stop suggesting stupid things.”

She cast her gaze away, chewing on her lip. A beat of silence passed.

“…Fine. Go find a blue book with a silver diamond on the cover. I don’t know the name of it. If you bring back the wrong one, I’ll have to burn them all.” He smiled, too innocently.

Abigail swallowed, heaved a shaky breath, and got off the bed. ‘No pressure, no pressure, just find the exact book he wants or the library will be set on fire.’ She pulled her cardigan closer around herself as she walked down the hall. It was still cold.

Reaching the library, she was granted a small comfort in the warmth of a lit fire. She smiled, but let it drop as she took in the room in its entirety. ‘A blue book with a silver diamond…okay…’

The search began in the fiction section, her logic being that it would be some sort of a fairytale. The guess was correct, to her joy, as she plucked a book from the shelf. Caught up in relief, Abigail didn’t notice the presence of another until she turned around with the intent to leave. Her eyes widened and she backed up against the bookshelf, clutching her find to her chest.

The girl smiled, waving hesitantly. “Hi! It’s hard to catch you, I think this is the first time we’ve actually met…I’m Clare.” She held out her hand.

Abigail blinked, unsure of what to do. ‘I’m screwed. I’m so screwed…’ She set her jaw & met Clare’s eyes.

“Please don’t talk to me. You’ll get us both in trouble.”

Clare’s hand withdrew, held near her mouth in shock. “Wha-..why? Oh, wait!”

Abigail didn’t stay to risk being looped into a conversation, stalking past her as quickly as she could.

Clare stood in place, staring after her. Abigail stopped before shutting the large wooden doors behind her, glancing back up. “I’m sorry. Just…its better for both of us.”

The door fell closed, and a heavy thud rang throughout the room.

Clare was confused, to say the very least.

This whole situation had been a whirlwind of confusion; and, to be frank, fear. Being uprooted from her home at the behest of her church, to be an ambassador to a foreign family and marry a foreign man. It was all just a bit confusing. But she guessed that’s why the church was so insistent that she learn Japanese from a young age.

Be an ambassador? Sounds fun. Marry someone? Eh, she was single, and less work for her. Vampires? She knew they existed, and after years of studying the occult and paranormal and being trained in combat, she wasn’t particularly afraid. These things she took in stride. It wasn’t like her life at home was very exciting. No, all of this was relatively easy to handle. What was most odd to Clare was the other girl in the mansion. Abigail.

Every time Clare caught a glimpse of the honey-haired girl (and it wasn’t often), she was either ushered away by the vampire Kanato or slipped away on her own before Clare could speak to her. It was beginning to get a little disheartening. Clare was very persistent, however. And she now had plenty of time on her hands.

“So…” Clare fingered the pages of The Count of Monte Cristo nervously. “What’s the deal with that other girl? Abigail?”

She was perched on the window seat across from Subaru. It had been about two weeks since she arrived at the Sakamaki mansion. She had read with him every night, and she was really starting to enjoy the boy’s company. Anger issues and all.

“What do you care about her for? She belongs to Kanato anyway.” He scowled.

Clare tugged on her hair. “I know. I just thought it’d be nice to have a human friend.”

“She’s none of your concern. Besides. You still have to pick someone to be your keeper.” Subaru looked back out the window as if this had been on his mind for a bit.

“Oh…” Clare closed the book. It was obvious there wouldn’t be anymore reading. “Well, I was kind of thinking you would be my keeper, Subaru. I really enjoy spending time with you. I mean, if you don’t want to I understand…” She trailed off helplessly.

Subaru looked back at her, a grin slowly spreading over his face, accentuating his sharp fangs. “Heh. That’s right. You already belonged to me, anyway.”

Despite his words, Clare could tell he was pleased. Even if these vampires had a penchant for dominance and sadism, there were some human emotions in them somewhere. Somewhere. Before she could say anything else, Subaru fastened a strong grip on her wrist and pulled her to him, his lips ghosting over her throat.

“You’re mine. Your blood is mine. Your soul is mine. Everything you are belongs to me.” His fangs slid into her flesh, stinging at first, but evening out into a slightly pleasurable numbness as he drank.

Clare sighed inwardly. There would be no learning about Abigail from anyone else. She would have to take matters into her own hands.

The library door slammed hollowly, the finality of it dampening Clare’s spirits. What did Abigail mean by “get us both in trouble”? She knew the vampires were super strict, but was Kanato really that bad? Or were friends forbidden?

Well, Clare thought to herself, I’ll just have to up my game then.

She began writing little notes and slipping them into books for Abigail to find. They weren’t much, just a little “Hi!” or “How long have you been here?”. Short little notes that she would place in the front of books that she would then leave out.

Slowly but surely, she began finding notes as well. “Hi…” and “Kanato doesn’t want me around you…” This puzzled Clare, but she maintained the notes. Soon, they were corresponding regularly. Clare was thrilled to have a friend, even if she was a secret one.

From the notes, Clare learned that Abigail had been there for several months, and was also an American. She had picked Kanato fairly early on, but the two had grown close over time. Abigail really cared about him, but she feared the consequences of appearing to favor someone else over him. She was still very careful, but she was getting more comfortable with talking to Clare. Clare herself was cautiously optimistic. She was elated to have a friend, but she too recognized the danger of upsetting the vampires.

Clare made her way towards the mansion’s library, humming cheerily. Henri sat on her shoulder, swinging his little legs. She and Subaru had finished The Count of Monte Cristo the night before, and though he didn’t say it, Clare could tell that he enjoyed it. It was now her mission to find another book he would like. Her heart was set on Wuthering Heights, and she was hoping they had it. She had just placed her hand on the library door when a shrill voice sounded on the other side.

“What is this?!” She recognized Kanato’s voice.

“N-n-nothing,” she heard Abigail stammer. “Just a note from Clare…”

“I told you! You were not to go near her! You deserve this!”

Clare pushed the door open just as Abigail let out a muted shriek. Kanato had Abigail forced against one of the tables, a hand around her throat, Clare’s latest note crushed in his fingers. His eyes darted to Clare when she entered, and a sadistic grin lit his face.

“You’ll be punished too, don’t worry. But for now, you get to watch.” His gaze returned to Abigail and he tightened his grip.

Clare reached for the daggers at her back as she slowly advanced into the room. Henri patted her neck excitedly, eager for a fight. Abigail’s eyes widened when she saw what Clare was doing, but the hand clamped around her throat prevented her from speaking.

Before Clare could do anything, a strong hand grabbed her wrist. She spun to see Subaru behind her, scowling as usual, but this time it was directed at his brother. He looked back at Clare. “Oi. You were supposed to come let me suck you.”

Clare looked at him pleadingly, praying that he would help her out this once. “Help. Please. I’ll do whatever you want. Just help.” She whispered, hoping that only Subaru heard.

He looked like he was on the verge of arguing, but he saw the look on her face and growled. “Tch. This is stupid.” He stepped towards Kanato and Abigail. “Hey, runt. If you kill your food you can’t suck her anymore.”

“This doesn’t concern you!” Kanato snapped. He looked almost lovingly down at Abigail. “Abi-san is mine to punish as I want.”

Clare moved forward again, but this time she held out her hands towards Kanato. “Please, Kanato. If you punish anyone, punish me. It was my fault. I just wanted a friend here. She would never care about anyone but you. She wrote all about it.”

Kanato paused and raised an eyebrow. “She did?”

“Yes! She did!” Clare scrambled to dig out Abigail’s last note from her pocket. Thankfully, Abigail had written about how much she had come to care for Kanato, that she had very strong feelings for him.

Clare’s fingers closed on the paper, and she eagerly handed it out for Kanato, who snatched it and immediately read it. After a moment, his face softened. “Abi-san, is this true? Did you mean this?” He relinquished his hold on her throat and she nodded, still out of breath.

“I don’t want to steal her from you, Kanato. I belong to Subaru. I just want to be her friend.” Clare moved back to stand next to Subaru.

Kanato huffed. “Fine. But I’m still sucking her blood for disobeying.” He took Abigail’s arm and led her out of the room. Abigail met Clare’s eyes and gave her a small smile.

After the pair had left, Clare breathed a sigh of relief and gave a little joyful bounce. She had a friend! Almost lost a friend, but she had a friend! Clare turned and threw her arms around Subaru, burying her face in his chest and murmuring her thanks.

The vampire stiffened. “I-I didn’t do that for you! That damn runt gets on my nerves. He needs to be put in his place sometimes.”

Clare looked up at him and smiled when she saw the blush on his face. “Of course. Now, weren’t we going to do some reading?”

Subaru smirked. “Do what you want, but I get your blood.”

“Deal.”

Whoo! Mine and @bitter-doll‘s first collaboration is done! The beautiful CG and Abigail’s perspective are credit to bitter-doll, and I wrote Clare’s point of view. Hope you enjoyed it!

#mod post #clare bennet #abigail bates #suclare #kanabates #diabolik lovers oc #dialovers oc #kanato sakamaki #subaru sakamaki #clarexsubaru #clare #abigail

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hannahberrie · 6 years

Text

Everybody Talks | Chapter 3: Telephone

Fandom: Stranger Things Pairings: Mileven, Lumax Rating: K WC: 5259 Summary: On a Friday night, the kids find their sleepovers getting more awkward by the minute.

[AO3] Chapter Selection: [1][2]-3-[4][5][6][7][8][9][10][11][12][13][14][15][Epilogue]

[A/N]: Many thanks to @estrelladesimons for helping me draft this chapter, as well as the rest of the story. She is a lifesaver!

“Fireball the son of a bitch!” Dustin exclaims frantically.

“Hurry!” Mike pleads.

“Holy shit!” Lucas says through his teeth, gripping the edge of the table.

Will, hands shaking, drops his roll. The dice hit the Dungeons and Dragons board with a thud that resounds in the boys’ ears.

There’s a collective sharp intake of breath as the boys lean in, waiting for the dice to fall still.

“Wait for it…” Dustin says, holding up a hand.

