#a fucking year and a half of isolation and it’s finally almost time to unclench
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learn to love without consuming (1/4)
fandom: knight squad
relationships: arc / ciara, minor or one-sided arc / oc and ciara / oc
word count: 4,603
a/n: eek. it's finally here. if you follow me here you know that i've been working on this for a few weeks (months?), but the idea has been sitting in my drafts for basically forever. almost since i watched the show to begin with. the recent resurgence of the ks fandom prompted me to dig this back up and gave me the motivation to actually try and finish, because fuck it! i love my babes and i want more of them.
so quick note is that this picks up pretty soon after the season 1 finale but disregards basically,,, everything that happens in s2. s1 and the finale proceed the same way except prudy never finds out ciara's secret, so she and warwick don't know at the moment. this chapter was initially gonna have more scenes that drove the plot/romance arc but once i got upwards of 6k with a few major scenes left i decided it would be best if i split the chapter up, so for now it’s just a lot of me trying to work around the convoluted knight squad lore to establish my own. i know that's not exactly what everyone is here for, but i promise things on the romance/action front will pick up soon. i'll place warnings as detailed as i can get without spoiling in the tags and notes as i go, but just anticipate fairly significant violence by chapter 3.
anyway! i have talked enough. the title is from thus always to tyrants by the oh hellos, the rating is t for swearing/violence, there are three more chapters that are in the process of being written, and reviews are like crack as far as i'm concerned. i really hope you like this! thanks for reading <3
dedications: this fic is first and foremost for @ciara-knightly, who is not only my amazing beta but also the whole reason this fic exists. she helped me so so much with the development of the plot and worked through it with me even way before i decided to really start writing it, and i wouldn’t have been able to do this without her. all of the notes she left after beta-reading were so so helpful and really made this whole fic make sense so basically i owe her my entire life. she inspires me to be a better writer all the time and i love her. everyone say thank you shona!!! also tagging my lovely friends and some people who have expressed interest, who are in no way obligated to read this; @juliesdahlias @mistyskiesrambles @dr-rigatoni @willexs @taylorswiftrulestheworld @onplanetmars @neshatriumphs @zackmartin @julies-molinas @soni-dragon @yagorlemmalyn @hopefulbeautifulfool @cactus-con @waterisntreal @onetwothreefarkle @bitchmilsky
summary: “Now that Ryker isn’t a threat anymore, the councils are supposed to resume as planned, and Astoria is set to hold the first one two weeks from now.”
“Okay,” he says slowly. “That sounds exciting.”
Ciara nods. “It is! I finally get to meet some of the other nobility, and actually get to be involved in Astorian politics for once. But my dad won’t let me go without an escort,” she says, and then hesitates. “Which is where you come in.”
read it on ao3
The morning before training that day, Arc is testing his skills against a heavy bronze padlock when Ciara enters the squad room and drops a brown paper bag on the table in front of him.
“These,” she announces as he raises an eyebrow at her, “are for you.”
He pulls open the package and is instantly greeted with a rush of warmth and the smell of vanilla. “Dragon puffs?” he says, half in awe. It’s a clear bribe, but he can’t help but shove a sugar-coated sweet in his mouth anyway. They’re an Astorian original and possibly the best thing he’s ever tasted; he’d tried them once at a bakery near the castle and hasn’t stopped thinking about them since.
“Okay, what do you want?” he says then, words muffled around the cream and pastry.
Ciara pulls a face at his manners, but still manages to blink innocently at him. “Can’t I just do something nice for a friend?” she tries, but it’s half-hearted.
He swallows and grins at her. “Nice try, Princess. Your dessert deliveries always come with an ulterior motive.”
Huffing a sigh, she sits down next to him. There’s this subtle air of anticipation lingering around her, one he can only sense based on how in tune they are after so long of being teammates. The two of them have this easy way of reading each other now; they’ve been spending more and more time together, something having shifted in their dynamic after the battle against Ryker. He can’t quite place what it is, but he knows it’s only brought them closer. “Do you know what the Council of the Five Kingdoms is?” she asks finally.
He shrugs. “Sure. Nobles from each kingdom used to have a big ball every year to talk trading and politics and other boring stuff…”
“Except there hasn’t been a council since Ryker’s invasion, because the kingdoms have been isolated and preoccupied with their own safety,” she finishes for him. Her fingers tug at the lacing of her leather gauntlets; she’s nervous, but he still isn’t sure why. “Now that Ryker isn’t a threat anymore, the councils are supposed to resume as planned, and Astoria is set to hold the first one two weeks from now.”
“Okay,” he says slowly. “That sounds exciting.”
Ciara nods. “It is! I finally get to meet some of the other nobility, and actually get to be involved in Astorian politics for once. But my dad won’t let me go without an escort,” she says, and then hesitates. “Which is where you come in.”
Arc chokes on his second dragon puff. “You want me to be your escort,” he says flatly, once he’s finished coughing, “to the Council of the Five Kingdoms?” Normally he’d jump at the chance to spend a night dressing up and eating castle food. But the council is a decidedly different scene; there’s a set of formalities, politics underlying everything, and too many chances for him to expose his lack of knowledge when it comes to Astorian customs. Not to mention that Catalias’ royals will be there. He doesn’t know if he can stomach looking them in the face, knowing what they did to Seagate.
Ciara grimaces. “Look, I know it’s not exactly your thing, but my dad won’t let me go alone. And this really means a lot to me.” Her eyes are pleading, and Arc feels his resolve chipping away.
“Can’t one of your actual guards go with you?” he tries. “Or, Prudy or Warwick or someone?”
“I’ve already talked to my dad about it,” she explains. “You’re the only Knight School student he’d let protect me, because you already proved you could when Ryker invaded. Besides, if something were to happen…you’re the one person who knows I can handle myself as Ciara.”
There’s this brief stretch of silence where Arc works his bottom lip, and Ciara looks as though she’s debating something. “Also,” she adds finally, with the soft flicker of a hesitant smile, “I thought it might be fun to go with you.”
Arc blinks at her, caught off guard by the admission. There’s this sudden buzz in his chest that he can’t push away; in truth, he doesn’t like the idea of her spending the night with someone else either. Maybe, by some miracle, this will actually be a good thing. “Alright,” he relents. “I’ll be your escort.”
Ciara’s face breaks into a grin. “Yes! Thank you!” She throws her arms around him, and he’s shock-stilled, a rush of warmth flooding through him as he hugs her back. When she pulls away, her eyes are shining with excitement. “Okay, I’ve gotta go tell my dad you said yes, and there’s a million things to do, but I’ll see you at training later. You are the best.”
“I expect dragon puffs for life!” Arc calls after her as she disappears through her passageway. He leans back into the couch, lightheaded, and in that moment, he realizes abruptly that there’s almost nothing he wouldn’t do for her.
And he is so completely screwed.
*
Two weeks later, Arc is standing outside Ciara’s bedroom, waiting for her to finish getting ready.
It feels odd to be out here in the open. Generally his visits to her chamber are accompanied by an air of secrecy, but tonight, he’s a guest in the castle. He’s dressed like it, too, decked out in the guards’ typical formal wear: pressed brown pants, a white shirt laced up the front, and a navy leather jacket trimmed in gold, with Astoria’s crest on one shoulder. He looks kind of dashing, honestly.
Despite the confidence boost his new look offers him, his hand keeps drifting to the hilt of his sword. It’s sheer force of habit; he only associates this brewing sense of apprehension with battle, and his muscles are responding in kind. He’s glad, at least, that he turned down the other guards’ offer to lend him one of their ceremonial blades and instead has the familiarity of his own. Hopefully he won’t need it, but it’s a steadying presence all the same.
“Almost ready!” Ciara calls from inside, and Arc carefully unclenches his fingers from around the leather grip of his sword. He has to keep it together tonight; she’s made it clear how much this means to her. The last thing he wants to do is embarrass her in front of nobles from all five kingdoms.
Well, four, he reminds himself. Seagate won’t be attending. There isn’t anyone left to represent them.
The thought makes his stomach twist.
He’s saved from having to dwell on it by the sound of Ciara’s door unlatching. “Better prepare yourself, Princess,” he teases, leaning against the wall, “I look pretty good, and the last thing we want is for you to get too smitten—”
He breaks off as she emerges from the doorway, all the air in his lungs leaving in a sudden rush. He’s trying hard not to be the cliche of a guy scraping his jaw off the floor at the sight of a pretty girl in a dress, especially not like this, with Ciara—but he can’t help but think that it’s ridiculously unfair of her to come out looking like that. Her dress is a pale blue, falling gently off her shoulders and cinching at her waist, and her tight curls are weaved with strands of gold and tied into a low knot, some of them falling loose to frame her face. There’s a crown of gold leaves and rosebuds settled in her hair.
“You...um…” Arc searches for his voice, “you look amazing.” His mouth feels dry.
Ciara smirks and reaches up to adjust the collar of his uniform. “You don’t look so bad yourself. I’m definitely smitten,” she jokes, like it’s nothing for them to be flirting openly. It should be nothing. Except his skin burns where her fingers brush against his neck, and he suddenly wonders if she can hear his heart pounding.
He clears his throat. “We should probably get to the ballroom.”
She nods. “Give me your arm,” she says, looking at him expectantly. When he raises an eyebrow, she continues, “You’re my escort, remember?”
“Oh, right.” He lifts his arm obligingly, his cheeks warm.
“I really wish we’d had more time to go over Astorian customs,” she breathes as she takes it, more to herself than anything. “Between training and helping with preparations, I’ve been so busy…” His nerves must show on his face, then, because she squeezes his arm gently and amends, “Sorry. You’ll be fine, don’t worry. Just stay close to me, okay?”
“Not a problem,” he grins without missing a beat, and Ciara scoffs and shoves him, the smile tugging at her mouth taking all the bite away from it.
They can do this, he thinks. The two of them have kept up appearances for each other for months now, have fought and trained and battled Ryker together. They’re Arc and Ciara, unstoppable duo. One little party should be nothing.
As they make their way down the hall towards the ballroom, flanked by guards, Ciara lowers her voice. “When we get there, most of the nobles should be inside already. The herald will announce my father first, then us, and then each of the other three kingdoms. We’ll be beside the thrones as they come in—you’ll stand by me, left side—and once they’ve all been announced, we can leave the thrones and mingle. Bow to each of the rulers as they come by.”
They had, at least, practiced his bow. Arc swallows back the dread in his throat; all he has to do is stand beside her and greet the other royals, it’s easy enough. For a moment, they linger outside the entrance to the ballroom, until an official-sounding voice announces the King. “We’re next,” Ciara whispers to him, eyes glinting with excitement. “You ready?”
