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keeroo92 · 3 years

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Be My Nightmare Ch18

The Hunt

Word count - 5,487

Quick shout out to @just-another-art-dump for all her help with brainstorming and beta reading the last section. You are a goddess!

Warnings for violence, murder and some yummy spice. Enjoy!

~~~~Previous Chapter~~~~

--------

V blinked to clear away the sleepiness lingering in his mind. A thick haze of confusion gave him pause; did he have another episode? Where was he? He blinked again, forcing his eyes to focus on his surroundings.

The room was one he recognized instantly. Dark blue walls, posters of rock bands and action films tacked up in places. Splashes of light peeked past the old curtains hanging over a two-paned window. The familiar bookshelf, still messily stuffed with comics and tattoo books, right beside a small desk littered with needles, tubes and other accoutrements.

Nero’s bedroom, untouched since his death. His heart sank. Of all the places to find himself…

The artist took a shaky breath and tried to clear the cobwebs clinging to the rafters of his mind. Last he recalled, he was evading capture and bearing a fresh gunshot wound. Foggy, half-formed images danced in his memory of walking, lovely red on his hands and the hem of his pants, his own blood oozing lazily from his thigh.

As if thinking of it made it manifest, pain rocketed up his leg, fiery and unrelenting. He gasped and brought his hands to press the ache away. Was he still bleeding? How long had he been out? Panic teased at him for a beat before his palms registered the bandage and his missing pants.

What in the world…?

The pain slid into background noise as he carefully shifted his weight and sat up, panning his gaze until he found the culprit of his treatment.

Hot damn, how the hell did she find us?!

“Excellent question,” he croaked.

You weren’t awake yet, and faint streaks of scarlet coated your arms as if you tried to wash his blood off but gave up halfway. Hair a mess, clothing wrinkled and a hint of drool hanging from your lips, he’d never seen you so unkempt.

Good, she’s sleeping. Make a break for it, Van Gogh!

Blue feathers swept past his vision but vanished a heartbeat later. He licked his lips. “I doubt walking is wise for now, let alone ‘making a break for it.’”

Fine, but at least strangle her. She’ll only get in the way.

He rolled his eyes. “You do realize she probably saved my life, right?”

Well… I guess. Fine, don’t kill her but don’t let your guard down.

The artist hummed and Griffon made no further comment. Good enough.

He gritted his teeth and forced his aching body to move closer to you. Shadows hung beneath your eyes and he spotted the remains of yesterday’s makeup, nearly invisible with your hair draped over your cheek. He gently brushed it aside.

Your eyes shot open, instantly alert and aware. “You’re awake… How do you feel?”

“I’ve been better,” he replied with a wry grin. “I’ve also been worse.”

The bed rustled as you sat up and tucked your unruly hair behind your ears, a slight frown turning your lips. “Let me get you something for the pain, one sec.”

Once again summoned by his awareness, he winced as a bolt of agony pulsed up to his hip. By the time it faded, your palm held out two white tablets and a glass of water.

“Drink slowly,” you said. He obeyed.

An oddly heavy silence hung between you as he lowered the glass. Unspoken words, questions and answers alike searching for the right way to surface. None broke free from their cages of closed lips as you checked his pulse, your touch more medical than personal.

He hated it.

“How did you find me?” the artist blurted.

“You don’t remember? Follow with your eyes, not your head,” you replied, one finger drifting this way and that in his sight. He restrained the urge to bat it away. “You sent me a message.”

You goddamned idiot.

There was no arguing against the truth. He didn’t remember considering sending a message, let alone addressing it to you. It was a miracle it didn’t end up in the inbox of a stranger.

Still. You could’ve turned him in. After the way he fled your apartment, it would’ve made sense. He took another small sip of water.

“You came even after what happened. Why?”

The finger lowered. Lips pursed, you gave him an indecipherable look. He watched the wheels behind your hazel irises turn; toward what result, he couldn’t say. Regardless, he reveled in watching your intelligence at work.

“Do you remember what you said to my dad? That you loved me?”

His lips twitched. This didn’t bode well. “Yes.”

There, he spotted a twinge of uncertainty in your brow. Worry in the set of your mouth, vulnerability in the wideness of your eyes. “Did you mean it?”

I TOLD you that was a foolish idea.

Vergil’s words barely registered; V’s mind was already spinning, struggling to find an answer. At the time, he thought it was the best way to get your father to behave. By staking a claim to you, he established his willingness to defend you. He hadn’t considered whether the words held weight. The answer you wanted now was obvious, and to voice it would all but guarantee your allegiance. It was simple.

And yet so complicated.

Do I love her? What does love even mean?

Throughout history, love held innumerable definitions. The word was constantly evolving, shifting to encompass more variations than before. The greatest and most enduring tales ever told centered on it, and not a soul on earth could deny its influence. Monuments and cathedrals stood testament to its strength, and endless words written across the centuries praised or cursed its existence.

Love defined humanity.

Yet how could he know if this was it? What did romantic love feel like? How did one classify such an intangible concept? So many tried, and many more to come. Perhaps the nature of love was variable; why else would everyone have a different idea of what it meant?

Love, like art, must be subjective.

So what is it to me?

“I…” the artist murmured.

His path led the same way with or without you, but he preferred the former. When he knew you’d see the product of his work, its quality improved. You saturated his thoughts, scrawled your name across the walls of his mind with a messiness only doctors managed.

Your presence eased his nerves, and no other came close to matching your intellect. A worthy opponent for mind games and machinations, you never failed to amaze him with your ability to force his hand. You protected him and gave him shelter when he needed it most, and not once did you demand he change his methods. You respected his views. In time, you might even share them.

You challenged him, irritated him, turned him on and gave him hope that he may yet escape the cold embrace of loneliness.

And most of all, there was the inexplicable desire to answer your question with truth instead of manipulation. He didn’t want to tell you he meant what he said just to coerce you into being his. Surely that indicated something?

This isn’t a question I can answer in a single word.

V sighed and met your lovely eyes at last, his response as well-reasoned as he could manage. “I’m not sure. It’s… it’s difficult for me to care for someone, it’s been many years since I tried.”

He paused to lick his lips and assemble another sentence. The answer you wanted remained out of his reach, and he refused to give you the one that would serve his plans best. All he offered was the truth.

Even so, it stung to see the half-hidden disappointment on your face.

“But there’s something there I can’t explain. I just don’t understand the feeling, so I can’t name it,” he concluded. A chorus of pained groans echoed in his mind.

All you had to say was yes! What the hell is WRONG with you, do you want her to stick around or not?!

You sighed and shifted your weight. He didn’t dare to comment further.

“I think I understand. It… it scares me sometimes, but I can’t deny that I care about you anymore. I can’t keep hiding.”

V released a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. His heart was pounding, a giddy desire to laugh tickling his throat. Impulse took the reins, and he watched in wonder as his hand moved to take yours.

“You never have to hide again,” he whispered.

~~~~Waras~~~~

Something in his eyes hammered home his words. An earnest, unguardedness that you’d never seen before. Genuine gratitude and honesty, perhaps. You couldn’t look away.

You discarded thought and leaned in. Lips parted and heart hammering against your ribs, frenetic excitement stilling your breath as V did his best to match your movement.

The kiss was gentle, completely different from what you’d shared at the museum or in your apartment. The world melted away. It was just you and him, everything else was just color and noise, polluting the fragile bond you’d formed. Despite the lies and manipulation, past the tricks and mind games.

Somehow, like a miraculous seed sprouting in a rocky cliff face, love bloomed in a heart that had never known it.

When at last you pulled away, a lopsided smile curved V’s lips. The emerald pools of his eyes sparkled with genuine affection, and his palm refused to leave your cheek. You didn’t mind.

In fact, you wanted more.

You kissed him again, harder this time. Lips communicating without words your need, not just for contact but for understanding. Hunger and reckless desire danced across your mouth, your fingers grasping at his chest. You’d never know which of you moaned first; just that the sound sent you careening past the point of no return.

By the time you came up for air, you were helpless.

“Hold still,” you whispered. The artist licked his lips and nodded.

You wiggled off your jeans, panties tucked within. A soft gasp stroked your ego as you pulled off your top and carefully straddled him, his length hardening against your tingling folds. Gods, how you wanted to feel him deep within, feel his body arcing to meet yours as his voice gave out in a whirlwind of pleasure.

But that would have to wait. This time, he needed to let you do all the work.

“If you lift your hips, I’m getting off. Got it?”

His palms traced fire over your hips, blazing over your body as he smirked at you. Damn him, the smug bastard. “Doctor’s orders?”

You almost moaned at the husky tone he used. “Just say yes, damnit.”

His smirk vanished. Lithe fingers took hold of your ass and gently pulled, guiding you to envelop him one inch at a time. His brows met and his lips fell open, his face an expression of sheer perfection your imagination could never capture.

“Yes…” he murmured.

He fit perfectly, stretching you just enough without being painful. The ridge of his head pushed past your inner muscles and sent a shockwave of pleasure throughout your limbs. Your slick walls shuddered at the welcome fullness, embracing his heat like a long lost friend. Like he belonged there.

Like he was coming home.

For a moment, you didn’t move, wanting to memorize the feeling of being with him for the first time. A choice made many weeks past set your life on course to this exact moment, your every decision only bringing you closer. Two stars orbiting each other, closer and faster with each second as two became one in a fiery explosion that shook the heavens.

You smiled, hands snaking around his neck as you rolled your hips. Nerves sang as you moved, crying out in exultant joy. It was torture to move so slowly, such exquisite agony when all you wanted was to slam against his hips and feel his need splitting you in half.

Slick fluid coated him in seconds as you moved. Each movement pulled him deeper, deeper, deeper. Hot breath spilled from his lips, soft moans from yours. His hands gripped your hip bones, urging you to keep going, his muscles flexing to help you rise and fall, guiding you to impale yourself over and over.

Beads of sweat broke out across your back, but you paid them no mind. It was worth it to hear the man curse and gasp, his eyes hooded and skin flushed from your attention. The time would come for him to show you how he liked it, but for now you reveled in the power you held. It took all your strength to keep from bouncing recklessly.

But the artist was no passenger, and his grip shifted to tangle in your hair and drag your mouth to his for a searing kiss. His tongue danced a tango with yours, flicking and darting back and forth to torture you with his intoxicating taste. Whimpers flowed from your throat only for him to swallow.

Why the fuck didn’t we do this sooner?

The artist grinned against your needy lips, his lithe fingers lowering to tease at your core. Your body quivered as he lazily painted bliss over your aching bundle, as if you were his latest canvas. He spewed filth as he hunted for that perfect spot, his touch taunting you with ecstasy long before he struck gold.

“That’s it, right there, come on!” you gasped out, arcing back at the brink of ecstasy..

The artist obeyed, tugging you down again to suckle at your pulse. His lips were heaven on your throat, and his teeth nirvana when he blessed you with a nibble. It was too much and somehow not enough, never enough, never-

FUCK!

The world flashed blindingly white, searing your retinas as you crested. The cosmos raced by, the colors and shapes too beautiful to understand. Brilliance and beauty, a kaleidoscope of life. A silken voice moaned praise somewhere nearby, a wet tongue dancing over your chest between words. Losing control never felt so good.

Beneath your spasming body, V’s hips twitched. He sucked in a breath but the pulsing of his cock against your soaked core didn’t ease, his moans changing to a tone you weren’t familiar with. Lower and louder, more breathy in the grip of his orgasm, resonant and musical. You flexed around him, tightening as much as you could manage to feel every throb.

When at last he fell still, it took all your willpower to dismount and check his bandage for fresh blood. You’d rather have curled up at his side and revelled in the afterglow, but that would have to wait. This wasn’t a feel-good made for TV movie where the realities were tossed aside in the wake of a long-awaited union; life didn’t stop just because two people wanted it to.

If only it were that easy.

Thankfully, you didn’t find any cause for concern. A slight dribble, but already clotting. You made sure the wrapping was still tight and laid back, content for now as his slim arms wrapped around you.

His fingers stroked your hair, lazily pulling apart any tangles he found in the process. It was so peaceful, so normal to just lie there and forget the world, but you didn’t let yourself enjoy it for long. Reality wasn’t going anywhere.

“So, now what?” you asked. “We can’t stay in one place too long.”

V sighed, his fingers stilling. “Especially here; they’ll connect it to me far too easily.”

You rose on one arm, giving him a quizzical look. “Why?”

The artist closed his eyes. His jaw flexed and for a moment you feared you’d gone too far, pried too deeply without thinking, but you didn’t dare try to backpedal.

“This… this is Nero’s room,” he responded at last.

Oh. Oh, no…

There were no words to ease the tension his words brought. You knew full well the efforts he took in order to conceal his past, and here you were, invading it.

Minutes passed in utter silence. An apology lingered on your lips, but without knowing the full story it felt insincere. Not long ago, you would have spoken the words without thought, but now… Now you wanted to only say things you meant.

At last, V broke the stillness.

“We need to move. I’ll…” he paused, as if the words pained him. “I’ll need your help.”

“You have it,” you replied. No hesitation, no weighing of the pros and cons. If he needed you, you would be there.

“There’s only one way to guarantee we won’t be disturbed.”

You sighed, heart heavy but unwavering. “I know.”

“Are you sure you’re ready?” he said, raising an eyebrow. “There’s no going back after this.”

You almost laughed. “There’s already no going back.”

He hummed, satisfied. Yes, you knew exactly what he meant. The only way to make sure you found an unoccupied home…

Was to slay the homeowner.

~~~Nico~~~

Nico gritted her teeth as the flash of a camera blinded her yet again. She hated reporters. They just wanted sensationalist headlines, not actual facts and definitely not to calm the public.

If folks stayed calm, they wouldn’t sell papers.

Damned vultures.

“As I said, this is an ongoing investigation so there’s only so much I can say,” she repeated for what felt like the hundredth time. “Next question.”

The clamoring turkeys all started shouting, arms lifted almost as an afterthought. She wanted to scream at them. “Yeah, you, in the front.”

A brown haired man smiled at her, his comrades falling still for a merciful moment. “Jim Kovelli, Red Grave Daily. How can citizens stay safe until you make an arrest?”

Finally, something she could actually answer. “Thanks, Jim. We strongly recommend people travel in groups of at least two, preferably three as we have reason to believe the killer has an accomplice. All the victims so far were alone when they were… uh…”

Shit! I’m not supposed to mention the victims, or the methods he’s used. We don’t want a copycat.

She struggled to find words. If she tried to start over, the frenzy would only worsen. The vultures knew blood was in the water and they didn’t know the meaning of mercy. Her heart pounded, desperation seeping through her mind. Saying the wrong thing here might get somebody killed. Why the fuck did the chief want her to talk to the press?

I’m nobody! It shoulda been someone more experienced up here.

A heavy tread approached, Tony coming to her rescue yet again. Damnit, this was her first press conference, and she botched it. Even though she knew she wasn’t the best person for the job, she’d wanted to do it well, earn a little respect. How was she gonna look her partner in the eye after this?

“Folks, this isn’t rocket science. Stay in groups, don’t go off with people you don’t know, and report any strange behavior immediately. If you see something, do not intervene but call the hotline. The killer and his accomplice are likely armed and considered extremely dangerous. Don’t be a hero. Next question, please.”

Nico hung her head and stepped back, letting Tony take her place at the podium. Her heart sank, and she sighed. This case was just… it was tearing her apart. She barely ate, and she couldn’t remember the last time she slept through the night. Even showering seemed like a distraction.

“Magda Dunham, Buzzfeed News. What can you tell us about the accomplice?”

Nico glared at the crowd of reporters. Didn’t they realize their incessant questions took time away from the real police work? It’s not like she could review Waras’ file during this charade.

Yet Tony gave a kind, calming smile, seemingly unfazed. How the hell did he do that, keep his face from showing how fucked the situation was? A law-abiding citizen, with no goddamn criminal record and a pristine reputation, now believed to be aiding a psycho killer. It was insane.

“While we can’t release any names yet, we have reason to believe a female is assisting the killer. She is intelligent and well versed in psychology, and may try manipulation tactics or coercion to get someone alone. Again, do not travel alone and be wary of strangers. Last question, guys,” her mentor replied.

A swarm of voices answered him, and he pointed to a face in the back. “Penny Slope, The Weekly. Is the psychiatric hospital going to close, or are you content to let killers stay in the city?��

Tony barely twitched. If she’d gotten that question, Nico knew she would have snapped. The hospital wasn’t the issue here; the killer was!

“We are never content to allow killers to roam our streets, and we won’t rest until our city is safe. All I can say about the psychiatric hospital specifically is that they’re implementing additional security measures and we’re working closely with their staff to make sure our friends and neighbors are protected. I’m afraid that’s all the time we have, though. Thank you all for coming out.”

The horde shouted more questions even as Nico and Tony stepped away. Flashes left her blinking, blinded and ready to smack someone if they got too close, but her partner had her back. His warm hand guided her inside the station and back to the conference room.

“You okay, kid?”

Her vision flared red. She was not a kid. Inexperienced, yes. But a kid?

“No. You know what, hell no! Those piss ants are just lookin’ for a headline, they don’t give a shit that people are dying! There’s a damned murderer out there and all they want is someone to blame! It pisses me off. Not to mention we know who the killer is, but for some reason we still can’t say his name or identify the doctor! It’s fucking bullshit! People need to know who to look for, right now all they’re gonna do is panic anytime someone sticks out!”

She slammed her fist against the table and growled, “And I ain’t no kid.”

Tony tossed his hat on the table and ruffled his hair. His face finally showed something other than a mask of composure, falling into exhaustion as he sat down and sighed.

“I know. You’re right.”

Nico’s jaw dropped. “Wh- what?”

Tired blue eyes met confused brown. “I said, you’re right. It is bullshit. I don’t know why the chief is pussy footing around on this. All I can say is that if you wanna stay on the case, you gotta do as you're told. Especially in the public eye.”

Nico’s rage evaporated at the defeated tone of her mentor’s voice. She pulled out a chair and sat beside him. “But how do you keep it together? How do you stay so calm when they’re asking you such dumbass questions?”

Tony shrugged. “We protect everyone. Even the idiots.”

The young brunette took her glasses off and stared into the lenses. All she wanted was to catch this guy, why couldn’t it just be that straightforward? The press, the people, office politics, it was all just a waste of time.

Hell, maybe if people stopped distracting her she’d have caught the fucker by now.

A warm weight settled on her shoulder. She glanced up at Tony, disheartened and desperate for any answers he could offer. “Hang in there, Nico. You’re a great cop. You just need to get the hang of the crappy part of the job.”

She sighed. “Yeah, I guess.”

Eventually, Tony wandered off and left her to her thoughts. His words helped, but she still wanted to punch somebody. Preferably, the god damned doctor.

I don’t just wanna catch V now. I gotta get her, too.

She picked up her glasses and stood, mind focused once again. She couldn’t give up, no way. A little more work and they’d be hers to arrest, her need for justice satiated at last. Giving up wasn’t an option.

~~~~Waras~~~~

Blood rushed in your ears. Sweat prickled the back of your neck, hidden under the dark hood of your sweatshirt. Cheerful music played on the grocery store’s speakers. It jangled against your nerves as you surveyed the shoppers, searching for a target that fit the parameters you and V agreed to.

Someone alone, preferably small. Not buying enough food for more than themselves. The less attention they pay to their surroundings, the better.

It was all happening so fast, you’d barely had a chance to wrap your head around it. For so long, you’d tried to blend in, tried to hide your deficiencies. The walls you built to protect yourself weren’t meant to crumble, but to last an age. You’d gotten so used to it, you almost forgot normalcy was an act.

But V broke through, first with a whisper and now with a shout. His voice grew louder each day, beckoning you out of your disguise. He was pollen and you were a bee. Madness was no cage to him - it was freedom. Regret held no sway, doubt and hesitation banished from his mind.

The prison you built for yourself was yours to shatter, and choosing a target was just one step closer.

There weren’t many people who suited your needs. An older woman browsing cat food, an awkward teenage boy peeking at condoms, or a person with no obvious gender looking at cereal.

You bit your lip and tried to slow your racing heart. With V’s injury, making the choice fell to you, as did leading the target to an isolated area. The artist hadn’t asked you to make the killing blow, but the end result was the same.

I’m taking part in murder.

The thought held a curious excitement. No fear or disgust, as you knew it should, but a desire to know more. You wanted to understand what it meant to kill, go through every stage of the process and analyze it, piece by piece.

There’s so much I want to know.

You grabbed a box of macaroni and added it to your cart. Not only were you tailing potential victims, you were also getting a few essentials. It helped you blend in, and who knew what you’d find in your victims home? You had to make sure V ate, to get his strength back and heal.

A jar of pasta sauce joined the macaroni. There wasn’t anything else in the aisle you needed, so you left and followed the cat lady toward checkout. Her cart was barren, save for dozens of tins and a bag of kibble. Did she eat cat food, too?

She was the obvious choice. The teenager browsing condoms probably had a girlfriend who’d miss him, and he was too young to be a homeowner. The non-conforming third option left too much to chance. You didn’t have enough information to know if they fit your needs. The cat lady held the least risk.

Step one complete. On to step two.

How do I get her to follow me behind the store to where V’s waiting?

You didn’t have long to decide. She was about to pay, her car keys already in her palm.

Lips pursed, you handed a twenty to the cashier ringing you up and quickly took your bags. Your target was mere seconds ahead of you. No more time to think; it was now or never. You took a deep breath.

“Excuse me, miss?” you began. She was a bit old to be called miss, but most women took it as a compliment. It might help break the ice.

She turned to face you, peering through her bifocals. “Yes?”

Your stomach churned. If you messed this up, you’d have to start over somewhere else, forcing V to travel when every step brought agony. He claimed it wasn’t bad, but you knew better.

“Sorry to bother you, but um… do you think you could help me? My friend lives in the apartments back there,” you paused to point at the cluster of buildings behind the shop. “And he says his cat just went into labor. He’s scared to move her, but he thinks she needs a vet and neither of us have a car! Can you maybe drive us, please?”

You bit your lip and tried to look desperate even as endorphins flooded your circulatory system.

“Of course! I couldn’t let the poor thing suffer,” she paused, glancing to the side. “But… well, with everything that’s been going on, I’m not comfortable going inside. Will you two be able to bring her down?”

You allowed your expression to collapse into relief. “Yes, thank you! Let me show you where to bring the car, it’ll be faster this way.”

“What’s your name, dear? I’m Margaret.”

“Emily. It’s nice to meet you, Margaret,” you replied, pausing just long enough to shake her withered hand. One foot already in the grave.

The woman nodded and followed without protest as you led her behind the shop. The area wasn’t well lit and shadows painted a sinister backdrop over the cold cement. V’s hiding place was just ahead.

“It’s dark back here… maybe we should stay on the main roads, just to be safe?” the woman said. Damn, she was more vigilant than you first thought. You didn’t slow.

“It’s just around the corner, I promise!”

She frowned, but took another few steps to keep up. People instinctively keep moving if the person in front of them does. One more step, and she’d be in V’s range. Your breathing froze, head spinning as you turned around to see him in action at last, to watch the killer in his element.

He didn’t let you down.

Green eyes saw nothing but their target, utterly focused on the task at hand. Despite his injury, he moved with singular purpose. His mouth a thin line, the artist didn’t make a sound as he swung a scavenged length of pipe at the back of Margaret’s head. A sickly, wet crackle and a wheezing gasp barely preceded her collapse onto the pavement.

Whoa… Did he just kill her in one blow?

You stepped closer and pressed two fingers to her neck, checking for a pulse. It was weak and thready, but she was still alive. You said as much to V and rose.

The artist smirked and adjusted his beanie. “Care to do the honors?”

A tattooed hand held out the bloody pipe, as if he were offering nothing more than a turn in a batting cage. Your legs turned to jelly and a flash mob of butterflies careened though your digestive tract. Goosebumps erupted across your spine and you struggled to swallow the golf ball in your throat. You hadn’t expected this, not yet.

“Hm, maybe not,” he said. “That’s fine, I’m happy to demonstrate. Watch closely.”

He limped to Margaret’s helpless body, humming as he crouched down to turn her head towards you. A thin line of blood trickled from her open lips. The briefest pang of guilt teased at you. She’d seemed like a nice person.

“It’s better when they’re awake, but this will do,” the artist murmured. He raised the pipe high.

I’m about to watch this woman die.

Time slowed to a crawl as V struck. His face contorted into a vicious snarl, rage and fury engraved in his features. He was raw and exposed, possibly the purest version of himself you’d yet seen. Animalistic and predatory, thrilled by his supremacy.

And yet…

In the moment the pipe crushed Margaret’s skull and sprayed hot blood across the pavement, there was something else. A sadness almost like grief. A brokenness hidden behind his wrath, as if he were killing a part of himself instead of an unlucky stranger.

And then it was over, the pipe clanging as the artist dropped it. The expression vanished, masked behind a smirk. You wondered if he was even aware of the change, if he felt the anger and the loss.

What the hell did I just see?

But this wasn’t the time to figure it out, as V’s pained gasp reminded you. He’d been upright for far too long, and after a swing like that his wound must be excruciating. You shoved aside your confusion and curiosity, forcing your mind to prioritize your current predicament. Philosophical explorations could wait.

V limped back to lean on a wall as you rifled through Margaret’s purse. Her wallet and keys were all you needed, and the second you had them, you went to the artist.

“The address on her license isn’t far. Come on.”

It wouldn’t be safe for long. As soon as the body was found, you’d have to move again. The best you could hope for was a couple of days, two or three if you were lucky. Enough time for the artist’s wound to start knitting back together and for you to process the last twenty-four hours.

It’s been a long day.