And then…

“YES!” They all cheer, exchanging high-fives. Will breathes a sigh of relief, Lucas is grinning, Dustin fans himself with his hat, and Mike proceeds to pick up the Dungeon Master’s manual.

“The Orc howls in pain!” Mike reads dramatically, adding a couple shrieks of pain for theatrics. “His body bursts into flames, leaving nothing but a blackened corpse behind!”

“Sweet,” Dustin grins.

“Is that it?” Will asks, looking up at Mike expectantly.

“Silence falls over the dungeon,” Mike continues to read, “You breathe a sigh of relief. It’s finally over. Until—��

“Until?!” Lucas exclaims incredulously.

“Until you hear a noise. A faint, echoing rumble. It starts far away, but as your eyes widen in fear, you realize it’s getting closer, bigger.”

“Shit, shit, shit,” Dustin wheezes.

“An army of Orcs storms the dungeon!” Mike declares, slamming a fist down on the table for emphasis. “There’s hundreds and they’re looking for vengeance, for blood!”

“Son of a bitch!” Dustin exclaims, throwing up his hands in defeat. “We’re fu—“

He’s cut off by the sound of the basement door swinging open. The boys look up from the gaming table to see Mrs. Wheeler descending the stairs. She glances around the basement, looking frustrated, to say the least.

“Michael?” She gripes, folding her arms across her chest. “What did we say about keeping things clean?”

“It is!” Mike insists.

His mother motions to the numerous empty pizza boxes and coca-cola cans scattered across the floor.

“Well, except for that stuff,” Mike admits. “We just got distracted by the campaign!”

His mother gives him an impatient look before she begins to pick up the trash littered all over the floor. “You know that I’m not going to let you guys have sleepovers if you make a mess like this!”

“We know,” Mike says flatly.

Mrs. Wheeler finishes stacking up the precarious assemble of pizza boxes and soda cans in her arms. “Next time, you’re doing this,” she reminds him.

“I know.”

She glances at the game board, then back at the pajama-clad boys. “Have you guys been playing this all night?” She asks.

“Kinda…”

“Aren’t you guys getting a little old for this game?”

The boys exchange irked frowns.

“There’s no age limit for D&D,” Mike insists, rolling his eyes. “I’ve seen like, 40-year-olds playing it.”

“Well, that’s comforting,” Mrs. Wheeler replies dryly. She takes the pile of trash and heads back up the stairs. “Make sure you guys are in bed by 10!”

“But it’s Friday!”

“10 o’clock,” She repeats firmly, reaching the top of the stairs.

“Thanks, Karen!” Dustin calls out just as Mrs. Wheeler shuts the basement door.

“Dude!” Mike exclaims.

“What?”

“Don’t call my mom ‘Karen!’”

“She said I could!”

“When?”

“Last week!”

“Can we just get back to the campaign?” Lucas cuts in.

“Before we’re completely destroyed by the Orcs?” Will adds.

“Fine,” Mike sighs. He looks at the manual again and starts reading once more. He continues the narrative, setting the scene before listing off what scenarios the party could take.

Will, Lucas, and Dustin turn to each other, talking amongst themselves frantically.

“I say we fight our way out!” Lucas suggests.

“How are we going to fight hundreds of Orcs?”Will asks worriedly, “I think we should try to reason with them.”

“You can’t reason with bloodthirsty maniacs!” Dustin exclaims, “I say we offer one of ourselves as a sacrifice!”

“Who do we have to sacrifice?” Lucas asks, dumbfounded.

“The traitor,” Dustin jokes, jabbing his thumb towards Mike.

Mike’s brow furrows. “What?!”

“I’m kidding!” Dustin insists, before adding, “…Mostly.”

“How am I a traitor?” Mike asks indignantly.

“Well,” Dustin glances at Will and Lucas before continuing, “You kind of betrayed the party.”

“How?!”

“You befriended the enemy!”

“What?!”

“El? El Hopper? You’re like, totally in love with her!”

“Am not!”

“You literally walked her out of class!”

“I already told you guys, we just happened to be walking out at the same time. What was I supposed to do, just ignore her?”

“Uh, yeah!” Dustin says, tone indicating that Mike is missing blatantly obvious. “That’s how we survive!”

“Survive? Survive what?”

“High school!”

“Don’t you think you’re being a little harsh?” Will cuts in hesitantly, “I mean, we don’t really know them.”

“Thank you,” Mike says to Will, giving Dustin an annoyed scowl.

“I’m not being harsh!” Dustin defends. “I’m just dealing with the facts! Everyone knows that high school has a hierarchy. You got your shithead jocks, the preps, the stoners, the punks, and then, way at the bottom, us. Face it, Mike — you and El are from two completely different classes!”

“No, we’re not! We’re in the same grade!”

“Not school ‘classes’!” Dustin motions to the Dungeons and Dragons board. “Like these. When’s the last time you heard of like, a High Elf befriending a Drow?

“What?” Mike exclaims, furrowing his brow.

“Exactly, never!”

Mike, currently at a lost for words, just frowns. “Yeah, but…”

“We’re just not meant to get along with people like El, it’s not how high school works!” Dustin continues, “It’ll only blow up in our faces and end in disaster!”

Mike falls silent. Dustin’s words, though he probably doesn’t know it, speak to a secret worry of Mike’s: that El will grow bored of whatever is happening between them. That she’ll wake up one day, remember how lame he is, and want nothing to do with him, like most kids at school. Is he really just wasting time, trying to get to know her? Maybe he’s just prolonging his own rejection.

“He has a point,” Lucas admits.

Mike isn’t ready to admit as much. “I thought you liked Max!” He instead points out in frustration.

“I do—“ Lucas pauses then freezes, eyes wide, “I mean, I don’t! I mean, I dunno. She’s still awesome, but I’m pretty sure she hates me.”

“Why?” Will asks.

“Every time she passes me in the hallway, she punches me in the arm,” Lucas explains, “It kind of hurts.”

Dustin laughs. Lucas proceeds to punch his arm.

“That means she likes you,” Will says, ignoring their fighting, “At least, I think so.”

“How would that mean that she likes me?” Lucas asks, confused.

“She’s showing you attention!” Will explains, “My mom says girls always go out of their way to show attention to the guys they like.”

“Really?” Lucas perks up at this, failing to hide his growing smile.

Will shrugs.

“Like it matters!” Dustin scowls, “Did any of you guys hear a word of what I just said?”

“Haven’t you ever heard that you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover?” Mike counters Dustin, “What if Max and El are really awesome, and you’re too busy being an asshole to even realize it?”

Dustin gives him a look. “I’ll believe it when I see it. For now, I’m just trying to save us all from catastrophic embarrassment!”

Before anyone else can answer, Mike’s mother opens the door to the basement again. “Michael!” She calls down, “Phone!”

“Who is it?” Mike calls back.

“It sounds like a girl!”

Wait. What?

“A girl?!” The guys all echo, turning to look at each other in bafflement.

A beat passes.

Then they’re running.

The four boys, now shouting, scramble up the stairs with Mike in the lead.

“Maybe it’s Vanna White!” Dustin exclaims, “Maybe you’ll get to be on Wheel of Fortune!”

“Why would Vanna White call my house?” Mike snaps back.

“I dunno! But think about all the Atari games we could buy!”

“It’s probably Mrs. Hawthorne!” Lucas snickers gleefully, “She’s gonna bust you for stabbing the Biology frog in its gall bladder!”

“That was an accident!”

They reach the top of the stairs, race down the hallway, and arrive at the family phone. The receiver is still hanging off the cord where Mrs. Wheeler left it, swaying ominously.

As his friends scramble to stand behind him, Mike stares at the phone, suddenly feeling nervous.

“Are you gonna answer?” Will asks Mike.

Curiosity gets the better of Mike, and he nods in response. Glancing at his friends one last time, he takes a deep breath and picks up the phone, placing the receiver over his ear.

“…Hello?”

“This is the best part!” Max gushes excitedly, “Just wait for it!”

El watches in horror as the music swells and Michael Myers bursts from the shadows. He pins his victim to the wall by the neck, watching as his prey writhes in his grasp. Myes raises the knife. Its blade glints in the moonlight. Then, with a sickening squelch, the knife drives right through the victim’s chest and into the wall.

“He gets PINNED to the wall with the KNIFE!” Max recounts, face twisted into a grossed-out smile. “It’s totally disgusting and awesome!”

“Totally awesome,” El nods, grimacing. She looks away from the screen and returns her attention to the task at hand: painting Max’s nails. “Hold still,” she instructs, getting out the black polish.

“Sorry,” Max apologies, laying her fingers out in front of El.

“You like this?” El mumbles as the camera lingers on the limp body of the victim.

“It’s cool!”

“Cool?”

“Totally.”

They’re in El’s room, currently in the midst of one of their coveted Friday night sleepovers. They’re sprawled across El’s bed, surrounded by candy wrappers, nail polish bottles, and dark eyeshadow palettes. Max brought over her VHS copy of Halloween, which is currently playing on the small TV El keeps atop her dresser.

El gives the black nail polish a shake before unscrewing the cap. She carefully holds Max’s palm with one hand as she applies the polish with the other, making sure to not get it all over Max’s cuticles.

While El still has her hair slicked back, Max has pulled hers back into a long ponytail. She flips it over her shoulder as she speaks, making sure her hair is out of the way as El gets to work.

“You like the movie too, right?” Max asks, glancing back at the TV.

“Yeah,” El lies. To be honest, after the frog dissection, the last thing El needed was an entire movie that was solely about someone going around and cutting people open. But El also knows that this is Max’s favorite movie, and she doesn’t want to hurt her feelings.

“I was Michael Myers for three Halloweens in a row,” Max states proudly. “One time, I hid behind some bushes and totally scared the shit out of Billy. You should’ve heard him, he screamed like a—“

There’s a knock on the door, and the girls look up to see El’s father, aka, Jim Hopper, aka the Hawkins Chief of Police, standing in the doorway.

El knows that, like her, her dad can be pretty intimidating. He’s tall and massive and can yell when he needs to. But tonight, he’s not a tough police officer. Tonight, he’s just her dad, sporting an old Hawkins University T-shirt and some jeans.

