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wreckmetoji · 3 years

Text

idfc

An ongoing fic in which you don't realize you have both Fushiguros at your feet.

↳ Toji Fushiguro/Reader ↳ Megumi Fushiguro/Reader

Part 7/?

Part 1, Part 2 , Part 4 , Part 5 , Part 6

content warning. negative thoughts, self doubt, angst, slight fluff, poor megumi This is part seven of a several part story revolving around smut. **Minors DNI**

1.9k words

You glared at him, only to be met with a shit-eating grin. "Looks like that smart mouth is good for something. Now get out of my car." The exchange was less than desirable. Nothing screams you're worthless more than pleasuring a man and then being told to promptly get out of his sight. There were no more words exchanged between the two of you, once you had gotten out of the car and slammed the door shut, Toji sped off without as much as a glance in your direction. It made you seethe, but at the same time you felt so incredibly disgusted that you let him degrade you like that. It took you a while to clean up, deciding to crumple your only half decent dress and throw it in your closet to be forgotten, and shower away the now dried cum sticking to your legs. You don't know why you were left feeling this way, you knew Toji wasn't a good man. You also knew that whatever you two had going on was supposed to be zero feelings involved. Still, it wouldn't have killed him to treat you decently. Sitting on your bed in nothing but a towel, you held your phone in both hands, staring at the bright screen in stark contrast to your nearly pitch-black room. You needed to talk to someone, you felt vulnerable. You knew Nobara had a date tonight, and Yuuji was taking night classes to make up for failing grades, that only left... A sigh fell from your lips, heart wrenching when your thumb pressed the call button, your heartbeat hammering in your ear as you brought the phone to it. It only rang two times before he answered, like he was already anticipating your call. "Hey," Megumi sounded tired, and you could hear the rustling of his sheets on the other end. It was nearly midnight, the realization that you must've disturbed his sleep making you feel even worse. "Hey..." You answered quietly, unsure what else to say. How were you going to get emotional support from him? It's not like you could say your dad fucked me stupid and made me feel used, I need someone to talk to. You heard his gentle voice call your name, once, then twice, before you placed your hand over your mouth and sniffled, trying to keep your tears at bay. You were human fucking garbage. "Hey, hey whats wrong? Are you okay?" Again, you heard the rustling of sheets, then a click followed by a long creak. "I'm gonna come over, wait for me, okay? I'll be ten minutes." You nodded, even though he couldn't see you, and the line went quiet. He never hung up, staying on the phone with you while he drove. Every time you sniffled, or whimpered, or quietly sobbed, he would croon it's okay, I'm almost there. In much less time than he said he'd take, you heard the phone go silent, followed by his frantic rapping at the door. He knew the code to get into your building, him being one of three people you trusted so dearly with it. You were suddenly very aware of your towel-clad body, but really unable to care at the moment. You just needed someone. Less than a second after the door was opened, Megumi was inside your apartment, kicking the door shut with his heel. When he quickly pulled you into a tight embrace, your hands balled into his chest, accepting the halo of warmth he provided as you quietly sobbed into his shirt. It didn't take long for you to stop crying, standing in the entryway in silence as Megumi held you with such care. Once he could tell you'd calmed slightly, he brought you back to your room, sitting you on the bed and going through your closet to find you something to wear. You didn't see that he noticed the dress you wore tonight so angrily discarded in the corner. He managed to find one of his old graphic shirts he gave you, and a pair of loose shorts, placing them on the bed beside you. "I'll give you a minute. Let me know when you're done." He stepped out of the room, making sure not to close the door completely behind him, letting the hallway light bleed into the dark room so you'd be able to see what you were doing. You softly smiled at his choice of clothes, the faded cartoon dog on the shirt was nostalgic. Once changed, you slowly opened the door, refusing to make eye contact. If he knew whatever was wrong was tied to him in some way, he didn't show it. You sat on the couch with him, legs bunched up, leaning into his side with his arm slung over your shoulders. The silence was comfortable, your tears and sniffles mostly subsided as the two of you absentmindedly watched whatever movie he decided to put on. "So," He broke the silence, taking a deep breath, "Do you want to talk about what's wrong?" This is the part you were dreading. How were you going to say this, if you could even say anything? There's nothing you could say that wouldn't give away who hurt you in what way. You could only imagine how disgusted he would be with you. "Shit, no," Megumi cursed, turning towards you on the couch when you started to cry again. "It's okay, you don't have to talk about it." His arm was still over the back of the couch, his other reaching out to grab yours, hesitating for a moment before he threaded his fingers between yours. "I feel like," You hiccuped, gripping his hand in both of yours. "I feel like if I talk about it, you'll end up hating me. I can't have you hate me, Gumi." You hung your head, tears falling onto your joined hands. Megumi remained quiet, scooting closer to you on the couch, his free hand coming to rub your back. "You know I could never hate you." You knew that was a lie, at least in this situation. "I'm just a pile of fucking garbage, I can't even get my life together for one fucking day! I just hurt everyone around me and–" Your words were caught in your throat, the hand that was previously holding yours now grasping your chin and forcing you to turn and look at him. Despite that, it was still gentle. "Don't say that shit, you know better than that." He firmly scolded, sapphire blue eyes boring into yours. The longer he stared, the more you cried. "I just feel... so disgusting. I feel like everyone would be happier if I weren't around. I feel worthless." Your tears slowed, watching his eyes as they scanned your face, settling on your lips a little longer than anticipated. You wanted to feel like you were worth something. In that moment, and that time, you wanted to feel loved. It didn't matter by who. Leaning into his touch, moving your face closer, your gaze moved between his eyes and his lips, watching them part ever so slightly. When he leaned back, even if just a centimeter, you stopped dead in your tracks. The tips of his ears were flushed, his breaths heavy and slow as they fanned over your lips. "I... I don't know what I'd do without you, so please..." Megumi swallowed, seeming unsure of what to do. His hand moved to the back of your head, cradling it when he closed the tiny gap between you two, kissing you so passionately, and so desperately. You returned the favor, hands fisting the fabric of his shirt, his other arm coming to wrap around your waist and pulling you impossibly close. This was wrong, you were horrible for using him like this, but he was the only one that made you feel wanted, needed. He was the first to pull back, keeping you in place as he rested his forehead against yours. Sapphire eyes were closed, and his brows were knitted together. When you leaned in for another kiss, he turned his head slightly. Your name fell from his lips in a pained whisper. "I don't think this is really what you want." He sounded sincere, but absolutely shattered. "I think you think this is what you want, and I'm sorry I took advantage of that but... I can't have you disappearing on me again because I'm selfish." If only he knew that you were the selfish one. You were quiet for a moment, hands loosening their grip on his shirt. "Please," You begged, tilting your head to kiss him again, only to have him lean back and look at you. His expression was doubtful, like he didn't believe what he was hearing. "Please, Gumi, I need you right now." With the way his jaw visibly clenched, you knew you wouldn't have to convince him anymore. He was weak to your requests and wide teary brimmed eyes, you'd put him in a position he just couldn't refuse. You moved forward again, this time successful in managing to kiss him, just as desperate as before. The feeling of his resolve crumbling made you sigh against his lips, both of his hands coming up and cupping your face. It was nothing like the treatment you'd experienced the last few times with his father, the two seemed like complete opposites in how they handled a partner. Perhaps it really all came down to whether or not they cared about who they were touching. Megumi moved his hands down, moving under your shirt just enough so the flats of his palms came in contact with the bare skin of your waist. He dared not go further than that, you knew he wouldn't even as he pulled you into his lap, never once breaking the needy, now crooked kiss. He had been the first to crack, hesitantly brushing his tongue against the lip of your slightly parted mouth, and you eagerly returned the favor. It was clear he wasn't thinking straight with how firmly he held you against him, chest heaving when he exhaled through his nose. His grip tightened, halting your movements after you had rocked forward on him, causing your clothed heat to rub up against the forming tent in his black pajama pants. Clearly, with how sensitive he was, he wasn't wearing underwear. He parted from you, cheeks flushed and irises blown. "I... we can't. Not yet." "You don't want to?" "No– fuck, I do. I want to, I want you– I just don't want you to regret it again." Maybe, you thought, the disappointed expression painting your face would tell him you wouldn't, but deep down you knew he wouldn't budge. He always had a good moral compass, at least when he was sober. You nodded, and he let out the breath he was holding, leaning up and giving you one, two, three kisses, the third lingering much longer than the others. "I'll stay with you tonight, if that's what you want, but if we're gonna do something like that, I want to do it proper this time." That was admirable, you thought with a bittersweet smile as he carried you to your room, settling you down on your queen bed and crawling in next to you. He didn't have to beckon you once he put his head down on the plush pillow, since you were already making your way over to his side. In this moment, and in this time, you felt loved. You felt needed. You felt respected. And you knew that come morning time, you'd probably regret that too.

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#toji fushiguro #toji smut #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x y/n #daddy toji #toji thirst #megumi x you #megumi fushiguro #megumi jjk #toji jjk #megumi fushiguro jjk #minors do not interact #anime smut #anime x reader

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folkreid · 3 years

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face time

TYPE: FLUFF

WORD COUNT: 1.2K

To: spencer💕

can i call you or are you busy

From: spencer💕

I'm just in my motel room! You can call! Remember to use correct grammar!😄😘

I laugh at his text and face time him. I just got him an iPhone about four weeks ago. He still doesn't know how to use it. I thought he should upgrade, i'm tired of not seeing my boyfriend while he's away on cases. I get really lonely without him here.

He answers and puts her phone to his ear. "Spencer, take the phone off your ear" I laugh. "What?" he asks. "Put the phone in front of your face" I tell him.

He puts the phone in front of his face and his eyes widen. "Since when can a phone do this" he inspects his screen. "Since forever babe"

"I didn't think technology was this advanced. Face time is so unnecessary!" he exclaims. He lies down on his bed. "Is it though?" I say with a hint of sarcasm. "Yes. Very." he tells me. "Oh so you don't want to see me?" I tease him knowing he's going to feel bad. "W-What no. I never said that. I-I just I love seeing you an-and I just" he sighs. "I love you and I love seeing your face I just think it's stupid and has no purpose other than seeing you of course"

I loved how nervous he was. He's like a weird hormonal teenage boy asking out a girl. It's cute. And less weird, teenage boys are so weird. Spencer is way more respectful than them that's for sure.

"I was just teasing baby, I know you love me" I put my phone on my bed stand. "Wanna see my pajamas?" I ask Spencer. He nods and I stand up showing off my cookie monster pajamas. I do a quick twirl before pulling the hood over my eyes. "I love it babe" he says. "Okay now let me see your pajamas" I tell him sitting down on my bed and moving my phone to face me.

"I'm just in a white shirt and some sweats" he tells me. "So, I still want to see"

He stands up and puts his camera on the vanity that his motel room has. He backs up and smiles at the camera. "Okay, here it is. I'm wearing the fluffy socks you bought me. One of the poodle ones and one llama" he picks up one of his feet trying to show me. He almost trips but quickly stands up straight.

I laugh a bit at his actions before speaking. "So you like the socks?" he nods frantically. He's adorable. Like a little puppy. He grabs his phone and lies back on the bed. "When are you coming back home, you've been there for so long" I pout.

He frowns when he sees me pout. "I'm leaving tomorrow morning, when I get back home I'm going to take a nap with you" he tells me.

I huge grin appears on my face. "I can't wait my love" I tell him.

He blushes and turns his face away. "Awe babe don't hide your face" I tell him, he blushes even more. Once he turns back and looks at me it's silent for a while. I feel my eyes getting heavy. "Spence can you tell me a story please" I say.

"Of course, what kind of story?" he asks smiling at me. "Any you want" I reply putting my phone by my lamp standing it up trying to get comfortable in my bed. "Okay i'll tell you the story of 'Thumbelina" he starts.

"A long time ago and far, far away an old woman was sitting in her rocking chair thinking how happy she would be if she had a child. Then, she heard a knock at the door and opened it" he starts saying quietly.

I listen to his soothing voice. Hm. This kind of has me thinking, do I want kids? Does Spencer want kids?

"A lady was standing there and she said, "If you let me in, I will grant you a wish." The old woman let the woman in firstly because she felt pity, secondly because she knew what she'd wish for...a child. After she washed the lady up and fed her, she saw that she was really beautiful." he said making a scratchy voice for the witch part. I laugh and shift.

"The lady slept soundly all night long and then right before she left, she said, "Now, about your wish. What do you want?"

The lady thought about most people's wishes to be richest in the world, most powerful person, the smartest, and the prettiest. But the old woman wished for

something the lady could not believe. She said, "I would like a child."

"What did you say?" she asked because she was astonished at what the old lady asked for. The old lady repeated what she said. "I would like a child."

The lady then placed a tiny seed in the old woman's hand and gave her instructions. " Plant this seed, water it carefully, watch over it, and give it your love. If you do all those things, then you will have a child."

So the old woman did all of those things the lady had told her to. In a week, there was a beautiful yellow flower in place of the seed. The next day, the flower bloomed. Inside the flower was a beautiful little girl who was the size of the woman's thumb so she a called her Thumbellina. She made her a little dress out of golden threads. Thumbellina slept in a walnut shell and brought the old woman joy and happiness.

But, one day when Thumbellina went down for her nap, a frog hopped through the open window and said, "You will be a perfect bride for my son," and she took Thumbellina to a lily pad and hopped off to find her son.

Thumbellina cried and some little guppies heard her and chewed the roots off the lily pad to help her escape. Thumbellina's lily pad floated away. A few hours later, she finally stopped floating. During the summer, she ate berries and drank the dew off the leaves. But then winter came and she needed shelter. A kindly mouse let her stay with it, but it said, "You'll have to marry my friend, Mole, because I cannot keep you for another winter."

The next day she went to see Mole. In one of tunnels, she found a sick bird and said, "Poor thing, I will bury it." Then she found out that it was still alive and she cared for it until was ready to fly. It flew off. That fall she nearly had to marry Mole. But then she heard a familiar tweet and an idea popped up in the bird's head.

"You can come down to the warm country," said the bird, so Thumbellina hopped on the bird's back and flew to the warm country. The people there who were like her renamed her Erin. She married a prince and she lived happily ever after.The end"

He narrated the rest of the story. "That was a lovely story Spencer, thank you" I tell him.

He smiles at me. "Any time Y/n" he whispers. "I'm gonna go to sleep goodnight I love you" I whisper. "Goodnight, I love you more"

#spencer reid fan fiction #criminal minds #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff

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arhvste · 4 years

Text

MIYA OSAMU - OPEN FOR MIDNIGHT

➵ summary : being roommates with osamu was all fine besides the fear that you could potentially be a burden should you run into him, especially while he’s cooking. little do you know though, every night osamu hasn’t just been cooking for himself but rather cooking with hopes of luring you into the kitchen

➵ genre : fluff

➵ an : this is for @zumisace tee hee i love u lots and sorry it took longer for my teeny tiny brain to write this out properly !! <3

It felt nice living somewhat independently, away from family and free to do as you pleased; within reason of course.

You’d moved away to college last year and you’d nicely settled in and gotten into the swing of handling a domestic and academic routine. Your roommate was nice enough and the two of you were friendly. Things were fine and you were thankful you hadn’t ended up with the nightmare college experience story which you’d heard plenty of beforehand.

The only thing that bothered you was that your dinner times were a little earlier than you would’ve liked. You ate at 6ish every night to avoid clashing with your roommate as the kitchen seemed to be his domain and you never wanted to come across as getting in his way.

Sometimes, he’d offer to cook for you but the thoughts of you being a slight burden stayed prominent in your thoughts and you found yourself declining him more-a-less every single time he offered. You only hoped he didn’t take offence to your decline of invitation and think that it was his cooking that put you off because that certainly wasn’t the reason.

You and Osamu were friends with each other but you were never sure as to what level of friendship you were at. Sometimes you feared as to whether you’d be able to hold a long enough conversation yet talking to him seemed to flow naturally anyway. The feeling of nervousness never once left you though even though there was nothing to be nervous about when it came to Osamu. Maybe it was a fear of judgement or maybe you hadn’t been around him for a long enough time due to your incompatible schedules, you’d only ever run into each other in the morning after his runs and in the evening when you’d both finish your classes at different times. Osamu also took cooking courses a handful of evenings in the week so it’s not like you saw him much on a daily basis anyway.

That still didn’t help your new developed habit of eating your evening meal early though and it bothered you waking up later in the night feeling hungry but too tired to get up. The smell of cooked food would waft in through your door at around 11:40PM and linger about until around 1AM. Whether it was just your hunger making you imagine it or if it was your roommate cooking late, you weren’t sure but, you certainly weren’t going to make yourself find out either. That was your excuse anyway, it was actually a fear of running into Osamu and bothering him. You weren’t prepared to face him in an awkward conversation at 12AM every night and you certainly didn’t want to accidentally wake him up and potentially irritate him if he happened to be in his room sleeping.

Again, you weren’t quite sure what it was about him you were so anxious about, he was a nice man and was genuinely nice to you. Sometimes he seemed a little awkward to talk to though and his somewhat flat tone didn’t always help.

It didn’t matter too much though, you were on good terms and things were fine the way they were. You’d just have to continue waiting till morning to eat until you’d grown more comfortable with Osamu.

It was Wednesday and you’d had the typical college meal of just a quick mac and cheese box and it was safe to say it hardly filled you. It hardly mattered though because you had assignments piling on your desk and you were too occupied with them to even think to give your body an actual nutritious meal.

Burying you head into your building mountain of work, you settled down and did your best to get through them. You had decided that as a reward for completing your work, you’d treat yourself to some self care and a good meal but right now, your goal was to finish the unforgiving pile of work that was waiting to be handed in.

You set yourself to work and began flipping pages through and typing up the essays that were bound to be overdue soon managing to ignore the insatiable hunger in your practically empty stomach and the time.

Osamu had arrived back to the apartment an hour after you finished your sad excuse of a meal and retreated back to your room to tackle your workload. He didn’t miss the quick mac and cheese box by the recycling pile and he shook his head and sighed. He always wondered why you were okay with eating this processed and unhealthy food but you were hesitant about joining him to eat his freshly cooked meals.

Osamu put down his bags and left the fresh ingredients for tonight's meal he was making in the kitchen before returning to his own room to change into more comfortable clothing.

Walking back to his room, he noticed your door was opened slightly and he had a mental debate as to whether he should look in or not. Usually you would’ve called out a ‘hello’ or come out to greet him by now but when he noticed your lack of welcome, he decided they maybe snooping in through the crack on your door was okay. He just wanted to make sure you were okay or if you’d fallen asleep with your door open by accident.

He peered into and saw your back to him and a pile of papers stacked frantically on your desk. He saw the way your hands were typing up a storm on your laptop and the slightly disheveled appearance to your hair.

So you were studying huh?

Smiling softly to himself, Osamu hurried back to his room to change so he could start preparing dinner despite the fact it was 10:38PM already.

Finally, after what felt like hours on no end, you had drilled through the seemingly never ending pile of work and you couldn’t feel your hand or your spine from your posture. Several clicks of your back could be heard in your room as you straightened up and finally moved from your stiff position.

It was now 12:07AM and your stomach finally got the attention that it had been begging for since the start from you. Despite the fact you were hungry, you were also conscious of the time and didn’t want to risk potentially annoying your roommate.

Then again, the familiar scent of fresh food drifted through the crack of the door you’d accidentally left open as though it was demanding to be attended to.

Burying your head in your pillow, you did your best to fight the urge of getting up and following the calling smell outside of your room but your leash of nervousness began to wear down and you found yourself naturally moving towards the door and outside of your room. It was like your brain had just packed up and left your body to function on it’s own as all previous concerns were thrown out of the window and your only goal right now was to track this smell down and potentially consume something more than the ‘meal’ you have previously had.

Padding down the hall, previous concerns about your roommate long gone, you peered into the kitchen and was welcomed with the sight of steaming vegetables and frying what appeared to be dumplings. You inhaled and savoured the scent of the fresh food and allowed your eyes to flutter shut in bliss.

“Smell good?”

You jumped at the sudden voice and was met with lazy pretty eyes staring back into your own.

“S-shit, yeah -don’t scare me like that.”

“Sorry, wasn’t my intention.”

He wandered back over to the deep frying pan and lifted the lid to turn the food over to fry on the other side.

“Ya know,” He began suddenly causing your eyes to flicker up towards him. “I see all the shit ya eat and I don’t think the amount ya consume is normal.”

You shrugged and took a seat at the small island built in the kitchen.

“It’s all I can really do. It’s less time consuming too and besides, I don’t think I’d be able to eat big portions like you do,” You peered over the amount of food cooking. There was definitely more than enough for two people at least. “I don’t need to eat as much as you.”

“What are you trying to say?” Osamu’s tone threaded with teasing.

“I just mean you work out and stuff right? Yeah, I don’t need to eat as much as you because I don’t do that kind of thing as often as you.”

He hummed and turned the stove off and took the vegetables off the stove to drain the stock out.

“Well, as much as that makes sense, this isn’t all for me.”

You hummed and allowed your eyes to trail over his well built form.

“No? Don’t you always make this much food?”

Osamu put the pan down and turned to face you. One hand rose to meet the back of his neck as he sheepishly cast his gaze down to the floor.

“Uh actually, half of this goes to my brother since uh ya don’t wanna ever eat with me.”

“Oh.”

You felt heat rise to your face as Osamu slowly looked up at you.

“It’s not that I don’t want to eat with you it’s just...awkward?” You confessed as Osamu’s face twisted in confusion.

“I don’t think we’re awkward.”

You sighed and shook your head as Osamu reached down to grab two plates and two sets of utensils.

“It’s more like I’m awkward around you. I guess… I find you attractive.” You murmured the last bit quietly and half of you had hoped he hadn’t heard that.

“Hm? Repeat that for me?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

You huffed and glared at the smirking boy in front of you.

“Because you know what I said!” You whined as Osamu snickered, bringing the crockery and food to the kitchen counter.

“Okay, okay fine. But who said I don’t find you attractive either?”

You darted your eyes away from him as you began to grow slightly flustered.

“W-what?”

Osamu started delicately loading the contents of food onto the two plates as he sighed.

“It stresses me out ya know? Like everytime ya turn down eating with me, I’m always worried it’s because ya don’t like my food or...me?”

“No! It’s not that at all! I just told you I’m awkward!”

Osamu laughed and brought the two plates over and placed one in front of you. Your eyes danced over the food and your mouth began to water slightly. You had wasted your time eating processed and unfilling meals when you could’ve been eating like this? What were you thinking?

You muttered a quick thanks and then the two of you said your thanks for the meal before eating. Osamu’s cooking was as good as it looked and you found yourself humming in satisfaction every few mouthfuls.

Osamu smiled softly to himself as he ate his own food, sparing you a glance every so often.

“I’m glad ya sound as if ya like it. Your portions are such a waste going to an idiot like my brother all the time.”

You coughed and looked at the boy in disbelief.

“Maybe if you weren’t so good-looking then maybe I’d join you for dinner and you wouldn’t have to give food to your brother.”

Osamu laughed and looked back down to his plate.

“Well, now I know that it’s not my cooking ya have a problem with, I think I’ll tell Tsumu’ that his portions are being cut off now.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You hummed and finished your meal finally feeling full and content. You glanced over at the clock that read 12:49AM.

“Why do you cook so late?” You questioned as Osamu hummed and looked at you.

“Because I know yer hungry around now and I didn’t wanna bother you about coming out and eating.” Osamu replied as your eyes widened slightly. So he had been purposely cooking around now every night to try and lure you into the kitchen.

“Oh, I’m sorry… but you don’t have to worry about that anymore.”

“Meaning?”

You sighed and tilted your head, eyes meeting his once more.

“I think I wanna start having meals with you.”

“So it’s a regular date?”

“D-date?” you flushed.

“Yeah, date. Midnight meal dates and maybe I’ll take ya out on a few proper ones soon.”

“Okay Osamu. It’s a date.”

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#miya osamu #osamu x reader #osamu x you #osamu fluff #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#hq #hq x reader #haikyuu fluff #osamu fanfic

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americxn · 3 years

Text

Heist (part two)

wordcount: 1.9k warnings: swearing, hostage situation @kitwalker02 here ya go - it’s still kinda boring but it’ll get a lil more exciting soon if i write more.