You hoped Margaret had a comfortable bed.

~~~Next Chapter~~~

#Be My Nightmare #my writing #fanfic #v x reader #v x oc #dmc #dmc v #vitale #tw: violence #tw: murder #spicy

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sunevial · 4 years

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Author’s Notes and Commentary

Well, here we are at the end.

When I started writing The Followers, I genuinely didn’t think it would come this far. I wasn’t setting out to write a literal novel’s worth of content (122,655 words between everything before I edit the original Followers fic, to be precise) about some self-insert OCs that some friends and I ended up creating on a whim. When I started with this project, it was supposed to be some fun little things between friends, a little like DMP in that regard: a fun fic writing with friends where plenty of bad things happen. Except like its source material, it turned into something much greater than even its creator could’ve imagined.

Nearly everything that we came up with was pure speculation, because at the time, DMP didn’t have a lot of solid lore to build a more canon-compliant AU (not that I/we were ever trying to do that in the first place, but I digress). Part of me is a bit sad that I was never able to incorporate other Awakened or even write fics centered around the Awakened as opposed to the Followers; at the time most of this was being written, there simply weren’t enough characters in DMP for me to have a cast I could write with. By the time there were, there was no way I could take on another project of this size. The Followers fit that niche of having a relatively large cast with varying interpersonal dynamics that DMP now has, and at the very least, I am glad to see I was able to predict something in the major narrative.

This being said, as a person, I love making self insert characters for stories and media. In my eyes, if I can see myself or a character I have made interacting with a world someone else has created, that piece of media has made a world that others can see themselves in. Even in its early days, DMP created a world that I felt could be expanded upon beyond what we were explicitly told, which is how the Followers really came to be in the first place. Even if none of it is canon, the lore of the Followers still reasonably fits with the information we were given in Season 1, and that makes me happy.

(No, I’m never updating this to explore what we know as of season 3.)

A lot has changed since I started writing the Followers, and more broadly, writing anything for myself again. For those who didn’t know, I had a lot of hangups writing fanfiction for a long time due to some events in my past, and it wasn’t until DMP that I felt both inspired enough and comfortable enough with the community surrounding it to branch out into fic writing once again. Throughout this two and a half year journey, material and backstory elements were fleshed out behind the scenes, quite a bit of stuff got retconned within the Follower’s AU, and overall, I have quite simply changed as a writer and a person. I’ve made a lot of amazing friends (and a significant other) in this process, interacted with a lot of wonderful people, and in something that surprised even me, some of the DMP cast themselves have read my work. It’s really helped me break out of my shell and branch out into other avenues, and I genuinely don’t know where I’d be without writing the Followers.

So, to everyone who has been here on this journey, whether you helped develop the characters (shout outs to my fellow creators, Onyx, Missfoxx, ArcherOwl, Arahul, CollectorOfMyst, Caaarl, KyleTheWarrior, you guys are sincerely wonderful and amazing people to work with), been an avid fan of the series, or have simply enjoyed watching all of this from the side lines: thank you. I couldn’t have done this alone, and I’m glad to have gone on this journey with you all.

The Followers: Agents of Stories

I’ll be the first to admit that I didn’t have a working theme going into this whole novel long journey, but I will be touching on some of the various themes I began to weave into the story as time went on.

The truth matters.

The truth is the single most driving factor throughout the series. Characters uncover each other’s backstories, Young Priest learns the real reason why the stories of the Followers have been so inconsistent, Vincent learns the truth about his wife, and even the readers of this fic learn the truth about the lore I’ve created for this AU. Wanting to know what is really going on is really the driver of any modern narrative, because it’s often the readers who are in the dark since we can only experience things from (typically) one perspective as we read.

Truth, like history, is often written by the victors and people in power.

Murder God and the Followers are experts at lying. To them, truth is a tool, and whoever knows the truth has the most power. The truth is complicated, the truth is messy, and for beings that powerful, the truth is objectively dangerous. If word gets out Gale is the Witch’s daughter, if too many people know Young Priest’s sister is in the Void, if people learn that Priestess actually cares about Lieutenant, that gives other people power over them. This is where the idea of unreliable narrators also comes into play; there’s simply things that the reader doesn’t know because of who’s POV they’re experiencing the world through and what they’re going to care about letting other people know. They don’t want people to know the truth. I

A story’s message is more important than the truth.

Good narratives and good historical records rarely intersect well. There’s always going to be embellishment, stuff that is left out or skimmed over, or timelines that are changed to better suit the story someone is trying to tell. Because the truth is often written by people in power, it makes sense for the general scope of the narrative to be prioritized over getting every single detail correct. No one actually cares if Witch lost her pregnancy, if Huntress was killed by another god, if Advisor actually feared something happening to him. People care about the Witch, the human who has fallen from grace. People care about the Huntress, bringer of vengeance and the hunt. People care about the Advisor, collector of knowledge and secrets. As long as the mythos is served, who cares about the truth?

General Questions

What is the order the Followers joined?

Old Priestess, Lieutenant, Witch, Bookkeeper, Advisor, Huntress, Part Timer, Young Priest

What do all of the Followers represent in terms of game rolls?

Old Priestess and Lieutenant are the Murderers, Witch is the Witch (you can save someone and you can kill someone), Bookkeeper is the Minion (aids the murderers but does not partake in the killings), Advisor is the Seer, Huntress is the Gunslinger, Part Timer is the Doctor/Bodyguard (protect one person every night), and Young Priest is the Gardener.

How many of the Followers have been replaced?

Less than you think. Witch is the last in a long line of typically human or quasi-immortal witches who didn’t survive. The Young Priest position has changed hands multiple times due to that role actively needing some human morality to work properly, which usually results in minds being broken or rebellions taking place.

Can Old Priestess and Lieutenant bleed?

Old Priestess, yes. Lieutenant, no, but I suppose he could make blood if he really felt like it.

The Masquerade chapter mentioned something about Priestess having "ichor" that helped stabilize Bookkeepers' blood. What is that quote un quote ichor?

It’s just her own blood. Priestess donated her own blood to help stabilize Bookkeeper.

How many years did it take for Bookkeeper’s legs to heal? Are there any scars?

Time doesn’t really exist in the Void, but if I had to put a number to it, about ten years. There are some very small scars, but they’re not easy to see. Bookkeeper also never wears anything that isn’t long sleeved, so take that as you will.

Could you stick your hand through Part Timer’s eye hole? How does he function with half of his skin gone? Does he get blood everywhere?

Yes, you can, but you’d soon hit red strings. His muscle tissue and bones are held together with magic and magic alone, so his ‘undead’ side needs blood only in the vaguest sense. That being said, his clothes are almost always bloodstained to some extent, so that blood has to come from somewhere.

What are the Followers’ opinions on sleeping? Do any of them need sleep?

None of them need sleep. Most of them are too busy to ever want sleep. Huntress occasionally lies down for a nap, and Witch slept a fair bit while she was raising Gale.

How do Advisor's…emotion switches work? Could they get unwillingly triggered by something?

The switches are more metaphorical. The idea is that since he understands how emotions are processed and created and how he responds to them, he can willingly enable or disable his ability to feel them. This also means he can, in theory, control his mood at all given times. However, as shown in Inter Spem et Metum, if he has had no reason to experience a certain emotion until that exact moment, it can temporarily render that control useless, as he doesn’t know enough about it to control it.

Can any of them get sick? If yes, what could cause it and how would they get better?

Biological illness, no. Curse based illnesses, yes. Typically if one of them were to get cursed by something strong enough to hold, Witch would be the one to break it. She’s their primary curse breaker. If Witch gets cursed, the others know enough about curse breaking to get her out of it.

Can they get sick from something their own bodies do (ie. hives from stress, allergies)?

Almost all of their bodies are so infused with magic that most problems that would plague mortals aren’t as much of a concern. It would be a little bit like, say, Aphrodite getting hives from stress. While she might look human, she’s definitely not, and a lot of the problems that come with being human don’t apply.

When did Retribution take place?

Before Part Timer joined. That’s the closest to an actual answer you’re going to get.

How many of the Followers actually know each other’s stories?

Everyone has an inkling of the truth of the others, but only Witch and Bookkeeper have let the others know their full story. Bookkeeper has never really cared, and Witch was all but forced to tell her full story.

Are there any ships that the creators ship among the Followers?

Old Priestess and Lieutenant is shipped by Old Priestess’s creator (Missfoxx), Lieutenant’s creator (Onyx), and me. It’ll never be canon, because Lieutenant doesn’t know what love feels like and Old Priestess will never admit her own feelings, but it is a strong ship between the three of us. Bookkeeper’s creator (Caaarl) and I actually ship Bookkeeper and Witch due to their unspoken bond they developed being the only former humans amongst ancient deities and eldritch entities. Again, non canon, but it’s definitely an exploration for both of us how the two of them would cope with such traumatic transformations.

What actually happened with Vincent’s wish in Chapter 20?

This was intentionally left vague due to it being from Vincent’s point of view, and Vincent calls himself not a smart man. Essentially, Murder God and the Followers caused a timeline divergence due to their canon ability to fuck up timelines as they so desire. Gale still married Vincent Marshall Reid, but he simply just died in the war overseas and never took Murder God’s deal. Vincent Marshall Reid of DMP canon instead grew up in West Virginia and married Abigail Crane. Essentially, the two of them exist in different timelines now, unable to ever interact again in any meaningful way.

Is Gale going to be okay?

Gale is Witch’s daughter. Witch refuses to let Gale get mixed up with the cults. Even with her current actions and making a deal with Murder God, Gale is considered a free agent and always will be a free agent. She and the kids will be fine. Star sickness isn’t a thing in the Followers AU either, so she won’t be coughing up goop.

What is actually going to happen to Young Priest in Chapter 21?

That’s meant for reader speculation; part of the horror of the Followers is not knowing specifically what they’re willing to do to someone and how far they’re willing to go to make someone into the image they need. I’ll probably expand on how I think he turns out once everything has been done to him, but I can tell you this. His eyes are turned a solid sparkling blue.

#the followers #the strings that bind us together #don't read this until you've read chapter 21 #or do #there's spoilers under the readmore

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alaina-achilles · 4 years

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((practice challenge - all prompts included here:))

Dreams.

Dreams are a funny thing, right? As a kid, you have so many dreams, I’m gonna be this when I grow up, I’m gonna wear this when this happens…

But how many do those actually happen?

I always feel like I dream differently than other people. Well, not all dreams, but some particular ones. And when I have a dream that I feel so strongly about (usually they are things that I actually dreamed about during my sleep), I write it down, in my dreams notebook. And well, there were so many of them.

Okay, I’m getting distracted again. So, right now, I’m standing in the middle of my bedroom, screaming.

Because I have just graduated from college and I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing with. My. life!!

“Alaina?” Mila, my younger sister asks as she runs into my room and jumps onto my bed. “What happened? Who broke up?”

“The prince and Evie.” Another voice says and we both turn around to face our older sister.

“That’s old news, Lexi.” Mila drawls. “The Selection’s here already. Remind me again why aren’t you guys applying?”

Lexi rolls her eyes and pushes Mila to make space for herself on my bed.

“Well, back to the drama queen here. What happened?” Lexi asks, looking at me in confusion. Mila follows her gaze before they drop to the sheets of paper on my desk.

“What are those?” Mila asks in curiosity. She makes a move to take one of them, but I beat her to it by shoving them all into a messy pile.

“That.” I say as I shove them into a folder and slip it in between two books. “Is private.”

Well, they are actually job applications. I got a bit impulsive just now and flipped through my notebook of dreams, randomly selecting a few dreams, printed out the job application forms and filled them in.

“It’s not important.” I add as I see my sisters looking at me with narrowed eyes. “They were just weird random stuff that I did which I should’ve never done and I will throw them away tomorrow afternoon.”

“You can always be a teacher.” Lexi comments, knowing what I’m stressing about. “Mom likes her job a lot.”

“But I’m not Mom.” I point out as I flop onto the bed next to them. “I mean I love kids, but I just… I just can’t see myself being a teacher. Nor a lawyer like you.”

“I’m gonna be a psychologist. A therapist. A something related to psychology.” Mila replies happily. Sometimes I wish I was 13 as well. She turns around to face me. “And as a future psychologist, I think you should give writer another try. I mean you have published a book!!”

“But it’s not a best-seller. It’s only popular because it’s about a cliche bad boy story that many teenage girls like reading about.”

“That’s not true. I think there’s a lot of potential in your writing. You just need to have inspiration, write a good book and be famous.” Mila finishes with a smile.

“I think Mila’s got a point there. Just give it a go. One year. And if you aren’t writing a best-selling novel at the end of the year, just become a psychologist like Mila will be. You have the bachelor degree.” Lexi points out. I think about what my sisters said and decide they are right.

I’m gonna give writing another try.

----

“ALAINA LEXI MOM DAD COME NOW!” I hear Mila screaming from the bottom of the stairs. I put down my book in annoyance and go downstairs.

“What is it, honey?” Mom asks.

“THEY’RE GONNA ANNOUNCE THE SELECTION RESULTS!!!” Mila all but screams.

“Oooooh!” I cry. “I do wanna watch this! Dramaaa” I sing.

“I don’t know why you two are so excited for this! It’s not like any of us entered our name.” Lexi drawls, but sits down next to us on the couch while our parents sit down as well with an amused smile.

“I know many girls who did. I would like to see who’s gonna be on the tv screen for the next few months.” I explain, without looking away from the tv screen. The TV zooms to a closed up of the Prince who has a relaxed smile on his face that does not really reach his eyes. I don’t blame the guy though, it must be rough for him to jump from a supposedly stable relationship to well, 35 girls. Definitely glad I’m not the prince.

“Maybe it’ll be Delilah. She’s pretty and nice.” I comment.

“Or Faye. She’ll be quite the drama queen.” Lexi says.

“SHUSH!” Mila hisses. Lexi and I roll our eyes at each other and turn back to the screen.

“Miss Alaina Achilles of Atlin, Three.” The reporter announces.

Alain-

WAIT WHAT??

I vaguely hear my family screaming and questioning me, but I can’t hear anything except my heartbeat as I run into my room to check the folder that I meant to throw away a few afternoons ago but forgot.

It’s gone.

And then I scream.

Because, one of my dreams I made when I was six was to be in the Selection, to be a princess. And I thought it’d be fun to fill in the application a few days ago. BUT I NEVER MEANT TO SEND IT.

Then my eyes widen as I realize what must have happened.

“CAMILA DAISY ADRIANNA ACHILLES. I’M GOING TO STRANGLE YOU TO DEATH!” I yell as I run downstairs to kill my younger sister.

----

Four hours later. I’ve finally stopped screaming and attempting to murder my sister.

“How did you even do that, Mil? I thought you had to have your photo taken and everything?” Dad asks.

“Um… I kinda wrote a letter saying that Alaina isn’t feeling well and can’t make it to the applications and sent in a photo instead.” Mila explains in a small voice. “I swear I didn’t know they would allow that…”

“Wait…” I say suddenly. “If you sent out my application. SHIT MILA DID YOU SEND OUT ALL OF THOSE APPLICATIONS I FILLED OUT?”

“Language!” Mom cries but we all ignore her. It’s not like I ever swear anyways.

“Yeah… All six of them.” Mila admits in a quiet voice.

“AND THIS GETS EVEN BETTER!” I yell, throwing my arms into the air. “Do you know what those applications are? As an elf writing letters back to children for Santa Claus, and… and.. And… I don’t even want to rename the applications i filled out for. They were all crazy.” I mumble to myself. “Maybe the Selection is already the least craziest one.”

“See?” Mila says gleefully.

“Oh shut up, you little- I can’t even find any words to describe you. I’m not talking to you.” I yell in anger. With that I storm up the stairs into my room.

Oh no.

What has my little sister got me into?

----

By the time I am to leave Atlin, I am feeling slightly better about this whole thing. Thanks to Lexi and Dad. They convinced me that this will be a nice and unique experience and a change of scenery will probably give me more inspiration for my writing. And I finally get to be on a plane! I’ve never been on the plane before, not because we can’t afford it, but Mom has an extreme fear of flights. We usually went travelling in other means of transport.

My heart is pounding in my ears as I climb the stairs up to the plane. This is it. I’m going to be on a plane!

"Sorry if I'm bothering you, but I'm Sara Nguyen. I hope we can be plane buddies? And who knows maybe a permanent bud for the rest of the selection?" A voice says, interrupting my thoughts. I look up to see a girl smiling at me. She motions at my luggage. "Would you like a hand?"

My eyes widen as I realize she must be another selected. Wow, this is really happening, I’m really in the Selection. I quickly collect my thoughts and straighten my clothes to make sure it’s tidy. My parents have always taught us to be clean and tidy, especially in front of strangers.

“hi Sara! I’m Alaina Achilles! Sure I would love to!” I say to Sara with a bright smile. “and thanks for offering, but I think I got this!” I place the luggage to its place and sit down next to the empty spot next to Sara. I look at the two girls opposite to us, one is falling asleep and the other barely acknowledges us. Well, I guess not every Selected is nice. So I turn to Sara instead, she seems nice. “Have you ever been on a plane before?”

She tells me about the times she’s travelled and when she learns that this is my first time, she surprises me again by offering her hand for me to squeeze.

“I-“ l begin as I look at Sara’s hand hesitantly. “I mean thats very nice of you bu-“ the plane starts to move and my eyes start to widen and immediately reach forward to squeeze Sara’s hand. She is nice enough to pretend not to see my hesitation and just let me hold her hand while she talks me through the take off. I like this girl. I decide.

“Thanks. But you’re right, I’m glad I got on this plane! At least now I have a new friend?” I ask. I have never been alone without at least one of my sisters with me before and I know I will miss them very much.

"Just holler my name and I'll be there for anything. I've got tips for most things. If not I'll create one on the spot." Sara answers with a nod. I do a happy dance internally. "I think we are indeed friends. After all it would be rather awkward if two strangers held hands. Either way I'm glad we both get to be on the same flight." She proceeds to tell me about her favorite things about being on a plane and I look out the window and agree with her. The view is amazing! We chat more about the flying experience and being the writer I was, I tell her how lovely it’ll be to be able to write about this experience. My new friend immediately offers me her notebook, but I once again decline politely. I know once I start writing, I’ll ignore everything around me and I don’t want to do this to Sara and miss the opportunity to get to know her. So I just tell her that I’ll do it later and enjoy the moment now.

Sara asks me if I’ve ever written anything that she might’ve read. I hesitate as I thought of my published book. A few years ago, at 16, I wrote a cliche bad boy story named “the Bad Boy Ruined my Project” and published it online. Because it’s cliche and about bad boys, teenage girls immediately took a liking to it and two years later, I got a publishing offer. I was ecstatic and accepted it. Ever since then, my agent has been pushing me to write a new book. And that’s when it became complicated. I was 16 when I wrote that cliche book and at 18, I’ve matured and changed and honestly, my book wasn’t that well-written, it just suited the taste of what teenage girls wanted to read. I’ve tried telling this to my agent and she kept telling me that was bullshit and if I wanted to be a famous writer, I had to please my readers. This is one of the reasons why I decided to start thinking of pursuing another character. I want to write things that I want to write, not just things people want me to write about.

But at the end of the day, I am grateful for my book and its success. At least it got me noticed.

So I tell her about my published book and she tells me about her career. Sara is to take over her dad’s company. Sensing this isn’t her favorite topic to talk about, I change the topic and ask her about siblings.

We quickly get into a fun conversation about siblings and I can already tell we’re going to be the best of friends in the Selection. Hopefully.

And for a while, I feel like I’m home again as we laugh and joke about the Selection. About how dramatic it will be with 35 girls under the same roof, going after the prince. About how weird it will be to have a brother joining the selection! (Sara said her brother almost joined HAHA). We are enjoying our conversation so much that I don’t even notice we have landed.

"We're here," Sara breathes out as we both look out the window. I smile as I take in the surroundings around me. I’ve been here before during a long road trip, but the airport is totally new to me.

“It’s beautiful!” I exclaim. Then, I turn to face Sara and put out a pinky. “Okay before we get off, let’s make a pact. Let’s promise to let this selection ruin our budding friendship.”

"It honestly is. Last time I came here I was 13 years old." Sara replies with a shake of her head. She looks at me and smiles as she sticks her pinky out and links it with mine. "I promise that this selection will not ruin our friendship. You know you can call me by any nickname. I prefer them rather than Sara. My family call me bun."

And she manages to surprise me for the third time. Wow, a nickname. I can tell it’s not something she goes around letting people use.

I laugh and give her a hug. “Bun.” I say. “I love that. it’s so cute and so you!” We break away when one of the other girls clears her throat and tell us it’s time to go. I smile embarrassingly and roll my eyes at my new friend as we begin our journey to the palace. And because of Sara, I already feel a hundred times better about the selection. If all goes wrong, I know at least there will be one genuine friend who will go through all of this with me together.

"This is reserved for you. It's strange if someone else calls me that. So welcome to the Bun club." She says with a straight face but that didn't last long because she ends up giggling. She shakes her head as the other girls hurry us. "Well, let's see what is awaiting us." She smiles encouragingly at me.

I laugh at her words and nod. “Honored to be in the club.” I look at the other girls amusedly, as they check their makeup. “Let’s see!” I say as I pull my new friend along with me.

Sara nods as she links arms with me humming happily as we both get off the plane. "By any chance can I call you Al?" She pauses as she thinks about other nicknames. "Or Lai? Or Achi! Or do you already have a nickname you are comfortable with?”

I cock my head to the side and think about her question. I don’t really have a cute nickname or anything like hers.

“My sisters call me A.” I say with a giggle. “But Achi sounds so cool as well! Just call me either!” I add, like the sound of Achi.

"I'll call you, Achi then!" She replies with a grin. "It's my own personal nickname.”

“Achi.” I repeat quietly with a smile as I follow the guards escorting us.

Bun and Achi.

I like this combo.

----

Sara and I enter the palace together where we are immediately ushered into a huge room. People keep pushing me from stall to stall, asking me questions, but answering those questions themselves before I can even think of an answer. Luckily, they didn’t need to do too much to my hair and body as Mom always makes sure we are well um groomed. I only got my nails painted and fitted into a red dress. I’ve never seen myself as a red person, I’m usually more of baby pink, purple, white and dark colors. But I have to admit the red dress looks amazing.

I then proceeded to have an interview where I told them a bit about myself and then my makeover.

By the time, I finish the interview, I am so tired that all I want to do is go back to my room and read or talk to my sisters.

Oh wait, I’m still mad at Mila.

Oops.

====

((THANKS @itssara-oc ANA FOR THE WONDERFUL RP ♡ i love the connection between our two girls:))

#practice challenge #challenge #alaina #selection oc

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hailing-stars · 5 years

Text

Thanks to @irondadbingo for putting all of this together!! It was an amazing idea!!

Trope: Peter Wearing Tony’s Hoodie

Summary: 2 times Peter steals Tony’s hoodie, and 1 time he doesn’t have to

**it’s a fix-it, kind of, so it does contain spoilers for Endgame and if you’re staying away from Far From Home trailers, it’s kind of spoilery for that too

like the sun

Peter waited for it, with his bare arms cold, huddled against his stomach, and with bare feet, hanging off the deck, just inches away from brushing the top of the water with his toes.

That morning, the breeze was light, but it kicked water up off the lake, and that was enough to make him shiver, to make his feet and legs just as cold as his arms.

He should’ve put on shoes, or at least socks, but he didn’t have any. Not any that wasn’t borrowed from someone else.

Still, even cold and underdressed, he waited for it, for that couple of seconds when the sun would rise up and hit the water at just the right angle. It was beautiful, and more importantly, it was the same.

A lot changed in the five years Peter Parker was dead, but he could still count on the sun to come up the same way it always had.

Tony’s cabin by the lake was beautiful too. He built a beautiful life with Pepper and Morgan, and occasionally Rhodey and Happy. They dropped by for visits a lot, even now, as well as other mismatched Avengers, just looking to say hello or thank Tony for his sacrifice.

It wasn’t lost on any of them that Tony could’ve lost more than his arm.

A stronger gust of wind blew off the lake, and Peter rubbed at his arms, trying to get warm. It didn’t help much. He needed a jacket. One of his jackets, but they were all gone. Looted after the snappening, like the rest of the items in May and Peter’s old apartment, like the rest of their old life.

Stolen from them. Gone. Everything was gone.

Peter took a deep breath, to remind himself that he could. That he had life, even if it wasn’t the same as the one he lost, and he should feel grateful to have it.

Some mornings being grateful was harder than others.

“Pete?”

He turned his head and saw Tony walking down the deck, towards him, with a cardinal red hoodie in his hands. He handed it over to Peter, and after he accepted it, sat down next to him. Peter looked at the hoodie in his hands.

White letters across the chest spelled out MIT, and now that it was closer, Peter noticed the red was slightly faded. He slipped it on before Tony could order him to do it. Warmth spread over his arms, and across his back, as Tony stretched his arm over him and pulled him closer.

That was another difference were life then and life now. A positive one.

He had died as Tony Stark’s intern, as Iron Man’s protégé, but came back as his child.

Evident by a hug that knocked the air from his lungs, by a kiss on the cheek in the middle of a battlefield, and by the way all that affection was so freely given once they were all home safe, under the roof of the cabin by the lake.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” said Peter. “I’m good.”

“Oh right, that’s believable,” said Tony. “You’re out here, barefoot and freezing to death this early, when you should be sleeping, because you’re good.”

Tony’s sarcasm, and his way of forcefully and accurately calling him out on bullshit, that was the same, just like the sunrise.

“I like watching the sun come up,” said Peter. “It’s the same every morning, when there’s no clouds, and I don’t sleep well at night, anyway.”

Tony sighed and squeezed Peter’s shoulder, brought him closer to his side.

“You know, it’s okay if you’re not good,” said Tony. “I’d understand. We’d all understand.”

Peter took another breath, a deep one in, then exhaled. Again, trying to remind himself he should feel grateful, but it didn’t work. Something about Tony’s presence, his arm around his shoulder, forced honesty. Another something that hadn’t change. Another good thing to add to his list to convince himself that this new life was good, and still held glimpses of the one that was dead.

“Everything’s so different now,” admitted Peter. “The world… just kept going, some of my friends are in college-“ he looked down at his hand, his fingers, where red and gold fingernail polish was chipped and starting to fade “-You have a daughter.”

“She’s amazing, isn’t she?”

“Yeah.”

She was a difference, and another good one. Peter had always known Tony wanted kids, but he sort of always thought that he’d be there in the hospital when they were born, that he would hold them as babies.

Morgan was four, and constantly reminding everyone that she wasn’t a baby.

And Peter wouldn’t change that. Not for anything. Morgan was perfect, and playing with her, letting her paint his nails red and gold, made Peter stop keeping track and making lists of all the things that were different and all the things that were the same. Peter just wished he wouldn’t have missed so much of her life.

Or so much life, in general.

“I know I shouldn’t feel sad,” said Peter. It felt wrong to even admit it out loud, especially to Tony, who’s sacrifice made his breath possible. “I know I should be happy to have another chance, but I just can’t. At least not all the time.”

“I get it,” said Tony. “And its okay. You’re allowed to grieve for your life before, for what you lost and still celebrate being alive. It’s okay to feel both, nobody’s mad at you, and no one wants you to feel guilty about it, alright?”

Peter looked at Tony, meeting his brown eyes, and nodded, slow and unsure, then turned his eyes back to the treetops. A breeze ran through the leaves as gold light peaked through the empty spaces it left. The sun was almost up.

“There wasn’t a second you were gone I didn’t miss you, or that I didn’t feel awful for not being able to save you, but still, I couldn’t regret the way things turned out, because if they didn’t turn out that way, maybe I wouldn’t have Morgan.”

And yet, when given the chance, Tony put his beautiful new life on the line so he could have them both. Peter didn’t know if he’d ever be able to repay Tony for his gamble.

Life was pretty complicated and messy, filled with contradictions and emotions that contradicted themselves but somehow never cancelled each other out. It was more complicated now, after the snaps, but the sun still came up over the trees in that just right angle to cast a goldish, greenish, turquoise light out onto the lake, just the way it did every morning, when there weren’t any clouds.

Peter and Tony sat on the end of the dock, huddled close together, and watched the array of colors that were reflected on the lake, and once the light show was over, they went back inside. Peter fell back asleep on the couch, with nothing but Tony’s hoodie keeping him warm. Hours later, he woke up to the sound of Tony and May laughing together in the kitchen, and to Pepper and Morgan playing outside on the porch.