“You kids still doing alright in here?” He asks, glancing into the room. His eyes land on the TV, catching sight of Michael Myers stalking down a dark hallway, knife in hand. He frowns. “What are you watching?”

“Nothing!” El quickly replies. With a quick jerk of her head, the TV switches off, and she turns to smile at her father innocently. “Just sitting!”

“And doing nails!” Max adds, holding up her hands as evidence.

“Humph,” Hopper snorts, evidently deciding to let it slide. “Well, are you girls getting hungry? You want me to order a pizza, or something?”

“Yes, please!” El chirps.

“Can we have sausage and pepperoni?” Max asks.

“Sure,” Hopper replies.

The girls wait for him to leave before turning back to each other. El keeps the TV turned off, hoping that she can get away with ‘forgetting’ to play the movie again.

“Are you going to go to Homecoming?” El asks, trying to distract Max with conversation.

“You mean the dance?”

“Yeah.”

“The dance that they’ve put up ten million posters for all over school?”

“Yeah.”

“The one at the end of the month?”

“Yeah.”

“The dance that only dweebs go to?”

“Yeah?”

“Then no.”

El pushes down the tinge of disappointment that rises in her chest. “Yeah, me neither. It’s lame.”

“Totally.”

El finishes Max’s nails, and Max admires them proudly. “Thanks!” Max smiles, proceeding to blow on them to help them dry faster.

“Welcome,” El replies, pushing the nail polish bottles aside.

A moment passes, and El starts to search her mind for something to say. She really, really, doesn’t want to finish watching the movie. Thankfully, Max speaks up next.

“We should do something!” Max says, looking around El’s room.

“Like what?”

Please not ‘watch Halloween’.

Max thinks. “What do girls do at sleepovers? Like, the preps?”

El’s brow furrows. “I don’t know. Gossip?”

“Listen to Cyndi Lauper?”

El blushes. “Talk about guys.”

“And,” Max says slowly, pausing for dramatic emphasis, “Pillow fights!” She turns, grabs a pillow from El’s bedspread, and proceeds to smack El over the head with it.

“Ow!” El laughs, grabbing her own pillow.

The two go back and forth, whacking at each other sporadically as they burst into fits of uncontrollable laughter.

Amongst the chaos, Max knocks the remainder of El’s pillows off the bed, uncovering something that was hidden underneath.

The Hawkins High 1984 yearbook slides out into view. It bumps up against Max’s leg and makes her pause. “What the—“

“Don’t!” El gasps, dropping the pillow she was holding.

Max snatches up the book before El can. She turns it over in her hands before holding it up to El, an intrigued grin curving her lips.

“Why do you keep last year’s yearbook under your pillow?” Max asks incredulously.

“It’s nothing!”

“Nothing? Seriously?”

“Just give it to me!” El snaps, lunging forward.

“What are you hiding?” Max moves back and gets off the bed, holding the yearbook closer. Ignoring El’s protests, she starts to flip through it, looking completely pleased with herself. “Wait, is this page bookmarked?” She asks, flipping open to the page marked with a yellow post-it note.

“Max!” El scrambles off the bed and follows after her, but Max is too quick. She continues to move about the room, maneuvering just out of El’s reach.

“Why do you have this page bookmarked?” She asks, scanning the page, “It’s just the last of the kids from our grade, no one we even know is — holy shit.”

El freezes. “What?”

Max turns the book around and points at the page. “That’s that guy!” She exclaims, “Mike! Mike Wheeler! The geek! The one you were totally drooling over last week!”

“No!” El denies adamantly, her cheeks growing hot.

“You even got his dorky club photo bookmarked,” Max snorts, flipping to the second sticky-noted page. “You’re like, totally stalking him.”

El uses her powers to whisk the book out of Max’s hands and into her own grasp.

“Stop.” She says firmly, giving Max her best glare.

Max looks alarmed, but then her expression softens. “El…”

El tries to stay mad, to stay tough, but her embarrassment eats away at her and she can feel her walls start to break.

She looks at her feet, face hot with shame. “Don’t,” she warns, pleads. “I…I know it’s stupid. I’m stupid.”

“You’re not stupid!” Max quickly insists. She moves to sit on the bed again and motions for El to join her.

El, still clutching the yearbook, follows her with great reluctance.

Max turns to look her in the eye, speaking with great sincerity. “I’m sorry I laughed, okay? I just didn’t think you’d ever like someone so—“

El eyes her warily.

“Different,” Max hastily finishes.

El slumps her shoulders as she looks down at the yearbook in her arms. She runs a finger over its spine, thoughts going back to her few, but treasured, memories of Mike. The way he made her laugh. The way he rambled when he got excited. The way he wasn’t totally scared off by her smudged eyeshadow or dark demeanor. The way he smiled at her.

“He’s nice,” El finally mumbles, “and smart. And funny. He doesn’t make fun of me for being weird.”

Max stays silent, allowing El to unload all of her emotions.

“I know you think he’s a geek, but I…I like him,” El continues, feeling less shy, “Just ‘cause he likes comics and video games doesn’t mean that he’s a total knucklehead.”

“Right,” Max replies, looking oddly uncomfortable for a moment. But the moment passes as quickly as it comes, and a second later, her face returns to its original, relaxed expression. “No, you’re totally right. I shouldn’t have laughed, that was stupid.”

“It’s ok,” El assures her with a small smile. She turns, grabs her pillows off the floor, and arranges them as they once were, sliding the yearbook back under her them. Though the anxious feeling in her chest has died down, she’s still feeling a little awkward about the whole thing. She’d never planned on having to explain why she spends too much time looking at someone in a photograph, even if it was to her best friend.

“So, what are you gonna do?” Max asks.

“Do?”

“About President Nerd?”

Oh. Right.

El looks down at her own nails, gaze focused on the chipped black polish on her thumbnail. “I don’t know. He barely notices me,” She mumbles.

“Why don’t you just show him one of your mind tricks, or something?” Max suggests. “That’ll get his attention.”

El gives her a look. “You know I can’t. Dad doesn’t want me to tell anyone about my powers.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. It was just an idea.”

“And,” El continues, “I don’t want him to think I’m a freak.”

“Why would he think that?”

El holds up her hands, then motions to her own head.

“Having powers makes you cool!” Max says. “You know what I’d do if I had powers?”

“Something dangerous?” El smiles.

“Uh, yeah!”

The two exchange smiles before falling silent.

A beat passes, then Max gets a mischievous grin on her face. It’s the same grin she had before they spray-painted the principal’s car.

Oh no.

“What?” El asks hesitantly.

“It’s just,” Max replies, grinning even wider, “If he won’t notice you, you just gotta make him.”

El frowns. “What do you mean?”

Max turns around, grabs the phone resting on El’s nightstand, and pulls it onto her bed. “Call him!”

“No!” El jumps back from the phone as quickly as if it had burned her.

“C’mon!” Max taunts, holding out the receiver, “I dare you!”

“We already played Truth or Dare.”

“Well, we’re playing again. Call him.”

El continues to shake her head, though with a bit of reluctance. “I don’t…I don’t know his number,” she mumbles weakly.

“Yellow Pages,” Max replies.

“But…”

“Do you want him to know you exist, or not?” Max says exasperatedly, “Are you really going to just keep moping around like a total bonehead or actually do something?”

El looks her in the eye.

Max looks back.

“I’m not a bonehead.”

“Then call him.”

El takes a deep breath.

“You know you want to,” Max says in an exaggerated, girly voice that makes El giggle.

“Fine!” She bursts.

“Yes! No takebacks!” Max laughs impishly before jumping off the bed. “I’ll go get the book!”

El buries her face in her pillow as Max runs out of her room and down the stairs.

What on earth did she just agree to?

Much too soon, Max is back with the bulky Yellow Pages book. She rejoins El on the bed and begins to flip through the “W” Residencies. Her eyes are narrowed with determination, while El’s are wide with anticipation.

“Wheeler!” Max announces triumphantly, jabbing a finger at the page. “Ted and Karen. That’s gotta be it!”

“O-okay!” El says, unable to hide her nervousness — she doesn’t think she’d be able to even if she tried.

El pulls the phone closer to her. Max reads off the number. El dials it with shaking fingers.

Max slides in close to El, no doubt to make sure she can hear the entire exchange take place. El holds the receiver to her ear, holding her breath, heart pounding.

The phone rings three times before it’s picked up.

“Hello?” Someone answers — someone that’s definitely not Mike. It’s a woman’s voice, probably his mom’s.

This was a terrible mistake.

“Uh, hi?” El’s voice is shaking, and she takes another deep breath to steady herself. “Is Mike there?”

“Yes, he is. May I ask who’s calling?”

El hesitates, not wanting to out herself just yet. “I’m in class with him,” she offers instead. “At school.”

“Alright, I’ll go get him,” Mrs. Wheeler replies. El can hear her set the phone down.

“Was that his MOM?” Max snorts.

El nods. “She’s going to get him.” She can feel her heartbeat in her throat and she suddenly feels nauseous. “What should I say to him?” She hisses to Max.

“Tell him you love him!” Max replies, snorting again.

El punches her leg.

There’s a minute of silence. Then, moments later, El hears the muffled sound of running feet and shouting. Her brow furrows in alarm and confusion, but seconds later, it’s quiet again.

More silence.

Then she hears someone pick up the phone.

El readies herself.

Here we go.

“…Hello?” Mike asks nervously.

El swallows. “Hey.”

Both receivers crackle loudly, allowing for Mike and El’s friends to hear every exchanged word.

“Who is this?”

(“The girl of your dreams,” Max says in that girly voice again, unable to keep a straight face.)

“…..El.”

“El?”

(Will’s jaw drops. Dustin and Lucas immediately proceed to make an ‘oooooooh,’ sound.)

“Uh, yeah.”

Mike’s heart skips a beat, and for a moment, he’s pretty sure he’s dreaming. Then again, if he is, he’s 100% sure that his dreams wouldn’t include Lucas and Dustin making kissy sounds in the background. “Hey!” He replies, throwing the guys a dirty look. “What’s up?”

