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irmacornelia · 4 years

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I had a Kalinor fic that I never got around to finishing that im going to cannibalize ideas from for my longfic, so have some of the bits I do have and will probably never finish;

Title: Untitled Kalinor Drabbles Pairings: Kalinor, Cassidy/Nerissa Tags: Pining, minor language, canon-typical violence and angst Rating: T-ish

Apparently everyone has been having the same dream. For a week and a half straight.

Nerissa laughs and suggests magic.

You retort that if you had some fancy magic power, how come you burn the toast every other morning?

Cassidy grins and tells you that you are just bad at cooking.

Three months later you are fighting for your life with your friends at your back. This is a much better way to burn energy and rage than tennis. You think that this is the last year you will have an extracurricular like that (or at all -what with how Kandrakar doesn’t give a damn about your education).

You duck a sword and twist heat and sparks into your palm to shove into your assailant's chest. Fluid and practiced, Kadma twists around and slams a boulder into him as you lean out of the way. A brief moment of eye contact and half-formed :feelings: thrums between you and you both leap back into the fray.

You work well together, your brawler-esque fighting compliments her fluid and reactive style. Yan Lin flits about to deliver death from above and to watch out for threats as Nerissa commands the most amount of attention by your enemies to divert from Cassidy going for the objective. Nerissa is very flashy and does her job well. It’s worked enough times that you and your companions have it down to a routine. You and Kadma pull the grunt work, Nerissa is a massive and threatening distraction tossing lighting and energy blasts, Yan Lin scouts and provides air cover, and Cassidy does the stealing/activating/rescuing. Not that you and your friends can’t do other jobs, but it works best that way. Everyone has a task to do without any prior organizing. Nice and neat and simple(if fighting could be called neat and simple).

Searing another few vaguely humanoid bird-ish enemies and ignoring the acrid tang of burning feathers, you feel like you could do this forever.

You have been doing this for a year now and it shows. Strangers are afraid to make eye contact with you, and you have toned muscles underneath your obligatory dresses. You do average in school and while your parents aren’t too happy at the slight drop, it’s doable. You are often tired and busy, and you are quite a bit more confident (because you can kick most everyone’s ass and you have bigger problems) and get into fights a lot during downtime.

You are so much closer with your companions now, as well. You wouldn’t have dared sitting that close with anyone before. You wouldn’t have dared to lean against Kadma while Cassidy braids your hair and chats about most anything.

Its helped, in part, by the telepathy. You and yours had begun to lean on it quite a bit to explain motives and :feelings:. Twining your Presence with someone mentally was oddly pleasant and comfortable, like a sort of warm hug but for your feelings and not your body.

Explaining this caught giggles from your friends.

Kadma was pretty when she laughed.

You were so screwed and couldn’t ever explain why.

A week later you are nimbly jumping across rooftops with your wings aflutter (they are now almost two feet long each and feel a bit sturdier, but they can only slow your fall a bit). You follow Kadma and Yan Lin with Cassidy on your heels as Nerissa blows up the front gates to a stronghold.

You try to avoid the thought that you would be so very lost without being able to fight for your life.

It’s been two years since you became a Guardian and you are nearly an adult. You have never dated anyone (you couldn’t -you like girls) and Things are going wrong. You don’t know when they started going wrong, but they are. Maybe it started when Nerissa began a harsh training regimen after a close shave on some world you can’t even begin to pronounce the name of(all harsh clicks and sounds no human throat can make for long without becoming hoarse). Maybe it started when The Council refused to give important information one time too many. Maybe it had always been bad, but no one noticed.

Cassidy came to you one day and told you that she was worried about her.

“Sometimes- Sometimes she talks about scary things, Im not really sure I should say what, but I-i’m really worried.”

She wrings her hands and leans back on the park bench.

“I- um We, um, w-well, she sometimes wakes up screaming and-and I think our, ah, Job,”

Cassidy says with emphasis in-case anyone was listening in,

“Is-Is getting to her. You, ah, you know she does risky things but I can’t help but fear it going to get worse. I, ah, I care about her. A lot. And I don’t know what to do.”

Cassidy trails off toward the end into a whisper. You suppose that’s confirmation enough that they are involved with each other.

“I know.,” You say, “I’m not sure what to do either. Maybe the others might be better help, but we can get through this.”