A couple of days later, when boxes of clothes arrived for Peter and May, he held onto Tony’s hoodie, stashed it away and plotted to never give it back. Weeks after that, when it was time for them to move back to Queens, Peter stuffed the red, MIT hoodie into the very bottom of his suitcase.

He needed to take a little bit of home with him.

“Hey Pete,” said Tony. He was under a car as Peter rounded the corner and entered the garage. His greeting stopped him dead in his tracks and made him wonder how Tony knew it was him. “How was Europe?”

“Uh. It was okay.”

Peter walked further into the garage, and as he did, his eyes got caught on a blue hoodie that had been tossed over the back a chair by the worktable. He inched towards it, while Tony was preoccupied under the car.

“Just okay?” There was skepticism in his voice already, as if Tony sensed out his lie just as accurately as he sensed his arrival.

“I mean, it was fun,” said Peter. “But it was still for school, you know, so we had chaperones watching our every move.”

“Good.”

Tony didn’t need to know by chaperones Peter meant Nick Fury and his SHEILD friends. He didn’t need to know about the mission Fury had given him, or about Mysterio and their impromptu fight, which resulted not only in a very defeated illusionist, but also, in the destruction of the MIT hoodie he’d brought into battle with him.

Peter slid a hand over the blue hoodie on the chair and picked it up reading the Stark Industries logo printed across the front. He looked at Tony again, making sure he was still under the car, then slipped it on over his head and inhaled its scent. Home. It smelled like home. Like Tony.

“How’s MJ?”

That was another secret he needed to keep from Tony. Peter didn’t need him or anyone else in his family knowing someone else had figured out his secret identity. Tony worried about him enough already. Besides that, MJ was harmless. She wouldn’t out him, and she knew how to keep a secret, unlike Peter.

“She’s good.”

Tony rolled out from under the car, sudden and abrupt, and from the look on his face, Peter knew he was caught in something.

“I saw the strangest thing on the news,” said Tony. He grabbed a cloth from the worktable and began wiping grease and dirt off his hands as he advanced towards Peter. “Something about out of the ordinary weather occurrences, and oh yeah, what was it? A molten lava man terrorizing cities?”

“Oh,” said Peter. He played with the strings of the hoodie he was in the process of stealing. “That’s weird. The media’s really taking this whole fake news thing too far.”

“I suppose all those pictures of Spidey fighting the lave monster are photoshopped, then.”

“Yep. Has to be.”

Tony stared him down, with dead, no nonsense eyes that communicated to Peter that there was no use pretending. He gave a defeated sigh, and took a seat on the chair, wishing he had MJ’s sense of secrecy.

“So, I might have run into just a little bit of trouble in Europe.”

Tony continued to stare at him. “Normally you can’t wait to come and babble to me all your Spider-Man hijinks, never mind the heart attack they give me, so you wanna try explaining to me why this is a secret?”

There were too many reasons, and he didn’t want to share any of them with Tony. There was the multiverse the Avengers accidentally created by screwing around in the past, there was the very real need to protect Nick Fury from Tony’s wrath, and then there was Mysterio.

He’d tricked him, betrayed him, tried to kill him.

It wasn’t something he was ready to talk about, and if he were still keeping track of all the things that were different now, and all the things that were the same, he’d added betrayal to the lists of things that were true on both sides of the snap.

“What happened, Peter?” asked Tony, again, and this time, his arms were crossed.

The words flew from Peter’s mouth without his permission. Rambling was a second nature and spilling his guts while trying to protect a secret continued to be one of his deepest flaws. It didn’t help he was trying to hide it from Tony. He hated lying to him. Stealing his sweatshirts was fine, but lying, that hurt too much. It crossed a line.

Once Peter was finished not a detail of his trip was spared, and the garage got quiet. Tony simply blinked back at him, silent, and seemingly processing, until outrage twisted its way into every line on his face.

“Fury ruined your summer vacation.”

“It’s not like that – “

“-he put you in danger. You could’ve died.”

“I could die just walking to school in the morning.”

Tony’s expression turned harder, and Peter wondered what was wrong with him, wondered how he thought his latest statement would improve the situation. He shook his head, trying to snap himself out of saying all the wrong words.

“He needed me. The world was- “

“Is,” corrected Tony. “The world is always in danger. He could’ve found someone who’s not a teenage to help him.”

“Without you and Nat there really aren’t that many viable options.”

“Oh really? What about Thor?”

Peter shifted on his chair, feeling a sense of deja vu. “He’s still traveling around the galaxy with those dance-off guys.”

“Carol – “

“-probably has a more important crisis to solve,” said Peter. “Look, I’ve been through this whole list once before.”

The garage went quiet again, and Tony released a deep, loud breath. He pulled Peter off the chair by his arms, pulled him in for a hug, then kissed him on the forehead.

“I’m glad you’re okay.”

“You don’t have to worry about me so much,” said Peter. “I’m not that breakable.”

More wrong words, Peter knew, because Tony would never stop worrying. He’d literally broke apart into tiny dust particles in Tony’s arms.

Tony tightened his hug, then released. “Go play with your sisters.”

“What are you going to do?” asked Peter, but he had a feeling he knew. Tony already had his cellphone out of his pocket, and he imagined Nick Fury was about to get an earful. Part of Peter wanted to listen, and that he hadn’t just been order to go play with his – “Wait, what? Sisters? Did you adopt someone else?”

Tony didn’t answer. His phone was pressed up against his ear as he waved Peter away, telling him to get lost.

Peter left the garage, telling himself it had more to do with curiosity and his need to escape with his new hoodie unnoticed than it did the actual order.

He walked into the cabin through the front door and followed the noise to the living room, where Morgan and Nebula were sitting on the couch. Their eyes were glued to the screen, and Nintendo Switch controllers were locked in their hands. They were playing Mario Kart, and from the looks of it, Nebula was letting Morgan win.

She didn’t, however, let Peter win after he joined their game. They both battled hard. They both shouted at each other when the blue shells were deployed. A win by blue shell was a cheap win, and everyone knew that. They were in the middle of a close race when Tony walked into the living room and ordered FRIDAY to shut off the TV.

“I’ve been yelling that dinner is ready for ten minutes,” said Tony.

When they all sat around the dining room table, Peter had the nerve to look at Tony and ask, “How did your phone call go?”

“Very productive,” he told him, as he piled a mountain of broccoli on Morgan’s plate. She frowned at it, and at him. Tony moved on to slicing the ham at the center of the table. “Nick Fury isn’t allowed to talk to you unless he goes through me first.”

“Oh,” said Peter. Nebula capitalized the time Tony was distracted with the ham, and scrapped half of Morgan’s broccoli and dumped it onto her own plate. Morgan rewarded her with a grin. “Just until I’m eighteen, right?”

“Yeah, sure,” said Tony. “Until you’re eighteen.”

Somehow, Peter doubted he was being sincere.

Tony’s tennis shoes squeaked against the sparkling white floor of the new Avenger’s compound as he sped through the halls of the medical wing. The plastic bag he gripped was dripping drops of water everywhere, just like his hair dripped down the back of his neck onto the back of his shirt.

Outside, it was pouring. Inside, his kid was in a numbered room, hurt, lying on a hospital bed.

Tony needed to get to him.

He quickened his pace, separating himself further from Pepper and Morgan, who tried, only half-heartedly, to keep up with him.

“Tony, slow down,” said Pepper. Her voice was loud, echoed off the walls, even though her gritted teeth.

He kept going, at the same speed, and eventually his search led him to turn a corner, leaving Pepper and Morgan out of sight.

Tony watched the numbers on the closed doors get bigger and bigger as he continued through the halls, until he came to the door with numbers that matched the text message May had sent him.

The one that had Peter inside.

He paused with his hand on the doorknob, shut his eyes, and prepared himself for the awful sight of a broken kid, of his child bruised and bloody and unconscious, but when he finally willed himself to turn the knob and open his eyes, that wasn’t what he saw.

Peter was sitting up in his bed, smiling, surrounded by flowers and get well cards and presents. His arm was in a sling, his face was a little bit bruised and he had a bandage covering his forehead, but he was alert. He was fine. Better than fine, actually, by the looks of him.

“Oh, hey Tony,” said Peter, with a grin splitting his face.

Tony was still standing at the door, staring at him. “They said you were in a serious car accident.”

“I was.”

“They said you had a major surgery.”

“I did,” said Peter, with a shrug. “It’s over now.”

Over. Just like that. As if Tony didn’t just almost have his entire world yanked out from under him, again.

He took a breath and tried to let the panic leave his chest.

“I heal fast, remember? It’s a spider thing,” he told him. He grabbed the glass of apple juice from his bedside table and sipped on it through a straw. He looked up at Tony, then cringed. The smile left his lips. “The car’s totaled. I’m sorry, Tony, I know you worked really hard on it.”

“I don’t care about the stupid car,” he said, with an exhale. He left his panic and his anxiety by the door and walked over to sit in the chair next to Peter’s bed, holding up the wet, plastic bag as he went. “I brought you something.”

Hesitantly, Peter took the bag and looked inside. His smile came back, like a light in the dark, as he pulled a red, Iron Man hoodie away from the plastic.

“This is awesome,” said Peter. The plastic bag fell, forgotten, to the floor, while Peter struggled to put on the hoodie with his one good arm. When he had no success, he looked at Tony. “How… did you know to bring me this?”

“Kid,” said Tony. He knew Peter well enough to know what he was really asking, to know he was really asking if Tony knew about all the hoodies of his that had seemingly walked out of his home since Peter came back from dust. “You’re not sneaky.”

First, it’d been his MIT hoodie that never returned, then the SI hoodie that disappeared from the garage. It had become a pattern after that. Hoodies left out whenever Peter was around would inevitably become Peter’s. Once or twice, Tony left out a few on purpose.

“Sorry,” said Peter, but he didn’t sound very apologetic. “They just remind me of home. When I’m not there and I’m wearing one, it’s like I’m carrying a piece of home with me.” He paused, then looked away. “I know it’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” said Tony.

If only Peter knew how much he lived for those words, those words that confirmed to him that he thought of the cabin by lake as home, and if only he knew how much he loved him, it’d be impossible for him to believe for a second Tony thought anything he had to say was stupid.

Peter offed Tony another, small, shaky smile. “Help me put it on.”

“Nope. Absolutely not.”

“Why?”

“You’ll hurt your arm,” said Tony, as he gestured to his cast.

“I won’t. I promise,” said Peter. He gave him puppy dog eyes. “Please?”

Tony gave in and helped pull the hoodie over his head and down over the rest of his body. His casted arm stayed under the fabric, but he managed to get his good arm in the sleeve.

“Thanks, Tony.”

“Petey!”

Morgan zoomed into the room, leaving Pepper behind at the door, and jumped up onto Peter’s hospital bed. She tackle-hugged him.

“Be careful,” Pepper told her, but she wasn’t listening. She clung onto Peter, who hugged her back with his functional arm.

“It’s okay, Pep,” said Tony. “He seems to be the one made of iron.”

“And now I’ve got the hoodie to prove it.”

“Peter,” said Morgan. She let go of him, scooted backward and sat at the end of his bed. “Dad was so worried about you, then I was too, but mom said everything would be okay, because spiders have nine lives.”

Nine wasn’t enough. Three thousand wouldn’t be, either. Not for his kids. He didn’t say so out loud. If tonight taught him anything, it was that he could stand not to worry so much, especially it if was affecting Morgan.

They stayed with Peter for hours. It was long enough for him to tell them multiple different Spider-Man stories that made Morgan laugh, and that made Tony’s heart jump to his throat. It was long enough for Peter to wear himself out talking, and for Tony to discover that was, indeed, possible, and long enough for Peter to admit his arm was getting achy again.

Tony alerted a nurse, who gave Peter more pain meds, and ten minutes later, he was out cold, just like Tony knew he would be. Morgan was cuddled up next to him, also asleep. It was a miracle. Tony’s entire world fit just on that one, small hospital bed.

He brushed the hair back off Peter’s forehead. “I love you, kid.”

“Mmhmm,” said Peter, quiet, with his eyes closed, mostly asleep, but not as far gone as Tony had thought he was. “Like the sun.”

“The sun?”

“Sun’s the same, every morning,” said Peter.

On both sides of the snap.

Tony finished it for him, because he was sure that’s what he meant.

Peter and his lists of all the things that were different and everything that was the same. His search for everything and anything that could tether him to his life before Thanos snapped his fingers and took five years from him. Tony could be that for Peter. His anchor, and his home.

Tony watched Peter’s chest move up and down, watched breath moving out and in, to remind himself that Peter could breathe. He dabbed his eyes with his thumb, then spread a blanket over his kids, so they wouldn’t get cold.

#irondad #fanfic #peter parker #tony stark #irondad bingo #irondad and spiderson

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silverfootstepswrites · 4 years

Text

Amaryllis | Chapter 2

< Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 >

+++

The marketplace wasn't a crowded jumble of noises and smells. Uniform stalls lined the big streets. Merchants waited with their hands folded, smiles in place. They only spoke when spoken to.

The sterility felt very wrong.

A market, as she remembered it, was always overflowing. With smells: Meat roasting on spits, bread baking stuck to the sides of hot ovens. Spices from faraway lands, mingling with spritzes of perfumes from oddly-shaped bottles.

The only thing stronger than the smells were the sounds. Merchants yelled over the bleating of goats, squabbling with their neighbors if they offered a better price. Their children shrieked with laughter and chased them around the legs of adults. Running under the tables and sending displays askew when their feet caught on the cloth.

"I'm afraid this will be much smaller than what you're used to," Sasuke had warned her on the ride down to the city. They had carved the infrastructure into the sides of the mountain. The roads spiraled up the sides of the slope, with the city trickling down the incline. These roads were paved, and there was rumored to be running water in even the smallest houses.

It struck her as odd that the castle was so far-removed from everything else. She was so used to the marketplace waiting just outside the walls of the palace. Voices calling "Lady Sakura" so clearly when she was young. And then "Your Grace" when her mother and father were no longer there.

She remembered the hushed whimpers that rose in the streets when news had arrived of her parents' death. White flowers spilling into the waters around the palace. The endless chorus of thousands of bells swaying in the wind. The entire city was shrouded in her mother's favorite color: a deep purple fit for a queen. She didn't remember much of those days apart from being held in her aunt's arms and the way her cousin's clammy hand tightened around hers as the empty pyres burned bright.

"What sort of place is Plumeria?" asked Sasuke, pulling her from her memories.

Sakura was already smiling as she thought. The busy city of Plumeria was where she had grown up. It sat at the bottom of the Southern Tea Isle. Its port rarely sat empty as vessels filled with tea and silk set out to the far corners of the world. In their place, merchants came in with grain and vegetables from the mainland. Others came from greater distances, ships groaning with spices and textiles in a dizzying array of colors.

The Haruno family had found a home on the island after a long journey across the ocean from the east. She had grown up hearing the story a thousand times.

The island nation had struggled to fend off the attacks of the vicious mainlanders. Its people had called the land 'Aiga' then. And their peaceful fishermen were no match for the pale invaders with their heavy metal suits and their great beasts that trampled them with hard feet. When the Haruno's arrived, they came with spices in a dizzying array of colors and smells. They brought tea leaves, which grew beautifully in the tropical sun. They also had something that they called 'gunpowder' that made it very easy to make the men in metal suits stay far away.

The Haruno's and the islanders formed a partnership. The islanders' way of life would be preserved, and their foreigners found a home after many months of travel.

The story went on, and the details of how that small noble family had become a duchy of the Forest Kingdom was long and complicated. In the end, all that mattered was that the Southern Tea Isle supplied the entire kingdom with tea leaves and high quality silk. As the secrets to silk production were jealously guarded, no one had ever come close to producing fabric of such quality. The Haruno family's coffers grew as noble ladies clamored for gowns made of the precious material.

Around this time of year, the hills would be filled with the bright green leaves. Workers would be bent over in the rows, plucking the harvest and placing it in their baskets. In the afternoons, the air would fill with the aroma of roasting tea. All the while, the rush of the ocean waves would beat against the coasts of the island. The tides pulling boats home as fishermen rinsed and folded their nets in preparation for the following day's work.

There were no words to describe her home. She had tried and failed countless times. To call it "beautiful" was an insult. It was busy but never rushed. Peaceful but never silent.

"It's perfect," Sakura finally managed to say.

The capital city of Plumeria was built on the water. Each building was held up on wooden supports. And the ones that could afford stone used that instead. The white-washed homes sported red or blue roof tiles. And a series of wooden walkways connected one building to another. During high tide, boats pulled up right beside homes, bobbing on the salty waves as people yelled out their greetings. Just recalling the details made her feel like she could taste salt in the air again.

When she glimpsed Sasuke's face, she suddenly pitied him for not carrying the memories of such a place inside of him. And so she painted a picture for him.

The clear waters of the sea reflected everything from the palace to the sky and the clouds above. On calm days, it looked like the palace sat on a great mirror. None of the great works of art could do the place justice, she claimed. And Sasuke simply nodded.

Sakura had grown up wandering the stone halls that were cool even on the hottest days. Admiring the ethereal glow of the white stone in the torchlight. The islanders didn't really believe in doors because they blocked the path of good spirits who came bearing fortune. Instead, there were large archways from one room to the next. And when more privacy was needed, white curtains were hung up. Whenever a strong sea breeze swept through, the curtains billowed and waved like the skirts of so many dancers. Giggling, Sakura had spun through the fluffy fabric, marveling at the sun-warmed dance partners they could become.

The smell of the salty sea clung to her hair and clothes no matter where she went. Barefoot and breathless, she tiptoed the halls and squealed with laughter when her father caught her sneaking around after bedtime and threw her over his shoulder. She remembered drinking sweet coconut water and biting into mangos with the juice dribbling down her chin. All the memories piled together, filling her with warmth even on the coldest nights on the mainland.

Sasuke blew out a long breath. "That… sounds amazing. I've always wanted to see for myself. My tutors always called in one of the great wonders of the south," he commented. And then he cast the approaching market with an odd look. "I'm almost ashamed to be bringing you here now. This must seem like a joke to you."

Sakura laughed. She barely watched as Kaze ambled down the steep path. "It's true. Everything seems small in comparison to a port city," she answered. "I miss it so." Her laughter trailed off, turning into a sigh. She turned in the direction of that distant home, imaging those rushing waves and the smiles of the people who welcomed her back.

+++

Sakura's first memories were of an island filled with people who she loved and who loved her in return. Mother was away often, because being Queen was a difficult job. But Mother sent her love in messages often. And when Mother was home, Sakura never left her side. Clinging to the end of her dresses, snuggling up in her lap in the throne room.

One foggy morning, during one of the long periods of Mother's absences, Sakura had woken to the urgent voices of men echoing through the halls. The room was dark. She opened her mouth to call for her father. But then she heard the voices again.

Blanket draped around her, she snuck out to see what was going on. The end of the blanket dragged along the tile as she padded out of her room, out into the misty morning. She navigated the familiar walkways with ease, straining to listen over the roar of the ocean waves. Eventually, she found her father sitting in the throne room, white hair messy from sleep. But his dark eyes were intense as he listened to the men. His right hand gripped the armrest, knuckles popping out. Left hand under his chin to keep his weary head up.

Sakura stood in the doorway, watching. Waiting until her father noticed her. It never took him long. He held his hand out to her.

"Your Majesty, the reports from the border have been growing more urgent. We desperately need you back in the capit-" one of the men insisted. The talk cut off when Sakura ran through their legs, bare feet sleeping against the stone floor. She sat in the crook of her father's powerful arm so he could lift her into his lap. It was the world's safest and most comfortable place.

"Continue," Father prompted.

Sakura knew it wasn't polite to interrupt adults. She patted the back of her father's hand once. And then she watched his stubbly chin, waiting. When he finally bent his head down to listen, she whispered in his ear.

"Is something bad happening?"

"In a way, sweetheart," he answered with a brief smile.

She gripped the front of his shirt. "Is Mother alright?" She couldn't help but worry. It had been months since she had last seen her mother. And there were bad people in the world who wanted to hurt her. That was why there were the good guards at the palace to keep them safe. But what if the good guards hadn't been strong enough?

Sakura's gaze rose when she felt her father's hand, clumsy and big, stroke her head.

"Your Mother is fine. You can stay and listen if you're very quiet," he suggested.

And as Sakura stared up into his tanned face, she loved the way the corners of his eyes crinkled. The way his silvery stubble shown in the lantern-light.

"I'll be very, very quiet," she promised.

"Good girl," he said.

Sakura remembered dozing off. Because when she opened her eyes again, they were standing at the dock. The sun was already rising over the waters. She blinked, slowly focusing on the men running back and forth lugging trunks and barrels onto the ship.

"Daddy?" Sakura mumbled, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

She felt her father shift her in his arms, the blanket still draped around her. The thick green and teal tassels brushed against her hands. And though he usually reminded her to call her "Father", he didn't correct her this time.

"Yes, Sakura," he replied.

"Are you leaving home? To go to the border?" Sakura queried. His eyebrows rose.

"You were listening," he mused. And then he let out a heavy sigh. "Yes, dear. We're going to the capital. It'll be our home for now," he answered. Sakura's forehead puckered.

"But this is the capital. Plumeria's the capital, isn't it?" Sakura said, confused. She was even more confused by the way he chuckled.

"It is. But I meant the capital of the entire kingdom. We get to live in an even bigger castle in Leaves. And that's where your mother is. Isn't it exciting?"

"I do miss Mother," Sakura admitted. But then her shoulders drooped.

"What is it, Sakura?" her father asked.

And then Sakura peeked up at him again. Because her father was always so kind and never raised his voice. She hoped it wouldn't hurt his feelings to say what she was thinking. The way he smiled at her made her think it would be alright.

"Whiteriver Keep is ugly," she admitted. Because the place where she lived was so pretty, day or night. The castle in the capital was not a beautiful place. It was a castle with fortifications and siege weapons. Fortresses were big, hulking things meant to fight wars. Even from a young age, Sakura understood that there was no beauty in something like that.

"And that means I have to leave Auntie behind. And then Sasori can't come either. So who will I play with? And who will help Shizu fold bedsheets? Or pick the flowers to put in Mother's room?" Sakura fretted.

Her father let out another sigh. He patted her back. "Sasori will come to visit often. And I'm sure you'll make many friends. There are so many people who can't wait to meet you," he comforted her. Sakura's frown eased a little as she took in his words. She met his gaze to slowly nod. He smiled.

"Come. We'll have breakfast while they finish preparations," he boomed in a cheerful voice as he turned to take them back to the palace.

+++

"Watch out, General," she heard Sasuke say. His voice pulled her back to the present.

Sakura looked up. She found Sasuke's hand hovering near her elbow, like he couldn't decide whether to touch her or not. And then she spotted a man rumbling down the road in a cart piled high with cured meats. They moved to walk closer to the buildings. The man tipped his hat to them in thanks as they passed.

"Wasn't there a special word for the market where you come from?" Sasuke questioned. They paused to peek in at a stall selling fresh berries harvested in the mountains just that morning. Sasuke handed the woman a coin. She passed them a tiny basket filled with fruit in return.

"Bazaar," Sakura replied. The sound rolling off the tip of her tongue. Sasuke muttered the word beside her, stumbling over the foreign sounds as she took a bite of a strawberry. It was sweet, the juice rolling down her chin. Sasuke laughed at her before he offered her his handkerchief.

They perused through the other wares. There were trinkets from foreign lands and books labeled in unfamiliar languages. There were bracelets made from smooth jade beads, which she hadn't expected to see so far west. There were also bolts of fabric that claimed to be made of silk. But her nose wrinkled as she passed her hand over the rough weave.

What surprised her most was how no one called Sasuke by his name. Some of their gazes lit up with recognition, but they simply addressed him as "My Lord". She gathered rather quickly that Sasuke kept his identity as a prince hidden, likely for security purposes. Although she was unsure of how subtle he was with two guards trailing after them.

At noon, Sasuke took her to a tavern for a meal.

"My mother would faint if she could see us here now," Sasuke whispered as they settled at the wooden table. It was a clean little establishment, with a bard crooning in the corner, and just one drunkard slumbering at a table in the back. The bartender eyed them with suspicion as they walked inside, but that was the standard behavior for any bartender.

And then he smiled a secret, conspirator's smile. "I hope it's to your liking."

"You will never see me turn down a tavern stew," Sakura assured him. And Sasuke's expression brightened a little.

Sakura raised an eyebrow as the two guards sat at a separate table.

"Too good to sit with us?" She commented.

The larger of the guards jumped out of his seat. "No, ma'am. It's just not proper, ma'am. How can commoners like us sit with people such as yourself?"

The smaller guard nodded along with his partner.

Sakura took those words in. Thinking. She crossed her arms across her chest. And then the corners of her mouth turned up. "Proper. Yes, while I appreciate your concern, you've missed one detail."

Both of them looked at her now.

"Propriety dictates that an unmarried woman should not be dining alone with an unmarried man. Rumors spread about them. I would feel much more at ease if you were to sit with us. For my reputation's sake," Sakura said.

The two guards glanced at each other. Silently mouthing words and gesturing with jerks of their head. This went on for a long time before they got to their feet and moved to join her. Sasuke watched the exchange, but his face betrayed nothing.

"Forgive me, sirs. I'm having trouble remembering your names," Sakura greeted them as they sat.

The larger guard bolted to his feet again. "I beg forgiveness, ma'am. We never gave them. I'm Juugo."

The smaller guard bowed his head, both hands planted on the tabletop. "I'm Suigetsu."

Sakura dipped her head toward them in return.

"Thank you for accompanying us today, Suigetsu, Juugo. It puts me at ease to know that you two are here," she stated.

Juggo's face began to turn a shade of red similar to his hair. Suigetsu coughed, his gaze flickering from Sakura to his companion.

"Well, if rumors are right, I don't think you have much need for us. Word gets around, you know, General," Suigetsu said with a nervous laugh. Sasuke's eyebrows rose. And then they pinched together.

"You are speaking to an esteemed guest of our kingdom. I will not have you sour her stay with frivolous rumors," Sasuke's voice whipped out, suddenly sharp.

She waved a hand, drawing Sasuke's attention once more. "Oh no, please. I rarely get the chance to hear of my reputation. Usually it's whispered when I'm not around. I'm terribly curious," Sakura insisted.

"Um…" Suigetsu hesitated, wary eyes darting to Sasuke once more. But when Sakura nodded, Suigetsu grimaced and spoke again.

"Well… they say not to make an enemy of you, General." And then he spotted Sasuke's expression and added, "I think it's a compliment, really!"

"They say you slew a hundred men on your own at the Battle of the Deadlands," Juugo spoke up. Quietly.

Sakura wasn't smiling anymore. "What else?" she prompted.

Juugo met her eyes as he uttered: "They call you The Heartless…. But you don't seem like you are."

And just as suddenly, Sakura's smile returned.

"Rumors are not called facts for a reason. It wasn't a hundred men, and I wasn't on my own," she corrected him. As if he hadn't said the second part at all.

She regaled them with the true story of that particular battle. And when Sasuke asked for more, she told them of other adventures and campaigns. Of swords clashing and sparks flying. Of the roars of the soldiers as she shouted for their support. She noticed that the bard had gone quiet, and the drunk in the corner was awake, watching them with bleary eyes.

It was easier to remember it like that anyway. All glory and triumph. Not the way those memories really lived inside her head. Echoing with the screeches of the crows as they feasted.

After lunch, they returned to the city to finish their tour.

The capital city of the Mountain Kingdom was called Ispolin. It was built into the southern face of the mountain, carved into the stone. Goliaf Castle sat on top of it, with a clear view of all the miles of forest that coated the faces of the mountain range.

Ispolin was a bit larger than Plumeria. It owed its prosperity to the mines carved deep into the mountains. Workers ripped iron ore from the insides of the tunnels, carting them out to be processed and sold. It was no surprise that the Mountain Kingdom was also famous for its weapons and strong armor. Mines further to the north were also known for harvesting aquamarines that were coveted by all its neighbors.

"This is lovely craftsmanship," Sakura remarked as she picked up a sword at the blacksmith's stall. The blacksmith himself was hard at work inside his workshop. She could see him standing by the heat of the fire, muscles gleaming as brought his tools down on what looked like the beginnings of a sword. The older man watching the weapons on display also glanced back at the blacksmith. He gave a vague grunt of approval before he turned back to Sakura.

"May I?" Sakura requested. The old man gestured to the wares with a nod.

She picked up a sword. Her gloved hand tightened around the simple hilt. The iron was lighter than she expected. She raised it to admire it in the light. The blade glinted when she turned it at just the right angle.

"Excellent balance. And such beautiful attention to detail," she murmured.

"You've got a fine weapon yourself, M'Lady," the old man noted.