Warren’s knee dug into your back as he secured your hands behind you, the hard edges of the zip tie biting into the soft flesh of your wrists as he tightened it. Your cheek pressed into the floor beneath you, Miss Gooch’s face a few inches from you, black streaks of mascara staining her skin. Your teeth gritted as Warren’s weight was lifted from you, his feet appearing before your face as he walked towards his friend that sat back watching from the other side of the room. His face was deathly pale as he chewed on his thumb, staring right at you, his leg hadn’t ceased bouncing since Warren had brought you in here. “Take the books down to the car.” Warren murmured lowly to his friend, whose head snapped up at his order. Warren’s tone left no room for arguing. “What? Without you?” “Yes, without me.” Warren hissed. “The building is practically empty, just take the route down to the back parking lot as we planned. And quietly.” Even from your place on the floor, you could see Warren’s partner’s hand shake as he picked up the bag at his feet, slinging it over a shoulder before silently vacating the room, exiting through the backdoor. You knew that, as that door lead to the fire escape, it would take a matter of minutes for him to clear the building with the books. But as Warren ran his hands over his face roughly, sighing and mumbling a quiet “fuck”, you couldn’t care less about the books. “Hey.” You spoke loudly, pulling Warren’s attention to where you lay on the floor, Miss Gooch’s shoulder shaking with silent cries.

“Promise me that whatever you’re doing, you leave her out of it.” You bargained, forcing your voice to remain steady. Warren’s eyes flicked to Miss Gooch before meeting yours again. He nodded silently. His nod released a massive weight from you and you tried not to look too relieved as you lay your head back down on the floor, your hands shaking slightly. A minute in silence passed, Warren’s pacing footsteps filling the silence of the room. You started slightly when a ringing filled the air and Warren swore as he drew his phone from his pocket. “What?” He barked down the phone. You strained your ears to listen to what the voice on the other end was saying. “The door’s locked.” You could just make out the shaky voice on the other end explain. “What do you mean? What door?” “The fucking door to the parking lot, Warren!” The voice exploded, echoing through the phone and reaching your ears. “Oh, fuck!” Warren shouted back down the phone, his knuckles white as he gripped the phone in frustration. They were still bickering when Warren shoved the back door open, the sound of his agitated cries getting quieter and quieter as he took the stairs down to where his friend struggled with the locked door. You jerked into movement the second the door slammed closed behind him, immediately pulling your legs beneath you and crawling on your knees to the bag you had spied on the floor by the open glass case the moment you had entered the room. Half of it’s contents were spread out all over the floor and you leaned down, closing your teeth around the material and jerking your head up, causing the rest of the bag’s contents to fall out onto the floor. Miss Gooch was silent behind you, watching you tensely, her eyes flicking between you and the door that Warren was sure to reappear through at any given moment. You sat back on your tailbone, using your feet to search through the items, scanning for anything that you could use to cut the hard plastic of the zip ties that kept you from using your hands. But there was nothing. You grunted softly in frustration, tears beginning to pick at your eyes. But you forced yourself to take a deep breath, scanning the room for anything that would help you free Miss Gooch from her binds. At the thought of her name, she grunted at you, causing you to turn your head to look at her. Her eyes were trained on a small pile of zip ties that had been abandoned by her desk. She mumbled frantically, setting you into motion towards them as her silent suggestion suddenly clicked into place in your head. The desperation with which you crossed the room on your knees threw you off your balance and you fell hard onto your side with a grunt. Beginning to panic at the precious time you had wasted with Warren’s bag, you scooted along the floor on your side, reaching the zip ties and thrusting your back towards them, your hands scrambling the grab them. Your fingers shook as you gained purchase on the thin pieces of plastic, pushing yourself back onto your knees and hastening for Miss Gooch, who’s hands where already lifted for you. You threw your body backwards onto hers, practically sitting on her hips as you craned your neck as a painful degree so that you could see what you were doing. You cursed as your hands shook so violently that you couldn’t thread the plastic through the ones holding Miss Gooch’s wrists together. Braving a glance at the door, you shuddered out a steadying breath, forcing your hands to comply as you finally managed to loop one of the zip ties under the one secured around the older woman’s wrists, dipping your fingers through the loop to grab the other end. Now you had a zip tie looped around the one wound around Miss Gooch’s wrists. The anxious sweat coating your palms made it difficult to maintain a good grip on the plastic as you threw your body weight away from Miss Gooch, who grunted in pain as the plastic dug into her skin. “Sorry.” You whispered, beginning to work the zip tie you had ahold of back and forth, the grating sound of plastic against plastic filling the room. Grunting, you pulled harder, ignoring Miss Gooch’s squeak of pain as you worked the zip tie against the plastic securing her wrists together. It was made difficult due to the limited movement of your hands, the plastic of your own binds rubbing your skin raw as you frantically grated the zip tie in your fingers against the one binding Miss Gooch’s hands. But your efforts had weakened the plastic of the zip tie sufficiently, and with a final grunt, Miss Gooch pulled her wrists apart, the plastic giving with a snap. She was instantly in motion, ripping the tape from her mouth and scooting over to you. “No.” You rasped, pulling away from her. “Get out of here and get help.” You ordered as she used the same trick that you had just performed on her wrists on her ankles, the full motion of her free hands causing the plastic to weaken and break a lot quicker than you had managed to do it. “Y/n -” “Just go!” You cried, glancing feverishly at the back door. She did as you ordered, scrambling to her feet and running from the room without so much of a glance back at you. Your heart strained as you watched her disappear. Now you were completely alone. But you didn’t have time to dwell on that fact as thundering footsteps sounded from behind the door at you back and you span around on your knees, watching as Warren’s anger-creased face appeared behind the small glass panel set into the wooden door. He was muttering profanities under his breath as he shoved his way through the door, glancing to you, tears beginning to fall as you watched his face contort in fury as he noticed the missing Miss Gooch. His lip curled as he looked to you, then at the broken zip ties on the floor, then at the door that she had just fled out of. You forced you face into neutrality as he stalked towards you, grabbing you by the forearm and pulling you to your feet. You jerked away from him, trying to pull your arm out of his grip but his hand just tightened as he dragged you over to his empty bag on the floor, all of his stuff strewn out across the floor. “Fuck.” He snapped through gritted teeth, falling to his knees, dragging you with him and keeping a firm hand on your forearm as he hastily repacked his bag. You glanced at the glass door, silently begging that Miss Gooch had managed to find someone in the building or had called the police. But it would be too late for you. The sound of the bag’s zipper being pulled closed filled the room and you were dragged to your feet a second later, Warren already moving feverishly to the back door. “No.” You gritted out, trying to pull away from him, a fresh wave of panic crashing over you. He didn’t even look at you, instead giving your arm a firm squeeze and pulling you with a renewed vigour. “Warren, stop.” You pleaded, flinching as he turned upon you, his face coming close to yours. “I swear to fucking god.” He hissed, causing you to shrink away from him. “Fucking walk or I’ll carry you out of here.” He challenged, his eyes boring into yours, daring you to push him. And then you were being pulled through the door, the force with which Warren lead you down the stairs almost causing you to lose your footing. At the bottom of the stairs, you saw that the fire exit had been forced open, it’s handle dented and hanging at a strange angle. kicking it open, dusk met you, the air still slightly warm from the day and quickly cooling the tears that tracked down your cheeks. There was a large silver car parked just outside the exit, and you halted when you saw that there was three others already sat in it. The car door was pushed open from the inside, three frantic faces staring at you in horror as you stared right back, fear unfurling in your gut at the sight of three other men. Warren chucked his bag onto the back seat, his friend moving it out of the way as Warren, you bucking against his hold, struggled to pull you into the car with him. He carelessly sat you in his lap, pulling the door shut behind you both. “Warren.” You begged, the car already moving as you struggled in his hold. “Relax.” He pleaded in your ear, grunting when you bucked suddenly against him. “Fuck you.” You shrieked. “Stop it.” “Who the fuck are these people?” You demanded, tears flooding down your face. Your question seemed to spark a realisation in Warren who paused. He had just thrown you in a car full of unfamiliar men. Of course you would be panicking. Shifting over to the middle seat, you still in his lap, his arms wrapped around your waist to haul you onto the back passenger seat. His body created a barrier between you and the others in the car and he leaned in to whisper to your ear: “I understand that this is both terrifying and confusing. I’ll take you back to back to mine and we can talk about what just happened. I promise you that I won’t make you do anything or do anything to you. I just need some time to explain myself and figure out what to do.” You fell silent at his hushed words, your wrists aching where they rubbed against the harsh plastic. my lil taglist - @forevercountess @kitwalkerangel (if you wanna be added or taken off it, just give me a message)

#american animals #american animals 2018 #warren lipka #warren x reader #evan peters #part 2

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laurore-stormwitch · 3 years

Text

It’s almost impossible to write anything that it’s not angs for these two. but i had this funny triumvirate interaction in my head for a while so here it is, i put it directly after my previous fic “we will fight for you”. hope you like this soft/funny take too!

blissful mornings - AO3

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Nikolai opened his eyes slowly, catching back his consciousness with each blink; he took a breath as things went into focus, dimly aware of his surroundings. Blue walls painted like waves of a storm-swept sea, lit up by the first rays of sun casting away the night. It was almost dawn, by the reddish and golden light outside the windows. He made to turn on his side, but realized he was curled around someone. The scent of wildflowers clouded him.

Zoya. He was in Zoya’s room. In Zoya’s rumpled sheets, to be precise.

It took a moment for the events of the previous night to crowd his mind, scrambling his thoughts. Another itching breath made his way out of his lungs as he tried to steady the frantic beating of his heart, shaken by the sheer enormity of what happened. His arm was resting on Zoya’s waist, still asleep at his side, warm and peaceful. She was laying with her back to him: he watched her chest slowly go up and down with each breath, the curve of her neck still so close to his lips, black hair grazing his cheeks. He pulled her tighter in an instinct, burying his nose on her skin lightly, feeling as if he wanted to drown in her, that this dream would vanish if he let her go. She trembled at his touch, stirring in the covers, slowly awakening. Zoya turned on her back with a sigh, leaning her head slightly towards him. Her eyelids fluttered open as she drifted out of sleep.

“You move too much in your sleep, Nikolai.”

She mumbled, slightly annoyed, closing her eyes again. Nikolai smiled against her neck, brushing his lips on her ear, skimming on her arm with his fingers. He felt her all over him, inside him, everywhere. Nikolai knew he was never going to have enough of this, of her. Never was he going to have enough of his name escaping her slightly parted lips with that lethal softness.

“I thought you were an early riser. All the pre-dawn trek to the Grand Palace ought to have given you some routine.”

Zoya huffed, moving on her side and prompting herself up on one arm, stretching her back. She tossed her hair over one shoulder. Nikolai looked at her in awe; he felt the air being snatched out of his lungs. The only coherent thought he managed to grasp was that this was most definitely going to be his undoing.

He had grown used to see Zoya in her blue kefta uniform. They spent so much time together in the past years that she had become a familiar gaze, something that sounded like home. Even when he met her, her beauty was not the first thing he noticed. Not that he was going to deny being struck by her appearance, but not in the way every other man seemed to be. Nikolai had been way more fascinated about the persona she built around herself, the way she gracefully conducted herself with other people, walking through the palace as if she owned every single wall of it, always ready, always sharp. So her beauty kind of went in the background. And he made a point not be distracted by it, to get adjusted to the sight of her in the silk kefta.

The first time he saw her in a gown, well, that had been challenging, to say the least. It wasn’t a common sight: Zoya liked to always play the general, even at official events. Which meant she usually kept her kefta, maybe more elaborate ones, with precious embroidery and jewels. The first time she resorted to a gown was the winter fete they threw on the first year of Nikolai’s reign. He had to admit that when she walked inside the ballroom it took him a while more than usual to regain himself. She looked every inch like a queen, in a floor-length dress that hugged every curve of her body, her neck bare and her hair tied up in an elaborate updo. That had been a tiring night, forcing himself not to stare. And that was something he definitely didn’t get used to: he just learned to hide his reactions and manage to act like he wasn’t struck by her un-earthly attire every time they threw a ball.

But this moment. This what was bound to take him to his knees.

Because Zoya now didn’t look like a queen, like a general, or even like a saint. She looked like a girl; granted, the dreamiest girl he could ever lay eyes, but still a girl, and that almost brought him to tears. She could’ve been taken from a painting: as she brought herself up, the waves of her hair moved like a waterfall on her shoulders, delicately brushing the scars on her back as she tilted her head up towards the sunrise. Her bare skin was glowing, scarcely covered by the sleeveless nightgown she wore, wrinkled around her body, silver like the moonlight and the beads he picked up every now and then and kept in his pockets. And when she opened her eyes and turned to him, Nikolai swore his heart stopped in its track. Zoya cast him a look that was utterly unguarded, in a disarming way he thought he was never going to see her. In a way he never knew her. Her eyes were pools of a deep ocean, calm and serene. They were alive with a light both tender and passionate; he could see the steel that forged her in that light, the fire inside her. A faint smile tugged her lips as she locked those impossibly clear eyes with his. She is happy, he realized with a bolt of crushing desire and warmth. He had seen her laugh before, he had seen her smile, but not like this. This was pure, untouched, sincere.

Nikolai knew with an unwavering certainty that he could have spent a thousand lifetimes fighting just to see this look on her again. That this was the Zoya that loved fiercely and moved mountains and let her soul be seen. Love is the only thing worth waging a war for, Ehri told him. She wasn’t that far from the truth. This, this was the thing for which he would face the Fjerdans, the Shu, whoever came their way. This was the thing he searched for all his troubled life, all the times he had wanted more. More life, more love, more adventure, more excitement, more safety and trust. He found it in her.

It lasted for a moment, not more. In a slip instant, Zoya seemed to catch herself back again, her look hardening just what was necessary. But for Nikolai, it was enough. Enough to know he was lost, that Zoya was not only the tether he gripped to relinquish the demon, but the very thread that tied him to reality.

“Why are you staring at me?”

He smiled, catching her wrist and pulling her down on the pillows. She made no move to protest as he circled his arms around her, combing her tangled hair through his fingers.

“You’re less ruthless in the morning, Nazyalensky.”

She rolled her eyes and brought her hand at the base of his neck, releasing a breath. Her voice was a bit shaky. Everything about this was so completely overwhelming, he realized, for the both of them. Her eyes darkened as she delicately brushed the back of his head.

“Did I hurt you last night?” He gave a brief shook and held her closer.

“Not at all. Besides, I kind of deserved it. I’m awfully obnoxious when I put my mind to it.”

“Did Nikolai Lantsov just admit he’s insufferable?”

“I can be at times. But I’d take a small concussion for a night with you all over again.”

She flinched a little. He knew it was soon to joke about this, but he also knew he needed to be the one to make her believe in him, and in them. He needed to deserve her, and he had an unshakable resolve to do it. As good as he was with words, declarations seemed to only bring her uneasiness. So instead of talking her out of her mind, he did the next best thing he could think of and drew her in a for a kiss. It was soft and delicate, nothing like the hunger and the despair with which they explored each other the first time. Zoya leaned in without resistance and he felt her tension decrease. When he sensed her relax, he drew away an inch, both breathless.

“That’s not playing fair.”

“Never said I would.” She exhaled, placing another kiss on his lips and giving him a firm look.

“You should go back, Nikolai, the sun is almost up. Tolya and Tamar are going to kill you, if they don’t already believe someone kidnapped you.”

There was no sharpness in her voice; Zoya was matter of factly, ever the general with a care on the fact that besides being Nikolai, he was the King too. He relished in her speaking to him so gently; still, he didn’t have the slightest will to get up from this bed and leave her. The thought of his guards didn’t cross his mind, but she was right. Nikolai didn’t tell them where he was going last night when he stormed out of his room, and he never got back. The twins probably spent hours looking for him. He groaned.

“They are going to kill me.”

She smiled, shaking her head. It was an insecure smile, almost as if she was trying to get used to down her walls a bit around him. He had half a mind to find a practical way to make her give up on her resolve, but as if they could read their thoughts, someone knocked lightly on the door in that instant. They heard Tamar clear her throat, much to Nikolai’s disappointment.

“Zoya? Are you awake?”

Zoya widened her eyes pulling herself up abruptly. Nikolai tried to hold her back by her waist, but she shot him an intimidating glare, keeping her voice steady.

“Yes, Tamar. Is everything alright?”

“We can’t find Nikolai. Is he…uhm, have you seen him by chance?”

This time, it was Zoya who groaned, untangling herself from Nikolai’s arms. She got up quickly, searching frantically for her kefta while tumbling towards the door. She stilled in front of it, turning to Nikolai, still lazily spread on her sheets perfectly at ease, dropping her voice to a worried whisper.

“What do we do?”

Nikolai smirked. She was going to hate this. And he was about to have an even more delightful morning than it had already been. He pulled himself up, cleared his throat too and raised his tone.

“I’m here, Tamar. We’ll be out in a second.” He answered to his guard. Zoya glared at him.

“Seems I am the one who’s going to commit regicide after all.” Hissed Zoya, casting him a look that clearly conveyed how serious her threat was. She tossed him his shirt, buttoning her rumpled kefta. “Put something on before I struck you with a lightning.”

They didn’t look remotely presentable, and Zoya was in a panic. A delightful morning indeed. She smoothed her clothes and tried to fix her hair in a desperate attempt before opening the door to her sitting room where the twins were waiting for them. They were nowhere near preoccupied, which left Nikolai with the suspicion they had known exactly where he had been the whole time. Tolya was sitting in a chair skimming through a poetry book, while Tamar was perched on the table flexing her axes. When they emerged, she waved a mischievous grin at them.

“Oh, there you are. We brought you some tea.”

Nikolai leaned on the wall, glancing briefly at Zoya at his side. She crossed her arms with an unnerved look. Where her cheeks turning a different shade of pink? Was Zoya Nazyalensky blushing? His mood improved even more.

“I’m sorry if I worried you. I didn’t mean to have you search the whole palace for me.”

“It’s our duty, Your Highness. What matters is that you’re safe.” Replied Tolya respectfully, giving Nikolai a nod. Tamar, on the other hand, didn’t have her brother gift for propriety.

“Oh, please.” She outright laughed in their faces, jumping down from the table and pinning her weapons on her side. “Like we’ve actually run all night to find you. We came straight here. And the guards said you dismissed them, so it was not that hard to put two and two together.”

“Well, I guess that’s why you’re the head of my intelligence.”

Nikolai couldn’t stop himself and winked at her. He heard Zoya made an exasperate sound beside him. At this rate, she was going to unleash a storm on their friends too. While he was caught up with the fact that they knew about the two of them, she was still fortified in her conviction that she had been perfectly subtle. He leaned closer, discreetly brushing a hand on her back to keep her calm, giving her a reassuring look. As she caught his eyes, he saw her shoulders beginning to ease, and everything would have gone smoothly if at that precise moment the door wouldn’t have slammed open again. Genya stomped in the room with David trotting absentmindedly behind her, head buried in some documents.

“Zoya! I hope you are up we have so…”

As her gaze turned upward, she fell silent and stopped in the middle of the room, shooting them a confused look. David almost stumbled on her, blinked twice and then immediately gave up on understanding what was happening. He slumped in a chair, while Genya’s attention travelled from the twins and lingered on Nikolai and Zoya, on their messy appearance and Nikolai’s hand still gently laid on Zoya’s lower back. She widened her amber eye, and Nikolai saw how she hardly contained herself from giggling. Nikolai grinned; Zoya seemed to realize how much they were giving away and batted his hand.

“So, are we having a party here that I didn’t know about this early in the morning?”

Genya was digging for her own grave, apparently. Nikolai was about to try and salvage the situation, but Tamar was quicker.

“Well, if there’s a party those two are the only ones having fun.”

This time, Nikolai shot her a warning look. He heard the air crackle lightly; Zoya was not inclined to mockery as much as him, and the flashes of last night breakdown were still nitid. But their friends were not going to let the occasion slip after all these months. And to be honest, he was indeed having a lot of fun. Worst comes worst it was their turn for being swept by a gust of wind. Genya had a smug look on her face, clearly immensely satisfied by how things were turning out. She turned to Tamar, opening her hand towards her.

“Pay up. It seems I have won.”

“Did you bet on me?”

Zoya’s high-pitched voice interrupted them. Nikolai was extremely amused. If he knew there was a bet going around, he would’ve probably weighed in too.

“Not just us!” Protested Genya, equally outraged, as if this was bound to make it sound better. “Don’t get angry at me. Nadia was on this too. And Tolya didn’t want to bet but he still pitched in his support!” She accused, pointing her finger at the giant.

“I don’t play money on other people’s lives. That doesn’t mean I’m not a keen observer and I can’t help others win.” The twin excused himself, prompting his hands up.

David emerged from his papers looking at Nikolai with resignation. “I’m sorry, Your Highness, but you know I don’t interfere with these things.”

“That means I lost to Nadia too!” Tamar whined.

A thunder rolled over the room, making them startle and effectively silencing all of them. They turned to Zoya, who stood with her palms open upside, electricity sparking from her skin, and a threatening smile on her face.

“So, that shut you up.” She said with a delighted tone. She put her hands together behind her back, straightening her spine and drawing the power away. “Now, if Genya is done ridiculing my personal life, can we go on with the business of the day?”

“You’re so prickly, Zoya. Always killing the entertainment.” Genya scoffed at her after a moment of surprise. She glanced and Nikolai: she was practically beaming with contentment. They all took a sit; Genya poured tea from the samovar while Tolya peered in David’s work and Tamar opened some maps. They purposefully turned their backs on Nikolai and Zoya, leaving them a moment to collect themselves. Nikolai chuckled and tried to stiffen a laughter with a poorly executed cough. Zoya’s gaze snapped to him so fast he thought he heard the bone crack.

“If you let out so much as a whisper about how you are enjoying this, I’m going to burn you alive.”

Despite the snarky words, her eyes were lit up with affection. The image of her half-dressed and unguarded flooded his mind. Nikolai waved a glowing smile at her and curled a hand on her cheek. She exhaled a long breath, leaning to his touch and closing her eyes. Having Zoya so trusting in his hands was intoxicating; every time she did this, it was like coming back to life, and it made his breath itch and his heart ache with joy. Knowing she would break his arm if he’d done a more prominent sign of affection, he only grazed his thumb on her lips, already yearning to be alone with her. Would this pull towards her he felt ever diminish? His skin was on fire where he touched her, and he barely kept himself restrained.

“What do you say we leave our friends alive for now? And keep the rest for later?”

She cast her eyes heavenward but returned the smile and squeezed his hand briefly.

“Fine. Let’s drive this saint forsaken country out of the mud.”

The determined looks of the general and the ruler slipped back into their places, the fire and the steel rumbling in her eyes. He gestured her to take her seat beside him, looking at a room full of the people he cared for the most; he knew how fragile this peace was. That the Fjerdans were waiting for them with an army, that they had their worst nightmare chained up in a cell in the palace. That he still needed to figure things out with Zoya, be sure of his alliance with Ehri. But all those things seemed like nothing, right now. Because he also knew that with them at his side, they could survive. That the memory of the first morning sun grazing Zoya’s bare back would give him the strength to defy each and every one of his enemies. He put his hands on the table and turned to his friends with a cocky grin on his face.

“So, who do we get to fight today?”

#zoya nazyalensky #nikolai lantsov #zoya and nikolai #zoyalai #nikolai duology #rule of wolves #king of scars #post kos #triumvirate interactions are my life #genya safin #david kostyk #tamar and tolya #i don't know what this is #tell me the triumvirate doesn't have a bet going on i dare you #fan fiction #my writing #i posted it but it disappeared don't know why #bad at tags

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drabbles-of-writing · 3 years

Text

Be Alright

This is part of my Four Years AU

AO3

Masterpost

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Luz was never known to be overly cautious.

She was reckless, impulsive, and an overall disaster of a human.

Titan, Amity loved her.

It was almost routine at this point, how it would go. Luz would jump into oncoming danger, others would (sometimes) follow, and she’d limp out with a big grin and a cheer about how she’d shown them, whether or not she’d actually won. It was no surprise that Amity had taken up healing as a secret secondary track.

It was always a gamble how things would go. Sometimes Luz would only have a few scratches, other times she’d be clinging to consciousness by a thread, moments away from breaking Eda’s house rule of nobody jeopardizing the rebellion by going to a public hospital.

But they usually had it handled. Luz would bounce back with twice the enthusiasm, even if her scars told a different story.

Despite all of this, Amity knew she’d never get used to seeing a scar in the making.

“Who brought fireworks?”

“Ed!”

“Worth it!”

Explosions rung out, painting the emptying Night Market in scattered debris and bright flashes. Amity ducked under a broken roof, cursing as another explosion sounded off further away, accompanied with whoops and cheers.