You both are very much aware how the last group of guardians all died before you were even appointed.

You don’t talk about it.

Your research spree to try to find things to aid Nerissa served more as nightmare fuel than solutions, so help from outsiders was out. Thus you ask the others what to do about Nerissa’s increasingly snappish and reckless behavior the day after.

Yan Lin offers up the idea of distraction during downtime, and you all jump on board. If you can distract her from your other life, perhaps she would relax a bit.

And so you and the others spent a lot of time in-between missions trying very hard to be ‘normal teens’. Cassidy taught the group how to dance over the course of a few afternoons and you all end up at one of the local soda fountains about once a week. Nerissa also spends her time composing songs on her flute again, she names one of them after herself and gives Yan Lin a handwritten copy of the sheet music when asked.

For awhile you feel like it’s like it was Before, and you feel happy and everyone seems to be enjoying themselves, but you still feel extra energy to burn curling in your gut. You know Yan Lin is always paying more than a little attention to what’s going on, who is where, and where all of the exits are. Cassidy is stuck to Nerissa’s side like glue and Kadma barely speaks half the time.

(You still all walk silently and twitch at the sight of flashing lights and the sound of metal screaming on metal)

You get a few group shots of the five of you and pretend that the flash didn’t feel like magic firing on you.

You had been spending quite a lot of time with Kadma these last few weeks. In the effort to wind down from constant missions from Kandrakar to far off worlds, you had all tried to do only mundane things with mixed results. You’re pretty sure Cassidy leaves glamours on her bed in the mornings to go sleep at Nerissa’s house without getting caught.

You yourself use telepathy with the others nigh-constantly and your tea never goes cold.

You learn that Kadma can sometimes get :Impressions: from animals while you and her go feed birds at the park. Simpler than ones from you and the others, she says, but there all the same.

You brush your magic against Kadma’s and inch closer.

“Can you show me?”, you say.

Her hand brushes against yours in return and sparks of flame burn along your spine.

The corner of her lip curls upwards and she passes along :Impressions: from the Dove pecking at a sunflower seed a few feet away.

You feel more distracted and fuzzy than you have in ages and Yan Lin grins at you the next day like she can tell and you shoot her a :??:.

She rolls her eyes and replies :Warmsafefuzzy-Presence more-than-before:.

She taps her fingers gently on her desk and leans back a bit, :Kadma-and-you?:.

The thrumm to that last Impression nearly made you choke on air.

You suppose that would be fitting considering whom you are Communing with.

:Almost:

The teacher begins her lecture and that was the end of that.

The rest of the group knows you can heat your body temperature to nice and toasty levels and this is exploited mercilessly once Heatherfield started getting chilly. You are only slightly affronted the first time Cassidy ‘calls dibs’ on one of your shoulders. When Kadma leans against your other shoulder your half-formed complaint turns to smoke on your tongue and you just obligingly turn up the heat.

Yan Lin gives you a wink from her spot at the stove next to the teapot when Kadma shuts her eyes and humms in contentment. You nearly throw the nearby pillow at Yan Lin for the following eyebrow wiggle, but you don’t want to ruin the moment.

#w.i.t.c.h.#kalinor #.txt #star.txt #my fic #fanfic #yes I know I said id finish this like 3 years ago and then never did sorry the historical parts never seemed right #and I am nothing but a worldbuilding hoe and if its not right I didnt want to put it out #so unless I get super good at 40s and 50s history this is staying where it is #maybe one day ill finish a kalinor specific fic lol

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flamehairedwritings · 5 years

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Cups

Characters: Chief Jim Hopper x Female Reader

Words: 1,661

Rating: M, 16+ ONLY

A/N: Hello! Welcome to Christmas Drabbles 2018! For the next seven days I’ll be posting a drabble every dang day with a festive theme. I hope you enjoy and happy holidays!

Summary: Based on the prompt ‘Character A and Character B, sworn enemies, are chosen to prepare the company Christmas Party’, by @alloftheprompts

MASTERLIST

CHRISTMAS DRABBLES 2018 MASTERLIST

Please don’t copy, steal or repost my work; credit does not count.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Oh, here we go.

“Excuse me?”

Arching an eyebrow, you place your hands on your hips as you turn to the source of the gruff voice.

Chief Jim Hopper looks at you incredulously, his hands also on his hips.