Her leather scabbard hung from her belt, as it did almost every day. She carried a falchion, sharpened to a deadly edge on one side. It was light enough to be used one-handed, and that gave her the advantage of speed. A smaller version of this weapon was what her father had used to first teach her to defend herself. And this particular blade had been a gift from her Aunt a few years ago.

"Can't really put a lot of weight behind it, though," he then observed, squinting at the shape of it.

An odd smile appeared on Sakura's face. "Weight isn't necessary. A few well-placed cuts can bring anyone down. Don't you agree?" she quipped in return.

And then she set the weapon back in place on the display. The old man turned quite pale as he bowed

They went on walking. Sasuke eyed Sakura. "I thought you were a bit young to be a General," he confessed.

"Thought?" she repeated without looking at him.

"Thought," was all Sasuke said in response.

Sakura glanced over her shoulder at him. "I knew there was a reason I liked you, Prince," she declared before she hurried on ahead to the next street.

As they perused the wares in various stalls, Sakura began to notice a pattern. While many stalls sold jewels that had been polished and cut, few merchants sold any real jewelry. At best, the gem hung from a simple chain. She made a note to herself. This was something Sasori would love to know.

She stole a glance at Sasuke, who met her gaze with a nod. "Ready to go?" he asked.

They rode back up to the palace late in the afternoon. The guards parted ways with them along the way. Bowing far too many times as they did so.

"I apologize about the state of the fish. I can speak to my father about finding something to suit your taste," Sasuke offered.

"It's alright. No sense in crying over something I can't have yet," Sakura waved him off with a laugh.

And then Sasuke's forehead wrinkled. "Before I forget, I never got a chance to ask," he added. Sakura nodded.

"I was thinking about what you said. About reputations. What do they say about me?" inquired Sasuke.

Sakura squinted up at the sky. She could see clouds gathering on the horizon. But they were far enough that perhaps the storm would miss them. Kaze's ears perked up, as if he were listening for the storm too.

"Well, you're known as somewhat of a heartbreaker," Sakura admitted.

Sasuke's mouth puckered. Like he was trying to decide whether to be offended or not. In the end, he gave a shrug, saying, "You have two options. Either you're cruel and the woman leave crying, or you're kind and they don't leave at all."

"How terrible it must be," she retorted.

"It is. I've had them follow me to every social event of the season. Some threaten to kill themselves if I won't marry them. One woman even crawled into my bed at night. It's unbearable."

"Well, find the least insane one and just marry her. People like us don't love, Prince. We breed," snorted Sakura.

"Breed?" he repeated, face contorting.

Sakura ran her fingers through Kaze's mane. The horse tossed his head, ears twitching. And then he glanced up at her. She smiled and rubbed her palm along his neck in apology for bothering him.

"A ruler must be intelligent and charismatic. Level-headed and just. Beautiful as well. People don't follow ugliness," she listed. She met Sasuke's gaze with a pointed look.

"We are better than the common folk. Our carefully-curated pedigree guarantees that," Sakura added. A smile flickered across her face before she whistled. Her horse broke into a run, dashing along the path. Leaving Sasuke to watch the swish of her perfect ponytail as she galloped ahead of him. As he opened his mouth to call out to her, she looked over her shoulder at him, suddenly smiling again. As if that conversation had only happened in his head.

Supper, that night, was an exercise in self-control. As Sakura struggled not to roll her eyes.

"A party?" Sasuke repeated.

Naruto's fork, heavy with roast meat, froze on the way to his mouth. He tried to meet Sakura's gaze, but she wasn't looking at him.

Sitting at the head of the table was King Fugaku, holding up his glass so a servant could fill it with more wine. Queen Mikoto sat to his left, chewing silently like any good lady should. To his right, in the seat of honor, was Sakura. Who ran her tongue along the edges of her teeth, listening. Her eyes barely flickered upward toward the king at his sudden announcement.

"Just a small one. To welcome our guests," Fugaku said before taking a sip of his drink. Mikoto nodded.

"A wonderful idea," she agreed. And then she turned to Sakura.

"General, please don't worry about your attire for the evening. I will have my personal tailor sent to your quarters tomorrow. He can work his magic in time for the festivities," Mikoto assured her. Sakura, who had lifted her goblet to her mouth, pulled it away to return the smile.

"Thank you, Your Majesty," Sakura replied.

And as the focus of the conversation turned to Naruto, Sakura's eyes finally met Sasuke's across the table. She rolled them. Hard. Sasuke choked on his wine a little as he tried not to laugh.

"A wonderful idea," Sakura repeated after the meal was over. They had retreated to one of the lounges that no one ever used. There were a lot of those. It was a large castle.

"No. It's a wonderful idea," Sasuke corrected her, mimicking the pitch of his mother's voice. Picking up his cup of tea, he turned to face the window. He stood there, back perfectly straight as he sipped. Sakura sat with her right leg crossed over the left. She picked up her own white cup painted with red flowers. Her eyes glittered as she eyed him over the rim of her drink.

"Is it the dancing you hate? Or the nobles?" she asked.

"The artifice in general. The dancing I could also do without," Sasuke confessed. And then he pivoted on his heel to look at her. "Although I'm more worried about you."

Sakura's eyebrows rose as she set her teacup down on the table.

"Do you think that I speak with such candor everywhere I go?" Sakura challenged him. She examined a fraying thread at the bottom of her shirt. There was a dagger strapped to her thigh everywhere she went. She pulled it out of the sheath to carefully sever the stray strand. The blade slipped back into its sheath with a small click. Her gaze then lifted back to Sasuke leaning against the window. Steam rose from his cup, curling and twisting against his chin before dissipating.

"Well… I suppose that explains why you keep mentioning being stabbed," muttered Sasuke.

Eyes popping open, Sakura threw her head back and laughed. Sasuke chuckled too. Hooking a finger into the high collar of his black vest, he loosened his tie just a bit.

"But you do hate nobility, don't you?" he then insisted.

"I don't hate based on social standing," Sakura retorted. But as Sasuke lifted his cup again, she added, "Though I do hate idiots. And I've noticed somewhat of a correlation between the two."

Sasuke lowered his cup.

"This is what I'm talking about. If you said that during the ball, one of my great-uncles would die of a heart attack right then and there."

"…And?" Sakura prompted. "Has he not named an heir yet?"

Sasuke blinked several times. He let out a sigh. "I really hope that you're not lying, and that you're not like this with everyone," was all he said.

It was Sakura's turn to sigh. "You'd think with all the education nobles are given, they'd have some shred of common sense. Some of them do-" Sakura paused to gesture toward Sasuke. He dipped his head. "But many of them don't understand anything outside of drinking and hiring expensive whores. Those are the ones I hate."

Sasuke's eyebrow rose. Just the right one.

"Whores?"

"The more exotic, the more expensive," Sakura confirmed.

Sasuke cleared his throat, suddenly looking very uncomfortable. He went to take another sip of tea and found his cup empty. He set the cup down a little harder than necessary.

"Well, back to the topic at hand. Prepare yourself. My mother's tailor is… talkative. I would ask that you not strike him dead," he said with a touch of humor.

"I would never harm an unarmed foe," Sakura promised. Her hand over her heart as she spoke.

Sasuke's eyes widened. Sasuke was quite unbothered as she drank the rest of her tea.

Soon, it was time to retire for the night. No matter their closeness, people would talk if the two of them were seen spending too much time together. Especially after sunset.

"Your br- cousin has asked for a tour of the palace tomorrow morning. I don't suppose you'd accompany me," Sasuke offered.

"I would prefer not to," she retorted, face turning stony. "The bonds of our friendship are not yet so deep that I would subject myself to such suffering. Sasuke nodded, as if he had been expecting such a response. And then he tilted his head.

"Yet? Would you, eventually?" he wondered.

"It depends on how well you behave yourself," declared Sakura. She got to her feet.

Then I'll see you for lunch tomorrow," she then said before she headed back to her apartment.

Her quarters were empty and quiet. There was no mail waiting for her. Sakura changed out of her clothes and left them in a large basket by the door. Moegi or Haku would take them to be cleaned in the morning as they dropped off breakfast. Her uniform hung in the otherwise bare armoire. She had only worn it for her first day in the castle. But she had still glimpsed one of the maids taking it out to air in the sunlight and brushing it so dust wouldn't settle on the white fabric.

In the morning, Sakura was one of the first to rise, as usual. The stable boys had her horse brushed and saddled up by the time she stepped out to greet them. The guards saluted with their spears as she rode past on Kaze. It had all become part of her routine during the several days that had elapsed since her arrival.

But that day, as she followed the path, Sakura found her thoughts drifting. Their usual quick ride turned into an hour. And then more. Kaze wasn't complaining. He was used to marching. They both were.

Moegi greeted Sakura in the foyer when she returned. "Welcome back, General. Did you enjoy your ride?" Haku also bowed, hands folded in front of her.

"What? Oh… yes, did," Sakura answered. Tucking her helmet under her arm, she strode off down the hall. Moegi and Haku followed on her heels. They had learned her pace by now. They could match her steps without bumping into her or lagging behind.

"What time is it?" asked Saura as they neared the stairs.

"It's almost 9, General. Prince Sasuke sent a message begging your forgiveness," Haku reported.

Sakura climbed the first step. Paused. "For?"

"For inviting Prince Naruto to lunch, General."

Sakura let out a long sigh. "Please send word to Prince Sasuke that he should beg harder," she finally replied.

A smile tilted the corner of Haku's mouth. Moegi quickly covered her lips to hide her titer.

"Ah, and before I forget. Tell the kitchen that I'd like tea to be sent up to my room at night as well. Something herbal if possible," Sakura told them. Haku, who had the better memory of the two, hurried off to deliver the message. Moegi continued on behind Sakura.

"Pardon me if I'm overstepping my bounds, General. But is something troubling you?" Moegi ventured as Sakura reached out to open the door. Fingers lingering on the handle, Sakura turned her head to look at the girl. She was fresh-faced, always so eager to please. Her eyes glittered at the smallest forms of praise.

"I didn't sleep so well last night," Sakura replied.

"Ah! That's why you asked for the herbal tea!" Moegi realized.

Sakura smiled. "Clever girl," she said as she stepped into her quarters.

It was only later, after she had bathed and dressed, that Sakura could even think of the truth. And even then, she took up a pen, dipped it in ink too many times. Trying to gather her thoughts into words that would mean something more than just nonsense.

Dear Sasori,

I've been tossing and turning at night again.

She scribbled it out.

I wish I could tell you that my thoughts

Scribbled.

I'm scared.

Her pen stopped moving. The tip of her nib dug into the paper for too long and left a blot. It spread, blurring out the word. She crumpled the paper up and shoved it into her jacket pocket. She could have one of her maids burn it. Or better yet, she could find an excuse to walk past a fire and burn it herself.

A rush of disgust swelled in her chest as she remember the physician's words when she had first returned from the battlefront.

+++

Yashamaru's hands were always a little too cold. She held very still as they pressed to her throat. He counted her heartbeats. And then he checked her eyes, scrutinizing her pupils. Every so often, he jotted something down in his notes.

They could hear laughter in the distance. The waves lapped at the beams supporting the room. Yashamaru let out a soft sigh. He brushed his hair out of his eyes.

"As I suspected, Lady Sakura. You're in excellent physical condition," he declared.

Yashamaru was a distant relative of hers. The light-colored eyes signature of their family made that obvious enough. Sakura found herself staring at them without really seeing. She traced back the lineage to place him in her family tree. He was the brother-in-law of her second cousin's father. So that made him… her… first cousin… once removed?

His mouth was still moving. She wished that she didn't hear the words coming out of it.

"But I've seen this before. It's stress from the war. You just need to rest."

"I have been resting," Sakura grumbled.

It had been nearly a year since she had returned from her successful campaign on the western border of the kingdom. She had been hailed as a hero. Her battered regiment had marched into the city in a shower of flower petals and applause. There was even a parade, complete with music. She remembered sitting on Kaze's back, ears ringing and her head barely nodding whenever people spoke to her. There were many soldiers who just stood there and wept. What cruelty to celebrate the hell that they had just barely managed to crawl out of.

In the name of reconstruction, she had stayed in Whiteriver Keep. She oversaw the distribution of soldiers and supplies to the scorched areas of the kingdom on the mend after the war. There were still small pockets of surviving enemies to clean up. Some groups she sent just to help people rebuild their towns. If possible, she asked that soldiers be sent as close to home as possible. And for their commanding officers to turn a blind eye every now and then if some slipped out in the night to be with their families.

Three years of battles and travel had taken a toll on her. Sakura's first days back in the castle had been difficult. Servants there had never bent over backwards to please her. And as she jolted out of nightmares, often drawing a weapon, the few who had once served her began to steer clear of her quarters entirely. Every shadow was an enemy. Every sharp noise was the scream of an innocent. When she closed her eyes, a battlefield of ashen corpses stared at her. Sometimes the bodies demanded to know why they had died and she had lived. She never had an answer for them.

It was her Aunt Kushina, the Queen Regent, who had recommended a change of scenery.

"You've always liked Plumeria. And the the sea air might be good for you," she had suggested. Part of her had suspected that it was a trap. But another part of her didn't care. She ran home- to her real home. Where she was welcomed with open arms. Where smiles were real and where when people said, "I love you" and "I care about you", it really meant something.

"You haven't rested. I mean here," Yashamaru persisted, touching two fingers to his temple. As Sakura stared at him, he reached out to touch her temple too.

"Your wounds are healing on your body. But not in there. You need to relax a little," he went on. Sakura's eyes narrowed. She pushed his hand away.

"Alright. Then why don't you try watching your commanding officer's decapitation? And then witness his body torn apart by beasts? Or, why don't you go see enemy soldiers set fire to entire towns? And then see how easily you can relax at night," she spat. Yashamaru recoiled a little, like she had burned him.

"Actually, you know what might be fun? Why don't you find orphans who survived by eating the bodies of their siblings and parents? That should help you rest a little, don't you think?" As she spoke, Sakura could hear her voice catch. She clenched her hands into fists.

"You try having all those thoughts in your head, Doctor. And then see how well you relax," she hissed.

And when she met Yashamaru's gaze, she was almost sorry for lashing out at him.

Slowly, he closed his eyes. Let out a deep breath through his nostrils. When he opened his eyes again, he offered her a wan smile.

"All the same, you need to sleep. The dead need not rest. You do," he insisted.

Sakura's mouth tightened before she confessed: "I'd rather not sleep. My dreams are unkind."

"Moon tea, then. To force sleep despite the dreams," Yashamaru responded.

A shaky sigh left Sakura's mouth. She touched the back of her hand to her forehead. Trying to gather her scattered thoughts in her even more scattered brain.

"This is common. Soldiers returning from war always struggle to adjust," Yashamaru told her.

"Some of them seem fine," Sakura protested.

Yashamaru shook his head. "Some of them are liars, then. Or at least better actors than you are," he corrected her. And then he got out of his seat.

"And I'd hate to offend you more than I already have, but it must be said," Yashamaru then added. Sakura glanced at him, already wary.

"You've left the battlefield. Stop dragging it around with you," he said.

Sakura's expression hardened. She got out of her seat.

"Will you drink the tea?" asked Yashamaru, following her with his eyes.

"Prescribe it," she ordered. She got to her feet and walked off, hands clenching and then unclenching with every fall of her boots against the path.

+++

It had been almost four years since then. It had taken a long time for her to even begin to be able to pretend that things were getting better. The staff in her palace had worked tirelessly to nurse her back to health. None of them complained about the broken dishes or the sleepless nights. They greeted her with smiles each morning, answering her listlessness and anger with compassion. Sakura knew for a fact that they had been the ones to save her.

Still, the nightmares returned every once in a while. It was worse when she was away from home. If the doctor was correct, which he usually was, stress was to blame.

Her nights in Ispolin were spent tossing and turning more and more. Flashes of blades and the booms of cannon fire filled her ears at night. When she jolted awake, sweat dripping down her face, she wondered how a phantom sound could seem so real. Why her scars still ached like her wounds were fresh. Clarity only returned to her with the rising sun, after she had managed an hour or two of sleep to soothe her aching brain.

Kneading the heels of her hands against her eyes, Sakura sucked in a deep breath. Inhaling. Exhaling. Calming the noise in her head.

She let her hands fall to the desk.

There was no point in telling Sasori, she finally decided. He would worry and abandon his duties to come see her. And then he would insist on taking her home right away. There was no point.

Her eyes drifted to the books sitting on the edge of the desk. There were so many interesting titles in the library. His Majesty the King had invited her to explore it at her leisure, even if Sasuke was not with her. When she had mentioned this to Sasuke, he had nearly spit his tea in her face. Half-choking, he had let her know what a huge honor it was. Sakura had suspected as much. But then again, what use was a library when most people didn't know how to read?

With the King's permission, she had begun borrowing a few books at a time to read in her room. Haku and Moegi trimmed the candle wicks to make sure that they were steady enough to read by. During the many occasions that she suffered through a sleepless night, having a book was a small comfort. These particular books were about the accomplishments of some of the Mountain Kingdom's famous tacticians. It was dry, but informative. The texts even suggested a few strategies that she had never imagined.

There was still time left before lunch. She stared at the books for a long time before she made a decision. She scooped the up in her arms and carried them to the other wing of the castle. It was a long walk, but she didn't mind it at all. Keeping her muscles busy distracted her mind a little, too.

As she pushed the double doors open, she thought she heard a noise. She hesitated in the doorway. Free hand sliding down her leg toward her dagger as she waited. She counted to ten, holding her breath to hear better. When it was silent, she let the doors swing shut behind her.

Sakura remembered where she had pulled these books from. It was a testament to how infrequently people entered this place that the empty spots in the bookcase were still there. Where the lonely spines had slumped to one side in the absence of their neighbors. Sakura squeezed them back into place. She skimmed her fingertips along the bindings as she walked past.

As she drifted to another section, she began glancing over the titles.

History, philosophy, religion. She couldn't even begin to imagine how much this room was worth. Each book was handwritten by a scribe. Bound with fine leather. It was, frankly, a bit stupid to let her, a stranger, have free rein of this place. Surrounded by what was essentially piles and piles of gold.

As she moved to a new shelf, she heard a heavy thud. Sakura peered around the corner. Itachi stood frozen, a sheepish expression on his face. A book lay on the floor.

Her eyes traced the bottom of his shadow all the way until they reached the bottom of his dressing gown. It was a thick robe the color of the night sky. The hem shimmered with silver thread. It reminded her of the sheen of polished armor.

"That sound I heard earlier… Was that you, Your Highness?" she queried. When her eyes reached his face, she found his cheeks turning pink. It was easy to tell. He was so pale.

"… I wasn't expecting company. This place is usually empty," he said in response. And then he fidgeted with his dressing gown a bit. It was a beautiful garment. Although the fabric was a bit heavier than she would have expected in warmer weather.

This was only her second time seeing him, but Sakura could see that he truly hadn't expected to see anyone else. His hair was loose. She could tell that he had thrown his robe on without even checking a mirror. Half of his hair was tucked into the collar of his clothes, while the rest fell down his back. She rested her palm against her heart, bowing from the waist.

"My apologies, Your Highness. I was unaware that I was intruding on your personal space. I'll take my leave then," Sakura said. But as she turned, she heard him say: "Wait."

She turned back to him.

"Yes, Your Highness?" she responded.

His forehead wrinkled. His gaze seemed to search for his next words. And when his eyes finally met hers, she was startled by how much lighter they were than his brother's.

"If I'm not mistaken, you're a princess yourself. There's no need for you to bow to me," he pointed out.

Sakura opened her mouth. Closed it. Head tilting a little to one side, she scrutinized his expression. When she decided that he wasn't being condescending, she finally spoke.

"I was led to believe that someone such as yourself would have received the finest education in foreign affairs. What a shame," she sighed. And then she gave him a smile that didn't reach her eyes as she added: "Please excuse me." She bowed once again before she turned and left the room. The heavy door closing with a bang behind her.

Sakura was out on the terrace for lunch as she had promised. But when Sasuke showed up with Naruto on his heels, he hesitated. The look she gave the both of them over the rim of her teacup seemed like a warning.

"Fetch some milk. It appears that the General's tea is bitter," Sasuke said to the nearest servant. The woman bowed before she hurried off.

"Good afternoon," Sasuke then greeted her.

"Good afternoon," Sakura replied, perfectly polite. If not for her her sharp gaze.

Sasuke and Naruto exchanged looks. When Naruto gestured to the seat across from Sakura, Sasuke gave a quick shake of his head. He settled beside her, instead. Where, at the very least, he wouldn't have to look her in the eyes each time he looked up. Naruto mustered a grin as he settled in that spot instead.

Sakura set her cup down in the saucer. It barely made a sound.

"Hi, Sakura. You must have been up early. Did you go horseback riding?" Naruto greeted her, keeping his voice light.

"Yes, Your Highness," was all she said. Her eyes met his, daring him to ask another question. Naruto's smile sagged, as did his shoulders. He fumbled to find another topic of conversation.

"Have you been adjusting well here? I like their food," he ventured.

"I can eat just about anything, Your Highness."

"Oh…. Well, what's your favorite thing you've eaten here?" Naruto struggled on.

"I don't have favorites, Your Highness. As long as they're not rations."

Naruto seemed to give up after that second failure. Sakura's eyes were cold as she let the conversation fizzle out that way.

Sasuke grimaced before he took a sip of his tea.

"Is your tea bitter as well, Highness? The milk should be here shortly," one of the servants whispered. Sasuke just nodded.

The milk, along with their lunch, arrived not long after. Naruto perked up a little at the steaming slices of ham. He seemed most excited to have something to do instead of fidgeting in that silence.

Sakura watched, arms folded across her chest, as Naruto helped himself to the food.

"General… we haven't known each other for long. But… I'd like to request something," Sasuke finally spoke up.

"Yes, Your Highness," Sakura said, turning her face toward him.

She found him with his lips mashed together. He coughed into his fist once before he requested, "Can you please stop making it so uncomfortable here? I don't think I could eat a single bite with you sitting there like… that." And with the last word, Sasuke gestured at her tense posture.

Sakura looked down at herself. And then at Naruto, who was nibbling at a roll, peeking warily at her with the look of a child who had recently been scolded.

She exhaled through her nostrils. Uncrossed her arms. Took a deep breath. Let it out.

"You're right," was all she said.

She could feel their eyes on her, waiting for the rest of the apology. Because that's what usually happened in a situation like this. There should have been an explanation. Or at the very least, an excuse. But while Itachi's comment had dug a sharp finger into an old wound, it had reminded her of something she had learned as a child. Sitting on her Aunt Kurenai's lap as the smoke from her pipe tickled her nose.

"You are a princess. And you will be a queen. Do not apologize."

Sasuke gave another fake cough. He shook out his napkin with a snap and laid it in his lap.

"Well… Prince Naruto and I visited my family's mausoleum. Unfortunately, he seemed not to have enjoyed the tour," Sasuke tried to change the subject. Naruto wrinkled his nose.

"Why have dead bodies just laying there? They should be buried," Naruto protested.

"Sometimes, people don't have the luxury," Sakura told him in a quiet voice.

But he went on: "And, I mean, people rot. That's disgusting. No one wants to see that. And the smell! They're better off staying out of sight."

By now, Sasuke had caught the look on Sakura's face. The tightness in her shoulders. The way her mouth flattened, lips pressing together. It took a few seconds for Naruto to feel her stare burning into the side of his face.

"Like I said, Your Highness, burying the dead isn't always an option. Religions and traditions differ- even from village to village in the same kingdom. The condition of the land and soil could also be a factor," she enunciated. And then she looked Naruto in the eyes, her voice going flat.

"Sometimes we have to carry the bodies through the mud. Stinking and rotting all over our uniforms. You see, the soil in the south is too wet, too swampy. The bodies don't stay buried for long," Sakura explained. Her voice measured and as calm as if she were discussing the weather.

Her stare pinned Naruto in place. He didn't move. His face had gone very white. Sakura was quiet. And then she nodded several times.

"But perhaps you're right. Keeping the dead out of sight is comfortable for people like you, isn't it? And of course, it's all about what you prefer," Sakura added.

A bead of sweat made its way down the side of Naruto's face. Then another. And it must have been sweat gathering in Naruto's eyes too.

Sakura turned her head toward Sasuke, suddenly smiling again. "I apologize for Prince Naruto's lack of tact. He's had quite a sheltered upbringing. It must have been an honor to visit a sacred place like your family's crypt."

Sasuke's gaze flickered to Naruto. Back to Sakura. Because Naruto's mouth was open, one hand reaching toward Sakura. She should have been able to see him out of the corner of her eye. But she kept her eyes trained on Sasuke instead.

"Well… I had no idea it would be interesting to you. Would like me to take you after lunch?" Sasuke offered. And then his gaze skimmed over to Naruto again. The sudden sharpness there made Naruto lean back a little. Mouth pulling into a smirk, Sasuke added: "I didn't have the time to pay my respects properly. I would love an excuse to return there."

Sakura caught on to his game. She hid her smile behind her teacup.

After the meal, Sakura spent the rest of the day following Sasuke around the palace grounds. They had explored much of it already. But the mausoleum was a new adventure.

The underground crypt was dusty and draped in cobwebs. There was a strange charm to it nonetheless. Monstrous carvings of stone lions filled the walls. Statues of more lions stood guard at the entrance of each room. They went through several rooms, climbing deeper and deeper into the ground. It occurred to Sakura that this would be an excellent place for Sasuke to kill her if he wished. When she pointed this out, he looked horrified.

"Why would I do that?" he hissed, rattling the lantern in her direction.

"Cleanup would be easy. You could just leave the corpse here," Sakura went on.

Shaking his head, Sasuke laughed as he led them on. Sakura's smile dropped as soon as his back was turned. It didn't seem like that was his plan. For now, at least.

The dried bodies of past Uchiha nobles lay on stone slabs, like exhibits in a desiccated museum. The founder of the Uchiha dynasty, a king named Madara the First, lay in the largest chamber. His body was so old that the thick cape of velvet and fur he wore had partially rotted away. Or perhaps it had been eaten by moths.

Sakura lingered by the slab. Sasuke stood beside her, holding the lantern up so that she could peer into the dried face. For an instant, Sakura could imagine the grace that must have embodied that shriveled face.

"On the island, they believe that people are reborn. If their spirits are given the proper rites," Sakura mused. The light moved. She began following Sasuke out of the chamber.

"Do you believe that as well?" Sasuke's voice drifted back to her.

Clasping her hands behind her, Sakura shook her head.

"I sincerely hope not. I hope that this is it. I'm exhausted by the thought of having to do all this again," she sighed. She heard Sasuke's feet scrape to a halt. She stopped too.

Sasuke had started to climb the staircase to the outside. He had turned to look at her. The lantern casting just his throat and bottom of his face in warm, orange light.

"Has anyone ever told you that you're a very sad person?" he queried.

A smile bloomed across her face.

"Only the ones that really know me," she responded.

That night, as Sakura prepared for bed, Haku knocked on her door. He handed her a letter. It was still cool. A messenger had probably just brought it through the castle gates. She patted Haku's cheek, grateful for how he was always running for the smallest things she requested. Fighting to bring her hot water while it still steamed. Ironing her clothes twice to make sure that they hung just the way she liked.

Haku's eyes went wide. He touched his cheek, gaze wondering as it followed her around the room. Sakura plucked a cookie off the tray on her desk. She placed it in Haku's mouth and gestured for him to sit. She could hear him moving as she slit the envelope. When the unfolded the thick, creamy paper, she smelled salt.

Dearest,

I've been rather occupied, so please excuse the lack of correspondence. There were pirates lingering around the southern waters near the island. Both the Counts urged diplomacy. So naturally, I ignored such foolish counsel.

I gathered a small fleet. We destroyed their schooner with little challenge. We found them transporting children. Slaves, I hope. Anything else would be worse to imagine. The criminals are currently awaiting judgment in the cells by the docks. I suspect that a few hangings will be in order. You know my opinion on pirates. I'll be glad to see them swing.

I write this sitting in the port of Plumeria. The Regent asked for my presence at Whiteriver Keep. I spewed some nonsense about overseeing our family's lands in your absence. He was very apologetic in his response. He seems to have forgotten that you've named Gaara as your proxy. Or perhaps he does not understand what a proxy is. The poor man must have headaches all day.

My little birds tell me that you have been having a grand time in the Mountain Kingdom. Not that I doubted you, darling. Strengthening ties to our neighbor to the north is key, as you already know. But I will needlessly remind you to be careful.

I've enclosed something for you. A small token to keep you safe when I'm not there.

Thinking of you always,

Sasori

Sakura needed to burn the letter. The jab at the Regent's intelligence wasn't something she wanted anyone else to see. She could imagine Sasori rolling his eyes as he penned the insult. And then she could imagine one of the Regent's followers bellowing about treason until they turned purple in the face.