He nods back at her, and the voice calls, “Accompanied by Sir Arc...Princess Angelica of Astoria!” They step into the ballroom, greeted with applause. Arc doesn’t think he’s ever been in a place this lavish; the walls are white, accented in deep gold, and the floors are polished to a gleam. The ceiling looks hand-painted, ornately decorated in constellations and swirling designs, and crystal chandeliers dangle over their heads, casting a golden glow over the whole room. He tries not to look too awe-struck.
They make their way to the platform on which the thrones rest, Ciara nodding and smiling and waving at the other nobles as they pass. She stands next to her father, and Arc takes his place on her other side, placing his hands behind his back and trying, for all the world, to look like he belongs there. He wonders suddenly if he’s stood too close to her, and if it would make things worse for him to shift over now, and if his indecision is showing on his face—
And then, almost imperceptibly and hidden from the ballroom’s view by the folds of her dress, Ciara reaches over and links her pinky with his. It’s a tiny gesture, a friendly reassurance, but Arc feels a tide of warmth swell in his chest all the same. He lets his gaze flit to her for just a moment, and her lips are graced with a small smile as she tugs his finger gently.
His breath hitches, and he fights to keep his face a passive neutral as the herald announces the next kingdom and he turns his attention back to the doorway.
“Presenting King Hugo, Queen Luciana, and their son Prince Isaac of Catalias!”
Arc’s stomach turns as the couple enters, trailed by their son, all three of them swathed in lavish red and gold. Their reputation precedes them; he knows little about the prince, but the king and queen are infamous for their hoarding of wealth, their favorance of the rich nobles and landowners of their kingdom over the common people. Arc knows them best for what they had done to Seagate.
His hand twitches for his sword, but he fights against the instinct.
True to form, the two have a haughty look about them, all starched clothes and stiff smiles as they bow to Ciara and the King. The two of them return the greeting with Arc following their lead—grudgingly.
“I am so pleased you could join us tonight,” the King smiles, a little tight-lipped. “It is high time that Astoria and Catalias united again.”
King Hugo nods back. “I couldn’t agree more. The honor is ours.”
Arc detects a veiled sort of tension between the two of them, hidden well underneath the cordial formalities. He glances at Isaac, whose eyes are trained intently on Ciara even as he and his parents move to greet the other guests. Something about it is unsettling.
He’s so focused on Isaac that he almost misses the herald’s announcement of the next kingdom. “Queen Damyanti, and her children Princess Aadhya and Prince Kavan of Khurjan!”
Queen Damyanti is the picture of elegance, draped in silver silk that almost seems to glow against her dark skin. Aadhya looks around fifteen, with the same deep eyes and regal expression, and Kavan must be ten or so. He grins toothily as the three of them approach the thrones and bow.
The King’s expression is much warmer now. “Queen Damyanti. It has been too long. I trust Khurjan is doing well?”
“Not quite as well as Astoria, perhaps,” she replies, and it’s teasing, no sharpness to it. “This ball is absolutely lovely. Princess Angelica, you look so beautiful. Just like your mother. I was so sorry to hear of her passing.”
Ciara’s eyes go soft. “Thank you, Queen Damyanti,” she nods back. “It’s wonderful to finally meet you.”
“You as well. It’s a shame your sister couldn’t make it, but hopefully we’ll all gather again soon.” She gives a small, departing nod and joins the rest of the nobles, Aadhya giving them a bright-eyed smile and Kavan waving enthusiastically as they follow her. Ciara laughs.
“And finally...King Jesper of Vysalt!”
Arc is confused for a moment; he wonders if he had remembered the name of Vysalt’s king wrong. Then a young man with a head of dark curls and a smattering of freckles against tawny brown skin enters, his crown just slightly crooked. His eyes are wide and dark, and a jagged, white scar cuts across his cheekbone. He can’t be much older than they are.
“He’s the king?” Arc whispers to Ciara under his breath as Jesper makes his way over to them. “How old is he?”
Her expression twists a little in sympathy. “Seventeen. He wasn’t supposed to inherit the throne so soon. His parents were killed when Ryker’s army took over his kingdom.”
Arc isn’t sure what to say to that. He knows what it’s like to lose everything to Ryker—he can picture the flames every time he shuts his eyes. But he hadn’t known about Vysalt or the fate of its royals. They had been close allies with Seagate at one point, one of the only other kingdoms without much wealth, and their king and queen had been known for their generosity.
Somehow Arc had thought the damage had been done to Seagate alone, but now he wonders how the other kingdoms fared, if they suffered just as much. If any of them came out as unscathed as Astoria did.
“Your Majesties,” Jesper says as he bows, and there’s a note of pity in the King’s expression as he returns the gesture. Arc can only imagine how he feels about someone so close to his daughter’s age having to run a kingdom on his own.
“King Jesper. How are you doing?”
It’s a more personal question than he had asked the other royals, Arc notes. Jesper smiles easily; it’s soft, highlights his deep dimples and makes his dark eyes glimmer. “Well, thank you. Vysalt is recovering with time. As am I,” he adds, voice quieting for a moment.
The King nods back. “That’s good to hear. Let us know if there’s anything Astoria can do to help.”
Something flickers in Jesper’s expression, hard to read and gone so quickly that Arc wonders if he imagined it. The young king bows again before moving to join the others, but not before he catches Arc’s eye and smiles warmly. It surprises him—the other royals had hardly given him a second glance—but he returns it with one of his own. Beside him, Ciara lifts an eyebrow, her expression a mixture of amusement and something else he can’t place.
“What?” he asks quietly, and she shakes her head, glancing away.
“Nothing.”
He wants to pry, but the King is clearing his throat, getting ready to address the room. The chatter dies down as all eyes turn to him.
“My fellow Astorians,” he says in his deep, booming voice, sounding more formal than Arc has ever heard him, “and my guests from our neighboring kingdoms...I am honored to welcome you to our castle, and so pleased that we could all be in attendance tonight.”
Not all of us, Arc thinks, but no word of Seagate comes up.
The King continues, “For decades, our kingdoms have been isolated and divided by Ryker’s armies. We have long suffered under his forces, but his threat is gone for good. Thus, tonight is more than a council; it is a symbol of our victory, a symbol of our unity as we move forward and rebuild. So enjoy yourselves! After all, we have so much to celebrate!”
To Arc, the sentiment feels hollow. He got his revenge, and of course he’s glad that Ryker can’t hurt anyone else, but it doesn’t change the fact that Seagate is in ruins. It feels suddenly difficult to celebrate with the weight of his village’s absence lingering in the air around him. The rest of the partygoers don’t seem to share his hesitance, though; the room breaks into applause and cheers, several of the guests raising their goblets jovially.
Ciara gives him a subtle nudge, jolting him out of his thoughts. “Now we get to mingle,” she grins, leading him off the throne platform and towards the crowd.
He follows dutifully as she heads toward the table where the other kingdoms’ royals have gathered, Astoria’s king staying behind to greet the other royals. Queen Damyanti is in conversation with King Hugo and Queen Luciana, but she doesn’t seem entirely pleased about it, and Jesper and Kavan are laughing at something Aadhya has said. Isaac hovers next to them, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. He has his father’s golden hair and clear blue eyes, but the frown on his face is entirely his mother’s.
It disappears, though, the moment he sees Ciara approaching them. “Princess Angelica,” he greets her, with a little too much enthusiasm for Arc’s liking, “I’m so honored to finally meet you. You’re even more radiant in person.” Before she can say anything, he takes her hand and kisses it swiftly. Arc narrows his eyes.
Ciara gives a forced-sounding chuckle and curtseys, pulling her hand back. “Thank you, Prince Isaac. I’m glad you could make it. Allow me to introduce Sir Arc, my guard and escort for the night.”
Arc bows—and if he never has to bow to another pompous royal again, he thinks, it’ll be too soon—and Isaac offers him a dismissive sort of half-smile. Any further interaction they would’ve had then is thankfully avoided by the other royals noticing Ciara’s arrival.
“Hi, Princess Angelica!” Aadhya says brightly, with a neat little dip of a curtsey, “I’m Aadhya.” When Ciara and Arc begin to return the gesture, she waves her hand with a tiny scoff. “Oh, you don’t have to do that. Formalities. Just come sit.” She returns to her chair and pats the seat next to her, and Arc decides right there that he likes her.
Ciara takes the offered chair, and Arc takes the only other open spot, in between her and King Jesper. As Ciara launches into conversation with Aadhya, Jesper turns to him.
“Hi,” he says, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I’m Jesper.”
Arc bites back a laugh at the unnecessary introduction. “I know who you are, Your Highness,” he replies lightly.
“I know. I was just trying to give you an opening to tell me who you are.”
Oh. That’s unexpected. There’s no prerogative behind his words, no assertion; Jesper’s grin is almost bashful, his voice easy and bright. He doesn’t sound like a king, just a seventeen-year-old boy trying to flirt. Arc can’t help but return his smile.
“I’m Arc,” he says. “Normally I’m a student at Knight School, but I’m the princess’s guard and escort for the night.”
“Wait,” Aadhya pauses her conversation with Ciara to lean over and look at him, “You’re the Arc who defeated Ryker?”
“I helped,” Arc says with a shrug, and the princess’s eyes go wide. She turns to Ciara.
“Were you there too?”
“I was—” Ciara pauses for a moment, “hiding. I was hiding. Arc got me to safety.”
He grins a little at her, tongue between his teeth, knowing it must be killing her to hide what she was actually doing. She narrows her eyes and kicks his leg under the table in response, a silent shut up. He lifts his eyebrows, like, I didn’t say anything, and she rolls her eyes in an entirely non-subtle manner.
Across the table, Queen Damyanti is watching their exchange with a raised eyebrow, Arc notices belatedly. She has a mildly amused look on her face, but doesn’t say anything about it. Instead, she states, “Battling Ryker face-to-face must have been quite the experience.”
“What was it like?” Prince Kavan asks eagerly from beside his sister.
Aadhya elbows him. “Kavan,” she hisses, but Arc just grins.
“No worries. It was…” he trails, trying to think of what to say and suddenly aware that all the royals’ eyes are on him. He shifts in his seat. “It was scary, obviously. He had the Armor of Astoria, and a whole army with him, and most of the Astorian knights under his spell. But, y’know. We Knight School students are pretty formidable. We all took him on together. Wouldn’t have been able to do it otherwise. I wasn’t half as scared as I would’ve been without my squadmates watching my back.”
He glances at Ciara, who smiles softly and nudges his foot, gentler this time. Jesper has that same unreadable look on his face and Aadhya has her chin propped in her hand, her expression amazed, but Queen Luciana gives a snide sort of scoff.
“It’s a wonder it took so long to defeat him, then, if a group of students cut him down so easily,” she says. “Perhaps Ryker was never as great a threat as we all made him out to be.”