El pauses. She still doesn’t have a good reason for calling him. She glances around her room, desperately searching for some sort of inspiration. Her gaze lands on her backpack, and she smiles in relief.

“Do we have homework?” She asks quickly, “In Biology? I, uh, forgot.”

(“Homework?” Max mouths, shaking her head in disbelief.)

“Homework?” Was that it? Mike feels his heart sink a little lower in his chest. “I don’t think so.”

“Oh,” El replies. Why did she call him again? She sounds like a complete idiot right now. How is this supposed to make him like her?

“Yeah.”

(“This is the most depressing conversation I’ve ever heard,” Lucas mutters, “And we just had to watch Scared Straight for psychology class.”)

“So, uh, what are you up to?” Mike asks, trying to make conversation.

El feels herself blush. “I’m just at my house,” she mumbles.

“Cool! I’m at my house too!” Mike responds earnestly.

(“No shit,” Dustin says, smacking himself on the forehead.)

Even though this conversation is going about as well as a train wreck, El smiles when she hears the familiar, upbeat liveliness in his voice. “Comics and video games?” She asks, hoping he’ll remember their detention conversation.

Mike grins. She’d remembered! “Uh, yeah, kind of! I actually just got this new Star Wars Comic, First Strike? It’s the 100th issue, so it’s like, super cool!”

“One hundred?” El echoes in surprise.

“Yeah, they make a lot,” Mike continues, “I’ve read all of them though. You could borrow them sometime, if you wanted.”

(“Do you think that showing you his comic collection is the nerd version of getting to first base?” Max asks.)

El feels her face grow warm. “Yeah,” she says casually, even though she’s never seen any of the Star Wars movies. She’s not about to admit that right now, though.

“Cool!” Mike replies cheerily.

El wants to say more. She wants to just sit and talk to Mike for hours upon hours until her voice is hoarse and she’s exhausted her vocabulary. But with Max right there, grinning at her, and the mounting feeling of pressure swelling in her chest, El knows that she needs to take a step back.

“Well, uh, I should go,” she says.

Mike feels his heart sink. Then again, as he scowls at Dustin and Lucas, who are back to making kissy faces at him, now isn’t exactly the best time to get into a lengthy conversation with El.

“Yeah, okay,” Mike replies. “See you later!”

“Okay!”

“Bye!”

“Bye, Mike!”

The phone call ends.

“You guys are assholes!” Mike says as he hangs up the phone.

In response, his friends all burst into laughter.

“That was painful!” Lucas exclaims, both grinning and wincing at the same time.

“Like watching C3PO trying to win over Leia!” Dustin giggles.

“Oh, c’mon! Was it really that bad?” Mike asks, turning to Will. Though he keeps his tone casual, internally he’s pleading for validation that he didn’t just totally screw up.

“I think she likes you,” Will offers with a smile, “She’s showing you attention, remember?”

Mike hesitates. “But she just wanted to know about homework!”

“She could have called the teacher,” Will points out, “Or someone else in class.”

“That’s true…”

“You want my advice?” Dustin asks.

“Not really,” Mike mutters.

“Get out while you still can,” Dustin finishes, placing a hand on Mike’s shoulder.

“Gee, thanks.”

“You’re welcome!”

“C’mon!” Lucas rolls his eyes and starts heading back down the hallway. “Let’s get back to the campaign!”

“Last one to the basement gets sacrificed!” Dustin calls out, darting past them.

“No fair!” Will cries out, following after them.

As they’re already halfway down the basement stairs, Mike already knows that he’s going to be the one to get sacrificed.

Shit.

Glancing at the phone one last time, Mike follows his friends down the stairs, forcing himself to push aside any further worries about El.

El hangs up the phone quickly, cheeks a bright scarlet.

Max starts laughing again, though this time it doesn’t hurt El’s feelings. “He’s like, totally in love with you,” Max snorts, “It’s adorable, really.”

El tries her best to give Max an annoyed look, but truth be told, the phone conversation has left her head in the clouds. “He doesn’t,” El insists half-heartedly.

“Right, Mr. ‘I’m At My House Too’!” Max bursts into another round of laughter. “‘Let me show you my sweet comics!’”

El, despite how red-faced she already is, manages to blush even more. “Shut up!” She replies, now laughing too.

“You like him,” Max teases, poking El repeatedly.

“Stop!” El gasps, trying to grab the offending finger.

“You like Mike!”

“Mike?” A new voice asks.

The girls look up to see Hopper standing in the doorway, holding a box of pizza.

“Dad!” El squeaks. She and Max sit up straighter on her bed, trying to look as nonchalant as possible.

“Who’s Mike?” Hopper asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Nobody.”

“Nobody?”

“Yeah.”

“So you’re just getting all giggly over ‘nobody’?”

El hesitates. “I….”

“Mike is a boy from school,” Max cuts in.

El turns to her friend, aghast. “Max!”

“What?” Max shrugs, “He’s a cop! He was going to find out eventually!”

“So, you tell him now?”

“Do I know him?” Hopper asks. He’s smiling, eyes twinkling with mischief. “This ‘Mike’?”

“No!” El exclaims. This, without a doubt, is the most embarrassing night of her life.

“What’s he do?” Hopper continues, looking intrigued. “Any sports or clubs?”

“Well, he’s 15, so he sells drugs,” Max says dryly, “Like, hardcore drugs. And he’s been to jail, like five times.”

“MAX.”

Hopper snorts at the sarcasm. He sets the pizza down on El’s bed and points to Max. “I like her,” he states.

“I don’t,” El grumbles, throwing Max a dirty look.

Max beams back at her.

“I going to assume you’re joking,” Hopper says, giving the girls a serious look, to which Max nods sincerely.

“Do you actually think El would like someone like that?” Max asks.

Hopper hesitates. “Well…”

El’s brow furrows. “Dad!”

“Well, I know you two are into this whole,” his sentence trails off as he motions between them, “Punk thing. I’m fine with it, but I want you to be smart about it. Like, the whole thing with the principal’s car? You gotta stop messing around like that.”

“I know,” El pouts. Even though her dad already chewed her out about this last week, it still hurts to know that she disappointed him. “Sorry.”

Hopper smooths his hand over El’s slicked-back hair. “You guys are good kids,” he reminds them, “I know high school isn’t always easy, but you don’t need to act out to make it easier.”

Max and El exchange hesitant looks.

“Ok,” El mumbles.

Hopper nods before moving back and heading back towards the door. “Make sure you get some sleep,” he instructs them.

“We will!” Max assures him.

Hopper leaves then, shutting El’s bedroom door behind him.

“Your dad is pretty cool, you know,” Max says. She opens the pizza box and takes a slice, proceeding to talk with her mouth full. “Like Jack Cates. I wish my dad was a cop.“

“You say that now,” El takes her own pizza slice. “But what about when you want to spend time with Lucas?”

Max nearly chokes on her pizza slice. “What?!”

El raises her eyebrows and takes a bite of her pizza.

“I don’t like that dweeb!” Max insists.

“Okay.”

“I don’t!”

“You were staring at him during lunch yesterday.”

“He had food on his face, it was hilarious.”

“Okay.”

“I don’t like Lucas,” Max repeats. She rolls her eyes, flips her ponytail, shifts in place, and makes a snort of disgust, as if the more dismissive actions she makes, the more El will believe her.

“Sure.”

Max gives her a dirty look.

El only beams right back.

#mileven #mileven fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #berrie fics #*#everybodytalks #miss-sad-marshmallow #lovecolesprouse #wrongirish

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thesubjectandthescientist · 6 years

Text

Anger

Woohoo, it’s another canon short! This one happens a few months after the story, October to be exact.

*Warning: This one is a bit intense...a bit abusive...nothing stronger than what’s in the story though*

...

“It’s…October? Yes, right. October. It’s been a few months since I let her out. Things have gone…well. Better than I thought. She’s done well with the arrangement, though she does insist on conversations once in a while. I usually relent. I don’t enjoy talking to her but it keeps her relatively content, which is ideal. The less I have to remind her how things actually are, the better. She seems to live in a constant state of denial. That’s probably not good for her. Honestly, I really don’t care how she deals with it as long as she doesn’t bother me with it.”

“She’s been fairly…at ease for a while. She’d seemed to return to her normal self but the past couple days have been different. She’s been extremely on edge which is strange as I haven’t said or done anything that usually causes that behavior. I asked her about it but she insisted that nothing was wrong. She was clearly lying. I find it almost amusing that she still thinks she can lie to me. I’m beginning to suspect she’s done something that she doesn’t want me to find out about. I’ve gone over some of the security camera footage from the past couple days but I haven’t found anything yet besides the disturbing amount of time she spends just…standing outside of my office. Anyway, I just have a couple more hours worth of video left to go over and if I don’t find anything, I’ll confront her.”

I turn off the log recorder and go back to looking the footage. I started leaving the cameras on all the time when I let her out in case of a situation like this.

I skip through about an hour of an empty hallway then let the footage play as the Subject comes out of her room. She’s staring intently into a book I recently gave her. She shuffles down the hallway, her eyes never leaving the book. I see her on the other camera’s footage go into the kitchen to get a drink of water then return to the hallway. She’s still keenly reading the book. She starts to slow down and reach out her hand for a doorknob.

She’s not in front of her room.

She’s in front of Evelin’s room.

“Don’t you dare.”

She opens the door to Evelin’s room and steps inside, closing the door behind her.

She doesn’t come out for five minutes. When she does, she slips out quietly, frantically looking up and down the hallway. She shuts the door and runs to her room.

I stop the footage.

She was right not to tell me about this.

I’m furious.

Before I can even think, I find myself storming out of my office and up the hallway. I try to open her door but it’s locked. I bang on the door.

“Open the door!” I demand.

“Why? W-what’s going on?” I hear her ask through the door, her voice shaking.

“You went into her room,” I snap, harshly, “That was the one thing, the one thing, that I explicitly told you not to do. Open. The. Door.”