“It’s a miracle none of them are dead yet,” Came a hiss from beside her.

She whirled around, relaxing when she saw it was just Willow appearing by her hiding place, vines wrapped all along her arms. Out of everyone, Amity was sure she would come out the most unscathed.

“I’m convinced Eda’s already died a few times,” Amity said, tilting her head to the sounds of explosions. “But she keeps coming back. My bet’s that she’s on life seven now.”

“That would explain a lot,” Willow agreed, peering out of their hiding place. “Dawns breaking, we should get out of here.” She added, raising her head.

“Already?” Amity lifted her head as well, seeing that, indeed, there was light seeping around the Market.

“Think you can wrangle Luz without setting more things on fire?” Willow asked, glancing at her with a smirk.

“If anyone is going to set things on fire, it’s Luz.” Amity said matter-of-factly, wincing as she heard shouts and a crash from elsewhere in the Market. “I can promise my best,” She said simply.

“That’s the best I could ask for,” Willow chuckled, stepping out of their hiding place. “Good luck.”

“I’ll need it,” Amity muttered, peering around the debris as she heard another explosion sound off. “Titan knows who she's going to piss off this time.”

Amity felt like she shouldn’t have been surprised.

And yet, she still felt a wave of exhaustion just finding situations like these.

Luz stood atop a pile of debris, swinging her staff like a club and knocking it against the heads of those in the Night Market who had stayed to attempt to fight her and the rest of the Owl House residents. Aside from a few scrapes and cuts to her hands and cloak, she wasn’t any worse for wear. Even her owl mask was relatively intact.

Eda was somewhere at the bottom of the pile with King, also giving their attackers a hard time. Amity was almost about to be surprised at how tame Luz was being...before she combined a firework and ice glyph and shot it towards an attacker, flinging them back with an explosion and into a busted stand with a gleeful cheer.

Amity sighed and calmly summoned a regular sized abomination, sending it off behind her towards other assailants that had assumed she couldn’t hear them approaching. In boots covered in metal. Honestly, she wondered how nobody had caught them yet.

Luz swung her staff at a different demon, grinning as she turned and scanned the area. Near instantly, her eyes landed on Amity, who was a good few meters away from her trash pile.

“Hey, Ams!” Luz shouted across the battleground, frantically waving her hand, her smile somehow growing.

Amity couldn’t help but return a smile of her own, her ears flicking back as her features softened.

There was a bark behind her and she snapped out of it, glancing back as Barcus ran by, giving her a tired look.

“Oh don’t you start,” Amity warned, flashing a fang.

Barcus rolled his eyes and rushed off around a broken stand vanishing from sight. Though the sounds of yelling from those of the Night Market confirmed he was still as much in the fight as everyone else.

“Hey,”

Amity yelped at the sudden noise by her ear and spun around, almost falling over before an arm holding a staff hooked around her back and stopped her falling.

“Oops,” Luz smiled sheepishly, her head hovering over Amity’s as her shoulders hunched. While the top half of her face was hidden by her mask, the eyes were very expressive. “Sorry, wrong time for surprises?”

“That’s not going to stop you,” Amity grumbled, getting to her feet as Luz pulled her staff back and thumped the blunt end against the ground. “I was just with Willow, we need to--”

Luz’s head tilted away from Amity’s face for barely a moment before she withdrew a fire glyph from her sleeve and activated it. She chucked it right by Amity’s head, almost grazing her ear.

Amity turned barely half a second later, watching as the fire glyph made contact with a demon trying to sneak up on them. This one hadn’t worn metal boots and Amity hadn’t heard them approaching. Smart. She’d see if she could get the Emperor's Coven to help her arrest that one.

“Sorry about that, you were saying?” Luz said, looking right back down at Amity. She assumed so, at least. The eyes of her mask were more like pale circles than actual eyeholes.

“The Coven, Luz.” Amity said, also unphased. “It’s dawn, the Coven will be here soon. You know how they like to come early to catch people trying to flee the Night Market.”

“Aren’t you also in the Emperor’s Coven?” Luz reminded, unconcerned. “Can’t you make them leave or something?”

“I’m the leader of my small, and remarkably passive,” Amity enunciated, ignoring explosions sounding off. “Group of the Emperor’s Coven. They don’t come here. Other guards do. I have absolutely no power here.”

“I wouldn’t call Archie breaking Jerbo’s nose passive,”

“Oh you have not seen the kind of guards they have by the Toes.”

“Shame,” Luz leaned against her staff. “Perhaps you could show me sometime?” She asked, the eyes of her mask moving in a sort of eyebrow wiggle.

“Luz,” Amity sighed, clasping the palms of her hands together and pressing it against her nose as she mentally reeled herself in to keep her composure. “Asking me on a date in the middle of a battle is bordering on impressively bold and tacky, which is a line I didn’t know even existed.”

“What can I say? I like making new lines.” Luz beamed widely. “Does this mean I can keep kicking in teeth?” She asked hopefully.

“Absolutely not,” Amity crossed her arms. “I just said the Coven is going to arrive. Do you want to explain to the rebellion you need another prison breakout because nearly everyone here got captured for not leaving?”

“Tell you what,” Luz said, passing her staff to her other hand. “You can grab everyone who’d rather not be here when the Coven arrive while Eda and I finish up here.” She suggested casually.

“Luz you're going to get captu--”

“Oi, there she is!”

Luz and Amity calmly turned their heads, spotting that over the crest of the fallen stands, with the sunrise behind them, was a small band of demons and witches. A little less than a dozen or so. They all looked a little beat up, but many still sported a decent amount of weapons and, likely, magic.

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me,” Amity groaned, leaning her head back.

“Well, since we’re already here…” Luz said, nudging her shoulder. “I mean, it's pretty bad form to back down from a challenge…”

Amity, ignoring the gang approaching them (who clearly thought they had the high-ground at were taking their sweet time, the idiots), gave Luz a half-hearted glare. Luz was still giving her a hopeful look, giddy with excitement. And Amity had to admit, it had been a while since they’d fought an enemy on the same side. Publicly, at least.

“Fine,” Amity relented, sagging as Luz perked up. “But as soon as they’re gone we are leaving.”

“As you wish, Miss Blight.” Luz said with a low, dramatic bow, mocking the title Amity’s Coven would give her.

“Only you could get away with that,” Amity muttered, finally turning her gaze back to the group of demons and witches, who had spent the last few minutes pulling up weapons from the debris and scattering to ‘hide,’ if you could call it that.

Snowy finally decided to show up, flying around Luz before landing on the end of her staff. Luz stood from her bow and gripped her staff with two hands. Amity summoned her own, already determining where to place three different abominations in the area.

“Shall we?” Luz said, giving Amity a coy look and gesturing broadly to the approaching witches.

“Try not to get your head blown off,” Amity said casually, offering the tiniest of smiles. Luz’s staff began to glow as she took a step back and braced herself, a springboard moments away from uncoiling.

“No promises!”

It was hardly a fight.

But Luz didn’t seem to mind. She never did. She was just thrilled to be part of one.

Amity would’ve been bored were Luz not there. One could count on her to make things interesting. Granted you had no say on if it was for better or for worse.

Amity swung her staff, her abomination following and lumbering right into a cluster of demons. She had multiple up and running around, and she’d admit, it was a little tiring. But she’d done worse before, and their assailants were almost gone.

Dawn was well upon them now, the light casting long shadows. Amity had lost track of who was or wasn’t around them anymore. She figured Willow had already left, and likely dragged a few others with her. She’d get yelled at later, she knew it.

There was a holler to her left and she turned towards it, flicking her wrist to move an abomination out of the way.

A spire of ice shot up from the ground, sending three witches flying off to who-knows-where. Luz’s head popped around from behind it, laughing as Snowy flew at another witch trying to run at her. In the same movement, Luz drew a plant and lightning glyph. She threw the plant glyph at one of the larger demons around the ice spire, wrapping his arm in vines. She ran by and slapped the lightning glyph on the vines, causing them to erupt and explode as the demon yelled and bolted.

Amity shook her head, glancing at her own palisman, Fang, sitting on her staff and giving her a bored expression that could rival Willow’s.

“Hey, at least she's effective.” Amity shrugged. Fang only huffed and clung tighter to the top of her staff, melding into it until he looked like nothing more than a fancy wooden carving.

There was a crack and a shout, and Amity looked back just in time to see a demon stumble away from getting Luz’s staff whacked right into their face. Amity quickly moved an abomination towards them to get them stuck, should they try to retaliate. She did a double check on the rest of her abominations, which were thankfully beginning to drive away the remainders of their attackers and beginning to melt into the ground when they were done doing so.

“And you better stay out!” Luz shouted after a demon behind her, waving her fist in the air.

Amity was about to call out to her, but sounds of rapid footsteps grabbed her attention. She whirled around, summoning a small abomination as a shield before a witch crashed right into it. It took all of two seconds for Amity to recognize their white cloak and gray mask before she recoiled and cursed under her breath.

“Titan I hope you weren’t paying attention,” She mumbled before drawing a circle in the air. One of her other abominations turned into goo and quickly fused with the abomination in front of her, caging in the guard as they yelped and thrashed about.

Amity flicked her wrist and her abomination lumbered off, taking the guard with them.

They had run out of time.

“Luz, we gotta go!” Amity yelled, her shoulders tense as she searched for her human.

Luz had ended up a good few meters away on a slope, hollering after a few running demons. She glanced back at Amity’s shout, and seeing the worry on her face, wasn’t about to argue with her.

“Well, it was fun while it lasted.” Luz shrugged regretfully. “I suppose this is where I bid you adieu” She said, giving Amity a cheeky bow. In the same movement of her bow, she had hooked her hand into her mask and easily took it off and held it out in a hand. It was mainly for show, anyway.

Amity huffed and raised a brow, despite her amused smile. Luz lifted her head slightly and gave a teasing wink before standing back to her feet.

The witch, who hadn’t paid attention to anything else going on, saw a sudden movement from behind Luz. She could only process the mild annoyance at having to patch up another bruise on Luz before she spoke.

“Behind y--”

In barely a second, the demon behind Luz wrapped an arm in front of her and tugged her back, startling the human. In the same moment, before any of them could react, they brought up their other talon. There was the flash of a blade between their fingers before said blade was jabbed straight into Luz’s throat.

Amity froze. Luz froze. Everything seemed to go still. The blade was dug high up on Luz’s neck, blood already coating the object and beginning to leak around the demon's claws. Blood trickled down Luz’s neck and began to stain the collar of her shirt.

And, just as fast as it froze, time snapped back at a jolting speed.

There was a shriek overhead and a dash of white. Snowy reappeared and slammed her body into the demon's face, flashing her talons and screeching. The demon threw the blade to the side, yelping and stumbling back to try and throw off the palisman.

Blood gushed from Luz’s neck, and upon finally being released, the human gasped as her hand flew up to her wound. She stumbled, having nothing holding her up. Her knees shook and buckled, sending her tumbling to the ground, still grasping at her neck.

Amity could only stare, her eyes wide and pupils so narrowed they practically vanished. She visibly flinched and broke out of her state when Luz’s body hit the ground.

“Luz!” She screamed. A scratchy, shrill sound that even Amity didn’t know she was capable of.

She was running before the name was out of her mouth. She suddenly knew what tunnel vision was like. Her focus was solely on Luz, collapsed on the ground. Her feet seemed to hook and stumble against every little pebble as she rushed up the slope, her heart in her ears. Everything else was fuzzy and irrelevant, and they faded into background noise.

Amity was at Luz’s side far too soon and still too late for her liking. She stared down at her, her throat going dry.

Luz was gasping and pressing both hands to her throat, whether it was due to the pain or some part of her conscious enough to try and stop the blood flow, she couldn't tell. Blood pooled out, creating almost a sort of halo around her head.

But her eyes, oh Titan her eyes.

They were blown wide, and were so white it looked almost unnatural. Her pupils had shrunk to sizes that she’d learned from Luz should not be physically possible for humans. A constant side-effect of shots she had gotten years ago.

Her eyes stared off into nothing, glazed but still so full of pure, unbridled terror. Luz was not someone who was scared easily, and seeing such an unmasked horror from her was nothing short of unsettling. Her eyes darted about as she wheezed for air, and she looked as though she couldn’t tell where she was.

Then those eyes landed on Amity.

Her face barely changed, although her eyes did. Her pupils dilated, ever so slightly. She locked those eyes with Amity as she gurgled through the blood bubbling in her throat. Amity could see her own petrified, still expression reflected back at her in those eyes. She was like a deer in the headlights, and she could feel her hands going numb.

One of Luz’s hands left her wound and she reached out, coated and dripping with blood as her fingers grazed Amity’s pant leg, weakly trying to grab at her.

Finally, though now that she looks back, the entire experience probably only lasted a few seconds, Amity snapped out of her trance.

“Luz,” Amity’s voice cracked, startlingly quiet as she dropped to her knees.

She panicked, and she knew she was. She looked over Luz rapidly as she wracked her brain for what to do. She knew healing magic, for Titan’s sake!

Instead, all she could think of to do was to press down on Luz’s throat, taking over as her girlfriends own hands started to shake and fall. Her eyelids drooped slightly and Amity felt a violent spike of fear at the sight.

“Viney,” Amity croaked, shaking her head as she wrapped an arm around Luz and pulled her closer, placing her head on her lap in some feeble attempt to elevate the wound, even though that wouldn’t do anything for a neck wound because of course it wouldn’t.

“Viney, Viney!” Amity cried, raising her head and frantically looking around the debris and dying--wrong word--chaos around her. “Where’s Viney?” She yelled pitifully, tightening her hold on Luz.

Yes, Viney could help. She was a far better healer than Amity. She’d healed bad injuries all the time. She just needed Viney and everything would be fine.

“Where are you?” Amity wailed, her panic rising to near hysteria as she searched the area with blurry, tear-filled eyes. She wasn’t sure who specifically she was calling for now. “Please, please she…”

Amity risked a glance down at Luz. She was now breathing through laboured breaths, raspy and shaking like a building that was about to collapse. Her eyelids were droopy, but she was stubbornly keeping them open as she lightly tried to hold her hands against her neck.

“There you guys are! What--”

Amity jerked her head up, pulling Luz closer to her chest as her ears dipped low.

Eda.

It was Eda. She was going to be okay. They were going to be okay.

Eda faltered, her confused, but still cocky, grin falling as she looked over Amity. Sitting on her knees, covered in blood that wasn’t her own, holding Luz like she was going to slip away from her at any moment.

“Kid!” Eda exclaimed, rushing forward and skidding to her knees so fast she likely cut them up as she grabbed Luz.

Amity was too numb to stop her, letting Eda take her as she stared off. Eda turned Luz over, sharply inhaling at the sight and her pupils narrowing and ears flicking back. Amity felt selfish for being glad that Eda had to see this, too. Because now Eda could take Luz, and she’d be fine, and tomorrow this day would be a funny story they’d tell the rebellion on a slow day.

Snowy had shown up again, though Amity couldn’t remember when. She had landed beside Eda, chirping and flapping her wings frantically as Eda scooped up Luz in her arms. She stood, momentarily forgetting about Amity as she yelled words the younger witch could no longer make out.

Her vision became splotchy and her ears felt fuzzy. Everything felt like a blur, and she was barely aware of being lifted off the ground. But she could still acutely hear the frantic beating of her heart and feel the stickiness of the blood drying on her clothes and hands.

When Amity finally came to, she was in the Owl House.

It wasn’t a consciousness she eased into, but rather was jerked out of by nothing in particular. She simply suddenly snapped up, her eyes shiny with emotion again as she looked around.

She was sitting on the couch, and Lilith was beside her, obviously lost in thought. Willow, Barcus and Gus were the only ones in the room, all of them sitting on the floor around the table in front of the couch.

She felt something warm in her hands and looked down, realizing she was holding a cup of tea. Lilith must’ve made it, considering how obsessed she was. Likely one of the kinds that helped keep her calm, she used those a lot.

She stared at her hands in fascination, seeing that they were no longer covered in blood. And for a moment, she thought she’d imagined it all.

But if she looked closely, she could still see the small bits and splatters of dried red liquid on the back of her hands. And when she looked down at herself, she saw that while her cloak and extra layers had been removed, her pant legs were still covered in dried blood and her shirt had specks of it that had soaked through.

Amity felt like she was going to be sick.

“Are you back?”

She blinked, forcing her eyes away from herself as she looked to the coffee table in front of her. Gus was sitting next to it, leaning his arms on it. He was looking at her now, face full of concern.

“Come--” Amity stopped and cleared her throat, hating how strained it sounded. “Come again?”

“You, um,” Gus gestured to his face with his hand. “Had a bit of a...gone look, for a while. You just, I dunno, you were…” He shook his head and swallowed. “H-how are you doing?”

He was nervous, clearly so. And seeing Gus as such did little to ease her own nerves. At least it was only nervousness, Amity wasn’t sure how she’d react if he was full-blown freaking out.

“I…” Amity blinked a few times, trying to get her mind in order. She was aware of everyone else in the room looking up towards her. “I’m--I’m fine.” She said, looking down at her hands again before sharply turning away. Right, the blood.

“Where, where’s Luz?” She asked, looking around the room. She tried to push down the growing feeling of unease, she didn’t trust herself not to hurl if she thought about it too much.

“She’s upstairs,” Lilith said, frowning slightly. “You saw Eda carry her up there with Viney.”

“I-I did?” Amity said, staring at her mentor.

“Yeah, you wanted to go with them.” Gus nodded, looking increasingly worried. “You don’t remember? You were freaking out and Willow had to calm you down.”

Amity turned to Willow at that, like just looking at her would suddenly explain everything. Willow was sitting at the other end of the coffee table, looking tired. That was nothing new, but her looking ready to fall asleep where she sat wasn’t. She met Amity’s gaze with exhaustion, cringing slightly and glancing away.

“Oh,” Amity said, gripping her cup of tea a little tighter. “I...I don’t remember that.” She said, shrinking in on herself. “Is Luz okay?” She asked, her voice wavering slightly.

Nobody met her gaze. Aside from Barcus, who lay underneath the table, for some reason. He met her gaze for a moment before his ears flicked back and he growled something under his breath.

“I’m going to check on her,” Amity said, pushing back the way it felt like her heart dropped as she sharply put her cup down on the table and stood up.

Her head felt dizzy as she did so, and it didn’t help that everyone started talking over each other as soon as Amity spoke. She stumbled for a moment before Lilith grabbed her shoulder and awkwardly pushed her back onto the couch.

“Absolutely not,” She said sternly. “We barely got you cleaned up, and still need to get you out of that.” She said, gesturing to the stained clothes Amity still bore. “Eda only took her up there a few minutes ago, we were simply catching our breath before you came to, it's why not everyone is here yet.”

“I know healing magic!” Amity protested, shrugging off Lilith’s hand. “I can help Viney.” She said, getting up again.

“You are in no condition to help Luz right now,” Lilith insisted, getting up just as quickly and lightly touching Amity’s arm as she stood in front of her. “Not after all that.” She said, her voice softening.

“What would you know?” Amity growled, more harshly than she meant. “You weren’t there. Nobody here was!” She hissed, resisting the urge to throw her hands in the air.

“No, we weren’t.” Lilith agreed, and the fact Lilith had done so with no argument had Amity shutting her mouth instantly. “But Eda told us where she found you, and judging from how you reacted and looked when they brought you back, I highly doubt seeing Luz in her current state is going to help anyone.”

Amity wanted to protest, she really did. She wanted to shove Lilith aside and storm up to wherever Luz was and do all she can to make her look up at her with eyes that didn’t get burned into her mind like a nightmare and a smile that didn’t have blood gushing out of it. But she knew she’d never make it far. Lilith was stubborn, and Willow would surely help keep Amity downstairs. There was no fighting Willow.

And, if she were honest with herself, she doubted she’d be able to do anything, anyway. Eda was probably already panicking, and the mere thought of seeing Luz laying on a cot with bandages around her neck and curled into a ball made her knees feel close to giving out.

“Luz will be okay,” Lilith continued, moving her hand up from Amity’s arm to the shoulder. “Viney said the blade entered too high,” She explained. “It didn’t hit any main arteries. She’s made it through a lot, this’ll be barely any different.” She assured, giving a tense smile.

If Amity had the energy, she’d argue that the fact everyone was anxiously waiting around didn’t exactly give any good signs. But right now, she wanted to do anything but dwell on today.

“Come on,” Willow said, pushing herself to her feet. “I have spare clothes here, we should get you out of that mess,” She said, offering a hand for Amity to take.

Amity stared down at it for a moment before her shoulders slumped and she took it, letting Willow guide her out of the living room. Gus and Barcus gave her pitying looks as they left through the door by the stairs.

“I’m sorry,” Amity mumbled, bringing her free hand close to her chest, where it was currently fisted. “I didn’t get her out of there in time, I humored her and now--”

“Hey,” Willow said sharply, turning around and narrowing her eyes. “I know how Luz is, this isn’t your fault.” She said, lowering her head so she could keep eye contact with Amity. “Something like this was bound to happen, anyway.” She mumbled bitterly.

“But I…” Amity trailed off, her throat feeling dry as she broke away from Willow’s gaze and glue her gaze to the ground, her hands trembling.

“It’s alright,” Willow said, gently squeezing her hand. “Luz will be fine, and so will you. Knowing her, she’d probably fight the Bat Queen herself if you so much as said you vaguely missed her.” She added, trying to joke.

“I know,” Amity said, looking up as her ears flicked down. “And that's what scares me.”

Amity was on her fifth cup of tea when the door to the Owl House had opened.

Barely an hour had passed, with no word from anyone upstairs. Barcus insisted that if Eda wasn’t worrying about having to risk a hospital visit, Luz was bound to be fine.

Nobody had left the house since Luz had been whisked away, leaving none of them able to tell the others they hadn’t picked up on the way back about the situation.

So the laughing and jeering that greeted them when the door opened was a bit jarring.

“Ey, there they are!” Edric grinned, walking in as he shoulder-bumped Jerbo. “I can’t believe you guys left us!”

“Ed almost got caught by the Coven,” King said, sitting up on Jerbo’s shoulders. “I rescued him.” He added proudly, a paw on his chest.

“You did not,” Jerbo shook his head with a smile. “What was the rush? We thought you’d all been carted off to prison again.” He asked, looking around the room.

Exhausted, stricken faces greeted them. You could see the joy die from their eyes, replaced with bone-chilling worry.

“What happened?” Emira demanded, stepping in and closing the door.

“Luz got hurt,” Lilith said calmly. “Badly.” She glanced to Amity beside her, who was staring at her tea. “Amity witnessed it.” She added, quieter and full of pity.

The twins looked to each other with similar faces of fear before they rushed in, moving to crouch beside their sister. Lilith silently moved to the furthest side of the couch so Emira could sit next to Amity. Jerbo and King glanced to each other before hurrying to the others on the floor, talking in hushed tones.

“She’ll be okay,” Amity said, her eyes flickering between her siblings. “I’ve learned from you two that things often look a lot worse than they actually are.” She added with an obviously forced lighter tone, giving a small smile.

“Oh, Amity…” Edric trailed off, his ears pressing back. “What...is…”

“Wasn’t fun,” Amity said, continuing her fake tone. “I can tell you that. I think I washed my hands raw.” She said, looking down at where said rubbed-red hands were shaking as they held her cup. “She’s--” She broke off, swallowing thickly and refusing to let her voice break. “She’s with Viney and Eda.”

“If you start using humor to cope I’m going to punch you.” Emira warned, a growl forming before dying out.

“Hypocrite,” Amity rolled her eyes, taking a sip of her tea.

“Well hey, if Viney’s with Luz, then she’s going to be up and running in barely a day.” Edric said, quickly changing the topic away from them. “She's dealt with all kinds of ridiculous injuries, especially from Em.”

“Oh your one to talk,” Emira snapped. “If Jerbo was a healer--”

“Behave,” Lilith called sharply, giving the twins a warning glare from the other side of the couch.

“Yes, mom.” Edric mumbled under his breath so she couldn’t hear.

“Hey, Luz is tough.” Emira said, wrapping an arm around Amity’s shoulders and pulling her against her side. “A little scrap will barely graze her. It’ll be a joke within hours, just you wait.”

Amity raised a hand to her neck, lightly rubbing it as she glanced to her sister, grimacing before looking away.

“It was here,” She said quietly, almost inaudible. “They got her here.”

The twins tensed. Edric squeezed Amity’s arm and she slumped, letting Emira keep her upright.

Neither of them spoke after that.

It was late afternoon when they heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs. Everyone's heads were up in a flash, waiting in bated breath.