“What. The hell. Are you doing?” he repeats in that slow way that immediately makes you feel like a complete idiot.

Clenching your jaw, you raise your eyebrows. “What does it look like, Chief Hopper?”

“It looks like you’re hangin’ tinsel on the holding cells.”

“Oh, so your eyes do work.”

You turn back to your task, a hint of a smug smirk on your lips as you hear him exhale a long breath. You were always able to push your luck because what could he do? Fire you? Yeah, well, maybe, but on what grounds? Stating the truth?

Just try me, Hopper.

You were always just that little step ahead, and he hated it.

“You can’t hang tinsel on the holding cells.”

“Do please tell me why.”

You can practically hear his teeth grinding together. “That’s where we keep suspected or confirmed criminals. We can’t have it lookin’... Jolly.”

“Yes, we can.” You finish sticking two ends of tinsel together and step down from the chair.

And you leave your response at that.

Turning away from him, you move back to the box of decorations, rummaging through it for the multi-coloured lights you’d seen and fallen in love with earlier. Finding them, horrendously tangled, you thrust them in Hopper’s direction, not looking at him.

“Do something useful and untangle these.”

You hear that deep, irritating sigh of exasperation as he takes them and sits down heavily in the nearest chair, getting to work as he mutters under his breath.

If only he’d known Flo had also picked you to decorate the Station. He would have stayed right the hell away. Maybe even gone across to another state. Taken a whole damn week off so he didn’t have to see or think about you.

What he wouldn’t give for one day of relief.

“Come on, honey, come and dance.”

Smiling widely at Flo, you shake your head, your bell earrings tinkling with the motion. “No, I’m all right, thank you, Flo. Maybe after I’ve had a few more of these.” You raise your cup a little. “Then I’ll be able to dance like, oh, what did our delightful chief call it last year... A newborn foal with roller-skates on.”

Flo tuts as she moves closer to your side. “Like he can dance any better. Oh, no, I mean, you are a good dancer, honey,” she swiftly continues when you arch an eyebrow. “Oh, you know what I mean. Oh, if only you two would get along, you have so much in common.”

You snort, raising your cup to your lips. “Yeah, well, he should apologise.”

“Can’t you just let it go and shake hands?”

“I’m not that big a person, Flo.”

It had been three years since you’d started. Three years since The Incident. Since... Since he’d... What had he said again... Urgh, you can’t remember the specifics but it was something incredibly patronising and you hadn’t just let it slide and it had snowballed from there and here you are today.

Staring across the office floor at him.

Your skin prickling in that way it always does when he’s near.

Your heart beating just that little bit faster.

Unable to stop staring at him.

“‘nother beer, Chief?”

Hopper lifts his gaze from his nearly empty bottle to the one Powell holds out to him.

“Yeah, thanks.” Setting the one in his hand down on the table, he accepts the fresh bottle, raising it to his lips for a sip.

Powell stands at his side, gazing out at the cramped dance floor you had somehow made the space for, desks and chairs shoved aside.

“Hey, didn’t she wear that dress at the Thanksgiving party?”

Calvin Powell looks to his chief, then to you, then back to Hopper. “Yeah, I think so. Why?”

“Dunno, just...” Hopper shrugs, lifting the bottle to his lips again as he mumbles, “Make an effort, you know.”

Powell raises his eyebrows. “Says the guy who wears the same shirt to everything.”

“Yeah, but, you know... Women,” Hop finishes weakly, wincing slightly in instant regret.

Powell’s eyebrows rise even higher. “’Women’?”

Apparently relenting to the fact he has to commit to the words that somehow came out of his mouth, Hopper clears his throat and shrugs. “Yeah... Women.”

His officer stares at him. “Uh-huh. Women... Mystifying, aren’t they?”

“Mhm.”

“Annoying when you can’t figure ‘em out, isn’t it?” He watches Hopper stare at you, watching you converse with Flo.

“Mhm.”

“And it’s even more annoying when you wanna go over there, ask ‘em if you can get ‘em a drink and apologise for being a damn idiot all the time.”

“Mhm─” Hopper’s gaze flicks over to him, his eyes narrowing.

Powell shrugs.

Clearing his throat, Hopper opens his mouth, to say what he has no God damn clue, when his eyes find their way back to you and you’re heading into his office.