“It was an accident!” she cries, “I swear! I-I was reading my book and I didn’t count the doors right!”

“You were in there for five minutes!”

“I got scared! P-please, please, calm down-“

“No. You broke a rule and you have to be punished. Open the door.”

“N-no, you’re too m-mad!” she says, frantically, “P-please, calm down. It was an accident!”

“I don’t care if it was an accident. If you do not open the door, I will break it down, do you understand?”

“Please, please, I’m so sorry,” she whimpers, “Please, calm down. I didn’t m-mean to.”

“This is the last time I’m telling you,” I mutter, “Open the door.”

I hear a sob. She must be scared to death. She should be.

After a moment, I step back to get ready to kick in the door but I hear the click of the lock. I burst through the door and find her curled up in the corner of the room with her face covered.

“It was an accident,” she whispers, shaking, as I go over to her.

“I don’t care,” I snap, “Get up.”

“P-please, I’m s-sorry,” she mumbles, her voice trembling.

“Do you remember what I said would happen if you went in there?”

Her shaking gets worse.

“P-please,” she barely whispers.

“Get up,” I repeat, gritting my teeth.

She shakes her head.

Fine.

I grab her arm and roughly pull her to her feet.

“NO!” she shrieks, trying to pull away. I tighten my grip and drag her out of her room and down the hallway. She’s desperately screaming apologies and begging me to stop.

I open the door to the basement and her screaming reaches a new high. I ignore everything she says. I’m infuriated that she had the audacity to break such an explicitly set rule and I am going to make her pay for it.

She’s fighting me with all her strength, which makes going down the stairs difficult. It doesn’t matter though. I’m much bigger and stronger than she is. I jerk her over toward her room and place my hand on the scanner.

She suddenly goes dead quiet.

“No, no, no, y-you promised, you promised,” she whimpers, the color draining from her face. I ignore her statement and roughly shove her into her room. She lands hard on the floor and immediately scrambles to get up.

“NO, DON’T-“ I cut off her plea by shutting the door.

That should be sufficient for now. I want to hurt her, badly, but I know that doesn’t have the same effect as leaving her alone.

I’ll give her plenty of time to think about what she’s done and give myself a chance to cool off.

…

I almost considered leaving her down there.

I don’t want to have to discuss this.

I don’t want to have to tell her why I was so angry. I don’t want to have to tell her why going into my daughter’s room is such a terrible offense.

I don’t want to have to tell her why because I don’t know why.

There was no reason for me to respond the way I did...but I’m not about to tell her that. If she thinks I’m still mad, it’ll keep her away from me for a while.

I decided to leave her in there for five hours. One hour for every minute she spent in Evie’s room.

I don’t believe that it was completely an accident. Even if she had been that distracted, she still spent five whole minutes in there. She intentionally broke the rule I set and she had to be punished.

I didn’t watch her from my office. I didn’t want to. I don’t know how she responded to being locked in her room again but I know it wasn’t good. I’m not sure how she’ll be when I let her out. I’ve carefully planned what I’m going to say. I won’t answer any questions. I’ll tell her exactly what I expect of her and that’s it.

I go down to the basement and pause in front of her door.

For a moment, I remember what it was like before…

Maybe I should leave her down here…

No. Things will never be like they were before. She thinks too much for herself now.

I place my hand on the scanner and put in the code to keep the door open. The door slides open. I expect her to rush out but she doesn’t. I look into the room and see her sitting against the back wall with her head down.

I wait a moment. She doesn’t move.

“You can come out.”

She slowly stands up and takes a few steps but pauses in the doorway. She’s trembling.

I take a step back and she takes a step out of her room. She takes a deep breath like she’s preparing to say something but she stays quiet.

“Do you have something to say for yourself?”

“I…” she pauses and sighs. “I’m sorry,” she whispers, keeping her head down.

“Fine. You apologized, you’ve been punished, you’re forgiven. That’s the end of it, understand?” She nods. “Good.” I turn to head upstairs.

“...It was an accident,” she mutters. I stop. I look back at her. She glares at me.

“It doesn’t matter,” I snap, returning the glare, “You still broke the rule.” She opens her mouth to protest then closes it. She lowers her head for a moment. She glances back at her room.

“My...my hand didn’t work,” she says, quietly.

“Of course it didn’t. Did you really think that I would never put you in there again?”

“You...you promised you wouldn’t,” she whimpers.

“Promises are worthless. Easily made, easily broken.”

“That’s not-you can’t-“ she sighs, frustrated, “This isn’t fair!”

“What isn’t?”

“All of it!” She glares at me. “It was an accident! I didn’t mean to and you still hurt me! You do bad things on purpose all the time and you never get punished! It’s not fair!”

“Since when do you think I’ll ever be fair to you?” I mutter, rolling my eyes.

She grits her teeth and clenches her hands into fists. She takes a quick step toward me with her small fist raised. I instinctively flinch away. She suddenly freezes and looks at her hand. She stumbles back and stares at me, horrified.

"I...I wanted to hurt you," she gasps.

"You’re angry,” I mumble, quickly regaining my composure, “It’s a natural response."

She silently stares at her hands with a mortified look on her face.

"That felt horrible," she whispers after a moment, "That...that’s what you feel like all the time, isn’t it?" She slowly looks back at her room.

“Would...would it be better for you...if I was in there? I know that it hurts you to even look at me,” she pauses and takes a shaky breath. She looks up at me. “I can go back in my room. For...good. You don’t have to let me out.”

“You...want to go back to being locked in your room?”

“No, I-I hate it in there. It’s so scary and I’m alone and-“ she chokes on her words. “But I...I want you to be okay. Do you want me to go back in there?”

I stare at her for a moment. I motion toward her room. She squeezes her eyes shut and tears run down her face but she obeys.

I follow her back into her room. I point to the table and chairs. I put them back shortly after letting her out…just in case...

We sit down at the table. It’s a familiar feeling. A sickening feeling...

“Things...can’t go back to how they were,” I start, slowly, “We can’t have...this again. The order. The simplicity. It’s over,” I pause, “...I want to leave you in here. I want to go back to the routine. I can’t. I’m tired. I’m so tired. I can’t do it anymore. I can’t go back to this. I have hated seeing you around the house and every moment I have to spend with you sickens me, but it doesn’t compare to what it was like before.”

I stop for a moment. She's staring at her hands with a blank expression on her face. She doesn’t seem to understand...

“Look, as long as you follow the rules, we won’t have a problem. Just leave me alone and stay out of her room, got it?” She nods. “Good.”

I look around her room. I haven’t been in here for a while.

“I hate it too,” I mumble. She glances at me with a slightly confused look. “Your room. I hate it in here too. All the things I did to you in here, I hated that too. It made me sick. I never wanted-“ I cut myself off. I need to change the subject.

I notice bruises on her arm. “Did I hurt you?” I mutter.

“I’m fine,” she replies, quietly. I hold out my hand. She hesitates a moment before giving me hers. I look over the bruises. They’re dark and swollen. It looks worse than the last time I hurt her like this...

“I don’t believe it’s broken but it is a possibility, considering the swelling. Go get the ice pack out of the freezer and keep it on your arm for a while. If it doesn’t feel any better later, tell me.”

“…I can…go?” she asks, carefully. I nod. She quickly jumps out of her chair and runs for the door. She pauses in the doorway. “…What about you? I don’t-um-I don’t think you should be here alo-”

“Rule number one,” I snap, cutting her off. She mumbles a quick apology before running to the stairs.

I don’t leave just yet. There’s a strange comfort in here. I’m not sure what it is...

It’s so quiet. I can hear screams echoing from the past. I can hear her begging and pleading. I can hear her sobbing. I can hear myself telling her that I was hurting her because that’s what she was for. I can hear myself telling her that she’s nothing. I can hear myself telling her that I hate her because this is all her fault.

I sigh and hold my head in my hands.

What have I become?

#oh the angst #the subject and the scientist

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kpopfanfictrash · 7 years

Text

Addewid (XV)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: You / Kai (Jongin)

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 3,390

Genre: Fey!AU + Series

Summary: “You cannot appeal to my better nature, for I have none. I am not human, little one.”

You’ve always known you were different. You’re able to see them, after all, able to see the Others. You’ve also always ignored them. Until the day comes where you’re forced to make a choice - one that throws your world into chaos. And sends you down a path you might never return from.

Sehun reaches down to remove the bag from the man’s head.

“D-dad?” I choke out, seized with disbelief.

When I try to move, hands encircle my arms. Their grip like iron, yanking me backwards. Dimly, I notice Kai is being similarly restrained. He’s moving his lips but nothing emerges, or maybe it does and I just can’t hear. I can’t understand him, everything is faded but my father, who looks at me with wordless apology.

“Pass the gauntlet,” Maeve’s voice rings out above. “Or be responsible for the death of her father.”

Part XV - The Gauntlet

I can’t remember how to breathe.

I try to scream, but find I’ve forgotten how. On the inside, I’m livid. On the inside, my lungs are burnt, shredded with words and with rage. My father. My father here, kneeling before Sehun while Maeve – my heart resumes motion, the frantic thump, thump of my chest.

Maeve stands on the other side.

She looks at me. At me, not Kai and I think it’s this which breaks me. I lose control, unsure what I’m doing when I launch myself forward. Somehow, I throw off my guards, elbowing one in the nose, the other in his gut. They topple into one another, grunting in pain but now is no time to be prideful. I don’t know where I’m going, don’t know what I’m doing – only know I need to cause as much pain as possible.

I’m at the wall before I realize, slamming my body into stone over and over. I throw myself forward, nails scraping charcoal as I frantically try to climb. The wall blurs and I realize I’m crying, hot tears sliding down my neck as the room stabilizes. Arms wrench me backwards, pulling me against a chest while Kyungsoo whispers, “It’s okay, it’s okay.” His cheek is warm, comforting. “Please, Y/N – don’t make this worse. Look at Kai,” he begs and upon hearing the desperation in his voice – I look up.