It was Eda.

She looked drained, a hand running down her face. She paused at the doorway, looking out into the living room with anxious faces staring back at her.

“She’s okay,” Eda said, and it was like the weight of the sky had been lifted off their shoulders.

Amity almost fell off the couch by how fast and heavily she sagged in relief. Emira’s arm around her was the only thing keeping her stable.

“She’ll need rest for a few days, but Luz will be back to normal in no time.” Eda said, walking into the room. “Viney’s doing a final once over,” She added, catching Emira’s eye.

“Can we see her?” Gus asked, standing up.

“Kids exhausted, you can’t all see her at once.” Eda deadpanned. “Viney already almost bit my head off for staying that long,” She mumbled under her breath. “One at a time, and honestly, Viney might yell at you to leave her alone within the hour.”

Amity was on her feet in seconds, her cup forgotten on the table. She took a step towards the stairs before pausing and turning back to Gus.

Sure, Amity had seen what happened to Luz but...he was Luz’s friend, too. He and Willow were still her closest. And...well, she couldn’t help but feel guilty as she met his eyes.

Gus seemed to understand and smiled, sitting back down on the floor beside Willow.

“Go ahead,” He said, and Amity once again wondered how his emotions could almost flip on a dimel. “But I call seeing Luz next.” He said, looking back to the others with a joking glare that couldn’t frighten a squirrel.

“Yeah, good luck fighting for that.” Willow taunted, punching his arm as he yelped and gave a sheepish smile.

“Don’t break anything,” Amity warned, but smiled back as she nodded to her siblings and made her way to the stairs.

As she passed Eda, the witch reached out for her. Amity paused, watching her. Eda seemed to hesitate for a moment before patting her shoulder and moving away, towards where the rest of their family began to discuss who-knows-what, all the tension having left them.

Feeling a bit lighter, Amity made her way up the stairs.

She hung outside of Luz’s room for a moment, scuffing at the floor with her feet. She could hear shuffling and muffled voices through the door, and wondered the consequences of busting in when Viney was still packing up.

The door opened and Amity jumped. Viney stepped out, looking surprised for a moment before relaxing with a smile.

“You know, she was just asking to see you and the others.” She chuckled, re-situating her medical bag under her arm. “Try not to--never mind.”

Viney only shook her head as Amity pushe right by her, rushing into Luz’s room. Viney couldn’t blame her, and only shrugged and shut the door behind her.

Amity paused for a moment to take in the scene, suddenly remembering she probably should’ve mentally prepared herself better.

Luz was laying on her mattress Eda had upgraded her too, under a single sheet. She was laying on her back with one hand hanging off and brushing the floor. The other was situated on her stomach. She was still wearing her outfit from earlier, but her purple cloak had been discarded on the other side of the room, and Luz had been changed out of her surely bloodsoaked shirt. She wore one of her gray tank tops instead, and her eyes were partially closed.

For a brief, horrifying second, Amity was reminded of a corpse in an open casket.

That was, until Luz saw who had entered the room.

“Ami--” Luz’s gleeful cry was cut off by her hacking loudly, coughing as she sat up and pressed a hand to her throat.

“Are you okay?” Amity worried, rushing over and standing over Luz, reaching out a hand.

“Fine,” Luz wheezed, lifting her free hand to reassure Amity. “Voice is just gonna be off for a little while.” She said, her voice scratchy as she rubbed at her neck once before dropping her hand.

And once it moved away, Amity finally got to see the bandages wrapped tightly around her. True to Lilith’s word, they were much higher up than a typical throat-slit. On Luz, it was just below her chin, right where her neck met her head. Though it still didn’t stop Amity from wincing at the sight of the gauzes.

Luz noticed and deflated slightly. She attempted to shake it off and grabbed Amity’s hand, pulling it closer and encasing both of her hands over it. Which was an easy feat, considering they were noticeably bigger.

“I’m glad you're okay,” She said in her strained voice, looking up at Amity with a smile that the witch lingered on a moment too long to be natural.

“I’m not the one you should be worrying about,” Amity said, a little sternly as she pressed her ears back. “If anything, I should be saying that I’m glad you're okay.”

“Aw, you care.” Luz teased, sticking out her tongue. Amity gave her a half-hearted glare and she faltered, her smile falling along with her eyes.

“I just,” Luz swallowed, biting the inside of her cheek as she noticed Amity’s unease. “I’m--I remember what you looked like when I,” Luz hesitated, clearing her hoarse voice as a hole opened in Amity’s gut. “I...I was worried about you.” She mumbled, lowering her head.

Amity stared at Luz’s hunched form for a few moments. Then, tentatively, like she was expecting Luz to bolt, she lifted her other hand and stepped right to the edge of the bed. Luz spared a glimpse up as Amity wrapped her hand around Luz’s back and pulled her closer.

Luz drooped into her hold, thumping her head against Amity’s chest and squeezing her hand tighter. Amity lightly ran her hand through the hair at the base of Luz’s head, which she also rested her chin on and rocked subtly to the side, shutting her eyes.

They stayed like that for a while, letting the memories of the day roll over them before forcing it back, all in silence. Amity was sure Luz could tell she was fighting back crying again, and she knew Luz wasn’t as alright as she acted. Not from how her hands left her own and clutched tightly at the girls sides, pulling at her baggy shirt and pressing her face close.

“I was scared for you,” Luz finally broke the silence, her raspy, painful-sounding voice almost inaudible. “You looked like you’d seen the end of the world.”

“Well, I was certainly scared for you.” Amity said matter-of-factly, trying to cover up her disturbance at Luz having remembered more than she thought. “Don’t worry about it, I’m alright now.”

“That’s the worst lie I’ve ever heard in my life.”

“Oh, and you're a master at figuring out liars now?” Amity snarked, looking down at Luz and meeting Luz’s eyes, which were wonderfully normal and not full of panic.

“I’m good with you,” Luz said cheerfully in her stupid scratchy voice that Amity hated she kind of liked. “Your right ear moves when you lie, when you forget about it.”

Damnit. Edric and Emira had always remembered that tick of hers and Amity had learned to stop herself from flicking said ear whenever she was lying. But every now and again, she forgot.

“That proves nothing,” Amity said stiffly, turning her head away. “I move my ear when I’m annoyed all the time.”

“That's your left ear,” Luz said with gleeful factuality. “I noticed.” She said proudly, giving Amity an expression like she’d solved a puzzle and was looking for praise.

“That you did,” Amity mumbled, ruffling Luz’s hair so it’d fall into her eyes. She needed to cut that sometime. “You're very annoying like that.”

“Too bad I’m your annoyance,” Luz teased, giving Amity a smug wink.

“Woe is me,” Amity said in a bleak voice, laying her head on Luz’s to hide the blush creeping up her face. “I’m going to be suffering for the rest of my days.”

“C’mon, I do that all on my own--” Luz broke off in a fit of coughs, doubling over and releasing Amity.

The witch stepped back, eyes flashing with fear as got to her knees beside the bed and laid her hand on Luz’s leg. She shoved down the helpless feeling she thought would’ve been gone by now as Luz coughed and rubbed at her bandaged neck.

“Sorry,” Luz wheezed, her fit finally calming down.

“It’s alright,” Amity said, her voice quiet as well. “You should rest your voice.”

“No, I-” Luz flinched, rubbing at her neck more before shaking her head. “I’m sorry for scaring you,” She rasped. “You said we had to leave, and I didn’t, and--”

“Hey, hey,” Amity chided softly, lifting to hold Luz’s free hand. “It was an accident, I don’t blame you. Nobody does.”

“I know, but…” Luz sighed, her shoulders slumping. She leaned forward, lightly knocking her forehead against Amity’s as she closed her eyes for a second before opening them. She kept her eyes locked on where Amity was still holding her hand.

“I’m a mess,” Luz mumbled, stroking her thumb over the back of Amity’s hand. “And I should’ve...I dunno...I just…” She groaned and finally met Amity’s gaze. “I’m sorry. For a lot of things. And I wish that it,” She gestured around them with her other hand. “Didn’t end up like this. You know? This is a rebellion, I thought it’d be fun. They always make rebellions sound so cool and how you’d always escape them okay and be heroes.”

“So, Azura, then?” Amity lifted a brow.

“Don’t patronize me,” Luz huffed good-naturedly. “Look, I’m just...sorry. That I got hurt, that someone else could’ve gotten hurt, that you're stuck in this mess, that…” Luz muttered and blinked her eyes rapidly, like Amity somehow couldn’t see they were beginning to water. “God, I think I’m still high off those pain medications.” She groaned, covering her face with her hand.

Amity blinked before giving a small smile. She moved her head back slightly and raised her other hand, reaching out for Luz and cupping her cheek. Luz immediately leaned into it and slipped her hand off her face to hold Amity’s in its place.

“I’ve been stuck before,” She said, pointedly keeping her gaze away from Luz’s bandages. “And if this is your idea of stuck, then you better believe I’m not leaving.”

Luz gave a small half-smile, leaning further into her hand. Amity brushed her thump behind Luz’s eye, looking over her with mixed feelings. Luz wasn’t one to admit her fears so openly, and even Amity could tell how she tried to cover up her awkwardness at being open. Perhaps taking a page out of Luz’s book wasn’t a good idea, but she couldn't be bothered to worry about herself right then.

Amity leaned forward, catching Luz’s minor surprise for only a second before she placed a kiss on the side of Luz’s mouth, where a small scar went right over it. She remembered when Luz had gotten that scar, and she recalled how at the time it seemed like nothing more than an inconvenient cut.

Amity pulled back only a moment later, almost snickering at the sight of Luz. She was flushed and looked like a deer in the--nope. Wrong analogy.

Amity hoped her quick cover-up smile was enough to make up for her sudden shift.

Luz eventually reeled herself in and her expression shifted to that of a pout, letting her hand fall from Amity’s as she thumped her head on her girlfriends shoulder.

“Cheater,” She whined, her voice muffled.

Amity giggled, relaxing as she wrapped an arm around Luz and held her close. It was an awkward position, but she couldn’t find it in her to care.

She remained there for a moment, laying her cheek against Luz’s shoulder. She glanced to the side, looking over the bandages around her throat. And for a moment she saw just how deep that blade dug into the human’s skin.

“It’s going to scar over,” She found herself saying, feeling Luz stiffen in her arms. “Isn’t it?”

Luz was silent for a few moments, and in those moments Amity feared she shouldn’t have spoken. Luz had never been one to dislike her scars until...well, she’d gotten a rather nasty one from Eda she’d rather forget. But then Luz exhaled, sounding far more tired than she had been before.

“Yeah,” She croaked. “Viney said it would.”

“I’m sorry,” Amity murmured.

“It’s okay,” Luz said, resting her chin on Amity’s shoulder so she could be heard better. “This isn’t my first and it won’t be my last.”

Amity felt a chill at that line. She knew it wasn’t meant to be foreboding, only a small joke so she wouldn’t worry. Yet, it made her uneasy at how Luz brushed it off. And it was a small reminder that, even if Luz felt regret, she was still a naturally reckless person. And one day she’d be right back in her bed, covered in bandages and possibly in a worse condition than a hoarse voice.

“Luz,” Amity said, tightening her arms around the human. “I…”

Titan, what even was there to say? Don’t say that? You deserve better? I love you?

She wouldn’t get anywhere with any of those. And especially not the latter. There was too much going on already, and this was neither the time nor the place.

Amity squeezed her eyes shut and sighed before leaving her eyes half-lidded.

“Be careful,” She said instead. “If not for yourself, then for the others. You have no idea how scared we were.” She flicked her ears further down. “Don’t do anything overly stupid, okay?” She said, her voice hitching as she tried to cover it with a more teasing tone.

She could feel Luz swallow against her shoulder, shifting in her hold slightly.

“I’ll try,” She murmured.

And Amity supposed that was the best she could ask for.

“Also,” Luz started nervously. “Uh, not to rapidly change the subject,” Luz said, lifting her head slightly, her voice a bit more strained than before. “But your claws are kind of digging into my back…”

“Oh, right!” Amity squeaked and jerked back, sharply tugging her hands off of Luz and wincing when she felt her claws slide out of Luz’s shirt and skin. “Sorry, sorry,”

“I’ve had worse.” Luz chuckled, pulling away and giving Amity a mildly pained smile. “And as much as I love having you here,” Her eyes trailed somewhere behind Amity. “I think Gus is about to break something if this doesn’t hurry up.”

Amity turned around, confused. Sure enough, the door to the room was just barely cracked, and Gus could be seen pacing outside it. And Amity was willing to bet Willow was there, too.

“Seriously, guys?” Amity rolled her eyes, exasperated.

“We weren’t listening, I swear!” Gus insisted, pulling the door open further and poking his head in. “We weren’t even here that long!”

“Next time, you can just knock.” Amity grumbled, flicking her ear at Luz’s snickers behind her.

“Eh, figured you’d tear our heads off if we did,” Willow said, pulling the door open further. “So, can we come in then?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Amity sighed, getting to her feet and brushing herself off. “Eda’s going to kill you if she finds out both of you were sneaking in at the same time.”

“Eh, I’ll probably be fine.” Luz shrugged, her voice scratching more as she clearly tried to hold back another cough.

“Get it out of your system,” Amity told her simply, deciding to push back her earlier turmoil as she turned back to the door. “You want me to cover for you two?”

“You and I both know it's going to take ages for you to finally go downstairs instead of hovering by the door.” Willow deadpanned.

“This is bullying,” Amity complained as Gus and Willow walked in, with Gus instantly springing to Luz’s bedside and going off about some topic Amity was tuning out.

“Yeah, hurts, doesn’t it?” Willow said with a smirk, raising a brow as she passed Amity.

“...Touché,” Amity mumbled with an acknowledging nod.

Willow only shook her head and came up by the head of Luz’s bed, calmly watching as Gus talked a mile a minute, so much livelier than how he was mere hours ago. Amity stood back and watched, fiddling her hands together as Luz coughed and assured her friends she was fine and letting Gus continue his rambling.

Amity unconsciously rubbed her hand at her own throat before quickly dropping it again. She fiddled her hands together, feeling that her claws were still unsheathed. She pressed along her fingers, trying to coax her claws to sheath. It only somewhat worked, and she relented that her claws weren’t going to go away for a while.

Willow glanced over at her with a questioning look. Amity cringed at seeing her concern and gave a forced smile and nodded her head. She knew it didn’t convince Willow, but she didn’t push and turned back to Gus and Luz without further comment.

She’d always be worried about Luz, she decided as she watched said human listen to Gus and pointedly ignore the warning glances Willow gave her as she messed with her bandages. Luz would always be a handful, no matter how much she changed, she’d still be the human who had to learn as much magic as she could and the one who wouldn’t stand for an emperor like Belos. If nobody would do it, Luz sure as hell would.

And, as scared as she was to blink and suddenly see that blood on her hands again, she decided it was worth it. She’d never get used to it, not completely.

Amity could almost hear Willow calling her a hypocrite, because the more she thought about it, the more Amity began to realize that she’d likely do anything of Luz’s request to make her safer. Hell, she didn’t doubt she’d fight her own parents one-on-two if Luz asked nicely.

And while the thought of that terrified her, she couldn’t find the common sense to find a reason to stop herself, should it happen.

Perhaps that's just the impact Luz had on people.

Or maybe it was just Amity.

She couldn’t find it in her to care anymore.

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eleanorbloom · 3 years

Text

When You’re Ready Ch. 18

Pairing: Bryce Lahela x f! MC (Eleanor Bloom) x Ethan Ramsey.

Word Count: 7.4k (I’m making up for my almost three weeks of absence!)

Warnings: Angst, cussing and nudity. Rated T.

A/N: Please excuse me the fact that I’m mixing past and present tense in this chapter. I tried to write it all in past tense as usual, but it didn’t feel right aesthetically in some parts, so I just let it be XD

Taglist @utterlyinevitable @binny1985 @shanzay44 @choicesficwriterscreations @starrystarrytrouble @lahellacute @lucy-268 @cinnamonspongecake @romewritingshop @bratzlahela @mrs-raleighcarrera @mercury84choices @curiousconch

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Chapter 18: Into My Arms.

So keep your candles burning

And make her journey bright and pure

That she will keep returning

Always and evermore

Into my arms, O Lord

Bryce had never been a man of strong faiths, but he wasn't a cynical either.

He was just practical. He respected people who needed something to believe in, but preferred to put his beliefs in science because that's what was closer to infallibility compared to religion. After all, that's why he decided to become a surgeon, he believed in the power of medicine to heal people against all adversities.

However, he knew medicine wasn't enough. At least not when he's not the one holding the scalpel and giving everything he has to save a life, but holding the hand of the person he loves the most, and her life is hanging by a thread.

Doctors have medicine. They do everything they can with their knowledge and skills to save lives. But patients? All they have in the waiting is hope. And all they can do is pray.

After spending hours awake, not missing a single second of her breath, of her arterial pressure, of her oxygen levels, all the indicators that could assure him that she was alive, the passing of time inevitably starts kitting uncertainty upon him. Would it be enough? Will they do it on time? Will they do it at all? Because he knows the possibilities and limits of medicine. He knows that sometimes there won't be an answer, there won't be a cure, there won't be anything that could be done.

Sometimes, medicine is not enough and death is inevitable.

Bryce had never been a man of strong faiths, but he wasn't a cynical because maybe, just maybe, he was just waiting for the time he would need something to believe in. When his optimism and science combined wouldn't be enough. When the waiting would be so long, excruciating, and painful that he would need something to hold on to. A refuge.

Just like now.

Just like now when there's nothing left to do but pray.

To God, Allah, Buddha, Yahweh, Jehovah, Kāne.

"Please, please, let them find the antidote. Please, let them find it on time so Eleanor, Rafael, and Danny can survive. Please. Please."

There's no logic in asking the unseen something only medicine can give. But it doesn't hurt. It actually feels like a warm blanket that envelops in the middle of a tempest. At some point, it will soak with rain and it will no longer provide warmth, but it will do for a while. And that's all that he needs. Temporary comfort. Temporary faith to go through the night.

"Please protect her. Don't take her away. Don't take her away from me. Please. Please."

And then he begs like God is doing all this. As if they don't make the antidote, is because God moved his thread to not make it happen.

As if he needs to have someone to blame in case things go wrong.

Because blaming God is universal.

"They'll make it, they'll make it. They'll find the cure. She will live. They will live. Everything will be alright."

And then he just holds onto hope. He desperately forces himself to stay positive. To not think in a scenario where they don't make the antidote or where it's too late. And he tries to remain in that state, not daring to move his thoughts even a single inch, fearing that the slight movement could send him to the abyss. So he just locks himself in that state of mind. Hoping. Pleading.

Sunrise was dimly percolating through the blinds when a shriek startled him. Bryce turned his gaze, previously fixated in the monitor, and found Eleanor tossing on the bed, shuddering.

"Eleanor, what is it? I'm here, baby."—He asked, standing up from the chair and leaning over her, studying her reactions. Her breath was ragging and all of a sudden, she sat up, clutching her stomach desperately.

"It… Owww! It hurts so much…"

"What hurts?"

"My stomach and… my chest… My… My lungs and… heart…"

Her voice went mute and then hunched on the bed, her cries growing desperate.

"It's okay babe, take a deep breath."—He pated her on the back in a soothing way, hoping that the slow movement could ease her pain somehow.—"In half an hour someone from the team should come to administer the next dose of your treatment. How much it hurts? Do you think you can hold on?"

After a few moments, Eleanor nodded, thriving to breathe as deep and slowly as she could.

"Seven."

"Okay, you can do this, beautiful."

Bryce forced himself to take a deep breath too. Even if had passed several hours since Eleanor fell in that state, he could never get used to the idea of her suffering and not being able to do anything to stop her pain.

"Do you want some water?"

"Please."

Trying to ignore the lump in his throat, Bryce walked to the other side of the bed, poured a glass of water, and offered it to her, sitting behind her to give her support.

Eleanor received the glass and brought it to her mouth her hand quivering. Bryce hurried to place his own hand over hers to steady the glass and then watched her intently, waiting for her reaction.

A moment later, her eyes widened.

Fuck.

"What is it? It… it feels hot for you?"

She nodded, slowly and solemnly.

His whole body froze for a second.

"I'm doomed."

It was an affirmation, not even a complaint.

"Babe, you are not doomed. You're still standing, there's still time, and I'm sure the team will find the antidote soon."

"Stop this crap, Bryce. Let's be realistic here, it will be less painful for you in the … Owwww. Shit!"—Her face flinched and a hysteric sob escaped her mouth.—"Fuckkk, it hurts so much now…"

"How much?"

"A nine."

"I'll page Ramsey."

Bryce took Eleanor's pager and wrote frantically. He didn't know how he steadied his hands because his whole body was trembling, and his mind was feeling unbearably dizzy.

"COME NOW."

It had taken him just a few seconds paging Ethan, but when Bryce looked at Eleanor, her face was glistening with sweat and the only reason she was still staying upright on the bed, was because he was holding her from behind.

"I'm sorry Bryce… I'm… not strong enough."

"Baby don't say that. You're incredibly strong and brave."

Even through the latex, Bryce could feel how cold her body was, and when he placed a hand over her forehead, she felt even colder.

Desperate, he took her in his arms and placed her on his lap, cradling her protectively.

As she felt his warmth enveloping her, Eleanor curled up over him, grasping the fabric of his suit instinctively, and pressed her face to his chest.

He had never seen her this fragile and weak.

"I'm so tired…"

Her eyelids seemed heavy, making her incapable of keeping them open, but she was resisting, trying to see him through the window of his suit.

He looked into her chocolate eyes, tired and pleading, while he was tracing soothing circles on her temple.

"It will pass, babe, I promise. Ethan will put you to sleep, but please, please stay with me. Stay with me."

How much he wanted to place a kiss on her forehead and soothe her pain with his caresses, as so many times he had done before. When she was feeling sad, angry, frustrated, sick. He had always found a way to make her feel better.

But now…

The lump in his throat was so painful that he couldn't hold the tears anymore.

He felt so useless.

So hopeless.

He couldn't do anything right. He couldn't stop her pain, he couldn't find the antidote. And now he couldn't even hold his emotions and stay strong for her, while she was trying so hard to keep her eyes open and stay with him.

He was an utter fiasco.

And then… her body felt heavier in his arms and her grip on him loosed.

Bryce panicked.

"Babe?"—His voice was barely a whisper. He looked at the monitor, her vitals were dropping. —"Babe? Please…"

He didn't know if he was pleading to her or to the unknown.

"I'm… ssso…tired…"

His whole body relaxed when he heard her voice. She was still with him. She just couldn't with her body anymore.

He embraced her more tightly, pressing her head to his chest, and stroked her hair softly.

"Keep fighting, babe, I got you. You're doing great, gorgeous."

He didn't know how much time passed, but suddenly the sound of the decontamination tent door woke him up from his pleading state. When he looked up, Ethan was standing in the entry, frozen.

It was a shocking view, undoubtedly. Her body motionless in Bryce's arms, while he was fighting the sobs with pleading words.

"What happened?"

Baz asked, slipping behind Ethan, with an evident tremor in his voice.

Bryce cleared his throat and breathed deeply.

"She… Uh… experienced the hot-cold reversal a while ago and her pain has escalated. Started with a seven and now is a nine."

Only then Ethan could react, taking a step toward the bed, studying the bundle of bones curled up over Bryce's lap.

"Her vitals had dropped but are still better than Rafael's at the moment he fell into a coma."— June commented, inspecting the numbers in the monitor.—"Any other symptoms?"

"Cold sweat and loss of strength."

"Did she sleep?"

"Yes, about five hours. She woke up minutes before I paged."

June nodded, adding the new information to the chart.

"Eleanor, are you still with us?"—Baz asked, holding a needle with a crystalline liquid inside.

Eleanor hummed.

"Good. Excellent. I'm gonna administer a higher dose than last time, okay? This will put you to sleep and hopefully when you wake up the pain will have decreased."

Baz injected the dose into the IV. After a few minutes, when Bryce felt she had fallen into a deep slumber, he stood up and placed her on the bed, covering her with the duvet. Then, turned to Ethan, who was witnessing the whole process silently.

"Any progress with the antidote?"

"Yes. There's a chemical that we are synthesizing that seems to be our best option so far. We are expecting to have it ready in a couple of hours."

Bryce nodded, hope resurfacing again after such dark and tortuous hours.

After a few more exchanges, the Team left, leaving him alone again, praying with all his strength that the chemical is the answer.

Minutes feel like hours. And hours an eternity. His hand had gotten atrophied by holding hers, but letting her go isn't an option, scared that she might go if he leaves her even for a second.