As she unfolded the paper the rest of the way, something fell on the rug. She stooped to grab it. It was a piece of fabric. She recognized the feeling of the high-quality silk only her island could produce. It was a soft shade of lilac with a snake curled around a staff stitched into the center. When she unwrapped it, she found a pair of earrings. They were made of gold. Sparkling pink tourmaline dangled from the wire. She shook them. She could see the slosh of something liquid inside the crystals.

There were many codes that the Haruno family used to communicate. Aunt Kurenai had made sure to teach them every one that she knew. This included using images that others would just see as decorations and patterns to send messages. In this case, the embroidery indicated that this was an antidote. Aunt Kurenai wore a similar pair each day. The top of the jewelry was designed to detach, revealing an opening at the top of the crystals. She had only ever had to use them once, and not on herself.

Sakura slipped the hooks through her ears. She slept with them on that night. And that night, her dreams weren't of clashing swords and blood misting through the air.

Instead, she was lying in a hammock by the beach. Swaying in the strong ocean wind. One foot dangling. She heard her father's voice, rising and falling in murmured words and laughter. The night was cool, but she was so comfortable. Wrapped up in something soft that smelled familiar. And she was safe.

It was the first time in a while that she had felt that way.

+++

< Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 >

#writing #itasaku #amaryllis #courtly intrigue! au

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hutchhitched · 5 years

Text

Everlark Self-Inteview

Okay, this spiraled out of control. My apologies. Here are some thoughts on this fine Friday.

I posted my first Everlark story in September 2013. I still feel like a newbie in the fandom.

Fanfiction is a creative outlet for me. Some days the muse is strong and feeds me. Some weeks/months it does not. I am never trying to put someone off or delay posting. I know that doesn’t make the wait any easier or shorter.

Be kind to others. We’re all trying.

Edit your story before posting. Typos drive me crazy. Please let me know when I have one. I always go back and fix them when I find them. (Also, read more links are your friend.)

New people come into this fandom every day. It’s intimidating. I’ve been here a long time, and I still feel like no one knows who I am. Find out the history of the fandom, but you don’t apologize for being new. I, for one, am happy you’re here.

The rest of the interview is under the cut. Also, my past interview is here.

Writing process:

Do you outline?

This is going to come up a lot, but the honest answer is it depends on the story. I’ve been writing for a very long time. I’m in my early forties, and I wrote my first story when I was in second grade. Every story I write has its own voice and method and process, but one thing is similar. I’m a thinker. I don’t always write down an outline. I’m a procrastinator, which is code for, “I think about things until I’ve got it organized in my head. Then I’ll write.”

That said, there are some stories that have pretty elaborate outlines. Too Familiar has an outline now, but it didn’t when I started it since it was only supposed to be a one shot. Always Rivals has an outline. End of Love has an outline. All my completed JHutch and Joshifer stories had outlines. I know District 14 and Code Name: Mockingjay need outlines (and am procrastinating on making them). When a story gets long(ish), I end up needing an outline.

Do you use a beta?

Again, it depends on the story. I used to use a beta for everything I wrote. @myusernamehere and @jennagill and @cheeks-and-white-tshirts and @xerxia31 have all been regular betas for me. A few others have looked things over. Now, I tend not to use a beta, although @xerxia31 still glances over a lot of things for me before I post.

Good betas who will tell you if your story is crap and/or needs development or whatever are the best and absolutely amazing. I am super grateful for them. The reason I stopped using one every time is more for timing reasons than anything else. I’m a procrastinator, so asking someone to beta when I’m up against a timeline just isn’t fair to those who are volunteering to help me. Also, I’m a pretty good proofreader and editor, and I’m usually fairly confident about what I want to do in a story. I’ve typically talked out the plot with someone beforehand, so the chapter by chapter beta-ing isn’t needed the same as it used to be.

Do you post right away?

Almost never. Drabble challenges, yes. I’ve actually whipped out some @talesofpanem stories in a couple of hours and posted, but that’s only because of the deadlines. I tend to let a story sit for a while and edit a few times before posting it. It helps catch repetitious words and typos I wouldn’t catch otherwise. I don’t want to post something half-assed because I don’t want to read something half-assed.

I’ve posted one story that was completed before I started. It was a Josh/OC story, so nothing from Everlark. However, that will change with the two @fandomtrumpshate stories I’m writing. Both will be complete and shared with their respective bidders before I start posting to tumblr and AO3. I’m also trying to use this month’s Nanowrimo to finish some stories (or get a big jump on them), so posting time between chapters isn’t so long. I understand people’s frustration. I really do. I’m trying to be better.

Story questions:

Where did the story come from?

Too Familiar—I’ve put this out there before, but here it is again. I was in grad school, and another grad student and I met and clicked instantly. He was married. We became the best of friends and ended up falling madly in love with each other. I honestly believe if soulmates exist, we are it. The hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life is give him up. Eventually (after I moved to Houston), we cut off communication. I talked to him for the first time in eight years last month. He still loves me. He’s still with his wife. He thanked me for the sacrifice I made by letting him go. It is a terrible, awful, horrible situation, and there is no happy ending for either of us. In the story, I tried to give Everlark one, even though it’s messy and complicated and some readers hate both Katniss and Peeta in it. But it happens. People don’t always do things the right way, and that’s what I was trying to show in the story. Sometimes love isn’t fair or right or moral or good. Sometimes it’s painful and raw and means breaking the rules—at least in fanfiction.

Sole Beneficiary—I had an ex-boyfriend who worked nights. He and I still really liked each other, and I was lonely and stressed out in grad school. I used to go over to his place after morning workouts and climb into bed and cuddle with him. He was all sleepy and warm and teddy bear-like, and it was really comforting. It was also really confusing, which is what the story’s about.

Cattle Show—I used to show cattle when I was in 4-H. There was a family from a neighboring town with three brothers. The middle one was named Brett, and he was one of the kindest, sweetest, most gorgeous creatures I’d ever met. His family owned a registered farm with a logo and everything, and my family rented our farm and didn’t have the money to invest in outward appearances. Still, those nights at the fair were some of the best of my childhood memories. Sleeping in the cattle trailers (and me in the bean truck) and hanging out after it was dark and a lot of people drinking and people sneaking off together all happened. I was younger and much more innocent, but those three brothers were always in the middle of it all. Brett was always kind to me, even though I was five years younger and kind of on the outskirt of things. He passed away a few years ago in his early forties, and the world is a darker place because of it.

Which was the easiest to write?

Of the three, Cattle Show is lighter and more fun. It’s also the one that doesn’t really skirt the boundaries of acceptable moral behavior. Because of that, people have accepted it more readily even though the others have gotten more attention.

What is your favorite part of the story?

Too Familiar—I just wrote the exchange between Madge and Katniss, and that was A LOT of fun (and probably not what people are expecting). However, I think my favorite part was when Peeta confesses how he feels about her for the first time and then is absolutely mortified when he does at the end of chapter 1 and beginning of chapter 2. He’s so vulnerable, and she’s so stunned and angry. It’s kind of beautiful and simultaneously heartbreaking.

Sole Beneficiary—I love this line: “I swear someday I’m going to say no to you,” he growls and tugs my clothes off. “Someday I’m going to realize I’m a fool for letting you use me. Someday I’m going to find someone else.”

Cattle Show—There’s some drunk Peeta in there, and I adore writing drunk Peeta.

Were you shocked or disappointed by the reaction the story got?

Too Familiar—Not exactly. It’s gotten a lot of attention on AO3, and not all of it’s good. There are some readers who hate both main characters and say there’s nothing redeeming about either of them and no excuses for their actions. I’m not really sure why they keep reading the story, to be honest. It disappoints me that the story I’m trying to tell about gray areas is being read in black and white terms.

Sole Beneficiary—Not for this one. I’ve been really pleasantly pleased that people seem to want more. I get more requests for this than any other story. I don’t really know why it’s so compelling to so many, but I’m appreciative of the reception.

Cattle Show—I’m always a little surprised when someone tells me this is their favorite. It kinda flew under the radar, so when it comes up, that makes me happy.

Future plans:

Top tier priority—Too Familiar, Three Months, Maybe This Summer, Float Your Boat, Playlist: Home, Hold It

Second tier priority—Always Rivals, Code Name: Mockingjay, Influenza, Sole Beneficiary, District 14

I’ll get to them eventually—Extended Office Hours, The Cipher, Mother of Pearl, Bullseye, We Wish Real, High Society, Go With Me, Hope Boldly, The Doppelganger, The Worst Day, Small Town Secrets, The Cry

#everlarkselfinterview #everlark fanfiction #hutchhitched #i rambled a bit

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agreekdemigod · 5 years

Text

Coffee Whim

“Your designs are always so colorful.”

The brush traced a long curve in the canvas, lining in pastel colors the figure of a profile.

“Are you sure you don’t want any of them as your protagonist?”

The shadow must be done right, if he didn’t want it to look opaque. Light shades to enhance the curve of her cheeks and lips, curved in a peaceful smile.

“I wish I had such amazing ideas.”

Should he add a bit of orange at the tips of the petals? Or maybe at the base of the flowers. But then the colour would contrast with the blond of her hair and that just wouldn’t work.

The tips would be, then, but very slightly, as if the sunlight reflected in her curls.

“My eyes hurt a bit while watching it but it is indeed beautiful.”

Adding one last detail, Kaminari left the utensil in the table beside him, eyes fixed in his last piece of work, his breath uneasy as he watched nervously the face in front of him.

His brain hadn’t failed him this time. All the details were perfect, as if she was there in front of him, real and reachable.

The idea of calling his sister crossed his mind as the feeling of keeping it only for his eyes thickened in his chest.

Later, he would call later.

All his life, Kaminari has painted everything his mind provided.

His mother used to say she and his father had to run to stop him from painting the walls, at the time when “no’s” didn’t mean anything to him.

He was so small and still that didn't stop him from holding a crayon, even before he learnt how to walk without stumbling. And once his grandma bought him his first brush, he was unstoppable.

His sister only seemed to encourage him. Her bedroom walls were an explosion of colour, doodles of their garden, their family and just random stuff covering every inch from the base to where his tiny hand could reach. Their parents gave up soon after he decorated their own bedroom too.

They had another artist in the family, there was nothing else they could do to stop it. And in all truth, they didn’t want to.

The walls in the house were white but Denki brought them colour, just as he did with everything he touched and everyone he met.

His teachers said he had too much energy, that he was different. Some would tell his parents to find him activities to tire him up while others would state that he must learn to control himself, that everything could be solved with discipline.

The doctors gave his parents the name and a better way to deal with it and they accepted it as a part of the son they loved and cared about and heard attentively the recommendations that would help their kid to integrate in a society not as comprensible as them.

They encouraged him and were with him with every step he took, ready to catch him everytime he fell.

Denki learnt how to play the guitar from his father himself, and went to his first art class thanks to his mother.

He learnt that drawing helped him with his ADHD and that listening to things was an easier way to memorize complicated stuff.

He learnt the tricks to control his anxiety and how to make his hands movements less obvious in public, specially after being hours sitting in a classroom with his mind flying miles away from the teacher's explanation.

It wasn’t perfect and most of the times he still got nagged by the adults for not staying steady more than ten minutes but he learnt to get used to that too, to shrug off the harsh words or stares, even when sometimes they hurt so much that he had the go to hide in his mother's arms to find understanding

Things are inevitable in this world, she would say, pressing her cheek against his, her curls tickling Denki's skin.That close to her, he could smell her shampoo and the scent of coffee in her clothes. Things such as love and fate. And you, my dear, are one of those things. You are inevitable, Denki. Inevitable to love and impossible to forget and ignore. She would kiss his temple then and would caress his blonde hair with her nose as she whispered,

You are our star.

Denki loved coffee even before tasting it for the first time.

He loved the smell of it lingering on his house’s kitchen, the way his father seemed so happy while drinking it and the profundity of its colour, neither brown nor black and sometimes with a hint of gold.

And he loved its flavour, of course, the sweet and bitter taste of it against his tongue and the million ways it could be prepared and still taste so rich and contradictory.

He loved coffee and the way his mother would smile while preparing it, with the attentive stares of the three coffee addicts in the household on her, as they waited impatiently for it to be ready.

And he kept loving it, even after she wasn’t there to prepare it anymore.

“...now I have to find a new fucking job that isn’t a total waste of time and without a shitty pay.” Bakugou growled and Kaminari kicked a can in the middle of the street, doing it a couple of times more before picking it up, talking to the other end of the line as he did so.

“I mean, you could have let that old woman shout at you? I know it would have been shitty but at least that would have let you keep your job. It would be difficult to get hired at this time of the year.” The can clanked when he throw it in the trash bin, loud enough to rival Bakugo's rude scoff.

“And let that fucker continue her life without no one telling her how much she sucked? No way. I may have been fired but shit I don’t regret anything.”

Kaminari sighed but nodded nonetheless. He was right, this world sure needed more people that would face middle class woman to suck it up and stop acting as if everyone debt them something.

Bakugou started ranting again and Kaminari readjusted his grip on his backpack, heavy because of the new assignments and homework he didn't have the energy or motivation to do.

The second part of the semester had barely started and he could already feel the fatigue and stress of the upcoming final project.The fact that he should had started planning it weeks ago wasn't helping either.

And that's why he was there that day.

The tinkle of the doorbell of The Coffee Whim welcomed him as a feeling similar to homecoming replaced the anxiety on his chest and the warm and exquisite scent of the coffee filled his nostrils.

The place was rather small, with wooden floors and big picture windows towards the main street, sofas and rounded tables spread around in an organized disorder. The walls were surprisingly empty, though: only a poster of a porcelain cup and a cork board with coffee recipes hanging on the main wall.

“I'm saving the space for your works, dear.” The owner replied when Kaminari had mentioned it casually one afternoon. “Now, where is the promised portrait of my son?”

Denki had laughed before shrugging helplessly.

“He keeps running away everytime he sees me, how can I paint a kid like that?.”

Kaminari had known Mrs. Midoriya since the opening of the café. He had wandered there one night, back in his highschool days, in the middle of a sexuality crisis that had been eating him for the last year.

He must had been looking as pitiful as he felt because she had smiled kindly to his mumbling and added extra cream and chocolate chips to his order. Kaminari had loved her since then.

She wouldn't be there that time though, having getting married only a few days ago. Her honeymoon would probably last, at least, one more month, and Kaminari sure missed her as well as he was happy for her. (The premise was still open though which he was very thankful for)

The cafe was deserted that day, no sign of Mineta or any of the other baristas at the other side of the counter. They were probably in the kitchen, playing on their phones while enjoying the lazy day.

Instead, a black haired guy was behind the register, his black eyes looking uninterested at the numbers on the screen.

Kaminari stopped in his tracks when he got close enough to see his features. The guy wasn't someone he knew but there was something, like a sensation of deja vu in the back of his mind, that made him feel intrigued.

It had happened before, when he had met some of his friends, random people on the streets or even teachers.

Kirishima used to joke it was because they had met in another universe, maybe in a world of superheroes and villains( or in a medieval world depending on whatever Kirishima's mood that day was. They all had gotten use to his writer mumbling by that point.).

“Oi, are you still there, Denki?”

Bakugou’s voice brought him back, and the blond got suddenly aware of how strange he might look there, standing in the middle of the café while staring at an stranger.

“Just about to order some coffee before heading to the dorms, want me to get you something?”

“A macchiato.”

“Got it. See ya there.”

“Be quick.”

Kaminari put his phone on his hoodie's pocket, took a long breath and went right to the register where the guy hadn’t move an inch in the last minute.

The deja vu sensation stayed there, only increasing when the guy looked up and a pair of black eyes were directed at him.

Truth to be told, he looked miserable. That close, the blonde could see the bags under his eyes, the sick pale tone of his skin and a messy hair as if he hadn’t brushed it for three days straight. He also had one long strip hanging off his hoodie’s sleeve, for some reason.

And still, Kaminari could swear he felt like electricity, shivers of excitement going through his body, like the ones he had when inspiration strike him before painting a new work.

How strange.

“-do chai”

Sero stared at the yellow sun eyes for a long moment, his sleep deprived brain trying to focus on what the guy in front of him was saying, his senses still too numb to process anything that wasn't the utter pain of his back, after a whole night sitting on his desk working on a groupal homework assigned a week ago.

The guy looked around his age, tho he was significantly shorter. He black highlights in his golden hair, a pair of very pretty eyes and a friendly smile, wavering with nervousness as Sero’s silence prolonged.

Oh right. Coffee.

God, he was such a mess.

“Ah, I’m sorry but could you please repeat your order?”

The guy's smile turned sympathetic, in that weird way a college student can recognise another of their kind and their suffering.

“A macchiato and a nevado chai, please.”

As Sero worked, his arms moving as if they had been programated, he could feel the guy's gaze on him. Golden eyes following his movements with careful attention. Evaluating.

Had they met before? Sero couldn't tell, as tired as he was, but he was sure he would have remembered him. The guy was cute he couldn't deny that.

He was so going to regret not to try to start a conversation or getting his number, once he was wide awake again.

It would be for the best tho. It was too risky, he would probably said something that would ridicule himself, or even worse, something that could offend him.

So no hitting on that dude today.

Handling him his order, Sero looked at the names written in his messy calligraphy in both cups as they slid in the counter.

Denki. Katsuki.

Which one would be his name? The name Denki certainly fit him but who knows, maybe it was the other one. Guessing his name was probably the only thing he could do right now about this guy.

“It’s Denki” the guy said, and Sero blinked, realizing that he had been voicing his thoughts out loud for who knows how long. “Thanks for the coffee”

An small alarm voice started inside sero’s head as he watched the guy leave his cheeks itching in embarrassment.

Did he..?

No, he wouldn’t think about that right now. He just wouldn't,

Going to the kitchen to tell Mineta to get the fuck behind the counter (his break had finished five minutes ago), he noticed something by the corner of his eye, something long and white hanging of his right elbow, an strip of tape probably left by the twins before he got out of home that morning, as a reminder that he still had to fulfill his promise of playing with them that afternoon.

Shit.

His future self was going to regret so many things.

“...and he prepared the most amazing coffee, I swear. God, how can the same coffee taste so different? Kaminari's cheeks were flushed by the excitement as he moved his hands in big gestures, his sandwich longly forgotten in the tray in front of him.

His friends listened in different levels of attention, torned between their own food and the blonde’s story. The college’s cafeteria wasn’t really full that day so they could eat without missing a detail of the story.

“Tastes better when the barista is hot” Mina said and Kirishima laughed immediately. Kaminari wasn't going to deny it. Only facts allowed here. And it was a fact that the dude had been very attractive, yes. Just like his coffee was really good.

“You say that because you haven’t try it, but I’m serious here. It is amazing.”

“I don't know it seems biased. What do you say, Bakugou?” Said Kirisha as he elbowed Bakugo's side, who had been hearing the conversation in silence. “You went there this morning, don't you?”

Kaminari felt his eyebrows rise in surprise. He didn’t know that. And he shared a room with the dude.

“The coffee was decent”

Decent. The group let out a choir of “oh”'s in appreciation. If Bakugou was saying that then it meant it had really been something else, in a good way.

“And the guy?” Insisted Kirishima, excited for an opportunity to gossip.

Katsuki shrugged.

“Rather plain”

Kaminari rolled his eyes as his friends giggled around him. “Sometimes I think you are made of stone or something”

“You told me he had a long line of tape hanging off his elbow.”

“And that only makes him cuter”

“Uh-huh.”

“Wait, why did he have a tape strip on his elbow?”

Denki shrugged.

“It was already there when I went. He looked pretty tired too, as if he hadn't slept more than a couple of hours. And I can tell because he looked exactly like Bakugou does right now, except for the frown of course, and more handsome.”

“Shut up, dunce face.”

“Why are you so meaaan”

As the conversation trailed to another topic, Kaminari turned his attention back to his sandwich, his stomach growling in annoyance for having ignored it for so long. Mina inclined a bit into him, her black eyes staring at him with interest. “You know, you never told us his name.”

Another shrugg. “He wasn’t wearing his name tag”

Kirishima whistled, and suddenly all the attention was back at Kaminari. “The (still up to debate) handsome barista remains like a mystery” Bakugou barely blinked when everyone turned at him. “What nickname should we gave him?”

“Soy sauce”

“Rude. I suggest You-know-who.”

“And you call mine ‘rude’?”

“Tapey” Mina intervened, and everyone turned to look at her in silence before bursting again in complains.

“That is so lameee”

“And yikes.”

“Yeah, no cool at all.”

She had shrugged and gave them an small smile behind her smoothie.

“But it works better than yours, doesn’t it?”

They were willing to fight that. And they did.

Kaminari went to the café that same day once the classes were over. After the conversation with him friends at lunch, the mystery guy topic didn’t leave his brain for the rest of the day, his curiosity increasing as the hours passed.

The café was slightly less empty this time. Only three persons in line and two sit around at the tables. A friendly face was behind the register too.

“What’s up, Shouji?” He said, once his turn came, not even five minutes later. Sometimes it was like the guy had six arms or something. He moved so fast, not that he was complaining.“Feeling better after your rest? How’s Tokoyami?”

Shouji's eyes curved friendly, his mouth hidden behind a black mask with a toothy smile printed on it. ( It wasn't Shouji's style at all, too dark and edgy for that and Kaminari could bet that it was Tokoyami's, Shouji's best friend and roommate.)

“I'm recovered but he insisted that I should use it in case there was some germ around.” he explained, pointing at the mask. “My own are dirty so he let me his, refusing to let me go out if i didn’t wear it.”

“Aw, you guys are cute.”

Shouji ignored his comment. “Anyways, what is you order today?”

Kaminari smiled, trying to peek over Shouji’s shoulder to see if there was someone else behind the counter. It was impossible, the dude was huge.

“Just a latte this time.”

His friend nodded and gave him his change before going the kitchen’s entrance, his hands holding the door open as he peeked inside. “Hey Sero, we are almost out of milk, could you please take care of these orders while I go to the back and bring some?” Some incomprehensible words and Shouji nodded before disappearing inside.

Kaminari's heart jumped inside his chest when he saw the tall black haired boy from the day before got out of the kitchen. He was yawning lazily as he tied his apron back to its place and his face shined with recognition when he saw the blonde there.

Both guys blushed immediately. Their gazes trapped in each other for a few seconds before quickly looking away. It was an entertaining sight for the outsiders. And it would had been almost funny if it hadn’t been so lame.

“Your name” said Kaminari, breaking the silence. It came softly, almost like a whisper but he would take it. Better that than a cracked voice. At the barista's confused expression, he explained “You weren’t wearing a name tag the last time.” Or today. The realisation crossed the guy’s features once he looked down to his apron to see the empty space in the front of it.

“I probably took it off before doing the laundry. My mind has been floating around these last days” Not the best choice of words. The guy’s blush got more intense. “It’s Hanta, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you,” Kaminari said slowly, holding back a laugh at the guy distinct dorkiness, and trying to pronounce it carefully. “Hanta”

Hanta nodded and went back to work and Kaminari allowed himself of taking a deep breath, fanning himself with his hands to soothe his blush, drawing on the fact he was opposed to him.

Instead of going to any of the tables or sofas, Kaminari sit in one of the tabourets under the counter and waited for his coffee, trying not to stare too much at the barista and why he found him so fascinating.

He really didn't know why he was acting that way.

Maybe it was because he hadn’t had a real crush in years so his brain was overcoming it by making him act like a highschooler now that he finally has.

Or maybe it wasn’t and Denki was just .

The twinkling sound of the porcelain cup interrupted his train of thoughts as it was left in front of him.

“Here it is, a classic latte.” Hanta said, leaving as quickly as he came, ready to work on the next orders.

Kaminari didn’t pay much attention to it. He was still looking down at his coffee cup, where Sero had drawn a lighting in the foam.

Denki.

He waited until it dissolved before taking a sip.

As the bisexual disaster that he was, Kaminari took that as a sign to keep going to the café to talk more with the barista.

It started kinda awkward and timid, polite conversations made between breaks and orders as they both tested carefully the waters before taking an step.

Sero made a move first, asking for his number one night, just after Kaminari had finished his coffee and was ready to leave.

It was then when things started to move faster. Once they reached topics they were both interested in, all shyness was left behind.

Kaminari learnt Sero had his same age and that he was studying programming. He had three brothers, one older and two young ones, all boys.

“I like to babysit the twins.” He said when Denki asked him about them. “They are so different and at the same time so similar to each other. It just blows my mind.”

Sero learnt that Kaminari had one older sister and that he lived with one of his best friends. He also learnt he was taking painting classes outside the university, in a total different academy, and that he had been doing it for fun since he was ten.

“It is not like you stop once you know all the techniques” Kaminari had replied when he saw Sero's arched eyebrows. “You keep taking them because you just love them.”

They both liked video games and anime, and despite not liking exactly the same genres of music, they were similar enough to enjoy it. And the same went with sense of humour.

“Obviously the pikashook meme wins over the galaxy brain one.”

“You say that because it is like the golden age for pikashook but once it is over you will forget it just like any other trendy meme. But the galaxy brain one is a classic. Totally superior.”

There were times where they prefered to be silent, though, not because they were tired of talking, but because they enjoyed each other’s company without interruptions.

Kaminari used to observe him behind his coffee cup in those moments, taking mental notes of his features to sketch them later, without anyone to see it.

His art teacher had peeked over his shoulder one morning, nodding in approval at his draft.

“A nice face, you should paint him next time.” Kaminari had nodded and excused himself to go right to his dorm, hype to tell Bakugou what a professional had said and that his opinions were invalid.

At some point, it became a custom. Kaminari would stop by the café three or four time a week, (way more times he had visited the place in the last months) with the excuse of a coffee whim to tell Sero how his day went, the good and the bad anecdotes, brightening everytime he managed to get a laugh out of him and his heart expanding on his chest everytime he smiled at him.

So Kaminari kept ordering and Sero kept delivering,to the point that the coffee Denki had loved all his life became something even bigger for him. Something brighter.

Sero had watched Kaminari coming week after week for over a month now.

Sometimes in the morning, other times in the afternoon but thrice a week without fail, always carrying a backpack or a notebook. The days he wouldn’t they would chat until their phones ran out of battery or some of the blonde’s friend stole it because of the ‘bros before hoes’ rule (By Kaminari’s descriptions of them, they all sounded like awesome people.).

There would be times where Kaminari would cross the doors looking like a normal college student, wearing a jean jacket, a hoodie or in flannel, and others where he would look like a total disaster, his ripped old jeans and simple shirt covered in paint and marker stains. (Sero would secretly prefer that one a lot, with his hair tied in a messy ponytail, paint stains on a side of his face and his eyes sparkling with excitement as he asked for the day’s special.)

And he would always smile and Sero would be lying if he said he didn’t ask his grandma for more coffee tips so he could see more of that.

“It is weird for you to ask me all of this in such a short period of time.”she had told him in one of their calls, just a pair of days ago. Sero had tried to respond but she interrupted him. “And it can’t be only for your job. Don’t they have their own recipes? It must be for a certain someone. And I don’t like the idea of my secret tips being shared with an stranger.”

“I’m not gonna tell anyone, grandma, I will just prepare him the coffee.”

“So there is someone!” He decided to end the call there before she managed to get more information out of him and decided to tell his mom.

And just like that a month passed, with them talking over coffee cups and pastries, pretending it was something as casual as a friendship and ignoring the other's blush and secret stares, if only that bought them more time to not confess their feelings.

They would talk for hours until their voices got hoarse and his cheeks numb for how hard they had laughed, and once the night came Kaminari would say his goodbye and Sero would wave back, and they both will wait for the next time, looking forward for a conversation that hadn't happened yet, but they could imagine and replay in their head in such detail that it would be like a memory.

And then Kaminari broke the chain.