My father appears frantic, trying to mouth something – I can’t quite make out the words. I stare at him, gaze wide until I understand the word don’t.

Don’t fight. Don’t speak. Don’t run.

I remember another day, my dad’s fingers tracing the same word over and over – that time I disobeyed. I didn’t follow his warning, when my dad told me to run. I didn’t obey then, but I do now.

I stop moving. Stop fighting, let Kyungsoo pull me backwards. His touch is gentle, full of apology and tears brim my gaze glancing sideways. Kai stands there bruised, breath heavy. His left eye already swells, angry and red as he glares hatefully at Oh Sehun.

Sehun doesn’t react, keeping his grip steady and I wonder again why he does this. I remember the look he gave me, when Kai and I left his manor. Sehun’s gaze was confused, thrown by whatever he saw in my mind. He didn’t understand the connection between Kai and I – which makes me wonder if that confusion has long faded. I remember Kai explaining Sehun is in love with Maeve. This doesn’t make me forgive him, but I do pity him. The fact that he thinks that’s love. The fact that he needs to prove himself, for the affection of the woman he loves.

I remind myself again this is his choice, as much as hers.

Maeve remains still, looking out at the crowd. The Unseelie hush, excitement betrayed in their expressions. I can taste their desperation, eagerness for blood. They want Kai to see fail, want to watch my father die. What they want for me, I can only guess.

Staring out at the madness, my newfound bravery begins to fade. The Unseelie are endless, their presence formidable and I remind myself that Kai will win – he must. “What is the gauntlet,” I say quietly, looking at Kyungsoo.

“A test. I don’t know what monsters she’ll pick,” Kyungsoo whispers, lips barely moving. “I don’t know who Kai will fight – it’s whomever Maeve decides, for however long she sees fit. He will fight until defeating them all. When she determines the gauntlet has ended, Kai will be crowned victorious – or not.”

My heart races at the thought. Kai is the most skilled swordsman of his age, though. I see the way people fear him. I see how they shy back and I saw him that day in the forest. If anyone can win the gauntlet, Kai can.

Maeve’s lips lift. “The rules,” she declares. “Prince Kai will complete the gauntlet alone,” she states, as though reading some pre-determined list. “He will complete with no outside assistance. Prince Kai may choose one form of weaponry to fight with, though he may not use magic. Prince Kai will fight whomever I decide and in order to win, he must be the only left standing in the arena.”

“Is that all,” Kai asks. He smiles at Maeve, a dark gesture.

Maeve does not flinch. “Take your place in the pit, Prince,” she warns, before turning to the center of her dais.

Kai watches her go, then inclines his head. When he looks at me, his gaze softens. “If I don’t make it,” Kai murmurs, walking so that his lips touch my cheek. “Don’t forget to dream.”

Then he’s gone, walking past to disappear into the heart of the arena. My breath catches, turning to follow. I watch him go, since Kyungsoo stands between us. Though his gaze is sad, I know Kyungsoo won’t hesitate to interfere. Maeve demanded no one help during the gauntlet, which means I can only watch. Below me stands Kai, above me stands my father – leaving me entirely alone.

I watch Kai descend the crowd. The Unseelie part, a sea of shadows. As I watch, I think about Kai living most of his life here. He’s survived this way, shrouded in darkness and fear. Most of Kai’s name wasn’t said in English. Nor did he speak Celtic, Hebrew or any other known language. His name meant light itself, not the word which describes light. It was hope, it was Kai and I don’t know how to explain more than that.

As I watch, slightly dazed – I feel hollow. Feel numb, as though the shock of the past few minutes has apprehended my senses. I feel trapped in a story, as opposed to reality and yet I feel the metal which bites at my wrists. Can hear Kyungsoo breathing beside me. Can see my father kneel, can feel my love for him. I know with certainty, my enemy are around me.

I wish I had power. I wish my tiny drop of Fey blood contained magic – I wish I were magic, wish I were Fey. I try hard to be, for a moment I close my eyes but when they reopen – nothing.

Kai is still walking to his death. My father still stands above. And here I am, powerless to stop any of it.

Below me, Kai tightens the guards of his forearms. He flexes his fingers, wrapping both hands around the hilts of his knives. “I trust these count as one weapon,” Kai announces, looking at Maeve.

He stands in the center of the pit, dirt sloping up on either side. Above him lilts the court, wraiths which hiss in the darkness. Some appear humanoid, these are the Unseelie Lords and Ladies. Noble Fey, like Kai. There are many others are present who are not. Banshees and goblins, ghouls and nightmares come alive from the dark.

These screech their insults, throwing closer, knocking into one another in the process. Occasionally fights break out, when one steps on the foot or knocks the elbow of the wrong person. I ignore all this, splitting my time between looking at Kai and my father.

Maeve clears her throat. That’s the only warning before she stands before me. One second I’m alone, then she’s there. Maeve walks before Kyungsoo, tilting her head to the side. “Sehun,” she rings out, voice sweet. “Will you bring our honored guest down here?”

Sehun lifts my father, dragging him up to lead away. My dad allows this happen, walking calmly until I can see no more of him. Maeve turns to the crowd, waving two chairs into being. “For the guest of honor,” she smiles, waving me forward.

I grunt when her magic takes hold. Ropes bind my body, yanking me forward and depositing me into the chair, legs forced to a sitting position as I’m deposited against on velvet. I arch against this, pushing forward but it’s no use. The invisible ropes tighten, and when I open my mouth to speak – I find I cannot.

“Dear,” Maeve leans forward, voice quiet. “I want you to watch this. Want you to see what happens when my subjects disobey. I don’t know why you came,” she murmurs, gaze blank, “but if you insist on staying – you will learn the consequences of your actions.”

Maeve then withdraws, lacing both hands over her pants. Her eyes glint ice-cold, bright in the room. “Bind him with her,” she instructs Sehun, who has appeared on Maeve’s other side.

My father is tied unceremoniously beside me, head hitting the headrest several times during the process. When he meets my gaze, my dad shakes his head. His eyes are pleading and when he opens his mouth to speak – Maeve clears her throat.

“Guard the pit,” she instructs both Kyungsoo and Sehun.

They nod, leaving immediately. Maeve continues to stand there as I stare at the back of her neck, pale and graceful. It hurts, physically hurts that I’m bound. That I’m so close, that she’s so unaware. Maeve would never suspect me of harm, a fact which makes my hands curl to fists on either side of my chair.

“Don’t,” my father whispers, so soft I think I’ve imagined it.

Hesitantly, my gaze drifts sideways. I try and speak, only to remember I cannot. Moisture gathers at the corners of my eyes, while my dad smiles faintly.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. Maeve is either too distracted to notice, or she doesn’t care.

I’m grateful for this fact. Grateful, that Sehun forgot to gag my dad. My gaze moves over my his shoulder, staring at Sehun who descends the steps of the pit. He doesn’t look back, turning to take his spot at the entrance of the ring.

I return to my father, gaze misting with tears. I want to tell him I’m sorry, say that it’s my fault. I thought I knew better than him, thought I could survive here – I was woefully mistaken. Because of my arrogance, look where we’ve ended up.

My father shakes his head. “No,” he whispers, hair falling into his eyes. “It was my fault. I heard what happened, know why you’re here. Only you,” he chuckles, which turns into a cough, “could leave home a prisoner and find him.”

My eyes lighten. My dad knows, he understands. I want to cry, want to hug him – have never wanted anything so badly in my entire life. I want to say that I’m sorry, but can’t speak. My mouth bound by invisible chains.

My dad blinks, his smile tilting. “I love you, too,” he whispers. “I’m proud of you. No matter what happens, know that.”

I shake my head, telling him the same. I love him, too.

Below us, things are continuing. Time hasn’t stopped during the exchange, it’s only sped up and when I look down, I see the Unseelie have quieted. Kai stands at the center, looking up at the crowd. He stares first at Maeve, then at me.

The arena quiets. Kai says nothing, but what more can he say? I know he loves me. He knows I love him. He will fight for me, just as I fight for him. I look down knowing all this, stemming my threatening tears. I quiet my fear, since above all else – I believe in us.

Kai nods, a faint smile on his lips as he turns away.

“Fey of the Court,” Maeve cries. She inhales, as though breathing in the night itself. “I give you – the gauntlet.”

Nothing happens.

Nothing I can see anyways, though a certain shudder touches the air. Ancient magic called into effect as the sand at the far end crumbles. Two trap doors open, maws in the earth and when I see what’s within, my eyes widen.

A shadow-beast. One like the two Kai fought in the woods and though I’m afraid for him, I’m also happy. I’ve seen Kai win before. He was exhausted that first time, he was injured – but he’s fought these beasts and won. Kai can do this again and for the first time in a long time, hope enters my thoughts.

But no – I’m mistaken. It’s not one shadow-beast, not two – but three, hulking monsters. Their shoulders butt one another, their deep eyes red and gleaming. Kai stiffens before me, then sinks into a crouch. The din is nauseating. No one seems worried, merely eager. Eager for Kai to fail, for the position beside the Queen to open.

I sink into my seat, unable to stem my growing terror. Kai will win, he must.

The first thing leaps upwards. It’s an unfortunate blessing the pit is so small, it means all three can’t enter at the same time. Were Kai fighting three shadow-beasts at once – I shudder at the thought.

Kai steps lightly, bouncing on his feet before breaking into a run. His expression turns feral, eyes gleaming as he bursts forward. Kai, tired? Never. His body blurs, moving so fast I can’t see. One second he’s there, the next he’s not. He slices past the demons and whirls, unnaturally fast on his feet. One of Kai’s knives finds home, swiping across the thing’s chin to spill blood on the ground.

The beast yowls, recoiling as the second one leaps into the pit. Kai darts between them both, calmly avoiding their pairs of claws. The cuts he makes are purposeful, mechanical and I begin to see why the Unseelie fear him. War is an equation for Kai, a mathematical cutting of sinew and muscle, forcing the second beast’s legs to contract.