There’s a cut of silence across the table in which Jesper visibly stiffens. “With all due respect, Queen Luciana, Ryker’s attacks were devastating. Or have you forgotten what happened to my parents?” he demands, without any respect at all. His eyes are blazing.
“I’m merely pointing out that the only real damage done was to the less...fortified kingdoms,” she sniffs. “Ryker only breached Catalias’s walls once, and he was driven out rather quickly.”
“Well, not every kingdom has Catalias’s resources.” Ciara sounds like she’s choosing her words carefully, frustration masked well behind them.
King Hugo gives a huff of a laugh; his blue eyes are cold. “My dear princess, you have no cause for indignation. Astoria lost the least to Ryker, what with your,” he waves a hand, “magic bubble.”
Ciara opens her mouth but falters, brow furrowed, and across the table, Queen Damyanti speaks up. “Nevertheless, Ryker was still a formidable enemy to all of us. We were only prepared for his attacks because he targeted Seagate and Vysalt first. And Seagate’s destruction is a clear example of his power.”
“Oh, even you can’t argue that Seagate was rotting long before Ryker got to it, Damyanti,” Hugo replies swiftly, and Arc’s breath catches in his throat. Queen Damyanti shrugs in agreement, her expression passive; Arc almost stands up, but Ciara’s hand on his leg underneath the table stops him.
“Don’t,” she hisses, just barely loud enough for him to hear, “Let me handle this.”
Though as it turns out, she doesn’t have to. Before she has a chance to speak, Jesper is already bristling, his voice sharp: “As if Seagate’s corruption justifies the destruction of its people?”
“It’s thieves and criminals, you mean?” Isaac scoffs. “Seagate was a wasteland. The kingdoms are better off.”
The words ring in Arc’s ears, alongside the pounding of his blood. They sound painfully similar to what Ryker had said to him on the mountain—rats and thieves, I did the five kingdoms a favor—and he thinks fleetingly that he’s going to be sick. He’s always known that Seagate was looked down on by the other kingdoms, but hearing them say so casually that what happened, the flames and the destruction and all of the death, was deserved—
“The people were only thieves and criminals because Catalias took advantage of them,” Jesper argues. “I hope I don’t have to remind you that it was your government that poured money into the gangs of Seagate for their own profit and allowed them to stage a coup in the first place.”
The words are deadly and cold, but Arc feels a flash of admiration for Jesper; the king has no obligations towards Seagate, and yet defends it like his own. King Hugo’s gaze hardens. “You’re blaming Catalias for Seagate’s problems?” he says with a derisive laugh. “If anything, Ryker’s attacks only revealed that Seagate was a kingdom full of people that weren’t worth saving.”
“That’s enough,” Ciara says abruptly. Her hand tightens on Arc’s leg, and he can no longer tell if he’s the one trembling or if she is. There’s this burning fire behind her eyes; she looks, Arc thinks briefly, the same way she does in battle. “What happened to Seagate was a devastating tragedy, and I won’t let you treat it as otherwise. Those who disagree aren’t welcome here.”
It’s a weighted statement, one she doesn’t entirely have the formal authority to make, but no one dares to contest it. A heavy silence settles over all of them. Arc doesn’t know how long he can sit there with all the heat under his skin; he doesn’t remember when his hand found the hilt of his sword, only that he’s gripping it tight enough that the leather bites into his palm. He wants to stand up and tell them that none of them would be here if it weren’t for him, a thief from Seagate. In truth, the only thing holding him back is Ciara. In a battle between her steady hand and the storm in his chest, she wins without even trying.
He doesn’t say anything or look at her, but her gaze flits to him for a moment and she just knows, standing up. Before she even opens her mouth, Isaac is on his feet too. “Going so soon?” he asks. “Would you care to dance, Princess?”
She looks at him coolly for a moment. “I would, actually.” And then, she turns to Arc, offering him her hand, “Sir Arc, dance with me?”
Arc blinks up at her and takes it as he stands. “Absolutely, Princess,” he says, letting her lead him away from the table and glancing back only long enough to catch the dumbfounded expression on Isaac’s face.
#oop#knight squad#knight squad fanfic#tiara thief#tiara thief fic#writing#my writing#fanfiction#arc#ciara#ks#//umanawrites#learn to love without consuming
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NYE Malex prompt fill
A thousand, thousand years ago @mander3-swish sent me a prompt for a list for quote “Can we pretend never said that?” and i have literally had the WIP in my docs every since. Well, today I FINALLY wrote out a little story for the prompt. I am *SO* sorry it took this long to fill it. I hope you enjoy it!
Story under the cut, or feel free to check it out on AO3.
The crowded main floor of the UFO Emporium felt claustrophobic to Alex as more and more people were packed into the already filled space. The room was dark with strobes and lasers cutting through the air while techno remixes of the Top 100 boomed over the speaker system. New Year’s Eve and he was alone once again. Alex tugged on the collar of his shirt and made his way over to the bar that was set up in the center of the room. Maria was behind it with Max and Liz slinging drinks for everyone. He caught Liz’s attention and she nodded, finishing up the beer she was pouring and getting started on something for him. He turned and let leaned his elbows back onto the bar as he surveyed the crowd and surreptitiously looked for someone relatively quiet to hide out.
“Are you cruising for a hook up?” A familiar voice asked next to his ear and Alex jumped to stand up straight as he turned to look at Michael. Michael looked… good. His jeans were clean but worn, his belt buckle was alarmingly prominent at his waist, and as per usual, he’d neglected to button half the buttons on his shirt, but he looked sober and there was a light in his eyes that Alex hadn’t seen in months. A beat too late, Alex scoffed at Michael’s remark and tried to act like he hadn’t just spent that awkward second checking Guerin out. He hadn’t seen him this close in a while and it was tragic how starved he felt to take in every detail of him now that he was near.
“I don’t know, are you?” Alex asked, trying to sound snarky but hearing the flirtatious edge to his voice instead. Michael raised his eyebrows at him, and Alex flushed in embarrassment. “Can we please pretend I never said that?”
“Sure,” Michael agreed easily, though he still looked Alex over with interest. Liz came over and set down two drinks in front of them, barely sparing them a smile before turning to start making her next customer’s order. Alex picked up his double shot of bourbon and coke and took a slow sip, trying not to obviously appreciate the way Michael’s lips wrapped around the lip of his beer bottle. It was always like this for Alex, stolen glances and awkward encounters. Public interaction was never their forte and he knew he shouldered a lot of blame for that.
“So, who are you here with? Forrest?” Michael asked over the music, having to lean close as another song started and the bass seemed to drown out everyone’s individual voices. Alex shook his head in response, getting another sip of his drink before leaning close to Michael’s ear to respond.
“I’m supposed to be here with Greg. At least, he’s my ride,” Alex answered. Michael looked at him in confusion and Alex shrugged.
“I’m pretty sure he’s with Isobel and Kyle. Want to get out of here?” Michael responded, but Alex only caught half of what he said.
“What?” Alex yelled, trying to be heard over the music. Michael opened his mouth to respond, but when the DJ started in on the foghorn button he scowled. With a tilt of his head, he beckoned Alex to follow him away from the bar. They left their drinks behind as they started to push away from the center of the room. The crowd quickly started to swallow him, and Alex lost Michael for a moment as he tried to navigate around the drunks with their stupid New Years Eve tiaras and top hats. He stopped and looked around, trying to spot the honey brown curls that usually led him straight to Michael, but he couldn’t see anything. His brain started to panic a little until he felt an abnormally warm hand close of his. He looked to his right and there was Michael smiling softly at him. This time when Michael set off, he kept Alex’s hand in his as he wormed his way through the bustle of revelers. Alex concentrated on the strength of his fingers and the warm shot of electricity that danced through him at Michael’s touch. A simple touch probably shouldn’t have meant that much, but since his breakup with Forrest, Alex had been isolating himself and it was possible he’d become more than a little touch starved because of it.
Michael led them to one of the far walls and just when Alex thought that was as far as they’d go, he was pulled through a door marked “No Admittance” and pulled into a service hallway. Michael locked the door behind them and kept pulling Alex along the hallway further away from the main room even though the hallway was easily quiet enough for them to speak without having to yell. Having worked for the Emporium before the fire, Alex was pretty sure this was the hallway that would lead them back to the backstage area. A sharp right turn put them into the area where the large travel cases for the rented stereo equipment was stored. Alex was about to ask them where Michael was taking them when he pushed open an unmarked door and they ended up in one of the back storage rooms. The light was dim, but it was almost silent amongst the alien props and discarded display cases and office furniture. Michael finally dropped Alex’s hand and took his phone out of his pocket.
“We have ten minutes until midnight,” Michael announced, shoving the phone back into his pants. Alex opened and closed his mouth a few times in confusion. Michael was looking unsure, bashful even as he watched Alex watch him. Alex didn’t know what they were doing so he shrugged and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans.
“What are we doing in here, Michael?” Alex asked, looking around at the dusty remains of the old emporium that was stacked around them.
“Do you know the superstition that whatever you’re doing on New Years will trend for the following year?” Michael asked in lieu of answering Alex’s question. Alex furrowed his brow but nodded, watching Michael swallow nervously as he stepped closer to Alex. Alex could feel the heat of him even a foot away. Even nervous, he still looked like he was the silver lining of Alex’s fucked up life since returning to Roswell. Michael reached forward and gently removed Alex’s hands from his pockets and then held them in his own.
“I really just wanted to be with you when the ball dropped. I know its stupid, but I want a better year next year and I’m hoping it means seeing a lot more of you,” Michael confessed quietly, eyes trained on Alex’s hands in his. Alex felt like the breath had been knocked out of him at Michael’s words, but he closed his hands over Michael’s and squeezed in silent agreement.
“So you stole me away to hide in what amounts to a large storage closet?” Alex asked, smiling a little at the unintentional irony. Michael, however, looked stricken at the observation.
“Fuck, no. That’s not what I meant to… I just figured this was, uh… more romantic than a bathroom stall?” Michael countered, smiling a little when Alex started chuckling at his explanation.
“Oh, option two was a bathroom stall? Damn, Guerin, not that I don’t appreciate you sparing me the scent of urine cakes, but…” Alex trailed off as he pointedly looked around their surroundings.
“Fuck, we don’t speak for a while and I always forget what an asshole you are,” Michael laughed, taking his hands from Alex’s and pushing his chest playfully. “Jesus, you’re so mean.”
“Well, what do you really want next year, Michael? Because you’ve got...,” Alex looked at his watch before continuing, “…3 minutes.”
Michael looked at him thoughtfully, bottom lip trapped between his teeth, and Alex found himself holding his breath as he waited for Michael to speak. Alex opened his mouth again to say something snarky, arm coming up so he could check the time again, and Michael moved forward in a flash. He walked Alex back the two steps until he was against the cold metal door and his hands came up to pin Alex’s wrists. He wasn’t hurting Alex and he didn’t look angry as he did it.