He had came one late afternoon, his hair even more messy and his shoulders dropped in surrender and Sero hadn't seen someone so miserable out of final exams season in such a long time.

“Cure my sorrows and pain with your magical coffee, oh good sir.” The blonde had mumbled, with his face against the counter, in front of where Hanta had been drying a cup because of the lack of customers in line.

Sero hadn’t said anything, he only stared at Denki for a few seconds before going to the coffee machine and return with a big plastic cup of a caramel coloured drink, with a lot of cream and syrup on top.

“Drown them all.” He said as he waited patiently for Kaminari to gain enough strength to rise his head and take a sip.

The impact was obvious. Denki's eyes opened in surprise as the mix of sugar and coffee exploded in his mouth and caressed his palate.

“Jesus Christ, what is this?”

Sero shrugged as if it wasn’t much, but the small curve of his lips betrayed his satisfaction.

“Just an Arequipe.”

The blonde shook slightly his head, as if trying to clear his thoughts, watching in astonishment the divine drink he was holding .“This is the first time I’ve tasted something like this”.

He could feel some remaining cream on the tip of his nose, but he couldn't care less. He would whip it later. “It is so sweet and cold. I’m about to cry.” He really felt tempted to, only to emphasize his point. “How did you know this?”

“My grandma is colombian, and every good colombian knows their coffee.”

“That’s awesome.” And then a question popped in his mind and he couldn't just not ask. “Can you talk in spanish then?”

Sero had smiled before saying:

“Un poquito.”

It physically hurt Denki not to scream. Dear god. Could he get anymore perfect? He made a dramatic play of a heart clenching and Sero let out a muffled laugh, watching attentive how Kaminari enjoyed his coffee.

“Back to your issue…” He said, after a long silence only interrupted by Denki's happy sighs.

“Give me a second to put my thoughts in order. I can't even remember it right now. This has cured my everything” He took another long sip. “Wow. Okay, so humm, well okay, I will explain it all in detail so you can’t miss a thing.” licking the cream out of his lips, Kaminari took a long breath before starting.

“I'm an animator student, and by the end of the semester we have this huge project where we write an script of a work of our own. It is not only an script tho, but a whole presentation of our story.” he explained, fidgening in his seat. “We write it all in a notebook, adding sketches of the places and the profiles and designs of the characters and it requires so many details and work to put it all together. It is like trying to put all your ideas in something real, in paper and ink.”

Sero let out a long whistle. “Man, that sure sounds cool”

“And it is! But it is also very frustrating because, what if i do it wrong? What if it ends up being the worst thing the teacher has ever read? I can't deal with this pressure, the ideas just don’t come.” Or not good ones, at least. “It is like I had lost the ability to create something that actually mattered.” Kaminari blushed, noticing how much he had said already. But the waterfall of words didn’t stop and they probably wouldn’t until he had said everything.

“And everyone seems always so focused on my work, comparing themselves with me and I don't understand. I ve seen their works and they are all so lovely, so different to my own.” The blonde bit his lower lip, as his hands played with the now empty cup. “ And i thought i was okay with that, you know. With my style being so colorful and weird and unconventional.”

The way he said it didn't make it sound like a compliment, despite that was everyone meant when they saw his works.

It never felt like it was one though, not even once,not for him.

“Recently when I see my ideas I just-I just can't seem to find them to be anything else than that. I only see them as obnoxious and it is killing me.”

Kaminari thought about his notebook of sketches, the art classes and the painting he kept in his apartment, hidden of the world’s eyes. “Because I do like drawing and creating. But now i wonder if that's enough. What can an artist do when they can’t create something that isn’t garbage?”

And cut. Kaminari took a long breath as he tried to relax his fists, his fingers numb by how strong his grip had been.

Sero hummed, and the blonde gulped in anticipation. The black haired guy seemed to be thinking about his words, his gaze low as if he was lost in his thoughts.

“I certainly can't tell you if you are or not talented enough,” he admitted, “I haven’t really seen any of your works and to be honest I don’t know if my opinion has much importance when I barely know anything about art”

Kamina wanted to fight that. Because it would, at least for him.

“But,” he said, the tip of his tongue poking softly his upper lip, as he tried to find the correct words to express his point of view. “Sometimes what makes humans to create good things isn’t only our confidence or talent, because we could have any of them, or even both, and that wouldn’t garantize us to stop procrastinating and start doing things.”

“Without resolve, us, creators, are just nothing. Because we could have many ideas, the resources and abilities to make it happen, and it would still mean nothing if we just don’t get in front of the screen or paper and start working on it. Do you have the talent? That’s really good. Do you have ideas? That’s even better. You don’t need the approval of the rest to do what you love, then why would you need it while you are creating it?”

Opening tenderly Kaminari’s fisted hands, Sero traced with his fingers the marks the nails had digged in the soft skin, looking at the stains of graphite in Denki's fingertips as he spoke.

“Have confidence and resolve, and then you will immediately have the talent everyone always talks about.”

The blonde looked at his extended palms and Sero’s own placed gently on them. They were different. Sero's fingers were longer and paler, kinda bony even. His were smaller in comparison, with round nails and rough palms. The contrast was fun to look at.

“That's” said Denki, after a short pause,where he let go Hanta's hands so he could look right at his black eyes “...some pretty good advice.

He was met with a playful smile.

“Barakamon's wise words.”

“I really do need to read the manga.”

Sighing, Kaminari smiled, his eyes shining like liquid gold as he took Sero’s hands to hold them again, their palms facing each other above the wooden table. “Thank you.” he said and Sero nodded, looking at their intertwined fingers with an small smile on his lips.

“Always glad to help.”

“If you could change something about yourself, what would that be?”

“Like a possible change? Or something you aren't but you wish you were?”

Denki shrugged. “As long as it is a change”

It had been a few days after the last time they had seen each other. Since the night Kaminari had gone to vent about his studies, their interactions seemed to have changed. Not a lot, but definitely different from how it was before. There was a feeling of trust there now, as well as an slight vulnerability, than instead of scare them out, only made their bond stronger, knowing the other one wouldn’t use it for their advantage.

They also touched a lot more too. they were starting to get more comfortable in getting into the other one’s personal space, as if the hand holding event had broke an unspoken restriction of physical contact.

And Kaminari had to admit, that he liked that.

Back to the present, Sero seemed to think a bit about the question before responding.

“My hairstyle, maybe? Mina keeps insisting that I should get an undercut asap.” (Yes, he knew Mina. Apparently they went to the same university. That’s why she had being so curious about his story when his description of Sero fit her friend’s looks. The world sure was small.)

Kaminari tried to picture him with an undercut and he found out that it was easier than he thought by how much it would suit him. His face would be more visible, changing his looks from relaxed fresh boy to mature and playful guy.

He would definitely look hot as fuck.

And people would start noticing it too, sadly.

“And why don't you do it?” he said, trying to sound unaffected.

“Because I'm scared of messing it up.”

Impossible.

“What about you?” asked Sero. “What would you change?”

Kaminari didn't hesitate. “I would like to have freckles.”

The blonde played with the spoon on his empty cup, his voice and smile going softer as if he was remembering something sweet, “My dad has them and so does my sister. I think I’m the only one that just wasn’t gifted with them.”

His mother had them too, around ten in every cheek. She had many more though, in the entirety of her shoulders upper arms. Like stardust.

A gentle poke on his face startled him.

“I think you have, though they are very tenuous.”Sero’s finger touched an small dot in Kaminari’s cheek, and then another one next to his ear. “More than freckles they look like tiny moles.”

There was one just above his upper lip too, just in the border of it and another one in the arc of his nose.

Hanta's finger caressed slightly the dots, following them all as if they lead somewhere, tracing an imaginary path in Denki's blushed skin.

The last one was next to Kaminaris right eye, that was widened in awe and embarrassment.

And alarm went off inside Sero’s head, too late as he registered his action and took off his hand out of Denki's freckled face. His own face flushing in an instant. “I’m sorry, I just-” He seemed as lost of words as the blonde himself.

Kaminari opened his mouth, his voice seemed to be failing him as his intense blush seemed to extend from his whole face to the tip of his ears.

“It is alright.” he finally managed to say, “It’s okay”

Kaminari tried to shrugged it off but the memory of Sero's eyes roaming over his features, his face so close to his that he felt his breath tickling his skin made him difficult to breath.

It had been overwhelmingly private. And somehow, deleitable.

Sero must have been thinking something similar because his face was getting redder as the minutes passed.

“I think your coffee is getting cold.” he croaked and Kaminari was suddenly aware of the few people who were also at the café and the messy notes and draws that he had left on the table, that were the main reason he had came today.

Mumbling a quick thanks and a goodbye, Denki stuffed all of his things on his backpack, his mind reproducing the moment again and again, and thoughts about what would have happened if he had close the distance between them there.

Yep, it was definitely time to go. He would tell him about his project next time he saw him.

Or text him. That sounded a lot better.

“I think I’m falling hard” said Denki that night, after staring at the ceiling for two long hours. In the bed at the opposite side of the room, Bakugou muffled against the pillot.

“For who? The plain dude from the café?”

“Okay first of all, he’s not plain. Have you seen those arms? Or that wide back? He has the most tender eyes too…-”

“I can see where your priorities are.”

“And secondly,” continued Kaminari “he makes the best coffee in town just so you know, so he's not just any dude from the café. He’s THE dude from the Café.”

Bakugou rolled his eyes and Kaminari sighed. That wasn’t even the point of all of this.

“I'm just saying, he's so nice and funny. And so considerate and he listens and…”

And he’s special.

Because he can give an amazing advice while referencing a shonen manga.

Because his laugh is so sincere and loud and joyful.

Because he makes this furrowed expression while he tries to decipher Mineta’s chicken scrawl and because he never really minds all the harsh complains some clients say unless it is something unfair or mean to his coworkers.

Because his jokes always make me laugh and because he gets all my vine references.

Because this is the first time I’ve feeling this strong about someone.

“I just don't feel like pretending we are only friends anymore.”

The sound of the sheats and the creaking of a bed made Kaminari turned his head, his golden eyes facing his friend’s red ones, both of their expressions neutrally serious as they looked at each other.

“I don’t fucking know. Have you tried asking Mina?

“I can’t, he’s her friend and she will embarrass me trying to organise a date or something”

Bakugou seemed to bite his tongue to hold back a biter reply. He closed his eyes before taking a short breath and said, his voice even and calm. “I thought you wanted to date him?”

“I do!”

“I understand no shit.”

Kaminari blushed, playing to intertwined his fingers just as he always did everytime he was feeling shy or he talked about something too personal. “But I want to ask him myself, you know. And also, I'm pretty scared. I haven't dated anyone since high school and you had seen how good things went back then.”

Bakugou hummed in agreement and Kaminari waited for him to say something else, the knowledge that will solve all his problems, a new point of view he had myself that the genius Bakugou had sure catched.

And then Katsuki said: “You are pretty fucked up.”

Kaminari almost got up to kick him and demand a true answer. Only the love for his friend and his self-preservation stopped him.

“Don’t you have anything else to say? I already know that.”

Silence. Or Bakugo had fallen asleep or was actively ignoring him. And since it was pretty late and his friend hated to be woken up for littleness, it was probably the second one.

But then Bakugo’s voice came very low, almost like a whisper, and Kaminari needed all his attention, to not miss a word.

“If you really like that asshole as you say you do,” he started, his voice steady and calm despite the harshness of his words. “then why not risk it and just ask him out? I mean, wouldn't that be better than just staying around watching him without really having any right to do more? Only because you were too scared to risk it? If you have the opportunity to make a move, because you know it is mutual, then you should stop being a pussy and just do it.”

They both remained still a few minutes, the words hanging above their heads in the silence of the room.

He was right.

And yes, Bakugo most of the time was but there was something now, not only in his voice but in his attitude, that made him look more mature, softer. Like if he talked from experience. Something had changed and Kaminari couldn’t tell what, how or when it had happened, but he sure liked it.

“Thanks man” he said and Bakugou hummed again, followed by a long comfortable silence after, the one someone shares with a roommate before going to sleep.

And then Kaminari interrupted it with “Hey, do you know that I have freckles”

“I would say they are more like small moles.”

“Yeah, he said that too!”

Bakugo groaned against his pillow. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

“I know right”

“When the fuck did this become a fucking sleepover talk?”

“The moment you gave me advice. You have exposed yourself, Katsuki. Now give me all those juicy gossips. I heard from Kirishima that there's this cute boy in your Ethics classe-”

Throwing a pilow at him, his friend screamed and cursed, the mature and empathic Bakugo disappearing in a matter of seconds leaving the classic angry dandelion they all loved and appreciated, jumping out of the bed and ready to fight Denki to death.

Kaminari’s giggles turned into peals of laughter once he saw his friend’s blushed face, and Bakugou started to curse even more colorful and louder.

They both ignored the protesting knocks on their door for the noise, as they played catch around the room as if they were kids, the atmosphere turning playful again.

Unsurprisingly, Mina arranged a date even without Kaminari asking.

“I can’t keep watching you two dancing around each other any longer.” She had said, when Kaminari had sent her a fifteen seconds long audio of him screaming “WHYYYYYYYYY”

“It is this sunday, 5.pm., in the east entry of the Amusement Park. And you better go or I will tell Jirou to kick your ass.”

To be honest, she didn’t need to. Kaminari was definitely going.

Sure, he was nervous and embarrassed as heck, but the idea of spending a whole afternoon with Sero, even if it was a fake date, made him shiver with excitement.do de

An hour before the meeting, Kaminari looked at his outfit’s reflection in the mirror for the third time already. He had bought a new pair of ankle boots only for that and even managed to convince Mina to let him one of her furry coats, after many hours of begging and promises of taking care of it over his life.

“Should I do something to my hair?” He asked Kirishima, who was laying on couch, watching lazily Kaminari’s efforts as he ate the last bag of potato chips in the apartment. Bakugou would probably kick his ass for that later but he didn’t seem to care much by his relaxed expression as he chew.

“Nah, leave it like that. Makes you look kinda wild” Perfect, then.

“Should I try cherry red or raspberry fuchsia lipstick?”

“Go fuchsia, man”

The make up were his sister’s, who had looked at him weird when he explained her why he needed it for. “Is it really necessary? It is only your first date with this guy.”

Yes, it was. It was part of the deal.

12:35: hey quick question, are we really doing that date this sunday

12:37: Yeah why not, Mina was so kind in asking me out for you.

12: 38: She said she was done. That we’ve been delaying it too much.

12:42: The nerve of that girl

12:43: Some people have never watch the teletubbies and learnt the important values of life and it shows.

12:45: I can’t believe I got asked out through my friend who also asked out the other person in my name

12:47: It is like a fanfic plot or something

12.48: Where the dudes decide to fake date so their friends can let them in peace

12:50:...and we were fake dating

12:50: omg we were fake dating

12: 55: what the heck does someone even does in a fake date

12: 56: idk, act like they care? Or pretend that they do not care as much as they do, depending on the fanfic.

12: 57: let's turn it into the next level then

12:57: I’m listening

12:58: Let’s care too much.

It had been an hilarious idea, and they both had agreed on it, but as Kaminari walked to their point of reunion he wondered if he hadn’t overdone it. Maybe the lennon sunglasses were just too much.

Act and look like if they were a pairing out of a cliche novel shouldn't be difficult but still, there was this tiny voice in his head that told him that maybe he had went too far, that he would scare Hanta away as all his other dates back then in high school.

But Kaminari wasn’t backing away now. He knew Sero and they had made a deal. He would have to wait to see him to see if he was up to the challenge or if he did got scared.

And he was not disappointed.

Just as they had agreed, Sero had been waiting in front of the ice cream bus track that always parked in front of the Amusement Park, wearing a pair of ripped sky-blue jeans, a turtleneck without sleeves and a fedora to top it all. He was also wearing hipster glasses, the thick black frame positioned elegantly in the arch of his nose, as if they had been made for him. The blonde took a mental note about asking him about his outfit later. Because damn.

The guy was good, Kaminari had to admit, but not enough to beat his raspberry fuchsia lipstick.

“Sorry for the wait. Ready to go?”

Sero turned, following the sound of his voice and Kaminari waited expectantly for a reaction, something in his face that told him that he liked the blonde's outfit.

For a moment it looked like he was about to burst into laughs but Hanta composed himself quickly before smiling charmingly and extending right arm, offering it to the blonde to hold as they walked. Cheesy.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

The best thing about autumn was that there was a lot of breeze.

And not the cold winter breeze, that makes your cheeks itch and freezed your fingers, no. But the refreshing autumn breeze that carried leaves around and smelled fresh and clean.

That afternoon though, the only thing Kaminari could smell was the snacks from the food stalls around them.

Denki inhaled deeply as he watched intensely the cans he was supposed to knock down, at least two if he wanted a decent price.

The man running the booth coughed impatiently and the blonde put his best Bakugou resting bitch face while actively ignoring him.

He was about to win this game. The man could wait.

Sero smiled apologetically at the booth's owner before elbowing him softly between the ribs. “Do you know that we still have another games to try, don't you?”

“After I get this one. I've almost done it”

Kaminari closed his eyes, trying to gain all the concentration before he directed his throw at his targets, with the confidence of a winner.

The luck was on his side.

The two cans that he needed fell to the ground, one of them knocking the other one as it fell, and the blonde smiled to the sound of the bell announcing his victory as the man told him to choose his price.

“A well earned plushie for you” Denki said to Sero, handling him the small stuffed animal of a fluffy grey chinchilla hanging from a keychain.

Sero received it with a wide smile, before hanging it from one of his belt loops. “Just for now, so I don’t lost it.” he explained. “This little guy would look perfect in my backpack.”

Humming happily, Kaminari scratched ‘win a plushie for him’ off his to-do-list, satisfaction filling him as he took Sero’s hand on his.

Kaminari couldn’t deny it, he was excited. He kept looking around, searching for activities to do together, trying to complete all the things-to-do in the least time possible.

His eyes sparkled when he saw another objective, Another point of their list that they still hadn’t achieve on sight.

Holding Sero’s hand to make him stop, Kaminari pointed a photo booth some meters behind him, the shiny lights glowing brightly, as if telling them to come inside.

“We gotta immortalise this moment,” he explained, while dragging him inside. “you don’t know when you will have another opportunity of having a fake date”

Hanta laughed as he watched Denki’s fingers roam over the buttons and options, choosing some before changing his mind and choosing again.

“Just choose the one the corniest one.”

“I'm trying to do that but I want them to match with my outfit.”Kaminari hummed before selecting one. “Okay this one is the one. May you do the honours?” He asked, pointing the button that would confirm it all and started taking the pictures.

They decided to get three pictures each once it was over.

“You can choose first.” Sero said, before pointing at the chinchilla hanging of the loop of his jeans. “You just won me this, it would be only fair”

“You bought me cotton candy before. We are technically even”

“Look at this little guy, and tell me he definitely isn't worth more than cotton candy.”

Kaminari didn’t need to look at the small puff the chinchilla was, with its tiny ears and black eyes, and its long and fluffy tail to know that it was the cutest thing he had ever seen.

“You made a damn good point.” He said before giving Sero the ones remaining and saving the other three in the pocket of his furry coat.

“Now let’s get in the line for the rollercoaster again, the one who screams first buys the other one a hot dog.”

“Deal.”

“You know if this wasn't a fake date then we should probably have gone and eaten something for dinner before the food stalls close up.” Sero said, once it started to get dark. Instead, Kaminari had looked at the red sky, orange and yellow mixing as the sun descended on the sea, and nodded his disagreement.

They had time and there was something more important to do now.

“This is a fake date” the blonde reminded him, pointing at the attraction in front of them with decision. “so, as the fake-dating-rules say, we shall get advantage of the sunset and go and watch it in the ferris wheel.”

Sero had looked at the ferris wheel, its colorful lights and the small line for it, before looking back to blonde, whose eyes were shining at the idea of getting up there, the excuse clear as water.

“Everything just to follow the fake dating rules.”

Kaminari smiled like a kid who had just received a candy.

To be fair, the fanfics had a point in using the ferris wheel for the climax of a date.

Sero had to admit the view from the top was pretty breathtaking. All the attraction’s lights and the people gathered around them under the orange sky. He could have appreciate it more though, if Kaminari hadn't been poking him in the leg every time he saw an All Might through the car's window as they ascended more and more.

“Have you notice how many kids are obsessed with All Might since the new season came out?” He had said earlier, when they had come across a group of children wearing the superhero costume. “It sure does bring back memories.”

Sero’s thoughts got interrupted by another poke from Denki, his eyes not moving from the window as he searched for the distinct blonde hairstyle amongst the crowd.

“Oh, there's another one.” Poke.

Hanta guy looked at the boy's features. The sunlight illuminating his face, turning his eyelashes and hair pure gold. It was entrancing,

He looked at the curve of his cheekbones, the small moles spread around the smooth skin and those raspberry colored lips that seemed to never stop smiling.

Sero wondered when it had been the last time he had been that immersed in someone to notice such small details, and to like every one of them.

Never, his brain responded, you’ve never fallen this hard.

If he kissed Kaminari right now, just as when they had joked before getting in, would the boy react well? Would he freeze in surprise, his body stiffening as Sero inclined to hug him? Would he kiss him back? His pretty eyelids closing as his tongue dance with his own?

He could. do it right now and find out. Less than thirty centimeters. He knew he wanted to, he had wanted it for a long time, but the idea of Kaminari rejecting him fueled his hesitation.

Kaminari poked him again, pointing at the window with a wide smile.

“Look there's a mini Eraserhead too!”

Hanta sighed and saw the blonde's eyes sparkling like stars, just as every time he got excited by something.

No, Sero wouldn’t do any move today and that wasn’t something bad

After all, Denki always was a beautiful sight.

After that one attraction they decided they couldn't delay their hunger any longer.

Their stomachs complained loudly, as a reminder that they hadn't received any food since lunch and Kaminari told him he knew a shortcut to the nearest McDonalds.

They got lost because who would have thought the same streets would look so different at night?

Apparently not Kaminari.

The cashier barely blinked when she saw them: two young boys dressed as vintage models, looking exhausted and ready to faint from starvation at any moment.

Kaminari went to search for a table as Sero ordered, releasing himself of the boots once he spotted a free table near the corner.

Checking his phone as he reclined his tired back against the cushions of the sofa, Kaminari unlocked his phone. It had stayed forgotten in his pocket the whole day. He had many messages from Mina(demanding him details about how the day went), a pair of Jirou and even one of his sister, who was asking him when he was free so they could have quality siblings time together.

He didn’t have any intention of answering Mina’s (at least not right now), but he answered Jiro’s and his sister’s before putting it back to his pocket, where he felt the smooth texture of the paper against his fingers.

Kaminari looked at the pictures they had taken on the photo cabin earlier that day, both of them smiling and doing silly poses and expressions. Each of them funny and completely unique.The last one was his favourite though. A picture of they laughing while looking at each other's eyes, totally lost in their own private joke.

Sero appeared a pair of minutes later, carrying a tray with their orders.

“So, a Macnificent, a Big Mac, two big portions of fries and one milkshake to share.”he said, holding two straws up so Kaminati could see them.

The blonde smiled cheekily, an eyebrow playfully raising as he looked at the straws.

“Damn it, boy, you really want to get in my pants, don’t you”

Hanta laughed, his eyes shining with amusement behind his glasses.

“Oh right I've been wanting to ask you, where did you get those glasses?

“They are actually mine” Sero explained as he took a bite of his burger. “though I mostly use them at home.”

“You wear contacts all the time?”

Sero shrugged. “I used to play volleyball in high school, so I had to get use to them.” He quirked his nose as if remembering something painful. “Volleyball and glasses aren't a good match.”

Kaminari cleaned his hands in the napkin before direct them to Sero’s glasses. He pulled them off and then on again, humming thoughtfully as he watched the other guy's face.

“It is weird, no, not weird, but seeing you with glasses… I don't know it feels different.”

“You know I'm nailing the Jeff Goldblum look”

“Blasphemy.” Kaminari said before nodding appreciatively. “But seriously, it isn't bad. think I actually like it.”

“I can't believe you when you are wearing Barney's furr.”

“Tell that right to Mina's face.”

The guy arched an eyebrow before pointing at Kaminari’s mouth.

“Is the lipstick also hers?”

“My sister's. It was this one or cherry red. I look amazing in both either way.”

“Woah you sure took your time to choose your outfit, huh”

Denki rolled his eyes.

“And you are telling me you didn’t? or is that turtleneck yours?” He snatched playfully the hat, Sero's smirk turning wider as Kaminari put it over his own head “And the rest?”

Sero snickered and sipped through his straw before nodding. “We may look extra but that isn't something bad” He looked so happy and relaxed there that Denki’s heart couldn’t help but flutter in his chest.

Christ, this guy was too much for him.

“We do, indeed.”

After that, they walked on silence to the bus stop, hearing the sounds of the street once the night was on its full.

Kaminari had given up on the boots, not willing to put them on again after freeing his feet, so he was walking on his socks now.

“At least until the bus arrives”, he explained to Sero’s exceptical look, “No way I’m walking bare feet on that cold metal.”

That had been once they got out of the restaurant. They were in silence now, the knowledge that the date was close to its end hanging heavy in the air.

“I had fun today” said Sero and Kaminari smiled back at him. He had smiled and laughed so much that day that only by doing that his cheeks hurt. How cool was that? A lot. A hella lot

“Yeah me too, I gotta thank Mina later for this”

He could already see Mina’s knowing-all smile, and her cheeky attitude once he told him how it all went. The worst part is that he really wanted to share it with her. She could be kinda nosy sometimes but she was always there when you need her. Kinda like a heroine.

“What did she say to you to convince you?” Kaminari asked, not even trying to hide his curiosity at that point. The whole day had been a ride (both figurative and literally.) and he was too tired to pretend right now.

“Isn’t being Mina enough?” Sero said and Kaminari nodded in an unspoken “Touché” as the silence sunk between them again.

At least until Sero asked suddenly. “Why do you think she had to convince me?”

The world seemed to stop then.

Kaminari gaped at him, his mind suddenly blank and his cheeks burning. His mouth moved automatically, the words leaving his tongue in an instant.

“Let’s go on a date again.” Both of them blinked at each other and Denki explained quickly: “Not today, of course! I meant another day, you know, without all of this fake dating thing.” Biting his lip nervously he said: “As ourselves.”

He could hear his heartbeats as he waited for an answer, playing with his fingers as he saw Sero’s mouth move in response.

“Bold of you to think I haven't been myself the whole day.”

Kaminari arched an eyebrow, then looked at Seros exposed arms and then back at his face. The guy snickered. He had been obviously kidding, the idiot. How dare he, didn’t he know how nervous he-

“Alright.” Sero said, shutting any complain up inside Kaminari’s head. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

Hanta’s hand reached for his own, playing gently with his fingers before intertwining them and his smile was blinding and beautiful and Kaminari wondered why it took him so much to ask him out, thanking Mina a million times in his head.

“This time for real.” Sero said and Kaminari nodded. He couldn’t wait.

“Dude,” said Kirishima “this universe is so good.”

Kaminari spinned even faster on his chair, the world turning a blur around him. He was feeling particularly anxious that afternoon, which wasn’t contributing to his creative mood. An that was the main reason he had stayed in his room that day, instead of going to the café as always. To finish the rough draft of his project.

That had been the plan but...

“They are not gonna end up together, aren't they?” Kirishima asked and Kaminari winced internally. No, he didn’t plan to. They were only friends, their romantic partners weren’t going to appear until a few more events later.

“Please, tell me Elysia isn’t going to die.” She was already an orphan, no way he wasn’t giving her a happy ending.

“Aren’t you asking too many questions?” Bakugo frowned in confusion, pointing with his chin at the rest of the papers gathered around the carpet. “Isn't it all draw and written there?”

“Yes, but there’s parts that aren’t complete” Kirishima said as he handled the notes to Katsuki.“It is so good”

“It is still a work in progress,”Kaminari explained, as he stand up to open the window. So many spins had made him feel nauseous and he needed some fresh air to calm down a bit. There was also another reason, but he tried to ignore it “Just some ideas written around. I don’t even have a main character yet.”

“How is that possible? Dude, you have no idea how much I love it, I’d write a 34k fanfic about this, I’m dying to get to know more about this world.”

The fact that it was Kirishima the one saying that just made Kaminari’s anxiety grow stronger on his chest. He hadn’t been planning on showing it to his friends yet. Specially not Kirishima. They had just bursted in the middle of it, holding a bag with soda and snacks and declaring it a movie night.