He's drugged by fear.

"We did it!"

Bryce isn't sure if he's imagining it, if he's daydreaming about the moment when their friends and the team will find the cure, or if it's true. If it's really happening.

But when he sees Ethan entering the room again, his eyes glistening with pride and hope, smiling, he knows is not his imagination.

"We made an antidote."

It feels surreal. His whole body feels lighter and suddenly a burst of laughter attacked him.

Happiness, relief. Hope.

He knew there was a chance the antidote couldn't work. But he chose to believe it would.

And then he can't stop thinking about all the things they talked through the night. All their plans, all the places they would go, all the things they would do. All the things he would say to her, but he kept inside for fear.

All the love he had to give to her.

There was so much to explore and learn with her. Life was giving both of them a second chance. Not only to Eleanor but to him too.

And then all he can do is thank. Thank to whoever accompanied him through the night. To whoever held him and filled him with hope.

To whoever put a blanket over him, to keep him warm until he reached a shelter. A safe place.

Bryce was now full of hope and optimism. With the optimism he knows so well and that comes naturally to him. He's sure everything will be alright now.

And he thanks his friends and the doctors who helped. He knows words will never be enough to thank them for what they've done, but he decides to do it on the brink of his emotions, when they are more genuine, and retributions and gratefulness is all that people need after such a long night giving everything of themselves to find the antidote. To save the lives of their friends and colleagues.

The waiting in the next hours was nothing like the last one. They're full of hope.

Benjamin joined him in the room once he gave his parents the news. After a while he forced him, with the same persuasion and stubbornness that Eleanor would do, to take a break.

"Bryce, you should have some rest."

"I can't leave her side."

"I get it, I really do, but at least you should take some air, eat something, have a coffee. You haven't left the room in like ten hours. I'm sure you wanna be in your best conditions when Eleanor wakes up and not pass out of exhaustion after five minutes."

Bryce stared at Benjamin, the determination set in his eyes was the same he had found so many times in Eleanor's. Where would that come from? From their mother or their father? Hopefully, he was expecting to find it out that night.

An hour later, after catching up with his friends in the cafeteria and calling Keiki to give her the news, he returned to the room with renewed energy and a lot more confident than before.

It only takes him a minute to start talking with Benjamin as if they were old friends.

Hours flied by.

"Man, I'm not saying that Kobe doesn't have his merits, but let's be honest: without Michael Jordan, there is no Kobe."—Bryce stated, both sitting in chairs at the end of the bed.

"But we are not discussing who came first or their legacies, we are discussing objective facts. For example, Kobe beats Michael in career poin-"

"Shut up you two, we all know Lebron James is better than Michael and Kobe."

Bryce and Benjamin's eyes widened in shock and turned to the bed, where Eleanor was awake and smiling.

"Andrew! You're awake!"—Benjamin jumped up toward her side and hugged her affectionately. –"I'm so happy to see you okay, sis."

"And I'm glad to see you again, bebé."

Bryce sat on the other side of the bed and caressed her cheek.

"Hey, babe."

"Hey."—She smirked—"I should've asked you if you were team Kobe or team Jordan before agreeing to be your girlfriend but… I think it's too late to give you back now."

Bryce chuckled, giving Benjamin an amusing glance.

"I'm sure we'll be able to keep the debate on civil terms, right, Benji?

"Absolutely."

"How are you, beautiful?"

"I'm feeling… surprisingly good. Did they change the treatment?"

"No, must be the antidote that's working. And probably you're still high for the morphine."

"Did you say antidote?"

Eleanor was a mix of confusion and amazement.

"Yeah. The team created an antidote. They injected it like… about four hours ago."

"And why didn't you wake me up?"

"Because Baz put you to sleep, you don't remember?"

"No? What happened?"

Bryce looked at Benjamin who shook his head subtly.

"You were in deep pain, so Baz put a higher dose of morphine. It would have been like… humanly impossible to wake you up considering the dose."

Eleanor frowned.

"I don't remember any of it, honestly. How deep are we talking about?"

"You reached a nine, but the Team came quickly so you didn't suffer too much."

"A nine? Shit. That's pretty bad. Maybe that's why I don't remember a thing. "

"And you had a fever too."

She nodded.

"And how they did it? The antidote, I mean."

"In simple terms, they created a compound that binds to the maitotoxin and prevents it from attaching to the plasma membranes. So far has worked very well and your levels of the toxin had decreased significantly since the administration."

"And they beat the stupid Government. How embarrassing—She giggled., and how has worked with the boys?"

"They are still in a coma, but their levels had dropped too. Very slowly, though."

"I'm glad Danny is still with us. I really thought he would…"—Eleanor shook her head—"He's such a fighter."

"Yes. You all are, Elle."

"What about mom and dad, Benji? Have you spoken to them today?"

"Early in the morning, before they took their flight here. And luckily for them, they were at a stop in Lima when the news of the antidote came, so I texted them right away. They'll arrive at about 11 pm."

"Great. Great. Poor things, at least they are traveling knowing the worst has passed."—Benji nodded—"And you, kiddo, have had some rest?"

"Yeah, I could sleep a few hours during the night, but then I went to Lab to see how was the searching. It was really impressive watching all those brilliant minds working."

"Oh, yeah. I would've loved seeing Ethan working with Tobias. Those to hate each other, you know? I don't know how their egos fit the room."

Eleanor laughed, imagining the picture.

"And what about you, mister?"—He directed to Bryce—"I got the feeling you didn't sleep a wink last night."

"I didn't. I had to monitor you, but I went for a coffee and some food a few hours ago under the strict orders of my very good friend Benjamin."

"You're the best, Benji, thank you for taking care of him for me."— Eleanor squeezed his hand approvingly and blow him a kiss.—"Well then. Now that I'm feeling better, and under my strict orders, you're gonna go home, have some sleep, and spend a few hours with your sister, alright?"

"But babe... I ca-"

"Bryce Golden Lahela. I know you want to stay with me, and I swear if I were in your position I'd never want to leave your side, but please, pretty please, do this for me, okay? I bet you haven't seen Keiki since when…? the day before yesterday? Because I'm sure she was completely asleep when you left your apartment yesterday morning"

"Yeah, she was."—Bryce replied sheepishly.

Eleanor was still weak, and he could tell she was doing an incredible amount of effort to stay lucid and strong, but even like that, she had enough energy and strength to take care of him and Keiki. That selfless side of her would always marvel him.

"Please, I'd feel a lot better if you go to sleep and spend the afternoon with Keiki. But…"—She stared at him seriously and then her whole face transfigured in a wicked, almost psycho, smile—"If you don't do it, don't worry, honey, I won't be mad, but I'll kick you out of my room."

Benjamin giggled.

"Dude, do as she says. You know she means it literally, right? Because I'm already seeing her getting up from the bed and kicking your ass."

"Okay, okay, I'll go."—Bryce stood up from the bed, lifting his hands in surrender—"There's no need to use violence. Any special message for your beloved Keiki?"

"Yes, tell her I'm sorry I had to borrow his brother for too long and that I hope I can see her soon because I miss her."

"Yes ma'am."

When Bryce opened the door of his apartment, the smell of sauteed veggies gave him a warm welcome.

It'd always cheered him up having his sister receiving him when he got home, but today was different. Today he was grateful for having her after the living nightmare he had been into in the last 24 hours. Her sole presence was enough to soothe him.

"Bryce?"—Keiki poked her head out of the kitchen and then ran towards him.—"Ohmygod, what are you doing here? Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, everything's okay, don't worry. Elle's awake and getting better. She's so well that…—He chuckled, collapsing on the couch.—" she made me come here to see you and have some sleep. She was worried you were too much time alone… And she's right, of course. I'm sorry Keiki, I know how abandoned you must have felt."

Keiki shook her head, sitting beside him.

"It's okay, Bryce. You needed to be with her, I totally get it. Not knowing what was happening was worse."

"I know."—He gave him a sad smile.

"Do you wanna have lunch? I have mashed potatoes pie in the oven. It should be ready in like twenty-five minutes."

"Ooh, are you serious? The one you cooked the other day? Because that was superb, Keiks"

"Yeah, the same. I actually was thinking about bringing you some to the hospital. I know you told me not to go, but…"—She gave him a sheepishly smile, shrugging, but before she could continue, Bryce hugged her, warm and tightly.—"Woah, woah, is just mashed potatoes and ground beef, no need to do such fuss."—She added instantly, patting him nervously in the back.

"Keiki, I was an ass with you for years, and now you're taking care of me like this? I don't deserve it."

"Nonsense. You know we are okay now, and you care a lot about me too, this is nothing."

Seeing Benjamin and Eleanor together had put a lot of things in perspective for him. How caring they were to each other had reminded him of his own relationship with Keiki before he moved to California. They were very close, so close, that he had no doubt that if he hadn't distanced himself the way he did, they wouldn't be much different from how Elle and Benji were.

Even if she was a six-year-old princess living in a fantasy world and he was a teenager soon-to-be a college student, they used to spend a lot of time together back in Maui. Entire days at the beach, swimming, playing hide and seek, playing tag, building sandcastles, doing races, finding forms in the clouds during the day, and looking at the stars at night.

He even learned about constellations just because she liked the stars.

But all that ended when he left and never came back.

He knew closeness and affection were still there, even if had passed ten years, even if she wasn't a kid anymore, but a teenager with a strong character that pretended to be too cool for affection. Because if it weren't like that, Keiki wouldn't have risked what she risked at coming to Boston. She wouldn't have forgiven him how she did weeks ago, and things wouldn't be as good as they were now.

After all those years, Bryce was still her refuge. The only person she could come to. And after all those years, Keiki still managed to bring out the best of him. She was making him thrive to become a better brother, a better man.

"What is it?"—She asked, as Bryce was staring at her tenderly.

"Nothing, I was just remembering those days at the beach. You were so little, and you're so grown up now… and you're even taking care of me when I should be the one taking care of you…"

She smiled sheepishly at him again.

"That's what siblings do."

"That's what I should've done in all these years and I didn't, and what I should be doing now…"

"Bryce, how many times I have to tell you…?"

"Okay, okay, I won't say it again. But… the thing is..."

He breathed. It wasn't easy for him. In fact, he used to avoid at all costs this kind of conversation because there were still a lot of issues he had to resolve with himself, but he felt like he had to say it now, without thinking it too much.

"What?"

"Look… I know things cannot be like they were before, but… I want you to know that you're the most important person in the world to me, Keiki, even if it seemed otherwise for ten years. Nothing has changed between you and me, okay?"

He didn't know how else to say it but in the way he was feeling it.

And for the first time in weeks, Bryce saw Keiki let her guard down. Her eyes swelled with tears at the mention of those memories at the beach, but after hearing his last words, her lips quivered.

"Okay,"—She said, wiping a tear from her eye—"But, gosh, what's gotten into you?"

What had gotten into him was that almost losing Eleanor also put a lot in perspective regarding how much he kept to himself. And he couldn't let that happen, let alone with Keiki. She deserved better. She deserved so much more than what their parents (poorly) had given to them, emotionally and affectively. He had to make things right, starting now.

"I love you, Keiki."—Before a sob could escape from her mouth, Bryce hugged her again, this time more tightly. –"Don't you ever doubt about it, okay? And please remember that, at heart, we are the same Bryce and Keiki playing on the beach. No matter the years."

He felt her fighting the sobs, but then she just let it flow.

"I love you too, Bryce."

Bryce breathed contently at hearing those words. That's all that he needed to hear.

After several seconds, Keiki parted from him, wiping the trace of tears off her face.

"This is a one-time bonding moment, right? Because if you're going to be this cheesy and make me cry everyday…"

Bryce chuckled.

"No, no. I know this is not your thing. This is just for today, a cathartic moment after what happened with Elle. But now we return to our regular sibling's relationship, where I'm obviously the cool one."

"HA! Dream on, Bryce. Let me inform you that today I award you with the title of the weirdest and most sentimental brother of the year."

He smiled fondly.

"I guess that makes me even cooler. I'm a total winner. Thank you, sis."

"No! You're the… You know what? Nevermind. After what you did yesterday with Kyra, and considering you're a very caring boyfriend with Ella, yeah, I'll let you be the cooler sibling, but only for this week."

"Oh, thank you for your generosity, loser."

Keiki rolled her eyes, and before sauntering to the kitchen, she ruffled his hair affectionately.

"Take a shower, weirdo. By the time you finish with all your beauty care routines, lunch will be ready."

He wasn't sure how many times he'd pleaded for that moment, how many times he'd imagined it on his mind, but it was finally happening. And it felt a thousand times better.

Bryce opened the door of Eleanor's room just as he had arrived at Edenbrook. With a navy-blue hoodie, light-blue jeans, and black and white sneakers. No hazmat suit, no gloves, nothing.

She was asleep. Her chest was moving harmoniously under the sheets, and the vitals on the monitor were almost on normal levels.

She was alright.

He walked to the other side of the bed and carefully laid behind her, placing an arm around her waist. She wasn't as cold as in the morning but still wasn't at her usual warmth. He buried his nose in the crook of her neck and breathed deeply, smelling the natural scent of her body mixed with some very faintly remnants of her shampoo. The sweetness of the pomegranate added even more joy to the fact she was safe.

His hot breath must have woken her up because, after a few seconds lost in her scent, she started stirring on the bed until she finally turned around and faced him.

"I'm dreaming? Why you're not using the hazmat suit?"—She muttered in a slurry voice, looking equally surprised and confused.

He smiled, sliding his index over her cheek softly.

"No, you're very much awake. And safe. Toxin-free safe."

"Toxin-free? Are you for real?"

"Absolutely, the last two blood tests have shown you have no traces of the toxin in your bloodstream."

"Oh my god, I can't believe it… I thought I would die here…"

"And I told you you would live."

"Yeah, and I've never been happier to be wrong."

They both chuckled

"And I've never been happier to be right."

After a moment, Eleanor started caressing his just shaved and very smooth cheek, but suddenly, she stopped, staring at him expectantly.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Are you gonna kiss me or not?"

"I was just letting you contemplate me, I'm sure you missed touching this flawless skin."

She snorted.

"I know last night I said I don't find you cocky anymore, but I can change my mind any minute, you know?"

"But you won't."

Bryce parted from her slightly and took his phone out of the pocket of his jeans. He scrolled a few seconds and then a piano melody started playing.

"Is that…?"

When I fall in love it will be forever

Or I'll never fall in love

"You said you wanted a kiss just like Isabella's…"

"Oh my god, I should've known you'd do this."

She placed her hands around his neck.

"The problem is… If I remember this right… you were the one who kissed me that night…"

"Yes, now you will. Period. You're talking too much."

"Now you realize I talk too much?!"

"Bryceeeeeee"

He laughed heartly.

"Okay, okay, miss impatience..."

Bryce tightened the grip around her waist and placed a hand over her cheek. After a few seconds of looking deeply into her amber eyes, he brushed his lips over hers. It was sweet and slow at first, but then he deepened the kiss, capturing her lips in his teeth and playing with her tongue just as she liked it.

Eleanor wanted a kiss like the one at Isabella's, but so much had changed since then, so much he had learned since then.

He knew the way she liked his kisses, how much pressure to use or how deep his tongue could go, so he was going to give her exactly that, a dreamy kiss, because honestly, he didn't know any other way.

After several seconds, he parted from her.

"Happy now?"

"Mmm… I'm not sure… Maybe you can give me another taste?"

He shook his head and kissed her again, harder. And this time he left her breathless, and giggling, and with the goofiest smile he had ever seen in her.

"Wow. 100/10."

"I'm amazing, I know."

And then, she couldn't help but look at him adoringly. Because yes, yes, he was indeed amazing. And she was completely in love with that amazing man.

"Te amo."—She said with warm candor, and then kissed him enthusiastically and incessantly for several seconds. –"I love you... god, I love you so much… Telling I was in love with you… without being able to kiss you… was a nightmare! But now I can... Finally…Kiss you…As much… as I want…"

Once she stopped, Bryce looked at her, marveled.

"What? Too much?"

He shook his head, biting his lower lip.

"No, it's perfect. Feel free to act like that whenever you want."—He kissed her forehead—"I love you, beautiful."

After receiving the official information from Ethan, June, and Baz, and being filled with kisses and hugs from Benjamin, Bryce wheeled her to her new room so she could take a shower. She didn't want to spend another second in that damned room.

"This is mine?"—Eleanor asked, inspecting the light blue bag over the bed.

"Yeah, I swung by your apartment before coming here, I thought you would need some fresh clothes."

Eleanor stood up with difficulty and wrapped him in her arms lovingly.

"Thank you, my love."

He smiled, melting by the words, but before he could say anything, she clung to him clumsily. Her legs failed her.

"Mmm, I think someone's going to need some help in the shower."

"Ooops, too bad that someone has a boyfriend with magic hands to help her."—She replied teasingly.

"C'mon, princess."—He whispered, picking her up in his arms and taking her to the bathroom.

Once he collected her shampoo and conditioner from the bag, he returned to the bathroom and closed the door behind him.

When Eleanor looked up at him, he felt the air changed instantly.

It's the intimacy.

The formula is simple. It has always been simple between them. It's just the two of them present at the moment. Whether they're alone or in a group, it doesn't matter. It can happen anywhere. It could be just an intense look; a simple touch; even a hug without saying a word. They only need to be focused on each other.

Bryce took a few steps until his lips were inches apart from hers. His hand took with precision the hook of her gown, and after untangling it, he threw it to the floor.

When his hands touched her waist, her whole body trembled, and a soft moan escaped her mouth, but soon she shut herself up by kissing Bryce delicately, sinking a hand under his shirt, craving for his skin. He conceded to her desires instantly, of course. After tugging his hoodie and shirt out, Eleanor roamed her hands roam over his bare chest, and leaving a trail of kisses up his chest, until she reached his jaw.

The heat radiating from his body had always soothed her. Even before realizing she was in love with him, being in his arms was her favorite place in the world. But when Bryce pulled her closer, enveloping her arms around the small of her back, and pressed her body flush to his, this time, Eleanor felt like she was coming home.

He wasn't her favorite spot anymore.

He was her home.

The supreme feeling of comfort and tranquility. A safe haven where she could be herself and where she's the happiest.

And where she can be at her lowest too. So she let it all go.

She let go of all her fears, all the what-ifs that had been torturing her mind; all those questions wondering how much she would've missed…

Millions of kisses and hugs; thousands of showers together; thousands of hours of amazing sex; thousands of nights talking, drinking, dancing. Adventures. Movies, movies interrupted by his unstoppable talking, by his kisses, by his innuendos. Sleepovers on the couch with Keiki. Countless moments just staring at each other without saying a word, because sometimes even for Bryce words wouldn't be necessary.

She wouldn't have lived the life she wanted to have with him. The future she wanted with him. She couldn't have known him as she always wanted, with all his wonders and terrors.

A sob echoed in the immaculate bathroom. Bryce gripped her more firmly to calm her shaky body.

The idea of dying with so much left to give was devastating.

Because she was so full of love. The moment she realized she was in love with Bryce she felt like she was going to burst. When she told him she was in love, she was choking with words because her heart inside was bursting with her purest feelings and sensations. And thinking that she could've died without giving him everything she wanted to give him, without giving him everything he deserved, was maddening.

Even if it was in the past, the fear was still too vivid.

"Let it go, love, I got you"—He whispered, his hands always drawing soft patterns on her head and back.

Love.

She could've missed that too. Bryce calling her love. Bryce calling her in so many ways.

She had always wished for a beautiful love, just like their parents had, but for some reason, it was always out of her reach despite her best efforts. And she could've died without experience it to the fullest with him. With the most wonderful person in the world.

Eleanor wrapped him more tightly, as if she's scared that he could go any minute now.

"I'm here for you and I'll always be, babe. We have now a whole life ahead of us to do everything we dreamed last night, that and much more."

How? How could he know what she was thinking? How he could know her so well?

"But… we need to start somewhere, right?-- —He whispered, pulling her gently from him.—"We need to start with something small."

He looked into her puffy and reddened face and wiped the tears off her face.

"We'll start with a shower. You need to get rid of all the traces of that fucking toxin. You'll let me take care of you, and then, if you want, we can make a visit to see Kyra and the rest of our friends, who must be waiting for you expectantly to fill you with hugs and tons of love."

"I'd like that."—She replied softly.

"Perfect."—He said before leaning in the shower to turn the faucet on.

After a few seconds, Bryce led her to the shower, and both hummed at the feeling of the hot water running through their bodies. Then he turned and looked at her, deeply.

"Are you feeling better, gorgeous?"—He asked softly and sweetly

"Yeah, so much better. Thank you, my love."

He chuckled and then bit his lower lip.

"God, I love it when you call me like that"

"My love? Well, you are my love."

"Yeah, I guess it's just that… now I understand why you were so reluctant to all this pet name situation."

"Yup, I wanted to say it just when I was 100% sure I was in love with you."

"Makes sense. Now I feel guilty for being too annoying with it."

"You're a Goldie, being annoying is part of your DNA."

He raised an eyebrow, seriously.

"But don't worry, my love is my main pet name for you now. And mi amor. Or maybe you prefer that in the first place?"

Bryce narrowed his eyes, thoughtfully.

"Tough question. I like that too, Spanish sounds so sexy in your mouth."

She smiled mischievously and then planted a chaste kiss on his lips.

"Te amo, mi amor"

"Feel free to call me however you want, but I'm warning you, I feel things when you speak to me in Spanish."

"What kind of things, mi amor?"

Bryce roamed his hands over her back until he reached her tights. Then, he lifted her effortlessly in his arms and pushed her against the wall.

"Things that… "—He kissed her hard.—"even if it's tempting to do here, I'll save it for another time. I'll create a whole kink of you speaking in Spanish in the meantime"

"Mmm, a new kink. My, oh my. I'll exercise my pronunciation, then, because it has gotten a little rusty over the years."

She kissed him hard this time, pressing her legs and heels against his back.

"Okay, as much as I want to keep going, let's slow it down, babe. We should be doing some cleaning, you know? Or you'll stay as a koala indefinitely?"

She giggled.

"Yes, I'm a koala now."

"Oh, well, then thank you for simplifying me the choice. I was always divided between calling you a sloth or a koala, but koala is perfect. It wouldn't be too romantic of me calling you a sloth."

Both cackled.

"Only in the bed."

"Specify that? In bed like sleeping or like…—He raised his brows suggestively.

"I'm multifaceted, I can be both."

Bryce chuckled.

"Of course you can, babe."

Eventually, Eleanor gave up her dream of remaining as a koala forever and returned to her feet.

Bryce took the shampoo and massaged her scalp softly and dedicatedly, relaxing her. His hands were magical in so many ways.

Then he helped her clean some parts of her body she couldn't reach, teasing her once in a while, until she was all cleaned.

Once he dried himself up and put his clothes on, he helped Eleanor getting out of the shower and took her back to the room.

He dried her skin delicately. At first, she tried to dress up by herself, but the shower had relaxed her so much, that Eleanor finally gave up, letting Bryce taking care of her as he wanted.

Even if she was feeling a little sleepy, that didn't stop her from feeling amazed with his dedication and the tenderness with whom he was pampering her.

His soft hands spread ever so softly the cream over her arms and legs, and the massaged her so exquisite on her back, that after a while she wondered if she was actually dead and that was heaven.

Once she was all moisturized and dressed in a mint green pajama, he took the towel wrapped around her head and began combing her hair softly and delicately. At some point, she felt like she was six again, when her mum would bathe her and then comb her long wavy hair patiently until she was free of knots.

"Gosh, you could be a stylist or a massagist, and you'd do it wonderfully."—Eleanor moaned, feeling his fingers combing her hair as Bryce was directing the hairdryer to the nape of her head.

"Of course, I'd be wonderful in anything I pursue, especially with these magic hands."

After five minutes, her hair was completely dry.

"Ponytail or braid?"

"Braid."

She was about to lift her hands to make herself a braid when Bryce asked.

"French or normal?"

She turned around with her mouth agape.

"Wait, besides all your many talents, you also know how to braid?"

"Yeah, you didn't know?"—He chuckled

"No! When did you learn?"

"When Keiki was like… four?—Bryce replied as he was dividing her hair into three sections.—"She's always been bossy, you know? And one day after a day at the beach her braid was a mess, so she said: Bryze, fixit! You're a grown-up, you shud know how to braid hair... And of course, she was right! How incompetent of me not knowing how to braid hair, right? Especially since I had a little sister with very long hair."

"Awww, love, this is so cute! Little Keiki asking for a braid. I'm melting."