“This isn’t a closet, it’s somewhere private. It’s somewhere I can kiss you like I always want to kiss you and not just in the ways that are socially appropriate,” Michael breathed against Alex’s lips before making good on his word. It wasn’t a sweet, chaste peck that would be fine for friends and family, or even a long, smoldering open mouthed caress that would be fine for New Years Eve on the dance floor surrounded by hundreds of other people doing the same. It was a rough and ardent, tongue searching every inch of Alex’s mouth, teeth nipping at lips, only rough half breaths through noses permitted type of kiss. It was the only kind of kiss that made Alex glad Michael had pinned his wrists to the door, because his body wanted to surrender and wanted to writhe and take, take, take. Faintly Alex could hear the throbbing yells of the crowd counting down in the main room, but his heart was beating so much faster and it felt too slow to him to be real. Michael let go of his wrists, hands sliding down to grab Alex’s waist and pull him flush against Michael’s body. With his hands free, Alex tangled his hands in Michael’s curls, making fists of them and tugging gently the way he knew drove Michael crazy. He wanted the volume between them turned up to eleven. He’d missed this undeniable connection between the two of them.
When they had to part, had to press their foreheads together and gulp down air, Alex unclenched his hands and let them slide down to grip the open sides of Michael’s shirt.
“Happy New Year,” Michael breathed, Cheshire grin in place even as he kept panting.
“Yeah. Happy New Year. Fuck,” Alex replied, voice slightly awed.
“You wanna go somewhere else even more private?” Michael suggested, hands slipping under the hem of Alex’s shirt to grasp at the smooth muscles at his waist.
“Not until you and I go on a real first date. I’m going to teach you about romance through immersion,” Alex said, punctuating his statement with a soft kiss that made his toes curl just as much as the previous, hungry kisses had. Michael returned it, his hands sliding up Alex’s back before he moved and tucked his face into the hollow between Alex’s shoulder and neck. It took Alex a moment to realize that Michael was hugging him, but when his brain finally came back online, he wrapped his arms around Michael’s shoulder and kissed his neck and ear lightly. “Let’s make sure this trends for us this year, yeah?”
Michael nodded against him and it felt like maybe they were finally in a place to do it right that time. This had to be a better year.
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Hi! So I’ve decided to do monthly recs instead of weekly recs from now on, which mean this list is kinda long, so I put all the under 10k fics under the cut, but be sure to check them out too! And remember to leave kudos and comments when you do ❤
Tired Tired Sea by @mediawhorefics — [fic post]
larry | 113k | mature
As a B&B owner on the most remote of all the British Isles, Louis Tomlinson is used to spending the coldest half of the year in complete isolation, with his dog and the sea as sole companions. Until, one day, a mysterious stranger on a quest to rebuild himself rents a room for the winter.
Not That Gone by @a-brighter-yellow --- [fic post]
larry | 61k | explicit
A few weeks after Louis and Harry, *ahem*, reconnect at their high school reunion, Harry temporarily moves back home. Louis isn't sure he has the emotional fortitude for a prolonged fling with the man of the dreams.
Play Pretend, Find a Friend? by @angelichl — [fic post]
larry | 40k | explicit
When Louis sees his ex-boyfriend kissing a random girl at a party, he acts out of blind jealousy. He kisses the first guy he can find. It turns into a thing.
INSPIRED BY CLOUDS.
I Just Want You to Stay by @sadaveniren --- [fic post]
larry | 34k | explicit
Louis and Harry have been roommates for four years, comfortable in their routine and their relationship. But all of that is about to change.
The Spaces Between Us by @justalittlelouislove — [fic post]
ziam | 33k | explicit
Liam is a ghost bound to nothing, feeling nothing. Until he finds Zayn and learns what it means to feel everything.
Give A Little Sing To The Singles by @londonfoginacup --- [fic post]
larry | 31k | teen and up
Harry Styles is an adult now, with a real adult job (and benefits! Whatever those are!). He spends his days at the copier. Copying things.
That being said, no one told Harry that being an adult came with a confusingly chaotic boss, a copier machine that would be hell-bent on ruining his life, and a coworker so good looking that Harry might just have to quit. After all, Christmas is coming and if their office doesn’t win the decorating contest, Louis has threatened to break several laws and kneecaps in retaliation.
Happy Christmas, here’s to many more.
The Goat Guy of Bethlehem by @lululawrence --- [fic post]
larry | 25k | not rated
every year, Harry and his family attend a church festival called Bethlehem. Harry's freshman year of high school Bethlehem expands, bringing in new vendors, including one that just might change everything for Harry. But first, he has to see if Anne and Robin are willing to part with him for the price of a few goats.
reach the stars by @disgruntledkittenface — [fic post]
horshaw | 19k | mature
Spring 2021. Four years after breaking up with Louis and moving to New York with his best friend Aimee, Nick runs into Niall and they start dating. When their relationship gets serious, Nick struggles to tell Niall how much he means to him.
Everything I Do by Anonymous — [fic post]
larry | 16k | explicit
the one where Harry finds a book of Elizabethan courtship rituals which sets in motion a series of events that can lead to only one conclusion.
High Heels, Red Dress by Anonymous --- [fic post]
larry | 15k | explicit
Louis answers the call when Pearl Harbor is attacked and there is no way around it. The United States is at war. Hiding his queer identity isn't so hard until he attracts the attention of a particular soldier. It's all lies and secrets until the war is finally over. Maybe then Louis can finally have his happy ending. It's up to fate to decide.
when half spent was the night by @juliusschmidt --- [fic post]
larry | 14k | mature
Hi Harry,
I’ve skimmed your website and am interested in hiring you to be my doula. I’m 7 ½ months pregnant and not keen to do this whole labor and birth thing alone. After looking around, I thought you might be a good fit because you mention enjoying unusual people with unusual birth requests. I can meet up any day this week.
Lou
You are the feeling of drugs, pulling the chain of my love by @peujeune — [fic post]
tomlinshaw | 10k | explicit
Louis gets bored with all the questions by the next week and tells everyone, in no uncertain terms, to fuck off, in a Facebook post he subsequently deletes the next day. Instead, he chooses to ignore all his friends.
And text Nick.
you’ve set my soul to dreaming by @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed — [fic post]
larry | 9k | teen and up
Thirty year old Harry Styles goes to bed single on Christmas Eve, only to wake up on Christmas morning with a husband in his bed and a son down the hall.
The Truth I Can’t Explain (Smoke and Mirrors) by @fallinglikethis — [fic post]
larry | 9k | mature
Louis Tomlinson scans the horizon. It’s dark, but his werewolf eyes are equipped for that. He sees clearly in the inky black of the forest around them. He and every other wolf can see the moment the first blood mage crosses the boundary into their compound. The mages must think they’ve disabled the wards on the edges of the boundary but the wolves did that themselves when they found out the mages were coming. Louis’ pack has opened the door and put down the welcome mat. It’s up to the mages whether that mat becomes stained in blood.
on the same page by Anonymous — [fic post]
larry | 8k | mature
The one where Louis doesn’t know what the hell is going on.
You’re a Nightmare, I’m a Disaster by @lululawrence --- [fic post]
tomlinshaw | 7k | not rated
the one where Nick is a writer, Louis works in a bookshop, and things don’t exactly start off on the right foot, but they might just end on it.
The Gingerbread Show Off by @homosociallyyours --- [fic post]
larry | 6k | general audiences
The Gingerbread Show Off is the biggest event of the year at Harry's still sort of new to him job, and when he's given a spot to compete in it he's beyond excited. When he realizes that he's going to be paired up with Louis, the man who's been sneakily stealing his ideas since almost their first day of working together, he's understandably frustrated.
He still wants to win, though, and he's not going to let his office enemy bring him down.
The Circle of Life is Not a Circle, it’s a Stick by @lounonymouse --- [fic post]
tomlinshaw | 5k | teen and up
This is a story about Louis, his husband Nick, their daughter Ella, and her pet stick insect Mr Sticky McStick-Face.
B-Sides & C-Cuts by @bitter-leaf — [fic post]
shiall | 5k | teen and up
Niall’s stuck in Toronto the day before Christmas Eve. Shawn plans to make the most of it.
A Not So Silent Night by @lightwoodsmagic --- [fic post]
ziam | 5k | teen and up
Liam's had a crush on Zayn for months, every time they talk on the phone just making him grow fonder.
He's just never met him in real life.
When he finally gets to meet him, it turns out that he can't take his eyes off him dancing on the table at the bank's Christmas party.
Especially when he starts taking off his sweater.
Summer Love by Anonymous — [fic post]
larry | 5k | teen and up
Summers at his lake house are Harry’s favorite time of the year. They’re treasured moments in time spent with Louis, his favorite person. The boy with the bluest eyes, the brightest smile and loudest laugh. Harry’s best friend for all of his summers. He’s gonna marry him someday. All that Louis needs to do is ask him - again.
my heart got caught on your sleeve by @foliealou — [fic post]
tomlinshaw | 5k | general audiences
Louis Tomlinson decides to come out: a story in three acts.
it's getting bluer (and you can't keep faking) by @dinoflangellate --- [fic post]
nessie | 4k | explicit
For a second, Niall can’t move, pinned in place by Bressie’s casual words. Get you sorted could mean so many things, things he wants, and his brain almost explodes.
I Knew From The First Time by Anonymous --- [fic post]
larry | 4k | teen and up
Harry spent weeks picking out a gorgeous ring, and months planning every little detail of the perfect anniversary trip to propose to Louis. Except it doesn't go as planned and the ring disappears.
Harry Styles Plays with Kittens While Answering Questions by @sadaveniren — [fic post]
larry | 4k | teen and up
Louis runs a Youtube channel and Harry is his celebrity guest
to love you in word and deed by Anonymous — [fic post]
larry | 4k | general audiences
Louis loves everything about living with Harry. Except for Harry’s effusive proposals. Because the problem is, it’s getting harder and harder for Louis to keep reacting like they’re jokes.
Roll the Dice by @allwaswell16 — [fic post]
larry | 3k | explicit
Louis has been in love with Harry since they were eighteen. It isn’t until Harry’s thirtieth birthday in Las Vegas that Louis must finally decide to either tell Harry how he feels or let him marry someone else.
molecular by @dinoflangellate — [fic post]
zouis | 3k | teen and up
The team pushes into the lab, jostling each other through the sliding glass doors. Eenie, meenie, miney, mo. There they are, the four of them, present and accounted for. Louis shoves his way in last, looking sweaty and triumphant, and the hand around Zayn’s heart finally unclenches.