“What in the hell...” he mutters, irritation swiftly rising within him as he sets his bottle down and strides after you, leaving Powell staring after him.

“How can we have run out of cups already? Hopper was meant─ Well, there we go actually, Hopper was in charge, that’s how we have.” Exhaling a short breath of frustration, you then smile at Flo and pat her shoulder gently as you pass. “I’m gonna go and get some cups.”

Placing your cup down on the nearest desk, you round it and push through the small swing door leading to Hopper’s office. Opening the door, you head inside, not bothering to turn the light on.

Hopper being Hopper, he’d vehemently opposed you using his office as a decoration base but you’d ignored him and stored boxes in there when he hadn’t been looking. Which had actually been easy to do because he never looked. Not that you minded. One bit.

Surveying the array of boxes, you try and remember which ones the cups were in.

Oh, God, where the hell has he put them...

“What are you doing?”

You exhale a low, exasperated sound, opening the nearest box and starting to search through it. “Getting more cups, officer.”

“Did you not put enough out?”

“The drinks table was your jurisdiction, Hopper, it’s the only thing you got excited about. The most excited I’ve ever seen you, actually, I didn’t know it was possible.”

“I get excited about things.”

“Yeah, like what?”

“Knowing you’re not gonna be in.”

You snort.

Wait, what.

You hadn’t been able to help it. You’d snorted. And not a dismissive snort. An amused snort.

And neither of you know what to do.

So you both ignore it.

Clearing your throat and mercifully finding the cups, you pull them out, turn and move to the door, pushing the wrapped stack into Hopper’s hands as you pass him.

You’re so close to the door, so close to freedom and pretending that never happened, when Callahan appears in the doorway.

“Oh, shiiit, look who’s under the mistletoe!” he grins, dangling the fake arrangement above your head.

“Oh, God, never, Phil,” you reply, incredibly grateful for the distraction and trying so hard not to smile.

“Nah, c’mon, you two.”

“‘You tw─”

In taking a step back from Callahan, you meet a hard wall behind you.

Not a wall.

A Hopper.

The Chief clears his throat. “No, Callahan.”

“Come on, just a lil’ peck.”

“Calla─”

“Smooch, smooch.”

“Phil─“

He raises the mistletoe higher. “I won’t let you pass and I reckon I could take you both on. Get in to the Christmas spirit, guys, c’mon.”

“Christ, fine,” you mutter.

You tilt your head back and lift your chin to kiss Hopper on the cheek to just get this over with... but he’s turned his head, too.

Your lips meet his.

Gently.

Gently?

God, you thought kissing Hopper would be uncoordinated, he’s a complete mess of a man, frankly, but this is... This is nice, no, wait, anyway, you don’t spend a lot of time thinking about kissing him so─

Your lips are still against his. You haven’t pulled back. And neither has he.

He seems to realise it the same moment you do.

Drawing your head back so quickly you almost strain a muscle, you stare at him as he stares at you.

Even Callahan goes quiet for once.

For a few seconds.

“Okay, who’s next!” he calls out as he turns and zones in on the next victim.

You and Hopper are still looking at each other.

Your cheeks feel warm and his mouth is open, like he’s fighting for something to say.

He finds it. “Right.”

“Right.”

“Okay.”

You want to kiss him again.

Oh, God.

Clearing your throat, you nod and turn away, start walking, pause in the doorway, and then clear your throat again.

“Put the cups on the table, Hopper.”

“Yep.”

Lifting your gaze, you find him still looking at you.

Oh, God.

“Okay, so I’ll─”

“Actually...”

You blink, slightly startled that he’s interrupted your attempt to leave this situation he should no doubt be also finding awkward.

There’s something in his eyes, though, something that you can’t look away from.

“... I remember tellin’ you you couldn’t put all this shit in here.” He drops the stack of cups into a box beside him as he moves towards you, and you don’t move.

Standing before you, looking down at you, he reaches behind you and pushes the door shut.

Suddenly, pressed against him, your head leaning back against the door, you can name what’s lingering in his gaze.

Lust.

And you know he can see it in your eyes, too.

“What are you going to do about it, Chief?”

“Somethin’ I’ve wanted to do for a long time.”

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#jim hopper x reader #hopper x reader #jim hopper and reader #chief jim hopper #jim hopper #chief hopper #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #flamehairedwritings #my writing #christmas drabbles 2018

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