A couple of minutes later, Bryce took the hair bun from his wrist and use it to secure the end of the braid.

"There, my princess. All done."—He announced, kissing her crown.

Eleanor brought a hand to her hair and felt the patterns with her fingers.

"This is perfect."

"Why the tone of surprise? Of course it's perfect! I don't do anything that's below perfection."

"I know, I'm just admiring your beautiful work, love."

Bryce gathered all her things and placed them in the closet.

"Ready to see our friends?"

"Honestly? Not yet.

"Hey, you don't have to go if you don't want to. Do you want me to call the guys?"

"No, no… besides I have to go to see Kyra."

"But you don't have to if you don't feel in the mood for that."

"I know, I just want to lay down a bit with you."

"Of course, babe"—He replied, laying beside her.

Eleanor turned to his side.

"I'm completely melted inside, you know?"

"Why?"

"For the way you've taken care of me, how you pampered me… you even braided my hair…"

"It's the less I can do for you, babe. This is nothing, actually."

She kissed him on the lips and then rubbed the tip of her nose on his.

"You know, if boyfriend lottery exists, I'm sure you're the biggest prize in history, and I'm the lucky winner."

Because she could win the biggest money prize in history, but not even that could compare to the feeling of having Bryce loving her.

Nothing compares to it.

______________________

A/N2: Make Bryce even more perfect than he already is? Achievement unlocked. Like I love to hurt him (I love angst, actually) but I also love to make him more perfect and more god-tier than he already is. Pure self-indulgence here.

A/N3: As you can see, I'm cheesy/corny not only in romantic relationships but in fraternal relationships too. I have a good relationship with my brother, in fact, we have the same age difference Keiki and Bryce have, so I know firsthand the kind of relationship they could have. And I want to give them that, despite their personalities and the fact that maybe Americans, in general, are not as caring as we the Latinos but… being this caring is something you can learn, you know? So Bryce is learning that from Eleanor. Anyway, it won't be easy, Keiki and Bryce have a lot of issues to explore yet, but Bryce had to take the first step.

Thank you so much for reading. I appreciate each and every one of you for supporting my story ❤❤❤

#bryce lahela #bryce lahela x mc #bryce x mc #bryce x casey #open heart #open heart choices #open heart fanfiction #choices #choices stories you play #playchoices #pixelberry

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

Text

Humans are Space Orcs, “Operation Steel- Eye,”

This is probably the last bit I will be doing on this particular thread because I want to do more with it in the book version, but hopefully this will get you guys interested in how things turn out.

They had gone through another attack. The rundi chairwoman had not been expecting it, but all of a sudden there were voices, and shouts, and people running this way and that, she had been hurriedly bundled into a truck and driven for over an hour in the opposite direction with no idea what was happening, and no one that seemed to want to tell her what was going on. When they finally stopped she was told there had been another attack, and they were trying to get her as far away from the fighting as possible.

They waited there for over half a day, and only began their return journey when a spotty call came in over their radio to drive them back. When they reached camp, a good portion of it had been damaged, especially alone the suwards side, though, as she got out of the truck, she was told they were lucky, and the ashfall cleared enough that their long range weapons became more effective, driving the Drev off for a time.

“However, I don’t think I need to tell you how imperative it is that we get operation steel-eye up and running.” The admiral was saying leading her through the camp, as the soldiers scrambled to repair and re-supply themselves for an attack that could happen at any moment. Ever since the supply ships had been able to get through the atmosphere, thing in camp were looking a little less bleak.

The wounded were better cared for, and the soldiers were receiving more rations.

Though the ash was still a heavy nuisance, and kept the days mostly dark, they did have occasional times of clearance that allowed them to see the sun.

She moved into place behind the admiral, who had led them to the new medical tent, less of a tent now and more of a pop-up shelter, with reinforced siding, and an actual door. Stepping inside, she couldn’t help but gawk at the difference just a few days of supplies had made. The floors and walls were a uniform steel grey, and proper decontamination equipment was brought in to rinse ash from their bodies. Instead of suits to put over themselves they were washed off and given entirely new sets of clothes.

Stepping onto the ward was a much greater relief. The place was spotless clean, bright white lights shone in from above, and instead of rolled mats on the floor, there were cots, clean bandages, and monitoring machines hooked up to each of the wounded soldiers beeping away with their vital signs. Instead of moaning and pitiful whimpering from earlier, they were silent most of them asleep, all of them heavily drugged under vast swaths of pain killing medication. The first half of the room housed newly injured soldiers lying on cots their missing limbs bandaged and properly cleaned.

But the back of the room, well the back of the room was where things changed.

The fruits of operation steel- eye. At least twenty soldiers, this being the first medical tent, she was told there were twenty more soldiers in the second. They did not lay on open beds, but instead hung from the walls in various states of unconsciousness, pinned there by the thick metal contraptions welded to their bodies. A main rod of the metal was riveted down their backs curving around onto their hips and then locking at the knees, similarly with the arms.

Metal protrusions connected to the underarms and over the back of the hands.

It was a strange sight, and made her rather nervous as she somehow felt the wrongness of the steel next to delicate skin and bone.

Theadmiral stepped forward to examine the sleeping soldiers, “We lost 20% of these brave men and women after the first few hours out from the operation. Bacterial meningitis, and the occasional paralysis. A few of them just stopped breathing, but that could have been a reaction to the medication. This is all we have left.

The rundi chair woman stepped forward looking up at the sleeping humans their eyes close, their faces so much more peaceful now. As per usual she was drawn to one human in particular, the only human that she actually knew on sight based on their history together, or their acquaintance.

From her reports, this human had been the first human ever to meet nonhuman life, and had been instrumental in language acquisition for their linguists, and now here he was reduced to nothing more than a piece of hardware to be upgraded and augmented for the purposes of better battle strategy

The thought made her sick and uneasy. The more she thought about it, the more she was coming to realize that the humans and the Drev had more in common than anyone else on this battlefield, both of them were unwaveringly brutal, the Drev with tearing off limbs…. And the humans continually asking their soldiers to give when they had already given so much. With this thought her eyes shot down towards the human’s new robotic leg still and silver in the painful overhead lights.

No other species had ever considered such a thing as an alternative option, adding machinery to bioology….. As far as she knew there was nothing human’s couldn’t replace, and that thought made her wonder…. How far could they go before there was no more human left before the machine took over completely?

As she thought looking up at the sleeping human the admiral came to stand next to her looking up at the face of the sleeping human.

Her eyes drifted downwards, noting a strange dissimilarity in one of the human’s arms. With one hand she pointed out, “What is that.”

He glanced towards, “Oh, well, that is a drug port.”

“A drug port?”

“He nodded, unfortunately due to our time constraints we cant let their injuries fully heal, which means we will be mainlining morphine during combat, but due to the nature of the side effects of morphine, we are going to have to pair it with a drug classified as a stimulant to keep alert during battle.”

The rundi chairwoman shifted nervously, “I… not to question your methods admiral, but havent you asked enough from them. First they lose their limbs, then you splice them with robotics, and now you are keeping them drugged.” The admiral looked down at her with a cold unreadable expression, “You wanted us to win this war, and sometimes we have to do things that don’t make us sleep so well at night.”

There was an awkward pause of silence between them, but she let it go.

What did she know.

The humans probably knew what they were doing.

***

Lieutenant Adam Vir woke slowly, but he did it without pain.

In a somewhat drowsy haze, he floated upwards towards consciousness like one would float upwards through a pool of warm salt water. lights , beginning as big fuzzy circles, soon condensed themselves downwards into sharp points of light. The buzzing in his ears followed suit morphing and churning before turning dowards and sharpening out into a baseless echo. The echo that soon turned and warped again until, “Lieutenant, Lieutenant, can you hear me.”

The light jumped first to one eye and then the other.

He blinked past the pain squinting as he tried to make out the room ahead of him.

His fuzzy surroundings condensed, contracted, and then finally sharpened out, to the face of a woman. She was small petite, with black hair pulled up in a bun, and large, thick framed glasses. She had one hand on the side of his face as she flicked the light between his eyes.

He groaned slightly and shifted.

“There were are, that's good, can you focus here on the light and follow it please.” It took him a moment to comprehend what she was saying, but finally followed the little pen light with his eyes. She clicked it off andplaced it in her pocket, “Very good.” Reaching out she felt the side of his neck and up under his jaw, “Turn your head to the right…. Now left…. Now open your mouth…. Tilt your head back.” He did as told, though somewhat groggily. As he tried to tile his head back, he felt something strange flexing with him, “Very good, now can you wiggle your fingers for me.” He did as requested tilting his head down to look at his body, which he now realized was hanging upright instead of lying down.

He blinked again, trying to push a haziness from his eyes as he squinted past his hands and down towards his legs. They were bare mostly, which is how he noticed the metal prosthetic so quickly.

He missed her next couple of words as sounds and images came flooding back to him. Ashfall, a dark silhouette looming over him, the sharp point of a spear, and terrible horrible pain.

Something was beeping frantically off to his side.

A hand rested on his arm, “Come on back to us Lieutenant, you’re safe here.” He opened his eyes again looking over to find the admiral standing next to him, “There we go.”

He blinked again.

“How are you feeling?” The man asked

“Not… in pain.” He responded thickly

“Try flexing your toes.”

He did as told looking downwards. His left foot flexed just fine, but the right remained still. He grew sick felt his stomach churn.

“Hm that…. Wait, hold on there kid, we need to power it on.” A sudden relief washed over him as the woman bent down to engage the limb. The Admiral patted his shoulder, and suddenly his eyes widened, he could FEEL his leg, could feel the woman’s fingers as they moved across the metal, could feel it as if it was his own skin.

He shivered, and then shuttered goosebumps erupting across his entire body. She looked up at him, “Can you feel that.”

He nodded dumbstruck, eyes wide.

“That's good, now do what the good lady says and try to raise your arms.”

He did as told, and nearly clobbered himself in the head as his hands and arms flew upwards. He jolted in confusion, staring down at his arms in shock. He flexed hs fingers watching as tiny metal bits flexed with him clicking softly. He flexed his arm again and it felt as if he wasn’t even moving it, instead being dragged along by the metal frame which held his body.

He dropped his hands again.

“Reduce the response time on those,” the admiral ordered, “Let him get the hang of it first.” The woman adjusted something on the leg. He shivered again, feeling her fingers, the sensation was so real, he expected to look down and see his leg back, but predictably it was still metal.

“Go ahead and flex your toes now.”

Nervously he did as asked,and this time the toes of the prosthetic twitched and then curled inwards. He moved one, and then the other and then rolled them tilting his head back and closing his eyes, feeling as if he was in ecstasy.

“Good.” All around him, the other soldiers were doing the same. Across the way, a soldier, who was missing three of her limbs had tears spilling down her face as she flexed her new arm.

Another was blinking through a robotic eye and speaking for the first time…. With a mechanical jaw.

“Lets lower him down slowly let him feel the ground. They rushed to do as told racing over to the wall and slowly lowering him towards the ground. His feet made contact with cold metal…. He could feel it, the cold through the soles of his feet, the only difference was that…. Without skin, he didn't feel that subtle deflection as skin puckered and flatted about objects.

He tried lifting the knee of the new leg, and it came as told. He flexed the ankle, and the foot moved seamlessly with it.

“Wow.”

It was almost as if his leg was back, almost as if….

Embers fell from the sky, and that dark shape moved closer to him fro the darkness.

A hand rested on his shoulder and he jerked away, “Stay with us lieutenant.” The admiral moved forward taking him by the shoulders, “Look at me.”

He did.

The other man’s eyes burned hungrily, “This is your chance…. For revenge, to make them pay for what they did to you.”

Adam nodded, but at the same time, something inside him felt very uneasy. IS revenge what he really wanted…. But of course it was… wasn’t it, that roach had taken his leg..? But shouldn't he feel more?

“And, you will help win the war, no more casualties, no more pain. You do this and it will all be over, you’ll have served the UNSC, the GA, and earth….. Can you do that for me?”

Of course the admiral was right.

“Yes sir.”

435 notes · View notes

love-and-anarchy-au · 3 years

Text

Love & Anarchy: Chapter 20

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH THIS CHAPTEEEERRRRRRRRR. i’m not sure if i should scream or cry or both at the same time xd. THIS CHAPTER IS THE K E Y to almost everything that will come after. this chapter is the first chapter i pictured of l&a, and here it is, ready to be read by you. i both suffered and enjoyed this chapter, so i do not know how you will process it. have a nice wednesday, loves <3

REMEMBER THIS AU HAPPENS IN THE SAME UNIVERSE THAT THIS ONE

Find out what this AU is about here

Masterlist

Tag list: @healing-winston-pratt @honey-hippie-harper @obsidianfr3sk @nodrianbcyes @everyone-has-a-nightmare @magykaldealings @nobellrenaissance @cerenoya @cassin-the-assasin @cindersnightmare

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Words:

11,654

Part 2: A teen named Ace Artino

16 years old Alec

5 p.m., my house.

They had arranged to meet at James’ apartment and make all the plans to gather prodigies and tell them about the revolution they had in mind since a long time. It was almost always implied that they would meet at James' apartment, since Alec's was a dangerous place, not only because of its location (the poorest part of the suburbs) but also because of one of the tenants (Dante Artino wasn’t the nicest host, neither David). Also, James' apartment used to be just occupied by himself, as his mothers were constantly travelling, killing prodigies.

James' mothers were actually certified Prodigy Hunters. There were three types of prodigy killers: Communitary, Squad, and Certified. The Community members were the most common, those who organized the daily burns, the ones whose hands were stained with blood and gasoline, their hair smeared with ashes and hatred. Squads were more planned and more gruesome; they did not wait for the prodigy to appear, they sought it out with their innate malice and natural coldness. They killed with their bare hands, or with whatever was close.

And the Hunters...they were dark.

Rumor had it that the government itself financed them; part of the money collected from taxes went to a Hunter’s salary. They were ruthless and cold assassins, and they were in charge of killing prodigies that for some reason had power. They were hit men, a secret organization that recruited only the best of the best.

And that was why James' mothers were never home.

That was the reason why he hated them.

“If they ever come back,” James used to say, “I'll kill them myself.”

“If they don't kill you first,” Alexandra replied, earning herself a nudge from Alec.

Would those mothers be capable of killing their son for being a prodigy?

Alec didn't believe that.

At most they would kick him out of the house, or try to kill him.

But he doubted they could assassinate a teleporter just like that.

Alec reached the building and opened the metal and glass door with his mind. He had done that a million times in the last ten years, always with his powers, never with his hands, made of flesh and blood. He touched the elevator call button and pulled it closer, hurrying it, after his senses told him that there was no one inside that ascending and descending metal box. The elevator arrived and Alec got on. He closed the doors and pressed the button for the top floor.

He ascended, ascended, ascended.

He reached the top floor and went to apartment 5C.

He knocked on the door with his knuckles, because James appreciated the old habits of being respectful.

He waited for James to say his usual solemn “get in, Mr. Artino.”

James didn't reply.

Alec frowned. If he was in the bathroom, he would have heard him and screamed the answer, but he said nothing. If he was making his coffee, he would have answered as well. He knocked on the door again.

Nobody answered.

Alec decided to go inside; he knew James wouldn't be mad at him for doing that. He closed his eyes and visualized the lock on the door. He turned the gears, as if there was an invisible key, and pushed the door to enter.

“James...?” Alec called him, as he entered the apartment, cautiously. He was starting to freak out.

“Ace…” he answered, his voice rough and hanging by a thread. Alec couldn't figure where the voice was coming from, but according to his senses, it was from the kitchen.

“James!”

James was sprawled on the kitchen floor, a spilled cup of coffee in his hand and a trickle of blood coming from his mouth, staining his perfect lips. His skin was paler than ever, like a corpse under the cold lights of the morgue.

Alec practically threw himself to the floor himself to save him. He took the boy's hand and placed his thumb on his wrist ...

“No, no, no...what happened?” Alec said, frantic and desperate. It couldn't be happening, not to James, not to him...

“Poison,” James murmured and spat blood. The perfect white tiles on the floor were stained. Alec's eyes threatened to burn under his budding tears, so cold they burned like coal.

A memory assaulted his present. It was a year old and belonged to Alec's best memories. It was Alexandra who uttered the following words, half a jokingly, half seriously.

Lately, I've been thinking that the only way to kill you is by poisoning you...

The words bounced and bounced around Alec's skull.

Poison, poison, poison...

How do you kill a teleporting prodigy?

With internal damage.

Poison.

“James…” Alec pleaded, shaking both of James' hands, and looking for his gaze, lost in his past. “Be strong, please, we have to... we have to…”

And he began to cry.

He didn't know how to save his best friend, he didn't know, he didn't know.

He had lost all ability to reason the moment he heard James plead.

“Easy, easy, Alec…” James comforted him and released one of his hands from Alec's, so he could caress his cheekbones.

Alec stopped. James never called him Alec. Alec had been Ace since James and Alexandra had christened him at Gatlon customs, more than ten years ago.

James coughed. Alec's skin came into contact with eight tiny droplets of blood that wasn’t his’.

James took a breath and strength to speak his last speech.

“You must ... you must ... save ... the prodigies ... you're the only one who can save us, Alec. You ... you and ... Anarchy. Only you will save the prodigies, once and for all.”

A silver tear spilled from James' eyes. The boy gulped, with a great, remarkable effort.

Alec shook hands with James and the boy brought Alec's face close to his’. Their foreheads were pressed against the other and their eyes were less than two inches apart. Their souls were embracing for the last time.

Why, God? Why?

James continued.

“Do it for me, do it for Alessandra, do it for Julieta, do it for all the dead. Don't swear it to me, just do it. Avenge us. Avenge me.”

Alec nodded. His icy tears were melting, threatening to turn into magma.

“I will avenge you. I will avenge them all. No more prodigies will die at the hands of this sick society,” Alec promised, spitting the words through boiling tears.

James nodded and stroked Alec's cheekbone, very very slowly. His cloudy eyes were on Alec's shady ones. His gaze was both a caress and a stab at his heart.

“Don't let them forget me. Don't forget me, Alec,” James asked, almost pleading.

“Never, James.”

The boy closed his eyes, depriving Alec from getting lost in his clouds, and nodded.

“Lunga vita, Ace Anarchia,” whispered James Roselo.

And died.

It was just that: James losing control of his limbs, his soul separating from its container, his muscles relaxing, his heart slowing down after suffering for minutes, his lungs no longer contracting and his body letting life go out of it.

When James fell from his arms, for the first time in the tragedies that had succumbed his life, Alec did not feel that hopeless feeling of loneliness accompanied by sadness, how the tears drowned him, how he was left without that love that those people had given him, that love he needed like air

Not. At. All.

He felt a flame rising up his throat and burning the rosary he wore on his chest. He felt pain burning in his gut. He felt impotence mixing with indignation mixing with grief mixing with loneliness until it became anger. A fiery and unstoppable anger like willpower itself.

Alec roared angrily.

And that's when a voice spoke:

“Oh, is he already dead?”

Alec turned his back on James' corpse, to see two women peering out of the hall. One had dark eyes and another had gray eyes. They both had their hair tied in a neat bun, and wore expensive clothes. Their expressions were empty as they just stared at Alec and James in a bored manner .

“One less damn prodigy,” the dark-eyed woman murmured, triumph in her voice.

The gray-eyed woman patted her proudly.

And Alec realized.

James' mothers had killed him. They had poisoned him.

All because James had been a prodigy.

Alec looked at them, scandalized.

Those women were monsters.

The real monsters.

Not James. Them.

And they didn't deserve to live.

That flame that had attacked him when James died, and that had been tempered by the numbness that James' mothers brought into the apartment flared back, consuming Alec's entire body. Without hesitation, he seized the clothes of those women, those monsters, and turned them against them. Their shirts began to choke them, their belts tightened them so much that they looked like they were going to rip them in half. They tried to scream, but being able to speak was a privilege when air was a luxury. Alec never stopped looking into their eyes as he made their clothes tighten more and more and more and more...

James' mothers gasped and fell to the ground like rag dolls, just like their son had fallen to the ground after drinking the poison they had put in his coffee.

They were dead.

As they should be.

Alec felt the reality that he had just murdered two women hit him, but the voice in his head reminded him how those women were anything but innocent and how they deserved every second of agony he had put them through. Alec turned his back on them and looked back at James.

He was furious.

With everyone.

With everything.

But above all, with God.

God had not saved them. Not Julieta, his sister, the living angel. Not Alexandra, his girlfriend, the most vivacious and fantastic girl who had ever lived. Not James, his best friend, the true visionary. Not any prodigy, all of them innocent, unless you considered existing as a crime.

God had not sent the Savior. God had left them alone with their fate in that Hell that called itself Earth.

God was a lie.

With his hand full of James’ blood, Alec tore off the rosary and with his mind, to leave it floating in the air. At the same time, he searched with his senses for a glass jar in the cupboards of the apartment. He imagined all the millions of atoms that made up the hand-carved wooden rosary, separating from each other until they were just individual atoms, scattered into the air. And as a tear slid down his cheek, the rosary was pulverized. Its atoms fell into the glass jar.

Alec put the bottle in his pocket. He gulped hard. Inhaled. Exhaled. Inhaled. Exhaled.

He screamed for three whole minutes, until there was no agony left in his soul.

Enough.

He would never scream like that again.

Even though...

God wouldn't save him.

God would not save them.

If God didn't save them, then who? Who would that God be, that comfort when protection was scarce? Who would be the deliverer of prodigies, the beacon of hope, the example to follow, the leader of a revolution, the visionary of a new era ...?

Alec looked at his hands, stained with eight drops of nearly dried blood.

And the answer appeared in his mind, as a fact, a duty, a truth, a destiny.

He.

He would be that God.

He would be the Savior of Prodigies.

He would be the one to lead the prodigies into a new era, where they would be free .

He would be the leader of a revolution.

He. Alec Artino.

No. Alec James Artino.

No, not anymore.

Lunga vita...

Alec lifted his chin and looked up, far away, into the future, focused.

He would be, from that moment and forever, Ace Anarchy.

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fridayfirefly · 4 years

Text

Picture Perfect Chapter Two: #Adrinette

Masterlist | AO3

By the time the Gabriel catalog came out, Marinette had almost entirely forgotten about the photoshoot. So much had happened in the past five months, that the summer photo shoot was the last thing on her mind. Marinette and the rest of her class started their first year of lycée. Marinette designed and created a whole new wardrobe for herself and created an online store after some of her designs started getting attention. Nathanial and Marc finally started dating. Yet despite all these changes, so much had stayed the same. Adrien and Marinette were still just friends. Lila was still manipulating the class with her lies, and Adrien and Marinette still had no plan on how to stop her from lying.

Marinette spent her winter break designing, and it kept her so busy that she completely missed the Gabriel catalog drop. It wasn't until she got a phone call from Adrien at five o'clock on New Year's Day that she realized that the photos from their summer shoot had been released.

The phone rang while Marinette was in the middle of hand-stitching her dress for the upcoming girl's choice Valentine's Day dance. It wasn't for another month and a half, but Marinette knew that once the new semester started, she would have no time to sew. Marinette answered her phone on the second ring, her caller ID telling her that it was Adrien who was calling. "Hey, Adrien," she greeted.

"Marinette!" Adrien exclaimed through the phone. "You haven't checked your twitter recently, have you?"

"No? Why?" Marinette was already logging on to twitter on her laptop, curious as to what had Adrien so frantic. Then she saw it: #Adrinette is trending in your area. "Oh. I'm going to call you back." Despite Adrien's protest, Marinette hung up the phone. She had some tweets to read.

It took twenty minutes of digging to find the original twitter thread that caused the catastrophe:

Marinette finally called Adrien back, half an hour after she hung up on him. He picked up on the first ring.

Marinette didn't hesitate in getting straight to the point. "What do we do about this?"

"Father already coordinated the PR Department to release a statement telling my fans to stop making inquiries into either of our personal lives. The next step is a little more complicated. Father would like for you and your family to come over for dinner so we can discuss it."

"What is there to discuss? Shouldn't we just tell everyone that we're not dating and be done with it."

Adrien hesitated. "It's complicated. I don't really approve but my Father insists that we at least discuss it."

"What is it?" asked Marinette, exasperated at the way he kept dodging around the point.

"My Father wants us to fake date," Adrien blurted out. "Which is a silly idea, I know, but he wouldn't listen to me."

"Why does he want us to fake date?" Marinette was absolutely blindsided by this development. Of all the things Adrien could have said, fake dating was at the bottom of her list of possibilities, right under her secretly being a princess and an alien invasion.