Unto You by @londonfoginacup — [fic post]
larry | 3k | teen and up
Louis is a lamplighter celebrating the saturnalia season in his own way.
Harry is heavily pregnant and new in the city.
The holiday of Christmas is yet to be created.
Brring Brring (that’s the land line) by Anonymous — [fic post]
larry | 3k | general audiences
Louis Tomlinson and Harry Styles have been dating for six months and two weeks.
It’s one in the morning, and the phone rings.
Snowdrops and Mice Pops by @ohharold --- [fic post]
larry | 3k | teen and up
The boys are stuck at Hogwarts over Christmas incapable of taking the Hogwarts Express back to London. A botched together friends Christmas would have to do.
step into christmas by leighbot
zarry | 2k | general audiences
the one where Zayn's written a Christmas book for children and Harry brings his son to a local reading.
Oh Valley Girl by @londonfoginacup — [fic post]
larry | 2k | general audiences
Out past the rolling hills and the churning sea sits a little fishing village, nestled in a valley where its residents are protected from the elements, as well as from the outside world as a whole.
Harry lives in this little fishing village, and she loves nothing more than feeling the earth beneath her and seeing the sky above her and sometimes dreaming of adventure.
Then one day a ship arrives.
Tricks and Treats by @homosociallyyours --- [fic post]
larry | 1k | general audiences
wherein Louis receives a package not intended for him, Harry has a brilliant idea, and the two of them meet properly at a Halloween party.
Gratuitous puns, bone® jokes, and creepy neighbors abound!
This Is Halloween by @hadtobelou --- [fic post]
larry | 1k | explicit
Louis' Halloween doesn't go as planned.
Scarily Incompatible by soidiallednine
larry | 666 | general audiences
Harry seems perfect for Louis. Lottie certainly thinks so. But one really scary choice by Harry will doom them before they start.
something weird (but it do look good) by @uhohmorshedios — [fic post]
larry | 666 | teen and up
Harry’s upset that Louis didn’t appreciate his attempt to put a very-Harry twist on a Halloween meme and Louis tries his best to make it up to him.
take my hand (i won’t let go) by @tempolarriefix — [fic post]
larry | 666 | general audiences
in which zayn and liam are in love, niall doesn’t want to third wheel, louis hates scary things, and harry works in a haunted house.
aka the ficlet haunted house meet-cute that you never knew you needed.
The Devil Went Down to Georgia by @kingsofeverything — [fic post]
larry | 666 | general audiences
Louis just wants to fall in love for eternity.
the future reflected by @louandhazaf — [fic post]
larry | 666 | not rated
Louis didn’t take the stupid game seriously. Maybe he should’ve.
The Literal Gates of Hell by @evilovesyou — [fic post]
larry | 666 | general audiences
Louis has a passion for the supernatural and tends to drag his friends into his ghost and demon hunting adventures. His guardian angel isn’t too pleased when they set out to find one of the actual gates of hell.
You Win by @ziamhaze --- [fic post]
ziam | 666 | general audiences
Based off this AU: A werewolf finds a human who is strolling in the woods late at night, and just before the werewolf goes to attack the human, the human then starts to beat box and the werewolf is too intrigued to attack them.
I Still Follow by @smoke-flowers — [fic post]
zarry | 606 | general audiences
The sky is cloaked in black velvet, but he swears he sees stars.
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Lightning Round, Take Two
kudos to @notedchampagne for inspiring this!!
also on ao3
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“This is a terrible idea.”
“It’ll be fine.”
“She’s going to hate me.”
“She’ll love you.”
“Love me? Love me?!” Karkat all but shrieked. “I don’t know if you’ve realized this, Dave, but I don’t exactly make the best impressions! In fact, one might even say I make the worst impressions! We’ll be lucky if she doesn’t end this visit early because she can’t stand being around me because I have the personality of a deep seated pimple!”
“Damn. The kind it hurts to pop?”
“Yes! The kind of pimple that never forms a head and settles on your upper lip so it hurts every time you move your mouth! That’s what my personality is like: persistent, painful, and pus-filled!”
“The three P’s.” Dave mused, and Karkat shot him a scowl. “C’mon man, don’t sell yourself short. You’re like a blackhead at the worst.”
“Don’t pander to me, Strider.” Karkat grumbled and crossed his arms, but he didn’t complain when Dave slung his arm over his shoulders. “I still think this would go much better without me.”
“Nah, dude, trust me, this is the best option. I mean, best case scenario, if I did this by myself, she’d be like ‘omg do u have a bf’ and I’d be like ‘yeah’ because that’s part of what I’m tryna do here, tell folks about us, but then she’d want pictures even though she’s definitely met you, and then I’d have to show her all those cute pictures I took of you when you weren’t looking, and I know you don’t want that.”
“You what?”
“You didn’t hear that.”
Karkat rolled his eyes and leaned a little closer into Dave’s side, eyes tracing the little carapacian homes they were walking by. Dusk was falling, much to his relief; they both had to make compromises when they realized their species operated at different times of day, but he still avoided leaving the hive when the sun was glaring and ready to burn him to a crisp. Dave probably could’ve flown them all the way to Roxy and Calliope’s house, but Karkat hated making him carry him that far (Dave always insisted he wasn’t that heavy, but the strain in his voice never escaped Karkat’s notice), so they were walking the last few blocks. Karkat had a sneaking suspicion Dave was fine with walking because he was trying to delay the inevitable. He was nervous, if the way his fingers were tapping on Karkat’s upper arm or the way he kept clenching and unclenching his jaw said anything. Karkat sighed and unfolded his arms to wrap one around Dave’s waist.
“You don’t have anything to worry about, you know.” He said, surprising Dave into looking down at him.
“What? Who said I’m worried? You’re the one who’s been bitching the whole evening.”
“Because I want to make a good impression on your weird paradox ancestor, shit for brains. I’m saying you don’t need to be worried about coming out to her.” He met Dave’s eyes through his shades, something he’d gotten good at over the sweeps. “Of all fucking people, she’ll be the most fine with it. That’s why you’re telling her first, right?”
“Yeah, I know, it’s just-” Dave sighed and looked away. He was better than he used to be, but holding eye contact was still hard for him, “It’s a big deal, you know? I mean, Rose probably figured it out from living in a confined space with us, and Dirk kinda got it out of context clues, but this is a first using the big B-word.”
“She’ll be fine. And if she isn’t, I’ll tear her apart and at least give her a reason to hate your boyfriend besides my shit-awful personality.”
“Aw, babe, I dunno whether to be flattered you’d attack my mom like a feral raccoon or bummed that you’re trashin’ yourself.”
“How about we compromise, and I’ll stop shit-talking myself if you stop stressing yourself out about this.”
“...Deal.”
“Good. Because I think that’s her house.”
“Oh shit.”
The two of them stopped just outside the elaborate building the carapacians had offered Roxy and Calliope back when they’d first arrived in the middle of Earth C society, both of them brimming with anxiety despite their reassurances. Karkat almost thought Dave was going to say this was too much for him and turn around and fly home, but he unwrapped himself from Karkat’s arm and instead held his hand to walk up to the front door and knock.
“Just a sec!” Roxy’s voice rang out from somewhere inside, and a few seconds later, the door opened to reveal her smiling face. “Davey!” She squealed and launched herself at him, hugging him tightly. Dave, to his credit, adapted quickly and let go of Karkat’s hand to hug her back.
“Sup, Rox.”
Roxy pulled away from Dave to turn towards Karkat, who instinctively took a half step back. She noticed and laughed. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna hug you if you don’t wanna. Is a fistbump cool?”
“I don’t know if I would call anything a certain red asshole harangued me with in the early years of our friendship ‘cool’, but it is acceptable.” That made Roxy laugh, and he gave her a light fistbump.
“Karkat, bro, I can’t believe you’re just calling me uncool in front of my mom. What the fuck. What is this betrayal.” Dave shook his head, but he already seemed more relaxed.
“Dave, I dunno how to break this to you, but you’re related to me ‘n Dirk.” Roxy tried to adopt a sympathetic expression despite her grin. “You’ve got dork running through your veins.”
“Goddamn. You’re tellin’ me I’ve got a genetic predisposition for this shit?”
“Yup. It’s chronic. Doctors everywhere’re rushing to write studies on our family to try and isolate the ‘cool-but-really-not-cool’ gene.”
“Let’s hope it’s not replicable in a lab or anything. I’m pretty sure Earth C can only handle four of us.”
“Ohmigod, can you imagine them trying to test it out. Little lab rats wearing shades and writing wizard fic. Holy shit.” Roxy gasped at her own idea, an unbelievably pleased look on her face.
“Oh my dick. Fuck ectobiology, this is the science I want to invest in.”
“Absolutely not.” Karkat interjected. “There’s already enough of you jackasses, I think I’d have an aneurysm if any more blond lunatics were running around.”
“Lol,” Karkat couldn’t believe Roxy just said that out loud, “You’re probably right. Are we gonna keep fucking around about cool mice on the doorstep, or do you guys wanna come in?”
She stepped aside to lead them inside and showed them to the living room. “Callie’s out picking up dinner. I would’ve made something since I invited you guys over for dinner, but living in the water apocalypse did not leave me with many cooking skills.”
“Hey, no shade here.” Dave shrugged, plopping down on the couch with Karkat at his side. “I don’t think I’d be able to work an oven if I tried. We’re a strictly take-out household. Hivehold? I dunno, but we’ve barely touched the kitchen in the week we’ve been here.”
“Excuse you, I made those Hot Pockets yesterday.” Karkat countered sharply.
“Yeah, and they were like 30% cooked, dude. You put them in the microwave for thirty seconds and then panicked.”
“Fuck you, I don’t see you doing much better! In fact, I distinctly remember you eating those frozen pizza pockets like a ravenous barkbeast! It was like you’d been locked in a cave with nothing to eat for half a sweep and my delicious plate of folded sauce treats were the only thing saving you from a miserable, malnourished death!”
“I mean, a Hot Pocket’s a Hot Pocket. I’m not gonna turn one of those fuckers down, who do you think I am.”
“I think you’re a wiggler with no sense of taste.”
“You eat bugs.”
“And you put ranch on your pizza! Bricks and glass houses, Dave!”
“Dude, do trolls even have that expression? Aren’t y’all light sensitive? Why would you have glass houses?”
“Newsflash, dipshit, I’ve lived in close proximity for the majority of the past two sweeps with an overflowing fountain of pop culture references and idioms and an uppity seer that likes to make things as convoluted and difficult to understand as possible. I picked up a few human phrases! Uh, no offense, Roxy.” Karkat added at the mention of Rose.
“None taken! I’m pretty sure she gets that from Dirk anyway.” Roxy waved him off. “Take it back to the ranch on pizza thing tho, do you really do that? Is this some earth delicacy I missed out on?”