When the first creature lurches upwards, jaws snapping where Kai once was, he bends backwards. The thing’s talons narrowly miss his throat and Kai lands on his back. He flips up, stabbing the creature straight in the heart. The shadow-beast howls, writhing – vacillating, before folding in on itself.

The third beast breaks free. Kai stands panting, breath heavy as I pull against my invisible bonds. I want to help – need to do so, despite having no means of action. The second beast drips blood and gore, stumbling as the third shoves it aside. The last beast is much bigger than the first. It’s slower, though – even tired, Kai is faster.

Using the wounded beast as leverage, Kai runs. He stakes the third animal with his knife, using it to propel himself up and onto its back. Or as close to a back as I can make out, while Kai stabs the second knife into its neck. The weapon lodges there, stuck in bone while the thing lets out an inhuman cry. It stumbles sideways, attempting to buck Kai off.

Kai’s grip remains steady, even while he’s rammed against the sides of the pit. People scurry away from the edge, yelping as blood speckles the crowd. Kai stays upright, struggling to work the knife free. He’s too concentrated on this, doesn’t see the second beast lunge, doesn’t noticing the giant claws nearing his head.

He notices at the last second, ducking sideways and launching himself from the beast. Kai’s second knife remains in the thing’s neck, though he keeps his first tight in his fist. Kai’s body regains control on the way down, flipping once to stab directly into the beast’s eye. He thrusts his knife inward, forcing the animal’s skull back. There’s no noise which signals his victory. Were I closer, maybe I’d hear a choked sort of sputtering, before the second beast caves backwards. It folds in on itself, until just Kai’s knife is left in the sand.

Kai pushes himself up, slower than before. There’s no time for him to rest. The third beast is already running, driven mad by the blade lodged in its back. Kai dodges its first blow, rolling in a blood-soaked arena to crouch at the edge of the sand. The beast turns, letting out a snarl while rushing forward.

Kai pants. He’s exhausted, outnumbered, without his weapons.

Maeve’s lip curls. I don’t understand why, until I see her hands lift in the air. Sudden anger flares within me, as I realize she won’t let Kai die. No, if the third beast proves too much for him – Maeve will intervene. She’ll save Kai, so that she can punish him herself.

Maeve tilts her head, frowning when my gaze returns to the scene.

Kai remains unmoving. He stays crouched in the sand, fingertips splayed and gaze terse. He waits patiently, staring as the beast lumbers closer. One second, the animal is three paces from him. Two seconds, little more than one. One, and Kai launches himself upwards. He grabs hold of a sharpened talon, wrenching himself sideways, using his strength to pull the object straight from its paw.

The beast lets out a yowl. A savage shriek felt in my bones. The thing’s back crashes to the pit, and Kai uses this opportunity to run where the second shadow-beast died. His knife still stands, abandoned in a pile of sand and he scoops this up, turning around at the last second.

The third beast appears enraged, its vendetta now personal and when it moves, it seems uninjured. I’m trembling – I realize this because my dad says something. I think he tries to reach out but, while Sehun forgot to gag him, his ropes are binding.

There are sudden jeers from the crowd. My gaze returns to the arena, and I take in the sight of Kai bleeding. He limps, struggling to regain himself – the monster also bleeds, though. One of Kai’s knives still embedded in its neck, the other in its chest. By some miracle, both blades have narrowly missed organs. It seems impossible – it should be impossible – but then I see Maeve’s hands.

She twitches, the slight motion turning my gaze crimson. Maeve is doing this. She’s making Kai miss, sensing he’s better than these beasts. Sensing he will win, an outcome she’s keen to avoid. Maeve wants to punish Kai, wants me hurt and so she’s cheating.

I don’t know whether Kai realizes – from the rage on his face, I think he might. He turns aside, weaponless and exhausted. As he moves, though – something extraordinary happens. Kai pauses, then meets Maeve’s gaze as though remembering. While he looks, a soft glow emanates from his fingertips. It wraps his torso, a cocoon of light making the Unseelie instinctively shy away.

I realize why when the glamour fades. Kai appears freshly scrubbed – hair still silver, but less so. He smiles at Maeve, the gesture savage and when I see her fury, I realize what he’s done. Summer magic. He used Summer magic, since Maeve only banned that from Prince Kai. She said nothing of Jongin.

Maeve hisses, thrown by his deception and when Kai turns to face his monster, he does not miss.

The shadow-beast seems stunned, Seelie magic a direct affront on its being. It wavers, hesitating while Kai scrambles up onto its back. Kai grabs the hilt of his knife with both hands, yanking sideways – decapitating the beast entirely. Silver slices through flesh and bone, carving a line down the side of his body. The beast wavers, making keening noise as it slowly caves in.

Kai lands on his feet, light in the sand.

He stands like that, chest rising and falling against his ribcage. His hair obscures his gaze, making it hard for me to see. Hard for me to hear, over the roar of the crowd. It’s too loud, my heart too insistent.

Maeve’s gaze darkens. Her hands are bone-white, clasped before her. When she raises them to Kai, it takes several moments for the court to fall silent. Thousands of eyes turn her way and Maeve does not move, merely cocking her head. She stands in front of the pit, observing Prince Kai.

At last he looks up. When I see him, exhausted but whole – my vision blurs. To one side, my father exhales – whether it’s in relief or because he truly understands, I do not know.

Maeve smiles. “The gauntlet is not over,” she declares. “There will be one more fight, before our Prince is declared winner. Kyungsoo,” she looks to the side. “Fight Prince Kai – do not hold back. Jongin,” she adds, eyes glinting with malice. “You will not use magic of any kind, under any name.”

“Begin.”

[Master List]

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sapphicscholar · 6 years

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Chapter Text:

A strong gust of wind whipped down the street, chilling Kara to the bone. She pulled her coat more tightly around her and tried not to shiver, ignoring how long she’d already been outside, ignoring just how late she would surely be for the afternoon half of her shift.

“Hello,” came the woman’s voice. It was just as she remembered it from before.

Kara waved back, smiling openly, glad that she had, at the very least, been recognized.

“You haven’t been waiting too long, have you?” Her tone could have sounded flippant—almost dismissive—but Kara knew better.

Lying, Kara shook her head. “No, just a few minutes.”

“Perfect. Now, there’s a restaurant that’s just divine up in the Upper East Side. I don’t suppose you have time, though.”

As tempted as Kara was to insist that she could go and spend ever more time in this woman’s presence, she shook her head. “Probably not. But there isn’t really anywhere quiet in this neighborhood.”

The older woman paused, seeming to consider her options. “I know somewhere up a few blocks on this street. You don’t mind the walk do you?”

“Not at all.”

They made the short walk in silence, the bustle of holiday crowds forcing them apart a few times. Once Kara caught sight of the woman smiling at her as though she saw something in Kara that she herself had never known was there. What it was, she couldn’t say, but the idea of it thrilled her.

Had she not been watching the woman closely, she might have missed the turn into the restaurant, hidden as it was behind a rather nondescript dark wooden door. Inside, there were rows of tables covered in fresh white linens stretched out in front of her. The lighting was low and the wood a dark cherry that made the whole room feel warm and inviting, as though they had slipped into some kind of sanctuary set off from the noise and crowds of the city.

Once they were settled in, their coats hung up and their cheeks slowly returning to their normal color after the harsh bite of the wind, the woman looked up at her. “Now, Kiera was it?”

“Uh, Kara actually.”

“Kara,” she repeated, and Kara couldn’t help but think she’d never heard her name pronounced more perfectly. It sounded different falling from her lips, but Kara thought she preferred it, might like to change it permanently if it would capture this feeling each time someone else said it.

“And you are? I mean, besides Mrs. Grant.”

“Cat,” she answered, dropping her attention down to the menu as though anything about her was wholly uninteresting. Yet Kara wanted to know more—everything, if it were possible.

Before she could begin to ask, a waiter approached their table. “Can I get you started with anything to drink?”

“A dry martini, thank you,” Cat ordered, barely looking up from her menu.

“And you?”

“Oh, uh, I’m…” Kara trailed off with an uncertain shrug of her shoulders.

“Oh for god’s sake,” Cat huffed, “she’ll have the same.”

“Thank you,” Kara mumbled. Her breath caught at the sight of Cat running delicate fingers through her hair, leaving it slightly tousled, falling in loose waves around her face.

“How did you think to send me a card?” Cat asked, and Kara was struck with the sensation of somehow being interviewed, as though everything depended upon her giving the right answer.

“I—you stuck out. In my memory, I mean.” She chanced a glance up into brown eyes and thought she saw a flicker of amusement, though she wasn’t sure she was in on the joke. Cat nodded her head and pulled a small golden compact from her bag along with a berry-colored lipstick that Kara recognized as being from one of the upscale boutiques—the kind of lipstick that would cost a whole paycheck but just seemed to fit with the woman somehow. She dropped her gaze back to the table when she realized how long she had been staring at Cat’s lips.

“You haven’t been at Frankenberg’s long, have you?” Cat doubted anyone who’d lasted for more than a few weeks would still care enough to remember a customer. Surely a month was the outer limit for caring; after that, the workers who lasted became the kind of automatons with graying skin and graying smocks who populated the store floors asking if she needed assistance.

Kara wondered if her service had been that poor, but fought the urge to apologize. “No, only for a couple of weeks.”

“And will you be there much longer?” Cat couldn’t help but hope that the answer was no, couldn’t stand the idea of this woman losing the air she had about her, having her sense of wonder sucked from her and lost forever. She wondered if she might end up being the one to do it to her anyway. Maxwell would say she had the same effect on people, after all.

Shaking her head, Kara let out a small huff of laughter. A part of her wondered if she’d even have a job when she got back this late from lunch. “No, just through the holidays. Then I’ll have a new job.” She hoped Cat wouldn’t ask about it; she didn’t want to jinx it before it even happened.

“Now in your two weeks,” Cat began, a small smile tugging up the corner of her mouth, “have you felt compelled to send out postcards often? Do you flash that sunny smile at everyone who walks by and charm them completely?”

“Postcards?”

“Christmas cards,” Cat clarified, muttering her thanks to the waiter as he set down their drinks.