"He thinks that it would be good publicity. I tried to convince him to just forget about it, but he's insisting that he speaks to you and your parents about it."

"Okay. What time should we come over?"

Marinette quickly got herself ready for dinner, picking out a dress made of midnight blue velvet, one of her own creations, for a commission that canceled on her when she was half-way through making the dress. Marinette had been furious at first, but she channeled that rage into turning the dress into something that she could wear herself and be proud of. She finished getting ready by braiding back her hair and putting on a light coat of makeup. That was the easy part.

The harder part was informing her parents of the situation, a task that took Marinette almost twenty minutes to fully explain. From the photoshoot over the summer that they vaguely remembered signing a permission slip for, to the catalog that came out that morning, the rumors and speculation that blew up on twitter, and the invitation to the Agreste Mansion - they had a lot of ground to cover. Sabine and Tom were both concerned, primarily for their daughter's safety.

"You haven't been harassed, have you?" asked Sabine.

"I haven't checked my DM's yet," Marinette admitted. "I'm just going to turn my account to private and ignore them. I'm sure people are saying terrible things about me, but I don't really care. It doesn't bother me that they're jealous of a relationship I'm not even in."

"If you see anything that does bother you, or if anything threatens you, make sure you report it," urged Sabine.

Marinette nodded. "I will."

"Marinette, can you finish closing up the bakery while Sabine and I get ready for dinner?" asked Tom.

"Yep." Marinette made her way down to the bakery and started tidying up. She put ingredients away, took leftover bread out of the display case, wiped down tables, swept the floor. The menial tasks soothed her overstimulated brain, allowing her a few minutes to process everything that had happened in the last hour. Once she finished cleaning, Marinette got out her phone and started mindlessly scrolled through twitter as she waited for her parents to get ready. There were a lot of opinions about her and Adrien's 'relationship', some of them better than others.

"Marinette, are you ready to go?"

"Yep." Marinette glanced up from her phone. Her parents were both dressed up for the dinner - Sabine in a dark green dress that Marinette had made for her mother to wear to a wedding six months ago, Tom in a suit with a matching dark green tie. "You both look nice," Marinette complimented.

"Only because I'm wearing your creation. Gabriel Agreste had better take note of your talent before he loses you to another fashion company."

The Agreste Mansion was only two blocks away, so Marinette and her parents walked there, rather than taking a taxi. The sidewalks were icy, and Marinette was glad that she chose to wear flats over heels. Breaking her ankle on the way to break up with her fake boyfriend would be enough to push Marinette over the edge. She already wanted to hole up in her room and never come out again, as it was.

The Dupain-Cheng family was welcomed into the Agreste Mansion by Nathalie, who gave Marinette a sympathetic smile. "I'm very sorry for the trouble that social media has been causing for you and Adrien."

Marinette shrugged her sympathy away. "It's certainly giving me some trouble, but it's not the end of the world. Once we get the word out that Adrien and I aren't dating, I'm sure the public will stop obsessing over it.

Nathalie's smile turned into a frown. "I must warn you, Mister Agreste is going to try to change your mind on the matter."

"Let him try. I've already made my decision."

"I admire your conviction, Miss Dupain-Cheng. Follow me, I'll take you all to the dining room."

The first thing Marinette noticed when she entered the dining room was the worried expression on Adrien's face. The second thing she noticed was the absolute lack of expression on Gabriel Agreste's face, though that seemed to be normal for him.

"Welcome to my home, Mrs. Dupain, Mr. Cheng, Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng."

"Thank you for inviting us over," said Sabine.

"Were this about anything else, I would allow the pleasantries to go on. However, this pertains to the safety of our children, so why don't we get down to business."

Sabine nodded. "From what I understand, speculation has been circling the Internet about a relationship between Marinette and Adrien, due to the nature of the photos released in the 2020 Gabriel Catalog."

"Oscar Perrin, the director of the photoshoot, paired Adrien and Marinette up to be featured in photos together. The Internet has mistaken the pictures to mean that there is something more between the two of them."

Nathalie approached the table and set a Gabriel catalog down in from of Marinette's parents before taking her own seat. Marinette glanced over at the catalog, and in all honesty, she understood where the speculation had come from. Though her crush on Adrien had faded to almost nothing at the time of the photoshoot, there was a genuine fondness in both of their expressions.

"This is fairly incriminating evidence," Sabine noted as she flipped through the catalog. "It won't matter though, not once their lack of relationship is officially confirmed by your company."

"That's the part I brought you here to discuss. I do not want to publicly discourage the rumors. If anything, I would like to encourage them."

"Why?" Sabine narrowed her eyes, a look of distrust that Marinette very rarely saw on her mother.

"There is already a lot of attention around Marinette and Adrien dating, especially from people their age, the demographic that the Gabriel brand has been targeting for the past year. If their relationship is confirmed, and Marinette start showing up with Adrien at Gabriel function and appearing in photoshoots, it would be incredible advertising for the new lines of clothes we are releasing for young adults."

"I understand your motivations for keeping them together, but why should Marinette agree. She's already receiving harassment online, and the speculation has only been around for less than a day."

"Marinette is interested in fashion design, is she not?"

All eyes turned to Marinette, who gave a small nod of her head. "I am."

"The Gabriel company does not currently offer a lot of opportunities for young designers, but that could change. Should you and Adrien be in a relationship - fake or real, whatever you decide between the two of you - you would have access to all of Gabriel's resources. I could set up an internship with one of my top designers. Additionally, as a designer, you would begin your career in the fashion world with name recognition as a former model."

Hesitantly, Marinette interrupted. "Former modeling? I thought that I wound just be fake dating Adrien. I understand that I would be going to some functions with Adrien and being seen out in public with him, but how does modeling fit into this?"

"I want you to replace Lila Rossi. She has not endeared herself to Adrien's fanbase and has been causing more trouble than she's worth within the ranks of the Gabriel brand models. I had considered replacing her for quite some time and recently terminated her contract after I found out that there have been quite a few complaints lodged against her from both designers and her fellow models."

"That's... a lot to consider." Marinette didn't want to give her answer yet, because quite honestly, she didn't know whether or not she wanted what Gabriel Agreste was offering.

"I'm not requiring you to make a decision yet. However, until you make a decision I will not engage with any of the fans making speculations about the relationship between you and Adrien. Until you make a decision, the rumors will only increase. The longer we wait to engage with the media about this, the more difficult it will be to discourage speculation afterward, should that be the route you wish to take."

"We'll be giving Marinette all the time she needs to make her decision," Sabine said, her narrowed eyes staring down Gabriel, daring him to disagree with her.

"Of course," Gabriel agreed. "I'm just making sure that Marinette knows all of the possible consequences of her decision. It isn't one to be made lightly, after all."

"Hmm," Sabine didn't let up with her interrogating gaze. Marinette had faced it only a few times before in her life, times when Marinette lied to Sabine about important things. The most recent time Marinette had faced her mother's interrogation was when she tried to hide Lila's bullying from her parents. It had worked for a few weeks until Tom walked in on Marinette sobbing over her own helplessness in the face of Lila's lies. Her parents had called a family meeting and urged Marinette to tell them what had caused her breakdown, but it wasn't until Sabine started putting pressure on Marinette that she finally admitted the truth to her parents. Of course, they would have found out eventually, no matter what. Lila made sure of that when she framed Marinette for assault and theft, getting her suspended until Adrien forced Lila to reverse her lies and reverse Marinette's suspension.

As they ate dinner, making small talk that Marinette wasn't invested in, she weighed the pros and cons of her decision. There were certainly a lot of pros: making connections in the world of fashion, getting to model again, and especially, spending more time with Adrien. However, there were cons: lying to her friends about the relationship, being harassed online, dealing with Lila when she was certain to spin a story about how Marinette 'stole' her spot as a Gabriel model.

In the end, it was Adrien who was the reason behind what she chose. He caught her eye mid-way through the dinner and shot her a hopeful smile. Marinette hadn't gotten to spend much time with Adrien that school year - he was busy with modeling and fencing and she was busy with schoolwork, making commissions, designing her own clothes, babysitting Manon, her duties as class president, and above all, her responsibilities as Ladybug. Without her crush on Adrien pushing her to spend time with him, they only ever saw each other outside of class in group settings. It would be nice to spend some one-on-one time with Adrien, with her friend.

"I've made my decision," Marinette announced as soon as the dessert plates were taken away. "I will agree to go through with the fake relationship."

"A wise decision, Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng. I hope that we get to know each other better as your relationship with Adrien progresses," said Gabriel Agreste as he looked Marinette in the eyes.

Though his expressionless face was slightly off-putting, Marinette maintained eye contact with Gabriel and gave him a nod of acknowledgment. "I hope so too."

"One last thing before you leave. I must make sure that you are aware that you may not tell anyone about the nature of the relationship between you and Adrien. No one may know that it is fake - not even your friends."

"I understand."

"Good. Adrien will see you and your family out the door. Until next time." Gabriel exited the room swiftly, the sound of his footsteps fading away as he left the room.

"Sorry that he can be so... aloof, sometimes. I really do look forward to this. I think that it'll be fun to get to hang out with you more." Adrien's bright, hopeful smile reassured Marinette that she made the right decision. "Do you want to get together tomorrow to figure out all the details of our fake relationship?"

Marinette nodded, her own smile tentatively forming. "Sure. Meet me at the bakery?"

Adrien nodded. "It's a date." His wink revealed that it was just a joking quip. However, the tiny part of Marinette that still harbored a crush for Adrien absolutely jumped for joy at the words she never thought she'd hear him say to her. Marinette crushed that tiny part down as best she could - the beginning of a fake relationship was not the place for her crush to reemerge.

Marinette fell into bed that night utterly exhausted by the day she had experienced. As she closed her eyes to fall asleep, she remembered one last important detail - she had forgotten to tell Tikki about everything that had transpired that day. Crap.

#miraculous ladybug #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Adrien Agreste #adrinette #adrienette #miraculous ladybug fic #my work

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vampirrediaries · 4 years

Text

Enemies Of The State : Dark!Klaroline {13}

summary:

This fiction follows the events of just how Klaus Mikaelson and Caroline Forbes lost everything that tied them to their humanity, leading them into something neither of them can come back from.

—————

{10 years ago}

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Caroline stood perplexed in front of the worn down house, which now had a name thanks to Katherine. The Gemini Coven. It sounded familiar, probably something Bonnie had mentioned once, but she was too uninterested in witch business that she forgot about the entire thing. Until now, that was.

“The Gemini Coven,” Katherine mused as she stood in front of the bolted door “Is one of the most powerful witch coven’s in the world. Having a witch by your side? It’s essential.”

“Essential for what exactly?”

The doppelgänger suddenly used her inhumane strength to knock down the bolted door with only but a graceful push with her high heels. Surely enough, the chipped door swung effortlessly, as if it had never been bolted down in the first place.

“Essential for our plans, Caroline. I want something, and i intend to get it no matter what.”

The blonde didn’t question Katherine’s intentions behind this mystery thing. She didn’t care, as long as she was in for an exhilarating ride. She stubbornly followed her into the house, floorboards creaking with each step they took.

It was as normal as a ordinary suburban home inside, the furniture covered with white cloth and dust collected on the countertops. It was evidence that whomever lived here, coven or not, were long gone for a very long time.

“I don’t think the people you’re lookimg for are coming back anytime soon,” Caroline drags a finger through the collected dust. “Are you sure an all powerful witch coven lives here? Must’ve gotten your facts wrong.”

Katherine scoffs, stepping through the house with pristine high heeled boots. “My facts are never wrong. I knew they were long gone, but something resides here that i desperately need.”

“What could you possibly want-”

The doppelgänger rolls her eyes, an annoyed expression on her features as she begins examining the house.

“It’s just something i want. Now shut up, i’m trying to concentrate.”

—————

“Is it working?”

Anticipation was the only emotion evident within the group, gathered outside Caroline’s lawn with Bonnie lighting her white candles in preparation. She rolled her eyes, flame lighting the last candle with a motion of her hand.

“I haven’t started yet, Rebekah.”

The Mikaelson sister huffs, crossing her arms over her chest impatiently. “Get on with it then, Witch, we haven’t got all day. And where the hell is that stuffed animal?”

Stefan solemnly brought out one of Caroline’s personal possessions. A work down teddy bear, with a button where the eye was supposed to be hanging on by a thread.

It was something you’d expect someone like her to own. She was good, and innocent. Now, he wasn’t so sure. The girl that she’d become would want this once loved belonging to burn in Hell. Along with the rest of her old life. It’d devastated Stefan beyond words.

“Here,” He handed Bonnie the bear quickly. “I hope it works.”

“Let’s hope so,” Elena worriedly cut in. “The sooner we find Caroline, the sooner we put and end to this bloodshed.”

Klaus Mikaelson stood behind, leaning against the fence of her home as he quietly observed the scene. It was tense, of course, with Caroline's ex-friends worries about the tracking spell and its efficiency. He scoffed to himself. More like traitors. It was partially their fault that Caroline was on a blood binge. He held responsibility, sure, but this incessant group of people pushed her to do the one thing he had never done to himself.

It made him angry, looking upon them with a venomous glare. How dare they pretend to care about her? They didn't see what he saw in Caroline. Her beauty, her light, the joy she could bring with a single smile. She lit his cold, dead heart deep inside. Her Humanity was beautiful.

And now it was gone.

"You look like if someone murdered your cat."

Klaus scoffed, crossing his arms tensely. "Don't be ridiculous, Kol. I hate cats."

Kol Mikaelson hid his smirk as he joined his brother at the back, gazing into the scene with a raised eyebrow. Bonnie was beginning to create the alter, drawing lines made with a white powder.

"It's funny isn't it?" He mused. "A few weeks ago you were obsessed with killing that Deveraux witch, and now you are back to this sad excuse of a town once again."

"I shouldn't have left it in the first place."

"Because of her?"

Klaus didn't reply to that, only looking straight ahead with a stern glare. He was not the type to open up, letting his walls down for everyone to see was mortifying. Humanity was a vampire's greatest weakness. It was better to show the people surrounding you that you had nothing left to lose. Even if it wasn't the case.

Strength was the best protection he could have, really. Strength and power went together perfectly in his favour.

Kol knew exactly what his brother wasn't letting on.

"I know what it's like," He urged on "Pining over someone that you could never have without repercussion."

"Pray tell me what exactly you would you know about it?"

“More than you do."

Elena Gilbert stood anxiously by Damon, her arms tightly crossed in anticipation. Obviously feeling Kol's weary eyes on her, she looked straight towards him. To Klaus' surprise, however, her eyes were quickly diverted as she turned her back in the flash of a second. It was as if he hurt to look at.

"So you to have fallen for the magnetic lure of the Petrova doppelgänger," The Original hybrid scoffed. "She would never leave everything behind for you. Not after what you did."

"That is also amusing, dear brother," The younger Original shot back. "I would have said the same thing about our darling Caroline."

"I didn't stake her in the stomach."

"You'd done something much worse," He replied venomously. "You made her abandon her humanity."

Klaus felt a surge of anger coursing through him, whipping around to face his little brother with words that would surely hurt him, when Bonnie called out in a frantic voice.

"It worked!"

—————

"Has your concentration led to something yet?"

Katherine was peering into the empty bookshelf's that resided, groaning when it led her to nothing. They had been at this game for over an hour, and Caroline was getting bored, keeping herself entertained by playing with the rays of light that'd escaped through the broken down roof.

"It's here, I know it is." She muttered under her breath, sternly walking towards the last empty bedroom of the home. The only place she hadn't looked. Katherine's instincts were borderline supernatural. This meant, much to Caroline's dismay, that she was right most of the time about things like this.

The blonde vampire jumped to her feet, following the Petrova into the eerie room. It was much smaller compared to the rest, with its furniture still intact. Whomever packed up the house, didn't touch this one. She also noticed the faded red stains on the wooden floor, expanding as she walked in.

Blood. Someone's blood was spilled in this room.

"Did someone die in here? Jesus," She exhaled out in an emotionless tone. "At least be a little less messy about committing murder?"

Katherine simply ignored her, going at her search. Caroline walked towards the desk. Faint lines were carved into the dusty mahogany wood. She barely made it out.

'I don't belong'

She furrowed her brows, but thought nothing of it. Probably one of the coven members who died. she'd figured, and turned around to move onto the single window overlooking the empty field when Katherine started laughing out of nowhere.

“I knew it was here!”

In her perfectly manicured hand, held a device. It had looked like something out of a clock, purely fashioned out of old metal. Katherine blew on it, dust flying everywhere.

"Oooh, a pile of metal!" Caroline scoffed sarcastically as she examined it with narrowed eyes. "How interesting."

The doppelgänger would've shot back with a snarky comment, but was obviously too caught up in her happiness to care.

"This is our ticket to freedom, cupcake."

Caroline only narrowed her eyes, now intrigued about what the hell she meant.

"What even is that thing."

Katherine had her infamous smirk painted on her features, delicately tracing along the layers of metal.

"Ever heard of a little someone named Kai Parker?"

——————

masterlist

#the vampire diaries #tvd #klaus mikaelson #caroline forbes #stefan salvatore #klaroline #dark klaroline #the originals #the vampire diaries fanfiction #the vampire diaries imagine #klaroline fanfiction #klaroline au #dark #tvd one shot #katherine pierce #tvd fanfiction

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julemmaes · 4 years

Text

My saviour

“I’m the kid who never pays attention in class and you’re the one who always gives me the answer when the teacher calls on me” AU

A Matthew Fairchild and Lucie Herondale Modern Day School AU

Okay this is the very first time I write something like this, but I really enjoyed writing it, so if you’d like to read more (because for some insane reasons you liked my writing) let me know and feel free to send me a ship and a prompt. It could be anything from shadowhunters to acotar to tog.

If you find any mistakes in the language PLEASE LET ME KNOW, because as you can say from my bio, English is not my first language and I’d really appreciate constructive criticism.

That’s all, now go enjoy Matthew being a dork:)

Word count: 2,994

“Mr Fairchild? Perhaps you would like to be escorted to Miss Fray’s classroom? Perhaps you would draw in a more comfortable position.”

Matthew’s head snapped at the name of his favorite art teacher. He sat up straight, realizing that the gaze of twenty boys was fixed on him. He smiled at the teacher, putting the pencil on the desk and shrugging, “No Miss Wrayburn. I was listening, I am so interested in your lectures that sometimes I get lost in historical stories and I like to illustrate them.” He ended with a sly smile, resting his chin on his hands. Miss Wrayburn, noted for her severity as a history teacher, smiled in return, placing her book on the chair and crossing her arms on the chest.

“So if I asked you what happened between June 19th and 20th, 1944 in the Pacific you would be able to answer me?” She asked her and smiled at him with the same sarcasm. Matthew began to sweat: he had already brought home two very bad grades that week, if he brought a third one, his mother Charlotte would surely have sent him to a private school, and it would have been a suicide. Think Math, think. 1944, World War II, Japan, Roosevelt. His thoughts were interrupted by the small voice of the girl beside him, “The Battle of the Philippine Sea”, whispered with one hand in front of her mouth to avoid being seen by the teacher. Matthew stilled on the chair, before coughing and repeating what his classmate had just suggested. Wrayburn seemed surprised and tilting her head asked him one more question, but he had completely lost the thread.

The girl who sat next to him was beautiful. A stunning beauty. The locks of dark brown hair fell on her shoulders like waves and surrounded her delicate white face. The eyes of a pale blue were moving frantically, looking first at him and then at the blackboard, where the teacher was writing three important events of the war between the USA and Japan. He collected himself, looking again at the girl, before the teacher called him one more time, asking him to put into chronological order the battles she just wrote down. He answered quietly with the help of the girl and when Wrayburn considered it sufficient enough not to put a bad grade, going back to explain to the class, Matthew could finally bask in the beauty sitting next to him.

Her writing was so delicate and at the same time… ferocious. Yes, he was going to describe it as ferocious, as if writing were something that she did very often and gladly. Plus, she seemed to be writing down everything the teacher said, without missing a single thing. He wanted to introduce himself, but he didn’t know how to do it without disturbing her. Because she looked like the kind of student who would bite your head off if she lost the theacher’s train of thoughts.

He looked around again for the answer, as if looking at the door or at thewindow, the idea would appear in front of him. And that’s exaclty what happened.

He took a blank piece of paper and started scribbling something. The design took shape and a golden retriver appeared (which tremendously reminded Matthew of Mr Oscar Wilde, his dog) with a blonde hair like his and a sparkling green leash. Satisfied with his work he made a small cartoon over the dog that said “Pleased to meet you, I’m Matthew, but you can call me Math. Thanks for the rescue, could you help me with one last question I absolutely need to know the answer to cause my school career could be at risk if I don’t?”

He moved slightly away from the desk to see the final result and nodded smugly, bent the paper in two, before sliding it slowly towards the girl’s desk. As expected, she did not pay him much attention before the ringing of the bell and even after, as she collected all her things and put them quickly in the bag, she didn’t notice the drawing, putting it together with the rest of her notes. Matthew was about to walk to her and ask her what her name was in person, but as soon as he got up, he found himself in front of Thomas Lightwood, his lifelong best friend and the kindest person he knew. He passed him without ceremony to see if the girl was always in the class, but by now the only ones left were the two of them and the students of the next class were already entering and sitting at the desks.

He snorted taking his stuff and starting to walk next to Tom, headed to the science lab. An nudge from his friend made him turn his head in his direction, eyebrow raised as a question.

“Don’t make that face, you haven’t lost her. She’s with us in science. Has been for years actually.” he said putting his arm around him. Thomas was almost twenty centimeters taller than him, he was close to two meters, and he was huge. Last summer, he had put on more muscle mass than he liked to admit, and it had gotten even bigger.

“I wasn’t thinking I lost her, I just wanted to know her name. She saved my ass earlier, I could always buy her a coffee, you know, to thank her.” He reached his locker, trying to end the conversation, but Thomas didn’t feel the same way, “Sure, and Kit doesn’t blow up his house at least three times a week”; he giggled at his own joke before bringing a hand to scratch his neck. “Although, I have to be honest, I’d like to see you on a date with Jesse Blackthorn’s girlfriend.”

Matthew snorted posing the never-used book of history, and taking the unharmed one of science. Obviously she had a boyfriend. And of course it had to be Jesse fucking Blackthorn. Turning to Tom with a whipped dog face, he asked him if he was joking.

“Oh no, not at all. They’ve been together for a while, but like, just two years, and the fact that you don’t know they’re together is worrying. The whole school knows this.” he answered him as soon as they arrived at Thomas' locker, where the same ritual was repeated for the billionth time.

“I have to remind you that I don’t really give a shit about the people who are in this building or do I have to connect the dots for you?” Math asked leaning against the wall again. He was dead tired and they were only at the second hour. Thinking he was gonna stay in that place till four o'clock got his stomach twisted.

Thomas laughed and the conversation ended there. They saw Christopher outside the chemistry labs, tinkering with giant tomes and test tubes, while Mr Fairchild, Matthew’s father, tried to help him as much as he could without dropping anything. They didn’t have the time to get close enough that from inside the classroom someone was shouting and they both rushed to rescue anyone who had made two wrong substances react.

Tom and Math entered the biology classroom, taking place in the second-to-last row. A few minutes later the girl of history class entered. She sat down at the desk behind Matthew’s, who was about to turn around when the teacher came in, blocking his every initiative. The lesson began immediately and the boy could hear her pen running fast on the paper. He took out the necessary to draw and got lost in his world again and again and again. Until Tom hit him on the arm and he turned to his friend, asking what the hell he wanted.

“What the hell do I want? Well, Mr Fairchild, if you answer this question correctly, I might consider not failing you at my subject.” He couldn’t believe it. Not again. Matthew turned slowly to the teacher, reducing his lips to a thin line, waiting for the question that would end his life.

“If the function of ribosomes is selectively blocked in a cell, what do you immediately stop, Mr Fairchild?” Professor fade asked severely. He was ready to say that no one in that cabbage class would know the answer, but the voice of his guardian angel was as clear as light behind his back, “The translation.”

“The translation, professor.”

“Translation of what, Matthew?”

“Of RNA,”; she told him, once more.

“Of RNA, sir.” he nodded, seemed convinced of what he was saying, and sighed with relief when the lesson resumed undisturbed. He turned slightly, smiling at the girl from above his shoulder. She was staring at him and in her left hand, reaching out to him, she was holding a folded piece of paper. He took it without the teacher noticing and opened it discreetly. In the corner of his eye he saw Thomas trying to spy on what was written on the paper.