“Oh fuck yeah, it rules. You gotta try it some time.” Dave nodded, excited to get someone else to try his food crimes.
“Imma have to take a pass on that.” Roxy said, crinkling her nose.
“Finally, someone with taste!” Karkat exclaimed, and Dave gently hit his shoulder.
“I am slowly workin’ through traditional earth food tho! Or at least as traditional as you can get here. That’s where we’re getting dinner from! There’s this human/troll fusion place that Callie and I like. I dunno how authentic it is, but it tastes good at least!”
“I mean, nothing on Earth C is super authentic, it’s all like human diet slightly to the left, but it’s edible.”
“Better than the garbage we alchemized on the meteor, at least.” Karkat agreed.
“God, the fucking buffalo wings debacle.” Dave and Karkat shuddered in unison. Roxy looked amused.
“You guys spent a lot of time together on the meteor, right? And now you’re living together?” Roxy asked, and they both nodded. She had a look in her eyes that was far too reminiscent of the look Rose got when she was gearing up to psychoanalyze someone, and Karkat was hit with a stroke of panic. “Sooo, I should prob’ly do a lightning round with you too, right? Since you’re important to Dave?”
The pair shared a look and Dave shrugged, appearing nonchalant despite the way he was anxiously picking at a loose string on his jeans. “Uh, I guess?” Karkat said, bracing himself.
“I’ll start easy, I promise!” Roxy drummed her fingers on her lips as if thinking. “Hm… you’ve got ‘cat’ in your name, do you like cats?”
Karkat made a face, thrown off by the question. “I guess? I never had one, but Nepeta was pretty fucking into them, and they seemed… fine. I can respect a meowbeast that just lazes around if it’ll leave me the fuck alone, but Nepeta’s lusus could’ve probably torn me to shreds, so…” He shrugged.
“Was Nepeta a friend from the game?” Roxy backpedaled the moment she saw Karkat’s face fall. “Oh shit, tender subject, sorry.” She worried her lip, looking for another question, then perked up. “Oh! What’s your sign? I know it’s Cancer from earth astrology and stuff, but what’s that mean for trolls?”
Karkat looked down at his chest and grimaced. “Fuck if I know, I don’t actually have a sign. I spent most of my life thinking this stupid thing meant precisely fuck all. I guess it’s a symbol of my ancestor? But I never really learned much about him since the empress always tried to erase his rebellion, and I thought that ancestor shit was highblood bullshit anyway. I guess now I know it’s not, but ugh, I could’ve happily gone my whole wretched life without meeting that douchebag.”
“We met his ancestor in the dream bubbles.” Dave explained. “Or I guess descendent? Since y’all are technically the post-scratch group? I never really understood that part.”
“Doesn’t fucking matter, he was a pretentious asswipe with his head so far up his nook it’s a wonder he was even audible, but oh god, was he audible alright.”
“Lmao, I kinda wanna meet this guy.” Roxy grinned.
“No you don’t.” Dave and Karkat said in unison, which made her laugh.
“I’ll take your word for it.” The mischievous look was back in her eyes. “Next question! Have you ever had your quadrants filled?”
Karkat almost choked. “What the fuck kind of question is that? That’s none of your fucking business!” He blustered. “My quadrants are private, and it’s my decision if I want to bring them up! Are all humans this fucking nosy or is it just the Lalondes?!”
“It’s just the Lalondes.” Dave said flatly.
“I just thought it’d be fair since I asked Dave that in our lightning round!” Roxy put her hands up in apology, but didn’t look particularly apologetic. “I was curious!”
Karkat was about to continue his rant about people feeling entitled to knowledge about virtual strangers’ quadrants, but the way Dave sat up and cleared his throat gave him pause.
“Actually, Rox,” Dave started, fidgeting a bit, “I never answered that question back on the lilypad.”
“Yeah, but that’s okay!” Roxy brushed him off. “I’m not gonna push you to answer something you’re not comfy with.”
“That’s the thing. I wanna answer you now, if that’s cool.”
“Oh!” Roxy’s eyes widened. “Of course that’s cool! That’s cooler than cool.”
Dave lifted an eyebrow, a smile pulling at his lips despite himself. “What’s cooler than being cool?”
“Ice cold!” Roxy shouted at the top of her lungs, and the two of them chanted “alright” about a dozen times while Karkat watched them in bewilderment. Humans, he thought. He’d never understand them.
“Okay, but for real tho,” Roxy said once they’d both gotten a handle on their giggles, “You wanted to say something?”
“Yeah.” Dave almost immediately looked anxious again, running his hands over his jeans. “So. You asked if I’d ever kissed anyone or-” He cleared his throat and the rest came out in a mumbled cough, “-been in love.”
Karkat held his breath, eyes flicking between Dave and a very focused Roxy.
“The, um. The answer to both of those questions is… yes? And I know you’re wonderin’ who, that’s like the next logical question, like if you ask someone if they’re hungry and they say yes, your next question is probably gonna be ‘what do you wanna eat’, unless you’re a total dick and just wanted to, I dunno, be aware of someone else’s hunger for your own sick pleasures and leave ‘em waiting like you’re some kinda sick torturer tryin’ to extract information out of a prisoner, like ‘hey are you hungry?’ ‘Yeah, I am, actually. I’ve been hanging from my ankles for a week now and I’d kill for some motherfucking KFC right now.’ ‘Interesting. Go fuck yourself.’ That’s not a very good interrogator, actually, he didn’t even try to get any information out of the guy except for the knowledge that he’s really craving some chicken, which is virtually useless, unless the interrogator is working for KFC’s competitor, like Popeyes out here tryna get the deets on their rival brands. Hey, do you think they’ve got a Popeyes anywhere on Earth C? Maybe we should start one, make a shit ton of money. Really boost the economy.”
“Dave.” Karkat cut him off before he could get too far from the topic, giving him a pointed look. “Were you actually going to say something important or were you going to just talk out of your deflated ass forever?”
“Hey man, you know you love my ass.”
“The point, Dave-!”
“Right right right.” Dave shook his head and took a deep breath before looking at Roxy again, who looked like she was might be putting things together already. “It’s Karkat. The answer to ‘who’, I mean. We’ve, uh. We’ve been dating since the meteor.”
Roxy’s whole face lit up. “Aw, congrats you guys! That’s really sweet!”
“Yeah.” Dave looked over at Karkat and gave him a tiny smile before looking a little apprehensive again. “I’d, uh, appreciate if you didn’t tell anyone though? I mean, the rest of the meteor crew probably knows because we spent… a lot of time together.”
“Most of that was platonic, though. A good two-thirds of it, at least.” Karkat countered.
“True, but they don’t know that. Far as they know, one day we were just two bros hanging out and watching movies and shit, then the next day, Vriska walks in to catch one of those bros taking a snooze on his other bro’s lap and falling off the couch the moment she announces her presence.”
“I’ll give you three fucking guesses which dumbass that was.” Karkat directed that at Roxy, and she snorted.
“Rude.” Dave nudged him. “But yeah, they’ve probably figured it out, but we haven’t officially told anyone. I haven’t even told anyone I’m, you know. Bisexual.”
“Wait, so I’m the first person you’ve told?” Roxy looked a little stunned.
“I- Yeah? I just thought you’d probably be a safe person to go to, especially since we don’t have any weird baggage like I might have with John and Jade, you’re just my alt-mom, which I guess does make things a little weird-”
“It’s a little weird, but it does mean you get a certified mom hug!” She interrupted, standing up.
“A mom hug? Dunno if I know what those are like.” Dave said, smiling a little.
“They’re like this, you big goober.” Roxy pulled him into a tight hug, pulling him down a little so he could put his head on her shoulder. “I’m proud of you, Davey. That’s a big deal, comin’ out and shit. I’m glad you felt like you could tell me.”
“...Thanks mom.” Dave’s voice was a watery mumble against her shoulder, but he seemed to have collected himself by the time they pulled away. Roxy immediately turned her sights on Karkat.
“Your turn! You’re family now, you can’t escape hugs anymore.”
“Ugh, you humans are so fucking tactile.” Karkat grumbled but resigned himself to Roxy’s affectionate squeeze.
“Hey man, don’t act like you’re not cuddly as hell. I have to pry you off of me with a crowbar to go take a piss sometimes. You should see this dude when he gets sleepy, Rox, it’s so fucking cute. Did you know trolls purr? It’s some kinda flushed noise or something and it’s the fucking best.” Dave seemed to already be relaxing now that the thing he’d been dreading was over with.
“That’s private!” Karkat hissed, embarrassed. Dave just grinned at him and sat a little closer when they took a seat again. “Do you want me airing out how you melt like a touch starved candybar left in the sunlight when I suggest you should be the little spoon? Or how you turn into a warbling puddle of Dave when I do this?” He reached over and out his hand on Dave’s knee, rubbing his thumb in soothing circles. Casual affection, Dave’s weakness.
“Aw,” Roxy cooed. Dave looked thoroughly embarrassed and made a strangled noise in his throat. Karkat gave him a smug look.
“Shut up.” He grumbled weakly and scooted a little closer so he could press against Karkat’s side and hold his hand.
“So you guys are matesprits?” Roxy asked, and Karkat’s anxiety immediately returned. Dave wasn’t the only one who had coming out to do. Dave squeezed his hand and let Karkat start since this was his thing to discuss.
“Mostly?” He offered weakly, then tried to sound more certain. “We’re kind of pale too.”
“Plus I piss you off in a pitch way sometimes.” Dave added helpfully.
“And the way you kept me from tearing Vriska apart on the meteor was sort of ashen.” Karkat admitted.
“I mean, there wasn’t really much of a chance of you tearing her apart to begin with. Spidertroll could’ve probably kicked any of our asses in her sleep, she’s fuckin’ crazy.”
“My point still stands!”
“So…” Roxy interrupted, guiding them back on topic, “You’re in all quadrants? I didn’t know trolls did that!”
Karkat winced. “They don’t. Usually. It’s extremely frowned upon.”
“Karkat’s had trouble keeping shit in one quadrant.” Dave explained for him. “He’s got a big ol’ heart full of love.”
“I’m pretty sure you’re the only person in Paradox Space to come to that conclusion about what my useless fucking pump biscuit is full of, but thanks for the thought.” Karkat rolled his eyes, defaulting to annoyance to avoid the insecurities that always gnawed at him when he thought about his relationship with quadrants. “‘Full of love’ is usually not the first thing people describe me as. More like ‘full of a burning anger’ or ‘a perpetual stream of irritable piss’ or, hell, ‘just undiluted dumbass juice!’ As far as most people are concerned, I’m Karkat ‘useless shitfit’ Vantas, and they’re not fucking wrong!”