“Oh, uh, no. Just to you.”

“Well here’s to Christmas,” Cat offered by way of a toast, breaking eye contact again only when their waiter returned to take their lunch orders.

As they waited for their food, Cat asked about her—where she lived, how long she’d been there, what she thought about New York so far. Kara found herself skimming over her answers. Somehow it seemed that Cat understood her, deduced everything she meant from all that went unsaid.

And Cat, for her part, simply listened and prompted the girl to speak when she grew silent once more. When their glasses were emptied, she motioned for two new drinks, waving off Kara’s concerns about the cost.

“I like this,” Cat murmured, more to herself than to Kara, though of course she heard.

“What’s that?”

“This. I like that you sent me a card for no reason other than that you remembered me. I like that we’re here having drinks and lunch because of it.”

Kara smiled softly, pleased by the woman’s forthrightness. “I’m glad.”

“You’re…” Cat paused, as if struggling to find the right word. “You’re very pretty. Sensitive too—I’d think you must be as a painter.”

“You remembered.”

Arching an eyebrow, Cat regarded her over the rim of her martini glass. “How could I forget?”

“You—you’re magnificent.” It was likely the second martini on what was still an empty stomach that brought it out of her, though the words were no less true for their being pulled from her accidentally.

Cat laughed—a real laugh that revealed bright white teeth and, Kara thought, made her look younger, like all the concerns that weighed on her had been erased from her memory, and it was just the two of them, here, having lunch, because she sent a card. Kara tried to imagine what she might be like at home. She thought of the fondness she’d seen in her expression when she spoke of her son, wondered if he might look like her in miniature—blonde curls and inquisitive hazel eyes. She hoped he would like the train set. She thought, then, of the husband, Mr. Grant, but found she couldn’t picture him at all. He became a kind of amalgam of all the suited men she’d ever passed on the streets, lacking all the color and vivacity of the woman sitting across from her.

When their food arrived, their hands brushed together in their haste to move their drinks, and Kara swore she felt her whole body come alive at the small touch. She had the urge to know more, to feel the texture of Cat’s black suit jacket, to curl up against the silk scarf she had tied around her neck and lose herself in the perfumed air that seemed to surround Cat. Instead she cleared her throat and pulled her hand back instantly, taking a bite of her food.

“How does someone like you end up in New York?” She spoke quickly even as she perfectly enunciated every word.

Kara thought back, thought to being sent away by her parents. They’d done it for her own good, but it hadn’t made it any easier to adjust to a new culture and a new group of people as the orphan whose parents weren’t yet dead—dying without the clear break of loss and grief that she thought might have made it easier those first few weeks. She thought of the teachers who had never tried to understand and of Mrs. Danvers who had. She’d given her a new last name and a family and a friend in the form of her daughter Alex, one of the older students who had taken her under her wing during the year or two before she left and helped Kara to find a place in the school. Kara thought of the years she had spent afterward living in the city, taken in and allowed to live in the spare bedroom of the apartment Alex shared with another girl they had gone to school with—Maggie, one of the other orphans who subsisted on the food and clothing the school and the state deigned to provide. But then—well, there was no reason to get into it now.

“What matters is that I’m here now,” Kara concluded, her eyes trained on her food.

Of all people, Cat thought, she could certainly understand the sentiment. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

“Nothing,” Kara answered. The store was closing early, and she’d been given the morning off of work in exchange for working the long shift today that she was now missing. “Why do you ask?”

“Would you like to come visit me? There’s some nice country out where I live. It might be nice to leave the city for a bit. If you’d like,” she added, sounding almost uncertain for the very first time since Kara had met her.

“I’d love to.”

Cat eyed her. No questions, just an answer—firm and definite. “What a strange girl you are…”

“What do you mean?”

“Flung out of space.”

---

That evening, after a long afternoon at Frankenberg’s full of frantic last-minute shoppers and angry glares from Siobhan, who Kara suspected hadn’t fired her on the spot only because they needed another pair of hands on the busy floor, Kara steeled herself as she rounded the corner to meet Mike.

“Kara! Hey!” Mike called out, waving at her from the street corner, looking boyish in his navy coat, his cheeks stained pink from the cold.

Still feeling guilty for having cancelled on him that weekend, Kara smiled broadly and gave him an affectionate hug. “How are you?”

“Good—great, even! How was your day?”

Fabulous, she thought, just marvelous. “It was fine. Frankenberg’s was busy.”

“I bet. Hey, my mom wanted to make sure you’ll still be over for Christmas on Wednesday. You will, right?”

“Yeah,” Kara nodded. She wasn’t particularly looking forward to it—not the way she was awaiting spending the afternoon with Cat tomorrow.

“The gallery’s already opened. Do you want a cigarette or anything before we go in?”

“I’m okay.”

She let Mike tangle his fingers in hers and lead her down the block to the line for the entrance. “Oh! I got our reservations all set on the President Taylor.”

“That right?” She’d nearly forgotten about their plans to sail to Europe, and now she had more than one reason to want to stay in the city.

“We’ll leave the second week of March. Can you believe it?”

“This March?”

“Less than three months.”

Hesitating, Kara asked, “And if I couldn’t go for some reason, would you be able to cancel a reservation?” She knew if she said something about cancelling this early, it would just turn into a fight that she didn’t have the energy for just yet. He’d never cancel her ticket, assuming that she’d change her mind in the intervening weeks, no matter how firm she’d been.

“I could. But we’ve been looking forward to this trip for ages. It’s a dream come true.” Kara didn’t point out that it was his dream come true and that she’d simply been easygoing enough to agree to it. “It’s a shame we couldn’t just share one room.”

“Oh, no, this is for the best. People might get the wrong idea otherwise.” It would look like they were lovers, which they weren’t. Dating yes, but certainly not lovers. And even then, she didn’t feel for him the way she should, the way she did with Cat. Though, of course, she was a woman, so it couldn’t be the same kind of love, even if she’d heard of it, knew of it. There had been the stories that surrounded Alex and Maggie’s time in the WAAC and their return to Midvale after the War ended—stories that eventually drove them further down the coast to San Francisco to reunite with the other women who’d made their home there after sailing back to America. But that was different; there were reasons they didn’t see each other anymore, reasons why Kara too had fled Midvale, concerned with the wave of scandal that had cast their whole group of friends under the wary eye of the locals.

“Kara? Kara,” came Mike’s booming voice as he waved his hand in front of her face.

“What? Yeah?”

“You’re a million miles away these days.”

“Sorry, I’m just tired. That’s all.”

“Do you want to go get a coffee before we go in? There’s a restaurant down the block.”

“No, it’s fine,” Kara insisted, feeling no need to prolong their time together.

They soon made their way to the front of the line and paid their admission fee. Kara tried to hide the way her face fell at the sight of the paintings hanging on the walls. Mike was clearly trying hard to find something she would enjoy by going to an art gallery at all, and the fact that he’d forgotten how little she cared for abstract expressionism, even if it was the height of New York style these days, was something she should forgive.

As they made their way through the rooms, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with a more elite crowd than they were used to, Kara tried not to blush at Mike’s exuberance, his loud voice frequently startling those around them.

“Why aren’t you happier? This is good art. I’m here because you wanted to be here.”

“I know, I know,” Kara sighed. “I just—you know I like some of the more traditional schools. Give me the bold brush strokes and landscapes of the Romantics! Or the pointillists—there’s something almost magical about the way those small details blossom out into gorgeous scenes as soon as you step far enough away…the beauty hidden except to those who know to look for it.”

Tutting at her, Mike shook his head. “There’s a reason this is popular now. You could at least try to enjoy it. You used to be happier.”

Kara wanted to point out that she still was happy—happy when she was painting or walking the city streets or simply existing in Cat’s presence. Closing her eyes, she tried to rekindle the feelings she’d once had for him. She thought back to the night they’d met. It was her first month in the city, and some coworker had dragged her to a small party being held at a friend of a friend’s place on Christopher Street. She had already been out for hours and was teetering on the edge between tipsy and inebriated. When they’d made their way inside, her eyes had fallen on Mike, who seemed to be holding court in the middle of the room, regaling those around him with some great story that had them roaring with laughter. And when he’d turned to her, asked her to sit with him, she’d felt special, like for once she’d been someone’s first choice.

Eventually they left the gallery after she’d complained of exhaustion and he’d run into enough of the people he’d been there to see and impress that he was okay with leaving early. “Do you want to go grab drinks?”

“No, I’m tired.”

“What about tomorrow? Should we do something—just the two of us?”

“I don’t think so. I have plans.”

“What? You want to work or something?”

“Yes,” Kara answered. She didn’t want to tell him about Cat, didn’t want to somehow taint the other woman by entangling her in anything outside of her perfect bubble.

“How are we going to spend months together in Europe if we can’t even spend a whole evening together, Kara?”

There it was—the guilt. She knew he loved her; he’d told her enough times. But she just couldn’t find it within herself to return the affection the way he did—not physically or emotionally. She’d tried, but it left her feeling cold and more alone than ever, even with his strong arms wrapped around her. “If you want to call it off…”

“No! I love you, Kara.”

Those words again—always the same. They should have made her feel safe, but they left her feeling worse than ever, ridden with guilt and anxious feelings that seemed an awful lot like dread. He joked the rest of the way back, and his laughter only made her feel worse, highlighting all the ways he could relax around her, be himself, while she felt less herself than ever.

That night, long after Mike had left, she settled in and wrote a letter to Cat, saying all the things she’d thought when they first met, the words she’d kept out of the first Christmas card she sent to her, the emotions she’d refused to share with Mike that already flowed so easily with Cat. She’d never send it; even now, as she was writing it, she knew it would never see the light of day. Tucking the card away into a drawer, Kara stepped back and changed into night clothes, falling asleep with thoughts of Cat and promises of hours and hours spent far away from the city, from Mike, from Frankenberg’s.

#fanfic #supercat #carol au #1950s setting #kara danvers #cat grant #kara x cat #supergirl #ao3feed #keep daring keep diving #mentions of sanvers

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