And he was happy to see them, he always was, but he felt like he needed some time for himself for now. To create and think. And definitely not dealing with the pressure of his work being examined by his talented and creative friend.

“You don't have to compete with his ideas or do the same thing you know.” Mina said and Kaminari felt ashamed instantly, despite probably not being his fault at all. She was just too good at reading people.

The girl was looking at him from her position in the bed, far enough so the other two couldn’t hear them. “He doesn't really realises how intimidated people can get just by hearing his opinions, despite them being always positive. He’s that dense about his talent.”

Mina looked at the guys, to Bakugo’s thoughtful expression as he read the profiles of the characters and Kirishima’s excited chatter, showing the spiky blonde some of the landscapes Kaminari had draw.

“But the same goes for you.” continued Mina and Kaminari looked back at those black eyes, which looked at him with sincerity. “Believe me when I say we all admire you as or even much more than you admire us. You create such pretty things, Denki. And you bring them all to live with only a pencil or a brush and it is amazing. Like, really amazing.”

“We also know you had been having a creator’s block since some weeks ago.” Kaminari blinked at that, honestly surprised. He had tried to act like it hadn’t been bothering him but it seemed nothing went over his friends’ heads. Specially when you have someone as observant as Bakugou as your roommate. “Just don’t be scared in telling us your artistic problems, okay? We may not totally understand them but we want to be there for you. For everything.”

“I will, I promise.”

The pink haired girl smiled and layed totally down on his bed, pointing at the two other boys, who were still talking about the project. “You should try to add Sero to the squad you know”

“Oh my god, Mina.”

She shrugged. “If you won’t do it, I will.”

And the worst thing was that Denki actually knew she would.

Sero looked at the board without looking, his fingers tapping softly against the desk, in an imaginary rhythm only he could hear. In the front of the classroom the teacher was explaining something that sure would come in the exam but he had given up on trying to pay attention long ago. (He would have to ask his friends to send him their notes later, the audio he was recording wouldn’t be enough.)

There was only ten minutes left for the class to be over and still it felt like forever. Sero sighed as he unlocked his phone, not even bothering in going unnoticed.

1:20: Hey, do you like sushi?

1:23: is that where you are gonna take me today? ;)

1:23: Yeah, I like it. Let's go for Bubble tea at some point too

1:24: And pair it up with donuts :sparkle: :sparkle: :sparkle:

1:25: you know me ;*

“Who’s that?” Sero startled in the middle of his response and Satou hummed, peeking over his shoulder while trying to read what was on the screen.“Your girlfriend?”

In the seat on his left, Ojiro snickered.

“Don’t you know?” he said, reclining in his chair in the seat on his left as if he was telling them a secret. “He has a date today”

His friends let out a choir of whistles that turned into laughs when they saw Sero’s irritated expression.

“So that’s why you had been distracted the whole class, uh?” Hanta rolled his eyes despite the assumption being absolutely correct. But they didn’t need to know that.

The bell rang and the teacher dismissed them all with a nod and Sero used the opportunity to fled off the classroom, not willing to give any more details to his friends that they will sure save for blackmail him later.

The day was sunny, which was weird, being winter so close, but Sero enjoyed the warm sunlight as he walked to the meeting point, his heart beating strongly in his chest with anticipation.

Kaminari wasn’t there yet, which wasn’t a surprise. Sero had noticed that the blonde always seemed to be running to get on time to his meetings. He tended to get distracted very easily and once he realised how much time has passed, he was already late.

Sero spotted Kaminari as he turned a corner, watching him waiting for the traffic light to turn red before crossing the road.

No ankle boots, lennon glasses nor raspberry lipstick. Just the classic Denki, with his hair tied up in a ponytail and wearing a jean jacket and a simple t-shirt, looking as excited and nervous as he felt.

A date as ourselves.

It wasn’t that unplanned tho. They would go for sushi and watch a movie. Hanta had already bought the tickets, two seats in the middle row (not too close, not too far) for the 10PM play.

In the meantime they could do whatever they wanted.

“Let’s go to the arcade,” Kaminari said, once they got out of the restaurant. They spent two hours there before getting bored and that’s when they started suggesting places to go, dismissing the ones that would take too much time for another occasion.

No to the zoo, yes to the karaoke.

Who would have known that Denki knew a respectable list of 70’s songs?

No to the ice skating parlor, yes to abandoned house near the park.

It was all laughs and fun until they found a creepy doll. They ran their asses outta there.

“I feel like eating ice cream” said Kaminari, once they got near the beach, the colourful light of the Amusement Park shining in the distance. Sero was following some steps behind him, feeling the breeze against his skin and revolving his hair. He felt tempted to take his shoes off and submerge his feet on the sea, hearing the sound of the water splashing with every step he make.

And then he looked up to find Denki doing exactly that. He was already calves in, his jeans rolled up so they didn’t get wet as he jumped around.

“What are you waiting for?” He said and Sero shook his head to him, not even trying to hold back his smile. Because, of course, Denki had had the same impulse. Sero would never get tired of discovering the puzzle Kaminari Denki was.

Leaving his converse next to Denki’s, Hanta ran to the sea, the cold water caressing his skin as he joined the blonde.

Hours later, they were still on the beach, throwing rocks at the sea and competing to see who throw it the farthest. The conversation had died a while ago, both of them enjoying each other’s company under the starry sky.

Kaminari wasn’t paying much attention to the competition though, because right there, sitting that close to Sero on the sand, he could see every feature of his face, from the tip of his ear to the curve of his chin.

Bakugou’s comment echoed inside his head. “Plain”.

“Oh, shit our movie is starting in half an hour” Hanta said, when an alarm on his phone ran off. He didn’t rush Denki as he put his shoes on though, waiting patiently as the blonde shook the sand out of his jeans. “Do you think we have time to get some bubble tea on our way there?”

Yeah, Denki still couldn’t see how an smile like that could have any of ordinary.

“There’s always time for bubble tea.” He answered and the taller guy chuckled, holding his hand as he lead the way to the mall.

Sero’s stupid jokes and Denki’s obnoxious laughs almost got them kicked out of the theater, almost an hour later. They didn’t care though, they were too busy eating the donuts they had hidden in their clothes, sugar powder falling falling on their jeans and covering their cheeks as if they were kids again. Indeed, a perfect date.

Following the map on his phone, Sero took a moment to compare the address before entering into an small neighbourhood. White and beige houses were displayed in order with mailboxes with the family names written elegantly on them and Sero stopped in front of the only house that was breaking the silence, and that coincidentally matched the address that Mina had sent him.

The sound of the drums was loud and probably the reason no one answered the doorbell, so Sero found himself following the tunes through the already open doors of the garage and hoping it didn't count as trespassing. And by the sight of the animal print backpack dropped in one of the wooden chairs of the garden, Sero knew he had found the right house.

Mina had failed to mention that there would have been more people there too. (And it had been on purpose, Sero could tell, after spotting Denki in a corner of the garage, casually playing the guitar as he heard his friends yelling beside him.)

“You gotta get the tempo right! Have in mind that they all will follow you, idiot.” screamed one of them, an ash blonde guy with a frightening scowl and angry red eyes.

“I know!” The guy in the drums responded, a redhead with strong arms and a sprightly smile, that didn’t even flinched when the blonde slapped the back of his head, as if he was used to it.

“Then why do you keep accelerating, you dumbass!” growling, the blonde turned to Denki, noticing Sero’s presence by the corner of his eye.

The sudden silence made the other two to look up to his direction, the spiky redhead barely raising an eyebrow as Denki’s eyes widen in stupefaction.

“What are you doing here?” Denki asked when he approached him. He was smiling though, and Sero felt his body relax under his golden gaze.

“Mina forgot his speaker and told me to get it for her since I was still at uni.” Sero hold the bright pink device up so Denki could see it. “What was all of that?”

Denki smiled sheepishly, his gaze turning at his friends.

“do you see the spiky redhead there? That’s Kirishima. He usually plays the bass but suddenly he decided he wanted to try the drums.” Hanta looked at the boys who were back at their bickering. “Bakugo’s been trying to teach him but he’s too impatient. Mina got tired of them so she went to the kitchen for snacks.” he explained. “Give me a second I will go for her”

Sero felt the gazes turn at him once more after Denki disappeared behind a door. They didn’t say a thing though, they just stayed there evaluating him in terrifying silence while Hanta did his best in trying to ignore them. Denki used to look at him like, before they exchanged numbers and stories.Sometimes he still looked at him like that.

“Sero!” exclaimed a feminine voice and Sero barely had time to blink before a body collided with his and hold him in a tight hug. Mina’s pink curls tickled his neck and Sero chuckled as she released him as fast as she had came. She had already taken the speaker out of his hands before he could say a word. (It wasn’t really a surprise to find out she was already friends with Denki. They both had the same chaotic energy, Sero was more surprised he didn’t take it for granted.)

What happened after that was a blur in his memory. Sero had mentioned something about going back and suddenly Mina was shoving Denki by the wrist at him, saying something about their houses being in the same direction before pushing them both out of the garage and closing the door behind them with an slam.

“Do you tend to do this a lot?” he asked, once he recovered. Denki’s guitar wouldn’t fit on his bicycle so Hanta was leading it as they walked, his eyes fixated on the pavement in front of his feet.

“We are approaching finals so we wanted to release some stress making noise before starting again.”said the blonde “Sometimes when we are all free we give small concerts.”

Hanta turned his head to him so fast he nearly strained his neck, his mouth falling open in shock. “You are kidding me”

Denki tried to hold back his smile by biting his lower lip instead. He seemed kinda proud as he talked. “I’m seriously not. Kirishima’s uncle has an small bar and he lets us play there from time to time.” He turned in a corner and Hanta followed him. They had already passed the avenue that leaded to his own home but Hanta didn't care, he was enjoying the company. “We are trying to find someone that knows how to play the music keyboard so if you are interested, just tell me.” He winked, jokingly and Hanta seriously considered telling him that he actually knew the basics only to see his cheeks turning a cute shade of red.

Denki stopped in front of an apartment building and suddenly the atmosphere was heavy again, crowded in unsaid questions.

“We are here” the blonde said, and Hanta wanted to believe his hesitation was because he didn’t want to say goodbye either. Not yet. “is your house near?”

“We may have passed it already.” Hanta confessed and since he was already doing that, he decided to risk it, trying to ignore his heart throbbing like crazy inside his chest. “I just wanted to expend some more time with you.”

Denki gaped like a fish for a few seconds, his eyes not meeting his as he opened the door, the invitation clear in his tone as he said, “What about a movie then?” and before Sero could say something he was already inside, and the taller guy could swear he saw a hint of redness in his ears.

The blonde’s apartment was on the second floor and it was bigger than Hanta expected, enough for two people to live there without feeling like trapped in a cage. It’s interior was red brick, with a white ceiling that matched the rug that covered the center of the wooden floor.

There were two beds, at the opposite wall of the entrance door, and two personal wardrobes next to each one. A white door was between them, probably the entrance of the bathroom, and windows in the sidewalls.

The small living room was formed by a green sofa, a beanbag and a desk in each sidewall, with two shelves above each of them.

The blonde had told him that he shared the place with Bakugou, so Hanta was expecting his side to be kinda rough, something that was a resemblance of his attitude.

Intead, Bakugo's side was impeccable, and it was Kaminari's side the one that looked chaotic, painting utensils, clothes, manga and papers were scattered everywhere, as if it was a tornado’s doing.

But the most noticeable thing was the canvas that was displayed on the sofa, a painting of a woman with her eyes closed and flowers in her hair, her golden curls adorning a face covered in freckles.

“She's my mom” Kaminari said and Hanta noticed that while he was there daydreaming, Denki had already picked everything up. “It is my best painting so far.”

And he might not said it, but Hanta had the feeling that it was also the most important for him.

“You look a lot like her.” Hanta said and Kaminari smiled, trying to ignore the ache he felt on his chest, a pain he felt every time he saw the painting.

It was a bittersweet feeling, of having someone you lost in front of you, so detailed and perfect and still, finding it lacking: no trace of the sound of her laugh, the shine of her eyes, the tinkle of her voice as she called him and his sister for dinner.

It was empty, and still, it managed to fool his eyes.

“I get that a lot.” Denki responded. “It seems I took a lot after her and my sister after my dad. I don’t have the curls or freckles tho, as you can see.”

In all honesty, Kaminari forgot the painting was there, he had gotten used to think it was inside his closet, hidden of the world and his own eyes. But his sister had com to visit the day before and he knew he couldn’t not tell her about it, between her visit, that lasted until midnight, and the early band practice from today, Denki had forgotten everything about the painting,that was there in the middle of his sofa for everyone to see.

Sero hummed thoughtfully before asking,“And why the flowers?”

The question shouldn’t have hurt so much.

“They are lillies. She loved nature. Our whole house looked like a flower shop, we had so many plants there.” It still did. His father never stopped taking care of her plants, no matter how tired he was after a full day of work. His father, who had to raise two children alone and that drinked tea instead of coffee since she passed away. “She didn’t seem to have a favourite though, so I had to do my research on them to decide which one I should choose.”

He didn’t dare to ask his father if she had a favourite plant. He was the man that lost his heart but kept living nevertheless.

The love story of their parents always amazed him. A college girl who met his future husband in a beach concert. A guy that played in a rock band and that fell for the girl whose arms were covered in flower tattoos, petals and leaves decorating her skin.

“Yellow lillies are beautiful and elegant.” explained Kaminari, brushing softly with his fingertips the painted blossoms.“They also symbolize thankfulness and desire of enjoyment. There’s people who associates them with negative meanings, bad luck, falsity, as well as happiness or joy.” Kaminari wondered what kind of face he was making. Was it reflecting the homesickness he was feeling? “I decided to stay with desire of enjoyment. Because my mom was like that, free and soft and extraordinary.”

Their mom told his sister that falling in love with their father was easy, that she felt so quickly that it was alarming. And that still, she felt no fear, because her love was bigger than it. A love like that. So big, so deep. So easy.

It sounded like a fairy tale and still, he witnessed it, how they were around each other. As if they were about to burst into a musical at any moment,

“Disgustingly in love”, would say his sister, always smiling.

“She sounds like an amazing person.” Hanta said, and Denki blinked away the tears he didn’t know that were gathering in the corner of his eyes.

“She was.” he agreed and then he added, “I still can’t decide which one of you makes a better coffee though.”

Sero looked at the calendar and counted again the days he had left until his deadline. Almost a month. Then he counted the days he would need to study for his other exams, the homework he still had to do and the courses that would probably leave him more. That leave him with two weeks more or less. Two weeks to finish the prototype of a videogame for the most important course of the semester.

He should have started it already. Actually, he had but he didn't plan on using that first attempt as his final work. So he was behind the schedule, but it was alright, because he would rather sacrifice some nights of sleep now than later, he would the energy once exams arrive.

It wasn’t a pleasant thought, tough.

Maybe if he finished on time he could ask Denki out again, maybe this time to the zoo, or any of the other places they had agree to visit another time, in their latest date.

Sero knew it would be impossible. By the time he’d finish, exam's week would had already started, and Denki would be busy with his own exams as well. Hanta hoped he wasn't as stuck as he was with his project, because the blonde had been sending him his ideas for already three weeks and Sero thought that it would be a shame if he didn’t see the end of that story.

What was the advice he had told to Denki, around two months ago, about being a creator?

“Have confidence and determination and then the talent would bloom” Hanta whispered to his ceiling. Or something amongst those lines.

Where did that come from? Definitely a moment of inspiration, Sero couldn’t imagine himself saying something like that again, not even in his best pep-talk.

But he did, once, and Denki had believed him and the prove of it wa sthe pictures he had now of his phone, sketches and messy notes that created new worlds by themselves.

Finish on time. Do it right.

He didn’t need to choose between them if he made other decision instead.

Sighing, Hanta picked up and dialed the numbers of the Coffee Whim.

“It is finals week in our uni” Shouji said when Kaminari had asked him about Sero's absence. “He has taken the last two weeks off, though I wouldn't be surprised if he didnt come some days after. You know how tiring it can be”.

Kaminari had nodded and thanked for the coffee before going back to his place on the sofa.

He hasn't seeing Sero since that movie night, almost three weeks ago. They hadn’t text much either, between his classes and homeworks, the blonde’s energy focused on study to pass his exams, that were just about to start that week. And now, knowing that Sero was the busy one made it impossible.

So the week passed, with the café empty and no sign of Sero, Kaminari coming everyday once the afternoon started and his exams were over, looking at the register and sitting on the table beside the window, drawing and writing, his story taking form in front of his eyes as the ink filled the white pages of the notebook. An story about a ordinary character, that by being surrounded by the unconvencional, was unique.

A knock on the door brought Sero back to the reality.

The door opened swiftly to show his mother, holding a tray with sandwiches and a big milkshake and the boy’s stomach growled loudly with hunger. “I brought some snacks.” she said and just then Sero realised he had been working non stop for seven hours. His fingers felt cramped and his back and neck felt as tense as a violin cord. The incomplete software was shining in his laptop screen, reminding him the time left he had to finish it and some parts of the story he still had to add. But those sandwiches looked good and so did the milkshake, and his mother had made them for him after arriving home after work so Sero decided to stop for a minute. He needed a break.

His mom stayed in the room, sitting besides him in the bed as she watched him eat, her black eyes shining in relief and the slight hint of an smile in the curve of her lips. She was still wearing her work attire, a long tube skirt with a white blouse and a red handkerchief around her neck. She hadn’t even took his make up off and Sero felt a wave of love filling his chest despite the numb state his brain was at the moment. His mom sure was the best.

“How was work?” he asked, once his stomach calmed enough to let his brain formulate words. There was only one sandwich left but Sero concentrated on the milkshake, enjoying the sweet flavour against his tongue.

His mom shrugged. “Kinda boring.”

“No interesting stories then?”

“Oh no, there's always drama in the airport. Nothing really remarkable this time tho.” her long red nails brushed his hair from the front to the back, as she did when he was a kid. He must really look horrible if she was doing that. “What about you? Are you close to finish it?”

Hanta didn’t look at her eyes.“Something like that.”

“One of those days, uh” Sometimes she could read him too easily.

Sero fidgeted in his chair, suddenly interested in the shelf in front of his bed, his figures way more interesting than his mother evaluating gaze.

“Remember when your brother taught you how to ride a bike?” she said after a moment and Sero couldn’t help but raise a brow..

Teach was an overstatement.

“You mean when he just left me in the top of an slope and waited for me to do it by myself.”

“Yes, I taught him that way too”

Sero hold back a laugh. So that's why his brother never got grounded.

“Also he told me you already knew the basics, it was time for him to let you go.”

“Debatable.”

She ignored him.

“I've seen many parents helping their kids when they learn. And I did that too, at the beginning.”

“Marco only did it like four or five times” Sero replied.

“More than enough. I only did it tree times for him.”

“Jesus, mom.”

“Don’t be like that, it was a very small slope.” She said “what i mean is that sometimes kids just need to prove the hardest thing, just to acquire something more important that succeed: experience. Oh, don't look at me like that, niño. Or are you gonna tell me that you didn’t enjoy the rush of adrenaline once your brain assimilated the fear and proceed to act? Overcoming it and try to do something. Anything! Because If you were going to fall, you would fall by your own terms.” Her soft hand cupped his cheek and Sero reclined in it.

“Sometimes i feel like you have changed a little with your experiences, but that’s okay, because you are still turning out and you learn from your mistakes. Just remember that I will always be here to remind you that sometimes it is better to take a risk. In everything.”

She kissed his forehead and Sero sighed, inevitably.

“Don’t doubt and don’t be scared, because when you are already falling you have nothing to lose. And knee scraps almost never leave scars.”

He was late.

The teacher had had a problem with her car and the class representative had told them to wait for another hour until she arrived. They just couldn't leave their notebooks, she wanted to ask them about them, confirm that they were the right authors and to exploit every piece of information they had not noted.

So they needed to wait.

The hours seem to last eternities and Kaminari had never hated that his last name was one of the lasts in the list.

The traffic was a disaster too. Winter had came and with it the snow and half of the buses in the city were stuck in the traffic. More time passed as he waited for a bus that never seemed to came and Kaminari was late, so he decided to ran.

He ran through the cold streets, his breath creating puffs in the cold air as he ran all the way to the café.

He wished it didn’t close, that maybe Sero was still there, delaying it because someone told him that Denki had gone there everyday and that he planned to do the same that day too.

And Kaminari ran. And he wished.

Sero had closed the cafe late that day.

It had been a busy day. It was the last day of finals and the eve of a long vacation term and the college students felt like treating themselves with caffeine and sugar after having survived hell.

Mineta was still mia (he would call him later, the dude always overdone it for finals) and Shouji had left early so he could go out with his (boy)friend. (Sero had to insist. He had been the only one working while the rest of them studied. He deserved the break.) He himself had finished his exams the day before, and he had never felt prouder of presenting a work on time. (He slept for fifteen hours after that, practically fainting on top of his bed with a victory smile.)

Right then though, he took orders, prepared, served and even greeted some friends and familiar faces, compensating for the days of absence with even more energy while doing his tasks.

“A vanilla cappuccino and a macchiato” a voice said and Sero looked up from the register to found himself in front of Denki’s roommate and friend, Bakugou, who was looking as exhausted and dead inside as everyone else.

Hanta wondered if he should greet him or try to make an small conversation, after all he had been in the guy’s house, but Bakugou didn’t make any sign of recognising him. Instead, the blonde looked silently at the small box next to the register before picking up one of the chocolate chips cookies bags displayed in it, not willing to look at Sero at the eyes as he asked for the price.

“I thought Denki would have been here” Bakugou said, while receiving his change. Hanta frowned in confusion.

“I hadn’t seen him in weeks”

“You must be blind then because he had come everyday in the last week”. Sero’s eyes widened in surprise and the blonde looked at him with curiosity before going back to his table, handling the cookie bag to the freckled guy that was waiting him there.

Hanta repeated that part of the conversation in his head for the rest of the night, unaware of the passing of the time as he swept the floor and cleaned the tables.

He didn’t notice the clock marking that it was already half an hour after closing time, or the clumsiness of his movements as tiredness started to affect him.

And once he heard the footsteps and the doorbell as the doors opened, every sign of exhaustion vanished from his body, his heart stopping for a second at the sight of a messy blond, with his cheeks and hands pinks for the cold and his breath uneven as he gasped, “A coffee, please”

Compared to outside, the Coffee Whim was cozy and warm and Kaminari’s muscles relaxed at the change of temperature.

Hanta had gone behind the counter, opening and closing cupboards before pouring the ingredients in the machine with ease.

Denki just observed, taking every detail of him in, trying to find small changes compared to the last time they had met. But aside from the bags under his eyes, practically hidden behind the frame of his glasses, he found none and he found it more comforting than he thought.

An small cup was slid softly to his direction and Kaminari looked down to the smiley face Sero had draw on the foam, the sweet smell of the coffee filling his nostrils before taking it to his lips.

“This…” he whispered, after a long sip and Hanta’s smile made Kaminari’s heart made a somersault in his chest.

“This time it is not a Nevado, it is too cold for that.” Sero explained, “ But I thought you might needed something sweet. This is the warm and original version: An Arequipe Latte.”

Kaminari sighed happily, his body welcoming the hot drink as his tongue drowned in its sweet taste. A cozy feeling filling him from head to toes the more he drank it.“I'm gonna marry you one of these days.” he said and Sero huffed at his dramatism.

Once he had finished it all, the blonde asked, “I see your finals are over. How did it go?”

Hanta shrugged. “It was rough, not gonna lie, but it turned out fine at the end. Very good actually, I’m satisfied with the results.” He poked kindly Denki’s hand, positioned on top of the wooden table. “And yours?”

“I won't know the results till monday but I'm positive.” Denki thought of his project, his explanation of it and the teacher's face as she checked the notebook. He closed his eyes at the memory of her asking him if she could keep it for a few days and the encouraging smile she gave to him before closing the door behind him. “I really want to nail this.”

“I’m glad to hear that. I’m sure you are gonna kick some asses there.”

Denki mirrored his smile and then there was silence between them again, a comfortable one, as they both lost in the comfort that being with each other was.

At least until Kaminari’s phone rang, the pop song cutting the atmosphere like a knife.

It wasn’t nothing important, only an old alarm he had forgotten to deactivate, but it reminded Denki how late it was, his muscles suddenly aching with the realization.

“I think it is time to go home” he said, rather hesitantly, as he got up of the chair. He didn’t make any more move though, watching Hanta as he put his coat on and turning the last lights off before getting next to him to walk to the bus stop together.

The snow had already started to accumulate in the streets by the time they spotted the bus stop from afar, and despite being a cold night, Kaminari found himself extending his arm to catch the snowflakes, even if they gave him goosebumps when they made contact with his skin. Carefully, Hanta took his hand on his own to put them both in his coat’s pocket, protecting them of the cold temperature, the warm of his palm transfering to his own.

“You know, I tend to do stupid things when I’m tired.” said Sero, as they approached more and more their destination. Their steps had turned slower though, prolonging their time together as long as possible neither of them wanting to say goodbye.

Hanta hadn’t let go his hand yet, and Denki felt his hand squeeze his as Sero turned his body to face him, so close, he could see through his glasses clearly.

“Really? I do them all the time” said Kaminari, suddenly out of breath and his eyes roamed over Hanta’s features, searching for any sign that revealed a doubt, a rejection. There was none. Quite the contrary even, as Denki watched his lips quirk in a shy smile, the blush extending to his ears as Hanta looked back at him, at his lips. “It must be really annoying.”

“It is,” Hanta said and then there was a hand caressing softly Denki’s cheek, raising his chin with cold fingers and touching lovingly the corner of his mouth, and the blonde felt a dejavu as he felt his breath against his skin, his heart stopping as Hanta whispered, “but I think I won’t call it a mistake this time.”

The long awaited kiss was soft and tender, almost shy, and both guys closed his eyes as they hugged each other closer, their lips parting almost immediately with craving. It tasted sweet and slightly bitter and Denki stood on his tiptoes to get to taste more of it.

Hanta and coffee, coffee and Hanta.

He almost whined when they had to separate to breath, joining their foreheads together as Hanta chuckled against his mouth.

“Suddenly I feel like drinking coffee again.” He said and Denki pulled him down by the collar of his coat because for the first time on his life, he did not. He found that he liked Hanta’s lips even more.

#coffee whim #kamisero #full cowl bang #coffee shop au #alternate universe #bnha

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dearlazerbunny · 5 years

Text

Fool

Pairings: Peter Parker x Reader

Genre/Rating: G

Words: 2600

Summary: thank you again to @molmcb for keeping me in business! the suggestion was the song Fool by Cavetown, and this loosely inspired fic was the result. Enjoy!

You vividly remember the day Peter asked you out. He was a bumbling, nervous mess, actually managing to dump his backpack on the floor even though in the beginning of the conversation it was securely strapped to his back. You laughed, but not meanly- you thought it was cute, really, and a little bewildering that one of the smartest boys in school was nervous about asking you out. As you bent down to help him retrieve the notebooks and pencils that had sprawled across the hallway, your hands met for a moment over a sheet covered with equations too complicated for you to comprehend. You both blushed, but didn’t notice, because you were both too busy looking away from the other person as quickly as possible at the first feeling of heat flaring in your cheeks. It was a moment out of time, like a meet-cute in a movie, and for the rest of the day you felt like you were floating on air.

How far you’ve come. But… not necessarily in a good way. Peter sits across from you at a little restaurant a few blocks away from school, fidgeting with his cell phone. He’s clearly withdrawn, not really all there, and after a moment you set your fork down and try to get his attention. “Peter? You okay?”

He doesn’t respond for a moment, but finally looks up at you, almost like he’s forgotten you’re there. “Yeah, yeah, fine. Just waiting to see if Mr. Stark is going to call.”