“Okay, sure, you might be the grumpiest person in all - what, is this five universes now? I can’t keep track, but that doesn’t mean you’re not secretly a big softy.” Dave rubbed his thumb over Karkat’s knuckles. “I know that best out of probably anyone.”
“If it helps, I don’t think of you as those things!” Roxy added. Karkat gave her a disbelieving look.
“Full offense, we’ve never really ‘hung out.’”
“I mean, no, but I’ve seen you interacting with Dave and John and Kanaya and stuff, and you’ve always seemed to be a caring friend underneath all the yelling.” Roxy shrugged. “It’s nice knowing Dave’s in good hands since I’ve only been part of his family for a couple weeks. Means I don’t have to give you a shovel talk prob’ly!”
“The shovel talk? What the fuck? What does that even mean?” Karkat looked at Dave for an explanation, but he only winced.
“You know, when parents meet their kid’s partner and are like ‘you better not hurt my baby, or I’ll kill you.’ That kind of thing. I’m guessing trolls didn’t do that on Alternia?” Roxy tilted her head, seeming genuinely curious. Karkat’s face contorted as he wrapped his head around that concept.
“Okay, first of all, no we didn’t because we didn’t even have parents and our lusii wouldn’t give two shits about our quadrantmates. Second of all, you better not even think about giving me your ridiculous human ‘shovel talk’! I’ve known Dave far longer than you have, so it really should be me going ‘don’t fucking hurt him,’ but I know I don’t need to because Dave can fucking handle himself! He doesn’t need your bullshit defenses! If I ever hurt him, I trust him to be able to tell me to fuck off out of his life - not that he’d ever need to because I’d rather establish a culling system in the Troll Kingdom and offer myself up as their first sacrifice than hurt Dave!” He took a deep inhale to continue his tirade, but Dave cut him off with a pat to the cheek.
“Yo, dude, shoosh, it’s okay. It’s really not that big of a deal.” It was only after Dave cut off his train of thought that Karkat realized how worked up he was getting, and he shrank back down against Dave’s shoulder, embarrassed. “I’m pretty sure Roxy was kidding, anyway.”
“Yeah, for sure!” Roxy nodded quickly. “I didn’t mean to imply you were gonna hurt Dave or that he couldn’t take care of himself or anything. That’s hella not my place, and you guys seem very good for each other.”
“Oh. Well. Good.” He sent her a warning glare just to make sure he’d gotten the point across, then forced himself to let some tension out of his shoulders.
“It is really nice knowin’ my family’s in good hands though.” Roxy smiled. “Hell, it’s nice knowin’ I have a family! Oh my god, Dave, do you realize none of us Strilondes are straight? I mean, Rose ‘n Dirk are both gay as hell, and then you and I are bi!”
“Yeah- Wait, what?” Dave jolted a little in surprise. “Rox, you’re bi too? Since when?”
“Uh, since always?” Roxy laughed a bit. “I thought that’s why you came to me, because you knew!”
“No! Holy shit, I gotta process this for a second.”
“LMAO.” Roxy said, pronouncing every letter. “Yeah, dude! I mean, can you blame me? Like, dudes are hot as fuck, that’s like self explanatory. I mean, have you seen the Englberts? Eglishes? Whatever their family name is, John and Jake are both total babes, but then there are girls too! I mean, Janey, what a gal, right? And Callie too!”
“Right?” Dave enthused, clearly excited someone understood where he was coming from. “Girls are so fucking good, hot damn, but then? Dudes? Holy shit?”
“Yeah!” Roxy was just about throwing herself out of her chair with her excitement. “I can barely leave the house, it’s just smoochable babes everywhere I turn.”
“I’d say it’s a goddamn plight, but I got the most smoochable right here.” Dave emphasized his point with a kiss to one of Karkat’s horns, making him squawk. Dave laughed a little and turned back to Roxy. “Yo, but rewind back to Callie. Soooo, are y’all two, y’know…”
Roxy looked remarkably like Dave when embarrassed. “Uh…” The sound of the front door opening and Calliope’s greeting voice cut her off. “I’ll get back to you on that!” Dave waggled his eyebrows at her but didn’t push it.
Dinner was an enjoyable affair, despite Karkat’s near constant crippling fear of being miserable in every social engagement. The food was good and pretty close to tasting like home, and the conversation was fluid - mostly because Roxy and Dave chattered the entire time like hyperactive squirrels. Karkat tried to be annoyed with their ridiculous stream of consciousness discussions, but he couldn’t help but feel warm watching Dave talk so comfortably with his ecto-mom. And he certainly wasn’t the only person happy with the situation; every time he and Dave started bantering back and forth, he could see Roxy’s delight out of the corner of his eye, and the absolutely lovestruck look on her face whenever Calliope spoke didn’t escape him either.
Eventually, though, they had to head home - though Dave and Karkat had both shifted their sleep schedules to be active in the afternoon and most of the night, the majority of their human friends were still diurnal and needed to go to bed eventually - so after a few more hugs from Roxy, they were sent on their way.
Dave landed them down the street from their hive, and Karkat didn’t complain about having to walk that last distance. The Troll Kingdom was just now starting to wake up, stores and restaurants lighting up, trolls in suits rushing to their early jobs, and young trolls getting ushered off to school. It was so different from Alternia, but Karkat thought he could probably get used to the differences if it meant he didn’t have to worry about getting culled at a single glance at his blood color. Maybe it was too early to tell, but if he let himself feel just the slightest bit optimistic for his future, he had a feeling he could be really happy here. He could live a peaceful, successful life on Earth C, and if the cheerful way Dave was swinging their clasped hands meant anything, he wasn’t the only one feeling hopeful.
“So,” He prompted, leaning into Dave’s shoulder, “I guess that could have been more horrible.”
“Yep.” Dave said, popping the ‘p’. “We’ll have to scrap those emergency plans. Cancel our name changes and facial reconstructions and flights to the other side of Earth C, no need to run away immediately.”
“I don’t know, we might have to keep that shit pencilled in. We still need to tell John.” Karkat reminded him, and Dave groaned.
“Oh fuck. Yeah, never mind, you sure we can’t just fuck off into another universe? Universe D here we come. The D stands for Davekat ‘cause it’ll just be us, babe. It also stands for Dick because, come on, it’s us, of course it does. Also Dinosaurs just ‘cause. Do you think dinosaurs are a universal constant? Like, did dinosaurs exist for you guys? Or- oh shit, do you think they evolved differently? Are trolls just super evolved dinosaurs?”
“Dave,” Karkat gave him a look, “I think I would know if I was a dinosaur.”
“I dunno, dude, maybe we’re all dinosaurs-”
“Okay, I know when to cut that shit off.” Karkat rolled his eyes and let go of his hand to unlock their door. “Seriously, I think… that went okay. Less than horrid.”
“Less than horrid, huh? That’s a big compliment coming from you, are you feeling okay? Are you gettin’ some kinda fluffy feelings from hanging out with Roxy too long, ‘cause like, I get it.”
“Shut up. All I’m saying is this might not have been as much of an ordeal as we thought, this ‘coming out to everyone we know’ thing.”
“Maybe. You might be right.” Dave admitted, following him inside. “But that involved way too many emotions, and I think all my brain’s been used up for the rest of the day for anything that involves more thought than playing Xbox for seven hours straight. You down?”
“Fuck yes.”
#homestuck#davekat#dave strider#karkat vantas#roxy lalonde#calliope's there for like a second#okay to reblog#my writing#this was fun to write!#i. really like writing karkat he's very fun.#also she/her pronouns are used for roxy bc this is pre-them figuring out their gender#this is epilogue non-compliant household but i do want to keep roxy's journey to figuring out they're nonbinary
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From Eden: Chapter 2
Notes: Michael Langdon x Reader/OC. Evil Power Couple fic. It’s difficult to write a summary for this one, because I don’t want to give away the twists. (It’ll also include canon rewrite/divergence for the later half of the season.) It has plenty of angst and fluff, and a bit of character study.
Warnings: Swearing, blood, murder, graphic violence.
This fic is currently in progress.
Chapter One Also Available on AO3
She’d been listening to the steady drip of water hitting the tiles for at least a half hour now, though time didn’t matter much anymore to her, not here. The haze of steam that had filled the room and wrapped her body in its warmth had long since disappeared. She sat on the floor of the shower, her back pressed to the freezing tile, her arms hugging her knees, as the air chilled and goosebumps rose along her skin. Droplets rolled down her back from the strands of wet hair plastered to her shoulders, and she shivered absently, half aware of the cold but too distant to do anything to remedy it.
It’s always been a part of you.
…it will find you eventually.
And you’d do anything to make sure you’re not abandoned. Not again.
Langdon’s voice filled up her thoughts, haunting her hours and hours later. She couldn’t shake him from her mind, couldn’t stop pulling apart what he’d said to her on a relentless loop. Eighteen months and he’d been the first person in this godforsaken bunker to see her. Maybe part of that had been her fault—she’d kept everyone else at arm’s length in an act of self-preservation, but something about him had compelled her to confess, to bear fragments of herself that she’d tried to ignore. What was it? How could a stranger make the words fall from her tongue so easily? It surprised her, even now, that she’d kept her own fear restrained enough to speak with him like that. Langdon—or maybe the impression of him; brooding, emotionless—had scared the shit out of her. She didn’t particularly enjoy the idea of him digging through her soul, chipping away pieces where he saw fit.
But there was still that infuriating part of her that regarded him with a strange reverence. And she couldn’t explain it, not yet. The weight of Langdon’s presence, standing in front of him, it had been unlike anything she’d felt before. It was terrifying. It thrilled her, too, though she wasn’t ready to concede that. It was like he’d made something come alive in her veins with a mere glance, a tilt of his head. They hadn’t even touched—she hadn’t dared to get close enough for that—but she still felt him on her skin, in her blood, breathing deep into the shadows of her soul.
Langdon had stared right into her and found something familiar.
And what he’d said couldn’t have possibly been obtained from whatever paperwork The Cooperative had on her.
A loud, persistent knocking wrenched her from her thoughts. Someone called her name from the other side of the door.
“We keep a schedule for a reason,” Ms. Venable said. Her exasperation permeated the room. “You know I don’t tolerate lateness.”
She exhaled. “Sorry,” she called back, “I had a headache. I’ll be down as soon as I can.”
“Don’t make this a habit,” Ms. Venable warned.
“I won’t.”
Once she heard the slow drumbeat of Venable’s cane fade and the door to her suite click shut, she dragged herself up from the floor of the shower. She knew Venable kept her neurotic schedule and all of her strict rules to maintain order. To give them a life—though that seemed too generous a term for what they had here—full of structure leftover from the old world. It helped some more than others; it’d helped her once or twice when the isolation became too much to handle. It gave the illusion of normalcy. And illusion was all the mind needed sometimes. But now, over a year later, it had started to wear on them in varying degrees.