When he saw it was his drawing, his chest swelled. Next to her dog there now was a little blue bird, with her wings folded on her hips, so she looked angry. It wasn’t as pretty as his dog, and it looked like it had been drawn in a hurry, but it was very cute, and above it the inscription “What, do I have to save you again?” was clear in her perfect handwriting.

He had to refrain from laughing, because the drawing was most likely done right after the history lesson, so this would be the third time that Matthew needed to be saved.

He started drawing again, this time making a kitten trying to catch the bird from below, with the phrase “Don’t worry, this is quite simple. What’s your name?” He could have easily asked Thomas and he would have answered him in less than a second. When he put his arm back and felt that the paper was being taken from his hand, he smiled, beginning to mind his own business once again. Only when the bell announcing the end of classes rang did he realize that the only color he had used during that time was blue.

“My name is Lucie, Lucie Herondale. But you can call me Luce.” He saw a thin, pale hand appear in his field of vision, and he almost jumped out of the chair. He raised his head and shook her hand. He smiled in the only way he knew, with his dazzling charm, and when he spoke, the voice came out like a shrill sound, “I am-” he coughed several times, while Lucie giggled and there, behind her, was Thomas, eyes wide open, holding a hand to his mouth to avoid bursting into laughter, “You’re Matthew, yeah, I already know.” she smiled at him.

“Yeah, yeah. The dog. It’s mine. I thought it’d be cute and wanted to thank you for all these rescues. My mother would kill me if she found out that I didn’t study anything and I-” he was interrupted by the voice of someone who had just appeared on the classroom door. A boy as tall as him, with black hair and the eyes of a spooky, pungent green, was extending his hand toward her, while with the other one he was balancing himself on the door, “Lulu let’s go, Jamie and Grace are waiting for us in front of your locker.” He looked away from her to Matthew and vice versa a couple of times before smiling shily at the two boys.

Lucie turned to Jesse Blackthorn and with a movement of her head made him understand that she would be there in a minute.

“Of course, there’s no problem. I’d rather help people than see them fail.” she said turning to Math again, “See you in class, I guess.” She smiled at him one last time and, putting her hands in her pockets, went out, following her boyfriend into the crowded hallway.

Matthew remained with his waving hand raised in the air until Thomas' laugh awoke him from his trance. He looked at his friend, pushed him sideways to pass him, and unceremoniously he told him to fuck off.

“C’mon Math. It was ridiculous. Pathetic. Humiliating. I can laugh sometimes, right?”

“Why? With me you don’t laugh enough?” Christopher asked by appearing at Thomas' side out of nowhere.

“Jesus Kit, where did you come from?” said Thomas bringing a hand to his chest.

“From the chemistry lab, of course. By the way, Math,” he said addressing the blond one, “your father wanted to know if you’d eat at home tonight and I told him we were going out. Cause we do go, right? It is Friday and tomorrow mom and dad won’t be here, so I can go back anytime I want tonight.” Thomas was already nodding, starting to think in his little head the worst ways to risk their lives. Matthew was trying so hard not to think about Lucie Herondale, and that kept him from not being able to do so.

What an idiot he was. And that sound? Where did that voice come from? He was sure she was telling her perfect boyfriend right now how this dumb classmate who didn’t know shit had trouble controlling his fucking vocal cords.

“What’s going on in that empty head of yours?” Anna Lightwood. Thomas' cousin and Christopher’s sister, but also Matthew’s faithful friend, was dressed exactly like him that day, which made her pout, “Classy. But I have to say that they look better on me.” she smiled widely, taking him and Kit arm in arm, and heading for the next lesson.

Luckily, Matthew thought, we all have art together. That was his hour of leisure, even though he normally did nothing different, but at least he would get compliments from Miss Fray, or how he called her, Clary. He had met his art teacher outside the school, in fact it was he who had told her that their old teacher would retire and that there was a vacant chair. They had become close friends during a painting course and when he met her at school he had felt nothing but immense happiness.

“Our Matthew impressed some cute girl today.” said Thomas in the tone of someone who’s been around. Anna suddenly stopped in the hallway, staring at him with gaping mouth.

“And let’s hear, who would be the lucky one?” she asked, again walking. Christopher seemed interested, too, but not as much as his sister, who looked like a child on Christmas morning.

“Nobody.” answered Matthew at the same time as Thomas said, “Lucie Herondale.”

“Are you kidding? But you know he’s with Blackthorn, right?” She asked him in astonishment, as she glared him, as if he were the only fool in the world who did not know which couples were in this stupid school.

“Yes I know, and I didn’t impress, we just talked because she saved my ass a couple of times.”

They continued to speak even after entering the art lab and even during the lesson. Matthew was surprised when he noticed that the teacher pretended not to listen when she passed by them, but that she tended her ear to eavesdrop better.

The next lesson would be that of literature, without any of his friends, and thinking of having to spend a whole hour without Tom or Kit made him feel sick, but maybe today he could do it. A rest hour after all the comments and jokes Thomas made would have done him good.

He sat at the usual place and with a pleasant surprise noticed that on the other side of the class was Lucie. She was chatting with a redheaded girl who had little dark skin. Matthew remembered she was one of the newcomers and that she had a particular name, Carla… Carlotta perhaps. Consuela.

He began to stare at his hands with a thoughtful glare.

How was it possible that in all those years he had never noticed her? How was it possible that they had so many classes in common that they never spoke? He looked up once more to look at her and noticed that she had moved into the desk next to his and her friend sat right in front of her. He greeted them both with a broad smile.

“Hey Math, this is Cordelia. She’s from Paris. Cordelia, this is Matthew.” He smiled at him and Matthew’s world was once again a little happier.

“I’m actually from London, but I’ve been living in Paris for the last five years.” Cordelia explained before paying attention to Miss Loss, who had just entered. A strange fellow, Catarina Loss.

She had the skin of a cadaveric white, and the hair was of a sky blue so bright that sometimes Matthew would get lost staring at them by how much it was intense.

He heard a comment from Lucie about his memory-loss episodes and laughed silently, starting to scribble on the desk.

Twenty minutes passed before the obvious happened, “Fairchild, who wrote Songs of Innocence and Experience?” They can’t be serious, Matthew looked briefly in Lucie’s direction and she giggled before miming with her lips Wlliam Blake. Matthew almost laughed when he began to speak, but after that the teacher immediately left him alone. Cordelia also seemed amused, because she looked at him from above her shoulder smiling and returning to the reading shortly after.

He stared at Lucie, and thought that if anyone saw him they would think he was a pervert, because she turned to him, probably due to the intensity with which he was looking at her, and smiled at him.

Perhaps, to surprise her, he would start studying, so the responsibility would not fall on her alone, but in that moment, Matthew thought, it was enough to have his saviour by his side and everything would be fine.

Please leave a comment, even if you didn't like it, cause it would mean the world to me

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churchyardgrim · 3 years

Note

#2 from the d&d ask meme? it is a fantastic question

before they met their party, what was their main goal?

oooo excellent opportunity to plug my boy’s four page backstory that i just realized i never posted here!

tldr Silas wants to study a perfect immortal in order to defeat death, bc death insulted him once and he never got over it hghdfg

Silas Edelhart has a problem. That problem is death.

He was born to minor nobility, old money making use of their hereditary ambition to generate new money on the merchant routes, and he was lucky enough to not be his father’s preferred heir; he was allowed to take to academia, or else join some priesthood and curry favor with the lesser sons of other noble houses. He chose academia.

He was enamored with it. The libraries! The minds to learn from. The men. The women! The men. The only disappointment was that apprentice physicians did not get invited to many parties, something Silas was hard at work remedying when he was presented with an unwittingly significant patient.

A farm hand from outside the city had been delayed in reaching them for medical care, and his injuries - an accident with a plow, they were told - had gone gangrenous. He was insensible with fever, and would have lost the leg even if his people hadn't taken so long in getting him to the medics; as it was, despite amputation and efficient treatment for blood poisoning, he expired overnight, in Silas's care.

Silas was crushed. He had done everything right, double and triple checked his protocols, and still the man had died. “No one blames you, of course,” one of the senior physicians said to him, “these things simply happen.”

Maybe they ‘simply happened’ to other people, Silas thought bitterly, but he was better than that. He had decided the man would live, and his performance had been flawless! The terminity of a mere natural law to stand in the way of his will was intolerable. Incensed, Silas threw himself at his studies, dead set that it should never happen again.

Resurrection magic wasn't what he was after initially; he only wanted to keep the living where they were. But he found quickly that the popular consensus was that healing magic could only do so much, and most simply accepted its failures as they did any other misfortune. So he hunted out spells to wrench the dead back, hidden and fragmented in books his instructors only grudgingly let him read. Time would tell if they would be enough, however; none of the accounts of their use he had read gave any indication of the effects being permanent. It would be so embarrassing, to put so much work into defying death only to have his prize killed in a careless accident! He would not settle for anything less than complete immunity from death.

His practice only pushed him deeper into this conviction; plenty of his patients lived, much improved from treatment, but a few still died despite his efforts, reigniting his rage at death every time. He began to get a reputation for it, and some of his peers started tactfully funneling away those patients that seemed likely to die with or without medical care, to spare themselves his rants. Many of them thought his anger came from an insult to his skills, but this was all wrong; he knew his skills were exceptional, the failure was not his.

It is the gods’ fault, Silas decided. The gods had set this wretched law in place, to kettle and humble mortal creatures. But... no, the gods themselves are yet subject to death, have died in scores. So, death is a greater power than even them.

But in one book, ill-used and forgotten, Silas found mention of a god returning from death. A resurrection on a divine scale. And once that possibility had revealed itself, the hints between the lines of other books made themselves apparent; someone had performed that resurrection, exercised mastery over death in such a way that it left Silas’s mouth watering. How? How had it been done?

The next few months of frantic research and evasion - the concern from his tutors was enough to warn him that no one wanted him to go looking for this - led him eventually into the university’s vaults. To a broken-legged construct, dormant, containing a withered, desiccated hand. Not the hand of the godly resurrectionist, no, but the hand of someone who, certain books implied, might have been a devotee of that individual. A relic of a necromantic saint.

Silas stole it, of course he did. Made use of a debt owed by an engineer of the local guilds to repair the construct housing, and treated it as a treasured prize. Such mysteries, opening to him now with the artifact’s communion; he graduated quickly from books to practice, retreating into his own rooms to make frogs twitch and test ancient ideas on the animation of flesh. He took on fewer and fewer patients, withdrew from the society of his peers… for the most part.

Sera Mournleaf was brilliant. Sera Mournleaf was intense. And some days, Sera Mournleaf was the only thing that could distract him from his work. An elf with connections, she did him many favors in getting him subjects to work on, meat with which to test his theories, and had an insightful and sparkling mind with which to discuss the less publicly acceptable aspects of spitting in the face of death. So what if she stayed up later than him some nights, reading and rereading his notes. So what if every time she visited her aging human father she came back slumping with worry. He cannot expect things to be about him all the time!

Besides, he had little focus to spare for things not his research, now. He had been forced to take up the shovel himself, more than once, to find fresh bodies that would be more difficult to trace back to him - they keep a close eye on the university morgue, he learned better than to try that more than once. And he had had no small success, stripping corpses of their unnecessaries and stitching the most promising parts to one another, speaking to his prized relic with equal parts demand and prayer.

The results infuriated him at first. Lurching, wretched things, no better than flesh constructs, most of them had to be destroyed; that shriveled hand granted Silas holy fire as easily as it had clues to the resurrectionist arts. But he persisted, and grew to view them as necessary stepping stones towards a greater perfection. He grew more bold, more reckless, and felt himself forever on the verge of a cataclysmic revelation.

It was not to be. He was found out. The right word in the right ear brought the law crashing down on his shoulders, and he watched them burn his experiments with a guardsman kneeling on his back. It was broken, all of it, his research carted away in boxes (fewer boxes, maybe, then he thought there should have been), and Silas himself thrown in prison to scream his rage at the uncaring stone.

The trial was a farce. Somehow, Silas's family managed to find reason enough to pull half the lawyers in the city to his defense, while at the same time making it very clear that under no circumstances was he to darken their doorstep ever again. In the same two hour span his prospects went from life imprisonment to a mere slap on the wrist of exile, and then summarily informed that he had been neatly removed from the last will and testament of his every living family member. It was a very trying day.

At the end of it he was stripped of his qualifications, most of his wealth confiscated, and ejected from the city with his mouth sewn shut with wire; an archaic punishment for heresy, invoked here merely as sorry consolation on the part of the law that they couldn’t execute him outright. In the proper spirit of the thing, he should have left the stitches in place and let himself starve, and in deference to the bare truth of his crimes Silas endured it for three days before getting sick of the whole thing and cutting himself loose.

He had managed to keep his precious relic in its construct housing, the only thing worth bribing a minor official to sneak out of evidence lockup, and he quickly put distance between himself and wretched Misthaven, thinking nothing but bitter thoughts towards his betrayer. Selfish, horrible Sera; she had gotten cold feet, most likely. Come over all moral about what he had been doing, let slip to the magistrate that perhaps she knew who had been plundering the city's burial grounds at night. Well! She will just have to wait and see, won't she. Wait until he can begin his work again, reach as yet unseen heights of resurrection. Then he would return to Misthaven and enact some fitting revenge, on her and all those who had a hand in ruining him.

(Miss Mournleaf could have argued, the better part of a year later, that his unwitting parting gift was revenge enough. Babies scream like they’re being murdered, and the damn thing looks just like him. She left it with the nuns and got on with the business of saving her father.)

And so he wandered, working as a physician in small towns and middling cities, trying his damndest to reestablish his research in some capacity. But his funds never stretched that far, and neither did the patience of his neighbors; more than once he had to flee under cover of night, for misdeeds real or imagined. Most of these were unmemorable affairs, and only irritated him. Once, the mercenary paid to kill him proved a delightful match, in combat and energy, and the man made an affair of running away with Silas, and Silas ended up growing remarkably fond of Cassian Hellier, for all his unrefined brutishness. They still keep in touch, whenever either of them is in civilization long enough to hire a messenger to carry letters.

A decade passed in this fashion before Silas began to hear rumors. Travelers between worlds, fading in and out of unearthly mist, serving a genuine immortal. He seized upon these threads, passion alight again; a near perfect undead, far superior to the wretched things he had managed to raise back in Misthaven, yes. He would follow the travelers, seek out their master, see what, if anything, of the rumors were true. If they are... he would study, and learn, and replicate the results. And if not? Well, the corpse of even a lesser undead would be a beautiful thing.

#dnd #silas #boyo's a death cleric/graveyard rogue and i LOVE HIM #Anonymous

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alllwritenow · 3 years

Text

blame it on the stardust

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Elena stared at herself in the mirror, the shadows under her eyes long since covered by makeup and the exhaustion in her bones hidden by the curve of her smile. She knew better than most what time healed and what it didn’t. Her grief was far from spent, but life didn’t stop, not for anyone.

Turning away from the mirror, she tucked the journal in her bag and headed down the stairs for the requisite stilted morning banter with Jenna and Jeremy. Jenna was frantic and Jeremy was sullen and she refused to let her heavy heart weigh them down. She acted as explicitly normal as possible—fake it till you make it—and filled a travel mug of coffee for herself and Jeremy without comment, earning a reluctant smile.

“Ride?” she asked him after Jenna had left, and didn’t argue when he shook his head, ignoring the itch in her hands that wanted to drag him close and hold on until he broke down and cried like he hadn’t since they left the hospital. Instead she flicked his ear, hid a grin at his scowl, and went to wait on the porch for Bonnie.

Her friend’s smile was still careful around the edges, hidden worry in her eyes that Elena forced herself not to grimace at. Bonnie loved her, of course she was worried. Elena loved her back and she wouldn’t begrudge that concern. She returned Bonnie’s hug and held herself to the present by sheer force of will as Bonnie told her all about her Grams and their ancestors and her apparent psychic powers.

Elena knew what Bonnie was, knew the magic and potential, far greater than her own, that lurked inside her friend. She was prepared for this conversation, ready to be supportive and excited by turns. She was not prepared for the crow that slammed into the windshield, the spike of fear and unease that lingered.

She was not prepared for the handsome, chiseled face of Stefan Salvatore staring at her from across the hallway.

Her throat closed and her heartbeat tripled in pace and she knew he heard it, knew his senses, so much more than advanced than hers, could detect the effects of shock and panic and secret thrill of delight on her system. Her lips were numb as she agreed with Bonnie’s assessment of his hotness and listened to her friend’s theories on who he was.

What was he doing here? Who did he think she was?

Katerina had never spilled her secrets to him, had told him only what would make him love her, true or not. He knew nothing of doppelgangers and curses, of endless flight from brutal monsters until you became one yourself. Or he hadn’t, but then, her memories of him were incomplete, second-hand, filtered through Katerina, and over a century old.

The fear and confusion and sense of strained reality lingered throughout the day, enforced by the weight of his focused attention and broken only by her worries about Jeremy, Bonnie’s predictions, and Caroline’s forced cheerfulness. She didn’t follow through with her weekly visit to her parents’ graves after school and instead dug out the journals and sketches hidden beneath the floorboards under her bed, pouring over fragments of dreams and flashes of memories not hers as she scrambled for a sense of control in a world gone spinning off course.

She hadn’t thought she’d be lucky enough to go unnoticed forever. To have a life free of the supernatural other than her own magic and Bonnie’s inevitable awakening to the powerful witch she was meant to be. Not when she’d been unlucky enough to be born in the same town Katerina had fled to, the land where Tatia had once lived. But she wasn’t ready, and she hadn’t expected this. One of the brothers Katerina had seduced and fallen for and left behind. And if one was here, where was the other? Did he still live as well?

They seemed decent enough, in the bits and pieces of memories she had to go on, one more kind and one more sharp but both very human and very in love with Katerina. What would that betrayal, the loss of their humanity, and a century and a half of immortality have done to their natures? She couldn’t trust that her memories or her face would keep her safe, much less her loved ones.

Elena wasn’t just a doppelganger. She was a Gilbert and she knew what her ancestors had done to protect themselves from vampires, knew the secrets that lived in her purely human family tree, had suspicions about her Uncle’s oddly nomadic life.

Elena had been ingesting vervain since she was old enough to be trusted alone in the backyard, enabling her to cultivate a hidden little garden. She regularly dosed her brother and her friends and had become the unofficial punch spiker for school dances specifically so she could slip some in with the booze. Cheerleading and daily runs in the woods kept her fit and stronger than she looked. She knew Mystic Falls, knew the land it had been long before the town itself, could see the bones of what it had been during the Civil War beneath the modern structures. Her magic was limited in power, the curse of her bloodline, but she had centuries of knowledge to draw on in how best to use it. And she knew vampires, knew them as well as any human ever could.

She didn’t want to hurt anyone. Never wanted to kill anyone, even if it wasn’t their first death. But she and Katerina shared more than just a face, and if it meant protecting her family or her friends, she would do what she had to do.

Including going to a party by the falls when it was the last thing on her mind. She used to be good at parties. Used to be the party, her and Caroline and Bonnie. School wasn’t like Mean Girls, even in a status-obsessed small town like theirs. Outside of Founder events, no one cared about your last name. But they were cheerleaders and for a certain limited definition that mostly existed in Caroline’s head in a teen movie montage sort of way, they could have been said to rule the school.

And then her parents died and the legacy in her blood smacked her in the face with an only kind of dead boy and now she was drinking shitty beer laced with vervain and faking an engaged conversation and a smile so wide her cheeks hurt directed at whoever was next to her whenever Stefan looked her way. He had clearly not gotten the memo about her strong desire to avoid any significant interaction with him and his gaze prickled against her skin.

Later she would curse herself for her inattention, for her selfishness. If she’d been less concerned with avoiding an awkward and potentially dangerous conversation with Katerina’s ex, if she’d been more concerned with the danger to everyone else, oblivious innocents with no idea of the danger lurking in their midst, maybe Vicky wouldn’t have been bitten.

When she heard the scream, followed by the unmistakable sound of Jeremy’s voice shouting, her heart stopped in her chest, terrified that she was going to lose him. But he was fine, holding up a rapidly-sobering Vicky. Matt’s sister was bleeding from a wound in her throat, eyes glassy and hands fluttering wildly as she mumbled, barely audible over the commotion of the party. “What the hell?! What the hell.”

“What happened?” Matt demanded before Elena could, eyes darting between his sister and Jeremy as he pulled Vicky away from the other boy.

“I don’t know, man, I just found her like this. I know Tyler was giving her grief earlier, but I don’t think he’d do this.”

Elena stepped closer, wrapping an arm around Jeremy’s as Matt turned to his sister just as she checked back into reality. “Mattie? This guy, he, he bit me, Mattie! I think he was on drugs or something? He bit me and then he got really angry and said something about me being dosed and then he ran off.”

Jeremy flinched against Elena and she grimly hoped that this horrible night would get him to stop stealing her pain medication. “You should get her to the hospital, Matt. Human mouths have a lot of disgusting germs in them,” she told him, completely serious and also hoping that Vicky’s accusation of drugs and her own words were enough to keep anyone from digging deeper.

Matt nodded, still scowling at Jeremy, and Tyler who had joined the circle of drunken students watching the drama unfold, and started pulling Vicky toward the parking lot. Elena caught Stefan watching her again and narrowed her eyes. “Go home, Jeremy, I’ll meet you there. Caroline’s mom will probably want to talk to you, see if you saw anything that might help them ID the guy, and you need to sober up first.”

He shrugged her off, but didn’t argue, and she took it as a win as she stalked toward Katerina’s ex, giving in to the inevitable.

“I know you didn’t do this,” she told him, before he could speak, and ignored the way his eyes widened, leaning closer to ensure only he could hear the deadly intent of her next words. “But if you brought someone with you who did, Damon or anyone else, you need to get them out of my town. Mystic Falls is not welcoming to any vampires who feed without consent.”

She didn’t wait for his answer, if he had one, just turned and left, hoping to find Bonnie or Caroline to catch a ride from.

The next morning the news showed a very generic sketch, the reporter asking people to be on the lookout for a non-local man on drugs who attacked people in the woods. Elena grimaced and didn’t protest when Jenna turned it off, muttering something about an asshole ex who had a lot of nerve to warn people about other men instead of himself.

School was a mess. Jeremy didn’t seem to be high, for once, but he was avoiding her and so was Caroline, for reasons Elena didn’t understand. Stefan kept trying to get her alone, clearly wanting to know what she knew. She finally escaped with the end of day bell and took a moment to center herself in the bathroom, reaching out with her faint thread of magic.

It led her to the Grill, Caroline crying at a table as Bonnie awkwardly tried to comfort her. “How come he didn’t go for me? Why do the guys I want never want me?”

“Oh Caroline, boys are dumb,” Elena said, dropping next to Caroline in the booth. “So very dumb.”

Caroline whirled on her. “It’s easy for you to say that! You always say the right thing, I always say the wrong thing. I work so hard and got to know him and flirted and he still picked you.”

“Stefan?” Elena asked, shocked and mad at herself for missing this. She’d missed too much lately and it needed to stop now. “Caroline, I’m not interested in him. He just won’t leave me alone and I don’t know why.” She did know why, knew how much he’d loved the last woman to bear her face, but she could hardly explain that. And the rest of her statement stood.

Caroline, brilliant friend that she was, pivoted on a dime from heartbroken envy to protective rage. “Who does he think he is? God’s gift to high school? If he doesn’t leave you alone, we will ruin him,” she said furiously, already pulling out her phone to start the various text chains that would accomplish just that.

Elena laughed, pulling her in for a hug before she could hit send and roping Bonnie in too. “I love you. Can we save ruining for another day and have a sleepover tonight? I’m thinking rum floats and movies about talking pets.”

Bonnie snorted and Caroline giggled a little wetly into Elena’s shoulder before nodding, priorities realigning again. “Definitely. I just got some new gold face masks. We’ll be the fanciest drunk girls in Mystic Falls.”

Across the room, unnoticed by them all, Damon Salvatore reevaluated the usefulness of the blonde as a target and moved on to other strategies. Instead of the first of many nights of horrific trauma that would have lingered in the back of her mind for the rest of her life, Caroline went home with her two best friends and invented a drinking game based on how many animal-related puns were used in a given scene.

Elena fell asleep in a tangled pile with both her best friends, happiness sinking into her bones, warding off the grief and the fear that had been swallowing her. This was how it should be. This was how it would be, and no vampire was going to ruin it.

Chapter Three

#vampire diaries #elena gilbert #elejah #fanfic #my fanfic #blame it on the stardust #rebloggable

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