She was sure that Emily and Tim’s poorly kept secret romance would backfire sooner rather than later. The amount of bickering among the group had escalated to critical levels within the past few weeks, at least by her own estimation. How much more of this could they possibly take? She didn’t know if whatever Langdon offered was true or just a ruse, but at this point she’d consider anything else just to get the fuck away from most of these people. She couldn’t tolerate another afternoon of idle chatter, another dinner spent watching them tear at each other’s throats and obliterating Venable’s fine china and crystal glasses.
A bitter gust of air doused her skin the moment she stepped out of the bathroom. She left a trail of water behind her, not bothering to towel off, hoping the cold that stung her bare body would smack some kind of sense back into her. Or at the very least, help steel her for the night ahead. She dressed as quickly as she could, acutely aware of Venable’s lack of patience for disrupting order.
The nineteenth century-inspired dress she chose for tonight was blissfully free from the abundant lace that plagued most of her wardrobe. A gorgeous shade of lavender, it had full layers of cascading ball gown skirts and an off-the-shoulder neckline. A tiny pattern of crystals adorned the bodice, sparkling under the light of the candles in her room.
Her hair was still damp when she joined the table for dinner, but she’d at least pinned it up into an adequate style, though she was sure Gallant would say otherwise. She wilted a bit under the gaze of Venable and Mead and the rest of the outpost residents, guilty for being the one to hold up their meal. Not that it was anything to look forward to, especially with rations dwindling by the week. She didn’t think the Purples were irritated with her, per se, but she’d become so accustomed to flying under their radar. She shifted in her chair, rearranging her napkin and utensils, waiting for their attention to drift away from her. Thankfully, it didn’t last long; the hum of conversation picked up again, plates and forks scraping as they forced down yet another tasteless cube.
Venable’s unflinching gaze caught her like a helpless insect in a spider’s web from the opposite end of the table. She looked away first, scooping up her fork.
“Are you okay?” Emily whispered from her right, leaning closer. She lifted an eyebrow. “Venable looks like she wants to murder you.”
She poked at the beige cube in the center of her plate. “I’ll live,” she answered. “If only out of spite.”
Emily suppressed a giggle, turning her face into her shoulder to avoid Venable’s hawk-like eyes. She stabbed the gelatinous cube with her fork. “Did Langdon say anything to you yet?”
“No,” she answered. “Not yet.”
The rest of the evening passed as it usually did, the group of them gathered in the library ruminating over their current situation, trading stories about the way things used to be. There was a hush of nervous energy among them all, a quiet worry about the newest occupant of Outpost 3 and what it would mean for their continued survival. Like everyone else, she didn’t know what her chances were. During their brief encounter, Langdon hadn’t given any hints one way or another, only regarding her with the sort of amusement that she couldn’t exactly read.
Gallant and his grandmother provided the evening’s entertainment in dramatic fashion as only the two of them knew how. She shrunk into the corner of the couch, exchanging furtive glances between Emily and Andre while Gallant sparred against Evie, the flurry of quick-witted barbs charging the room with an awkward tension. She could nearly feel the explosion of rage crackling in the air like the wind before a thunderstorm. When at last the aftershocks of their shouting match started to weaken—Evie wearing a haughty expression as if it were a piece of lavish jewelry, an art so refined from her days of Hollywood glamour that it was almost impressive—they moseyed on back to their private rooms for the night.
The rest of the Purples wandered off at intervals after that. Emily and Tim laced their fingers together the moment they crossed into the hallway, as if no one would notice. Coco left in a huff muttering about her own soul-crushing boredom, Mallory obediently at her heels. Andre and Dinah were the last to go, yawning and stretching, bidding her goodnight before their voices drifted down the corridor. She sighed and unclenched her teeth, finally able to release the tension that had worked itself into her jaw from the Gallant incident.
Her skirts rustled around her ankles as she approached the bookshelves. Fingertips skirting along the titles that glittered on the spines, she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth in consideration. She’d finished the book from last night before she’d showered, amazed at her own level of focus. She’d made notes, too; scribbles across notebook paper that were now relics from the old world only because she had some of her college belongings when the alarm went off.
“I knew I’d find you here,” Langdon’s slow, lilting voice mused from somewhere behind her back. “A creature of habit, even now at the end of the world.”
She hadn’t heard his footsteps this time.
“Can’t help it, I guess,” she answered, still inspecting the titles. “It keeps me busy—keeps me from getting depressed about the old world, if I try hard enough. Anything’s better than listening to Coco whine about how much she misses sushi.”
That earned her a low, wry laugh, which made something flutter in the pit of her stomach.
She abandoned the thought of choosing a book and turned on her heel to find him. Langdon stood a few feet away, his hands clasped behind his back, half of his face bathed in golden light. The long black coat lined with buttons had disappeared, but he was still dressed in elegant black from neck to foot. He cut an imposing figure in his tailored clothes: slender, tall, and not a single hair out of place. She kind of hated herself for how captivated she was, how the fear that had gripped her before was beginning to fade.
“You were a college student—an English major,” he recalled.
She nodded. “Would’ve earned my degree if the world hadn’t been nuked.”
“With highest honors,” Langdon said, lifting his chin. “You were an exceptional scholar…not that anyone cared enough to notice. Apart from your professors, of course. Do you miss it?”
She studied the shadows on the floor, thrown by the way he spoke about her life in the old world. Langdon knew intimate details—her feelings, her insecurities—that would have never been of any interest to The Cooperative’s files. At least, she thought so.
“I don’t know,” she breathed. Slow, calculated footsteps brought him closer to her. “Maybe some of it. I enjoyed the learning part of college, not so much the stress and cramming for finals and term papers. It’s a shitty thing to say, but I’m relieved.”
Langdon narrowed his gaze. “In what way?”
“I don’t have to participate in a lifestyle that was never going to make me happy, or satisfy me,” she admitted. “There’s nothing left of that world now…and yeah, there’s always going to be parts of it I’ll miss, but I’m not exactly opposed to a clean slate. Provided your assessment of me goes well.”
She thought she saw that smirk again, just for the briefest of moments. Langdon brought one of his hands up and swiped his thumb along his chin. “Your parents,” he said evenly. “Does it upset you that they aren’t here to share this…new beginning?”
It felt like a stone had dropped into her stomach, a lead weight crushing her chest. The words dried up on her tongue.
“They sacrificed everything for me,” she answered, though her voice wavered. “Their lives, their money. I’m only here because they aren’t.”
“That doesn’t answer my question,” Langdon countered. His voice rose a little, demanding more from her. She swore the temperature in the room plummeted a few degrees. “Does the guilt of their deaths eat away at you?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t lie,” he warned. The command pierced like the edge of a knife. “I know you’re not being honest with me.”
She felt the emotion welling up inside her, burning the back of her throat and prickling behind her eyes. She forced it to stay where it was, but her vision still blurred as the tears came dangerously close to sliding down her cheeks. The hardcover spines on the bookshelf pressed into the small of her back through layers of fabric, and she braced her hands on the wooden shelves just to have something to hold onto. Langdon covered the remaining distance between them until his boots brushed against her skirts. The warmth from his body enveloped her own—she figured his touch would be cold like the undercurrent of his voice, but instead he radiated heat.
“They’re my parents,” she reasoned.
She bit into her bottom lip to keep it from trembling and tasted blood on her tongue. Langdon cocked his head to the side, inhaling as if he could smell it. One long finger reached out to trace down her bottom lip before he took her chin in a surprisingly delicate hold. His hands were much softer than she imagined. Clear blue eyes searched her own; unlike the solid presence of his body in front of her, they were pure ice.
“It’s a very convincing story you’ve sold these people,” he said. “A loving daughter tormented by the guilt of her self-sacrificing parents, who built an empire only to destroy it all to save their only child.” He let go of her chin, but kept two fingers hovering beneath her jaw.
“A noble end for two of the least deserving people on this godforsaken Earth. You were far too kind to their memory,” he continued. “I can see the truth—I have a certain talent for it: staring right into the darkest parts of you that you can’t run from. There’s no reason to lie anymore.” He grinned, and his eyes sparkled in the candlelight. “It wasn’t guilt you felt when they died and you survived. You were relieved. They got what they deserved, didn’t they?”
Her voice broke. “…Yes.”
Langdon’s grin widened, pleased. “You were nothing but a mere afterthought in their lives. An accident they didn’t plan for—of course they never dared to say that in front of you. No…but somehow…you already knew.”
When a sob finally broke free from her throat, he brushed his knuckles across her cheek, then cradled her face in his hand. She shivered at his touch but found herself leaning closer into the warmth of his insistent hold.
“They were selfish, neglectful, and it only got worse once they had enough money to stop worrying. You hated them. All of that fucking rage burned in your veins for so long, tearing you apart until you figured out what to do with it.”
She closed her eyes. A few tears slipped down her cheeks, but he wiped them away with his thumb. The gesture, a simple, fleeting thing, surprised her.
“Your parents didn’t die when the bombs went off.” Langdon’s face was now inches from hers, his breath tickling her collarbone, his voice just barely above a whisper. “I know the truth, I just want to hear you say it.”
She exhaled a ragged breath. “I killed them.”
@lastregasolitaria @mylippo @zeciex @lvngdvns @langdonsdemon @yourkingcodyfern @sojournmichael @gabnelson98 @rainbowrosesjas @antichristlangdxn @keavysmithxoxo @artistlunadrayne @codysfallenangels @batgirlbride @mileeyyowens @dead-witch-boy @boofy1998 @gentianea @cryptid-coalition @langdonsrapture @kinlovecody @yuriohoe04 @electricurie @marvel-rpdr-and-ahs @gallxntdean @langdonscurls @jcshadowkiss-blog @frozenhuntress67 @sebastianshoe @dixmond-taurus @mr-langdonn @bookobssesed99 @sassylangdon @queenie435 @holylangdon @weareallevilmotherfuckers @langdonfern @angsty-otters-blog @denaexr @micheallangdons @lostin-fern @crazedcatcuddler @satansapostle @monsucre @softlangdvn @ritualmichael
#michael langdon#michael langdon x reader#michael langdon x oc#michael langdon x fem!reader#michael langdon imagine#michael langdon fanfiction#ahs fic#ahs imagine#ahs fanfiction#ahs apocalypse#ahs apocalypse imagine#ahs apocalypse fanfiction#fic: from eden
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getting my first vaccine tomorrow!!!!!! had to book my appointment at midnight last night when my age group opened so now i’m stupid tired but it’s nearly vaccine time baby!!!!!!!
#i bet the fucking pandemic covid can suck my dick#a fucking year and a half of isolation and it’s finally almost time to unclench#last time i touched another person was in february i’m so ready for this to be over
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