You sigh. Everything is about the Stark internship these days. And that’s fine, really. You’re incredibly proud of him for scoring such an amazing opportunity. He certainly deserves it, and the chance to show off how smart he actually is. Details of what he actually does are few and far between, and you get that, Stark Industries is a tight run ship and far be it from you to demand information about something you know nothing about. It’s just… everything is about the internship. Every day after school, late into the night. Secret notebooks full of strange math and science he won’t let you help him with, even when he gets stuck. Being glued to his phone constantly, even during class, always hoping for a call you’ve personally never even seen come in.

He maintains Mr. Stark is just busy and so he needs to be available whenever he needs him. You’re beginning to wonder if Tony Stark really even gives a shit about your sweet boy who’s clearly dropping everything to try and please him. It worries you- especially since Peter doesn’t even seem to see it.

“Has he called recently?” You stick a bite into your mouth, preventing you from saying anything further. You know what the answer will be before he even opens his mouth.

“No… but he will. He’s probably caught up in some new project.” His voice takes on a bit of a dreamy quality, like it always does when he talks about “some new project” Tony Stark is engineering up in his mighty tower. He idolizes him, but honestly, your opinion of the billionaire is dropping closer and closer to the floor by the minute. Has he ever called Peter? Even once? Does he realize what it’s doing to him? There are circles under Peter’s eyes that you’ve noticed have been building for months now, and he seems perpetually exhausted and overworked and strung out all at once. His fingers never, ever leave his phone. When you call him he picks up in an instant, excited, and his voice drops just a little every time he realizes it’s only you.

You’re not offended. Not yet, anyways. It just makes you sad.

“Well, put the phone down, at least. You’ve barely touched your food.” You try to keep your voice light, but some of the underlying concern must have bled through, because he looks up at you sharply.

“I’m fine, Y/N. Don’t worry about it.”

“I know you are. Just… maybe think about taking a night off, yeah? We could see a movie, or go back to my place…?” You haven’t had alone time with him in positively ages; even dragging him to the restaurant, which the two of you used to visit all the time, was a feat.

Like you know he will, he shakes his head. “I’ve got some stuff I have to do-”

“-for the internship,” you finish, deflating a little. “Yeah. I know.”

To his credit, he does have the decency to look a little remorseful. “Sorry. Maybe tomorrow night?”

“Really?” You perk up. “You mean it?”

“Sure, I’ll just… I can just let Mr. Stark know I’m busy and then we can spend the whole night together.” He smiles at you, that dorky smile that you fell in love with so easily. “Does that work?”

“Yes.” You’re grinning from ear to ear. “That’s awesome, Peter. Really.”

“Great.” He’s back on his phone will he stands, shrugging on his coat and backpack. He does lean down and kiss you on the cheek, albeit briefly. “I’ll see you then, okay?”

You try to get him to come back for a proper kiss, but he’s already halfway out the door. “Okay,” you call half heartedly, but you doubt he even hears you as the bell tied to the restaurant’s entrance jingles, signaling his exit.

Sighing, you get up to pay for your meals, and to get a box for Peter’s untouched food. But the hope of tomorrow night burns bright in your chest, and for the first time in a while, you find yourself humming on the walk home.

…

You knock on the door to May’s apartment, practically bubbling with excitement. A whole night with Peter. Nothing but bad movies, tossing (or attempting to toss) popcorn into each other’s mouths, cuddling some. Maybe… maybe even a little bit more. The two of you have kissed, sure, but you can’t help but wonder if he’s ever thought about, well. More. Just the thought of it makes your cheeks a little red, but hey, he’s your boyfriend isn’t he? You have a right to be attracted to him. That makes you giggle a little as May finally opens the door.

“Y/N! What a surprise! Come in, come right on in.” She stands aside and you smile gratefully at her as you step inside their cozy little apartment.

“Thanks, May. Did Peter not tell you I was coming? Sorry to drop in unannounced.”

“Oh, dear. Did the two of you have plans tonight?” She puts a hand up to her cheek. “I’m afraid he’s out. Something about the internship.”

Your heart drops. He forgot? You’d talked about it just that day in class. So… maybe he didn’t forget. Maybe he knew you had plans and he went out anyways. What happened to telling Mr. Stark he was busy? Are you not important enough for even one night off?

Thoughts are spinning through your head, and May seems to notice your face fall because she tries to salvage the situation. “I’m sure he’ll be back soon. Do you want to go on in to his bedroom? You can make yourself comfortable while you wait.”

You give her a tight smile, so different from the one on your lips just a few minutes ago. “Yeah, I guess… I guess I’ll do that. Thanks, May.”

She looks sympathetic. “Let me know if you need anything.”

You’re pretty familiar with Peter’s room; you’ve hung out here many times before. Of course, the last time was months ago, before the internship thing started happening. But nothing much has changed: bed messy and unmade, projects and trinkets and homework littering the desk. Clothes on the floor. It almost makes you smile, just a little. It’s like nothing’s changed, and you’re just waiting for him to get snacks from the kitchen- he’ll come back in any moment and tackle you onto the bed, smothering you in kisses, making you squeal.

Sighing, you sit down, dropping your bag full of movies beside you. He’s probably just running something small and he’ll be back soon. You keep saying that to yourself again and again as the time ticks by, later and later. Eventually, you just lay down on his bed, curled up in his blankets. It smells like him, which makes you sad and angry all at once. He really did skip out on you. For some stupid internship he won’t even tell you anything about except its all big and important. Apparently so important he can’t give his girlfriend the time of day. You scrunch his comforter up to your chin, trying to keep tears from falling down your cheeks.

You’re going to wait for him, no matter how late he comes back. You’re going to make sure he knows you waited for him, even though he clearly didn’t give a crap about you.

You must have fallen asleep, because the next thing you know there’s a hand on your shoulder shaking you awake. “Y/N? What are you doing?”

“Peter.” You sit up and rub your eyes. “Forget about something?”

“I-” he stops, looking guilty. “No. I didn’t forget. It was an internship thing, last minute, I figured I wouldn’t be gone long and then we could hang out but it ran late. I’m sorry, I thought you’d just go home.”

“You didn’t even try to call?”

“I… I was busy.”

You can’t believe this. You honestly can’t believe this sweet, thoughtful boy would completely stand you up and then not even bother to call and tell you about it. Except, here it is, right in front of your face. Maybe you’ve been overstating him. Maybe he’s not really that sweet after all. “Peter.I waited for you for-” you check your phone “seven hours. Seven hours thinking, oh, he’ll be back soon, he can’t possibly think that this stupid internship is that much more important than his girlfriend.” You shake your head. “But here we are.”

“Stupid?” He instantly bristles. “It’s not stupid, Y/N, it’s amazing-”

“What’s so amazing about it?” You explode on him, standing up so fast he has to take a step back. “I sure as hell don’t know, because you won’t even tell me anything about what you do! All I know is that you’re always, always waiting for a call that’s never going to come, Peter. It’s not. I don’t care how much you idolize Tony Stark, he clearly does not give a flying fuck about you or how he’s upending your life. You’re not sleeping, you’re missing school, you won’t give me the time of day. And-” your voice breaks, and you can feel the tears starting to come back with a vengeance. “I love you, but I’m sick of it, Peter. I miss you. I miss us. But you don’t even seem to care.”

You expect an apology. At least a little remorse. But instead, he just seems to get angrier, matching your sadness with a rage you haven’t seen from him, ever. “No, Y/N, if you really loved me, you’d support me. You’d know what an amazing shot this is! You wouldn’t be complaining all the time about me sleeping or eating!” He runs his hands through his hair. “Mr Stark believes in me. He’s giving me this chance, and I can’t mess it up. Maybe it is the most important thing right now.” The look he gives you and the words he’s saying make your heart break. “If you loved me, you’d understand.”

You’re silent for a moment, processing his words. Then, slowly, you pick up your backpack and sling it on. “No, Peter,” you say thickly. “I do love you. But you obviously don’t love me.”

“Y/N-”

You shoulder him out of the way. “Save it for your precious Mr. Stark.”

…

It’s been two without Peter. Two months since your argument, two months without a word since. You do see him in the hallways occasionally, and though you try not to care you can’t help but notice the bags under his eyes growing darker and darker every week; how sometimes he comes to school in the same clothes he’d been wearing the day before. You try not to care. But you do. And every time you have to remind yourself that he doesn’t, it stabs you in the guy so harshly you have to look away.

You still think about him, in the moments between problem sets or the paragraphs of an English paper. How it started so great; how it all went wrong. But you can’t blame yourself for that. He made his choice, clear as day. You just… got caught in the storm.

You put your pencil down and let your head rest on your desk. That doesn’t make it hurt any less. You sit there a while, just trying to breathe through the sudden wave of emotion, when there’s a tapping on your window that distracts you.

You ignore it, but it keeps happening, almost a knock rather than the patter of the rain. Going over to it and pushing the curtains aside, you stop. Peter is crouched on the balcony, in the rain, nothing but the clothes on his back. You quickly go and unlock the door. “Peter? What- how did you even get up here-?”

He stumbles in without a word, heaving, and at first you think he’s drunk, but when he wraps you into a hug so tight you can hardly breathe you realize he’s crying. Sobbing. Tentatively, you hug him back, the first contact you’ve had with him in months. “Peter? What’s wrong?” He mumbles something against your shoulder, which is now wet with tears. You pull him away from you, worried. “Peter. Talk to me.”

“I lost the Stark internship,” he whispers, and the world seems to stop.

“Oh, Peter.” Despite all that’s happened, your heart sinks. “I’m so sorry.”

He shakes his head. “I know you’re not, I know you’re probably glad, I just… I didn’t know where else to go,” he says miserably, and you can’t stop yourself from reaching out and wiping a tear from his cheek.

“You’re wrong,” you say. “I am sorry. I know how important it was to you.”

“I messed it all up. Mr. Stark- you were right about him. About everything. It’s all my fault.”

“Look at me.” He does, with red eyes. “Tony Stark is an idiot and a fool if he can’t see what’s right in front of him. You’re amazing, Peter Parker. He just doesn’t realize it.”

“But you did.” He takes your hand, but slowly, giving you time to pull away if you want to. You don’t. “You do. You-” he stops, looks away. Takes a breath. “You said, that night, that you loved me.” His voice is so small you can hardly hear his words. “I thought that maybe… you still might.”

Now you’re crying, though not as heavily as he was. “Yeah,” you say quietly. “I do.”

He presses a kiss to your lips, softly at first, but then harsher, more desperate. You don’t push him away, even though you know you probably should. All is not forgiven, but in this moment, you’re so happy to have your Peter back you’d just as quickly forgive him for the world.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.” When he finally pulls away, his voice is rough. “You were there with me the entire time, and I was too stupid to see it.”

“Maybe you’re a bit of a fool as well, Peter Parker.” You put a hand to his cheek and he leans into it, looking at you. “But you’re my fool. And I’m willing to give it another chance if you are.”

He kisses you again, and this time, without even saying a word, you know he loves you too.

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #marvel fic #marvel #marvel fanfiction #request

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leelee10898 · 6 years

Text

Back to you: Chapter 15 pt 1 - Welcome to New York

Characters belong to Pixelberry, except those created for the story.

Summary: We pick up the morning after the fight at the speak easy, where Leo and Aria spend the night together. We say goodbye to Paris and Hello to NY! Someone has left court,and Leo comes face to face with Arias Best friend Ellie, who is NOT his biggest fan. Catch up on past chapters HERE

Rating: 18+ Slight NSFW, Fluff and sort of angsty..

Chapter/title inspiration: Welcome to New York - Taylor Swift

Tag list: @bobasheebaby @scarlettedragon @annekebbphotography@speedyoperarascalparty @greyeyedsmile14 @stopforamoment @mind-reader1 @xxrainbowprincessxx @hopefulmoonobjectalicars @katurrade @indiacater @bella-ca @blznbaby @blackwidow2721liamxs-world @simsvetements @crookedslimecreatorpasta

As always if you would like to be added to the tag list, let me know and we can make it happen! Enjoy

Bang bang bang

Lady Aria

“Ugh make it stop.” Aria groaned

Bang bang bang

Lady Aria I can not believe you are still asleep, have you learned nothing?

Aria jumped up out of bed stark naked. “shit I need clothes.” She fumbled around the floor, finding a button up dress shirt she buttoned the middle two buttons as she hopped around trying to put on the boxers she found crumpled on the floor

Bang bang bang

Lady Aria we have a schedule to keep now get u-

Aria flung the door open cutting Bertrand off “what Bertrand? what the actual fuck?” She snapped. Bertrand assessed her attire, his face flushed “ah well ah, yes plans have changed we are headed for New York, flight leaves in 5 hours. ” Bertrand hastily walks off embarrassed.

“I thought Bertrand was going to curl up into the fetal position. ” Leo chuckled now sitting up in bed. Aria smiled at his joke. “Shut up, Bertrand knows I hate that shit.” Leo grinned looking her up and down. She was beautiful all dolled up, but he loved when she was wearing his boxers and shirt, her long brown hair thrown in a messy bun. “What?” Aria noticed his gawking. Leos smile spread across his face “just admiring the view.” He tilted his head in appreciation . “Well shows over its time to pack.” She advised waking over to the night stand to check her phone. Leo grabs her by the waist and pulls her onto the bed. “Leo!” Aria giggles as he rolls on top of her, kissing her neck and un buttoning his shirt she was wearing. “Hey you heard Bertrand, we have a plane to catch.” Aria protested in between kisses. “What I heard was we have a plane to catch in 5 hours.” He whispers as he kisses her down her chest before removing the boxers and settling in between her legs . “Leo. We cant.. OH, mmmm, ok.” Aria moans, she could feel the grin on his face between her legs.

***********

4 hours later Aria was packed and waiting in the lobby. She was so excited to be going home. She missed Ellie terribly, she would have to carve out some down time to visit with her before they headed back to Cordonia. Cordonia she thought. So many questions swirled around her head. What if Tariq wasn’t found? What would she do then? She couldn’t be Liams mistress, she wouldn’t. What was she going to do about that mess? She loved Liam, still after everything that had happened, but then there was Leo. He was so amazing, helping her through everything, so protective and caring and the sex. Well the sex was amazing, but was it just sex? No, it was more then just sex. Last night during his fight with Liam, Leo let it slip that he loved her. She didn’t know how to approach it so she didn’t bring it up. She knew she loved him, she never stopped. Part of her wanted to lose herself in the feeling again, but that cautious side hit the breaks hard. She loved Liam, and she loved Leo, what the hell was she to do?

“I hope im not interrupting anything.” A voice pulled her out of her thoughts. She smiled “Liam. No you are a welcomed distraction.” She patted the bench next to her for him to sit. “Where’s your shadow?” She wondered sarcastically. Liam rolled his eyes and groaned. “Madeline caught and earlier flight, something about shower arrangements. I could care less honestly.” “Hey how are you? After last night? ” She questioned looking at his puffy lip. “I am very sorry about the way I acted in front of you. I should have never allowed my jealousy to put you in a position to be harmed. ” liam hung his head in shame. “Liam i’m fine, sometimes we lose our cool.” She lifted his head up, stroking his cheek gently. “How have the blackouts been? Have anymore episodes?”

“No I haven’t had an episode in a few days, not since, well that terrible day in your room.” Liam winced at the memory. “ when you have them, are you doing anything before?” She prodded. “Well, it happens different times, I am never doing the same thing its sporadically.”. Aria reached out to take Liams hand. His heart skipped a beat. “Aria, I miss you, I miss us.” His voice a low whisper. “I miss you too Liam, everything is just.” “Complicated?” He finished her sentence for her.

“There you are.” Leo calls out interrupting the moment. “Leo.” Liam acknowledged “Liam.” Leo nods, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Liam stands and takes Arias hand, placing a soft kiss on it “I will see you later, perhaps we could talk a little more once we’ve landed in New York?” “Yes, that would be wonderful. ” Aria gives a polite smile as Liam walks away giving Leo a dirty look.

Leo pulls out a box from behind his back “for you my lady.” “Are these?” She starts to say staring at a beautiful pastel arrangement of macaroons. “they are.” He beams as he hands her the macaroons from her favorite bakery in the city. . She jumps up into his arms and kisses him on the lips. “You really are my super man.” She giggles pulling a macaroon out and biting it. Savoring its Devine flavor. Leo smiles and takes her hand “we’ve got a plane to catch.”

After a long flight their plane touches down at JFK international in New York. They gather their luggage and a short ride they arrive at their hotel. Madeline greets everyone in the lobby. “I have made everyone’s room arrangements. Liam and Leo will be on the 2nd floor with Kiara, Peneolpe and myself. The Beaumonts, Aria, Olivia and Drake will be on the 6th floor. "What about Hana?” Aria asked, noticing her name wasn’t mentioned. “Ok so everyone get some sleep, we have brunch with the mayor tomorrow.” Madeline turns and walks away, ignoring Arias question. Liam, Bertrand and Maxwell head off to their rooms. “Madeline where is Hana staying?” Aria followed after her demanding an answer. Madeline turned and let out an annoyed sigh. “Lady Hana has left court and returned home,if you must know.” She turns and calls for Penelope and Kiara to follow.

Aria stood their stunned, why would Hana leave without saying goodbye? Something did not feel right. First Liam is having black outs and now Hana is gone? “You ok Beautiful?” Leo approaches placing his hand on her shoulder. “No, Hana would not just leave without saying goodbye. Its 4:30 am in shanghi. I will have to call her later.” Aria sighed. She grabs her room key “I guess I will see you later.” Aria gives Leo a quick peck on the cheek and heads to her room.

She sits down on the bed and stares at the trunk containing all of her dresses and proper clothing. Its been nothing but dinners, teas, balls, formal events for months. She longed for some greasy food and a soda. She pulls out her phone and sends Ellie a text

Aria:What are you up to tonight?

Ellie: Hello stranger!! Lindsay and I are meeting Jay and Rob at Timothys. You?

Aria: Omg I would kill for some honey bbq wings from Timothys right about now.

Aria: another day another fancy hotel. You at home? Hows the apartment? What time are you guys meeting up?

Ellie: around 7. Apartment is fine, im at Lindseys. just getting out of the shower, gotta get ready. Call me later, I miss you.

Aria: miss you too.

Aria tosses her phone on the bed. She digs around in her duffel bag until she finds her keys. She could have told Ellie she was in New York, but that would ruin the surprise. Aria was going to stop at their Apartment and get some clothes before heading to Timothy’s. She opens the door to find Leo standing on the other side. His hand lifted like he was just getting ready to knock. Aria jumps back “oh shit, you scared me.” She puts her hand on her chest. Leo chuckles “sorry. You going somewhere?” He notices her keys in her hand. “Actually, i’m going to my apartment and I think i’m going to surprise Ellie, shes going to Timothy’s and i’m dying for some wings!” Aria bites her bottom lips and twirls her hair. “Oh I see, I ah, I came to see if you wanted to grab a bite to eat, but I see you’ve made plans. Ill leave you to it. ” he turns to leave “Hey Leo, want to come with me?

Leo smiled "Yes, absolutely. ”

They head to the lobby about to leave when Leo re directs her towards the parking garage. “I have other transportation arrangements.” He grinned leading her over to a shiny black motorcycle. Her eyes light up. “This isn’t the same bike is it?” “I had it brought here, to many memories to let it go.” He handed her a helmet before swinging his leg over and mounting the bike. Aria climbs on the back, she gives Leo the directions to her place and they drove off.

They arrive at a stone building that was one of the nicer places on the block. There was no elevator so they had to walk up a few flights of stairs until they reached the 3rd floor. They walk into the apartment, Aria half expected to find a huge mess but it was clean. “So this is me.” She motioned around the small space. “Its not much but its home.” She fiddled with her fingers, she was nervous bringing him there. “It suits you, its very comfortable and inviting. Much like you.” There were pictures of her and Ellie growing up, pictures of their friends having fun all around. “Bathrooms down the hall, along with the bedrooms. El is on the right, i’m on the left. "Oh, yeah? Is there a tour.” He perks up. They start walking down the short hall “Yes, I need to change.” She turns and gives him a serious look “hands to yourself Rhys we don’t have time for your shenanigans right now.” He puts his hands up waving them in defense. Aria walks over to the dresser pulling out a bra and pantie set, Leo arches his brow. “You turn your head.” She orders. “I’ve seen your ass love.” He smirks “turn it Super man.” She motions her finger in a circle If he played his cards right he would get to see them later on

. He puts his hand over his eyes, he parts his fingers to steal a peak. He sees her putting on a lacey black thong. He groans as he tilts his head slightly. “Hey I said no peaking. ” she hollars. She throws on a pair of tight jeans and pairs it with a black off the shoulder shirt. She threw on a pair of sandals, and let her hair down. “Ok, let’s get going.” She called over to Leo who was now lounging across her bed. “Yup.” He jumps up and the leave for the bar. They arrive at Timothys a short time later. “So before we head in, I should probably tell you, you are not Ellies biggest fan.” Aria mentions biting the bottom of her lip. He tucks her hair behind her ear and drops his voice low. “If you keep biting that lip were never going to make it into the club.” He winks and leans in giving her a deep kiss before pulling back, leaving her breathless.

They walk into the crowded bar, Aria searches out her friends in the crowd. She spots them but she makes a B line to the bar. She knew a few of the waitresses so she stopped one asking if they received their order yet. The waitress informed them she was just getting ready to take it over. Aria whispered something into her ear and the waitress agrees. Leo stood there and watched her work her magic. They follow the waitress to her friends table. Aria and Leo stand off to the side so they weren’t spotted. Once the waitress distributed the order she turns to Ellie. “I have something else for you but you have to close your eyes.” Ellie looks at her and reluctantly closes her eyes. Aria walks over and stands where the waitress was, right in front of Ellie. “Did someone order a side of best friend?” Aria giggles. Ellie’s eyes fly open and she screams, jumping up and hugging Aria. “Oh my god, you’re here. When did you get here, oh my god.” Ellie hugs Aria while jumping up and down. “We just got in today. I had to come see you. And we wanted wings.” Aria chuckled. “Wait, who’s we?” Ellie looked at her curious. “Hello Ellie.” Leo joins Arias side. Ellie eyes him coldly. “You brought him?” Ellie turns to Aria with her hands folded across the chest. “What the hell for?” Aria swallowed hard, this was going to be a disaster.

#choices trr #trr fanfic #trr #prince leo #leo trr #leo roe #king liam #cordonia #back to you #back to you fan fic #playchoices

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ohmydavidbowie · 6 years

Text

TBC

Two rules.Two obvious, simple, easy rules.

That's all Debbie Ocean had in mind - along with all the excitement that kept making a shiver go down her spine - whenever she performed a new heist.

Just two rules: 1. don't fall in love, and 2. don't get caught.

Unfortunately, breaking rules was something she enjoyed just as much as stealing things.

Five years in prison gave her plenty of time to plan and think and think and plan again until her brain would claim for some sleep and in her sleep she would dream about what later she would start calling The Perfect Heist.

It always started the same way: Debbie getting out of prison, Lou waiting for her outside with her exaggerated motorcycle and her exaggerated smile. They would go and steal an incredible amount of jewelry - which had nothing to do with Debbie but everything to do with Lou - and live a happy life together as the best friends they were.

Drinking, smoking weed, fighting everyday but still never letting go of each other, exactly like the two grandmas with gay ex-husbands from a show she started watching in prison but never got to finish because she had to trade the cellphone for tampons.

In her dream it was always just the two of them. The two against the world. But of course in real life things changed a little.

Not that she didn't like the girls, she loved them. She learned how to appreciate each one of them for what they were, with their virtues and flaws.

Amita was the yin and the yang. At the same time she was the most focused on the group, she was also one of the funniest. Debbie couldn't stop laughing for a whole hour when Rose told the squad about the French situation when they went to scan the necklace.

Speaking of Rose, Debbie didn't recall meeting someone that pure during her entire life. Of course she wasn't stupid or dumb or something like that. She was a mature woman who knew what she was doing but at the same time she was innocent, somehow. Something Daphne totally wasn't.

Daphne was like the 13 years old sister Debbie never had, except she was almost in her thirties. She loved listening to loud music, she loved having sex and she knew exactly what she was getting into when she decided to join the group. At first Debbie was skeptical, but she grew fond to the girl.

Just as she grew fond to Nine Ball. She was quiet and spent most of her time hacking stuff and listening to music in many different languages. She would go from Arabian songs to an annoying Korean thing (sis, it's called K-POP and it's NOT annoying, she would say) in minutes and she could sing all of them. Perfectly.

Constance was funny. She was an orphan who grew up trying to make the most of herself but ended up on the streets. It didn't make her less than anyone though. The reason she kept cheating on street games was because she wanted enough money to pursuit her dream of becoming a famous YouTuber (it IS a thing, Debbie, shut up) and getting enough money to help young girls on the same condition she went through. She wanted to be known and she wanted to be known by doing great things.

Which was totally unlike Tammy, the person she slept with countless times but was never brave enough to call her girlfriend. She was smart and probably the only one in the group who could pass for normal - if you call normal being married and having two kids and living in the suburbs while keeping your garage filled with stolen stuff. Tammy never wanted this but that's how she ended up. Debbie never forgot about how after the fifth orgasm Tammy would say things like "I wanna run away with you and live the wildest life ever".

A wild life. Much like Lou's.

She has known Lou since their early twenties and she never crossed anyone like her short-haired best friend. Lou Miller was born in Australia and moved to the USA when she was just a kid, their parents were both artists and thought America would give them better opportunities.

Their expectations weren't met though.

Lou's mother - Grace - started working as a barista while her father - Hugh - decided to follow the easier but wrong way, becoming a drug dealer. The money started coming but it didn't last much: he got murdered two years after they moved to New York, just not before turning Patricia's life a living hell.

When Lou was 15 she started arguing with her mother about her never mentioning Hugh or trying to avoid the subject when someone brought him up. Her mom said she didn't owe her any explanations and Lou said she was being a bitch. For the first time in her life Lou got punched in the face - and it was definitely not the last.

When Lou turned 17 Patricia died in a car crash and when she turned 19 she decided to steal for the first time.

Debbie was hanging out at this downtown club trying to stay away from her disfunctional family at least for a couple of hours when she felt a hand trying to reach inside her purse. She turned around just in time to see a blonde heading to the exit as fast as she could.

When the blonde was about to reach the door, Debbie held her arm, turning the girl to face her.

"Give it back", she said.

Lou just stared at her.

"And don't try to run, I'm fast."

Lou moved like she was going to return Debbie her purse, but she pushed her instead and started running.

Thing is, Debbie was indeed fast. And strong.

Lou ran to an alley and when she thought the brunette lost her track, she got slammed against the wall, her right cheek facing the cold material while her hands were trapped on her back.

"I told you I was fast, blondie."

Debbie got her purse back and was about to scream for help when the blonde took a deep, deep breath.

"Please, don't."

Debbie watched her closely, still holding her hands.

"Why shouldn't I?", Debbie asked.

"First, you can't prove I stole anything. Second, you're the one holding me with your leg between mine. Not that I'm complaining, just move a little to the righ-" Debbie kicked her.

"Ouch, ok, I'm sorry. I'm just saying - you're the one keeping me as some kind of hostage. I don't think people will buy that an angelic face like mine would steal anything from anyone".

Debbie rolled her eyes.

"You've got some balls, huh?"

"Ew, no. I don't. But thank you, I guess."

Debbie started to slowly release Lou's hands, allowing the girl to face her. "Don't do anything stupid."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Don't call me that, you're probably my age", Debbie said.

"But you're definitely not dressed as someone your age. What's the deal?"

"I... It's complicated", Debbie started.

"I have all night, pretty".

And that was the first night they spent together, talking about life until the sun started making its appearance.

The brunette bought them a beer and Debbie - the sweet, smart, she-would-never-do-this Debbie - couldn't believe she was hanging out with someone who had just tried to steal her purse. Still, Louise - that was her name - was something else.

She wasn't like the girls Debbie knew: the ones with perfect hair and perfect clothes and perfect boyfriends and perfect families. She was different.

Her hair was beautiful - blonde and short - and looked amazing moving with the wind - but it was far from perfect. If anything, it was perfectly messy.

Her clothes were very stylish but obviously second-handed and her jacket had a "vagitarian" button on it which meant she either liked girls or she had bought that from someone with spelling problems.

When Debbie asked her about her family, she said she didn't want to talk about it - and then Debbie knew her family was fucked up. She didn't want talk about hers either.

In the end, it was only a matter of time until their late night meetings became a regular thing. At least three times a week they would hang out together and do whatever they felt like doing. Debbie thought the first month would be at least weird since they were pretty much opposites but that wasn't what happened.

With Lou everything felt... easy. So she opened up. She told her everything. She spoke about college and about how she wanted to be known for doing great things and about how her entire family expected her to do better than her brother. "He's the black sheep", Debbie said with the drag of a cigarette Lou offered her, "you have to be everything he's not - it's what my parents say. As if they were in position to say anything", she rolled her eyes.

"They think I'm a saint. Or at least that's what they expect me to be."

"But you're not, are you?", Lou bite her lip.

"No, I'm not", and another drag.

"My mom isn't much of a bad person to be honest. She's just overwhelming, you know? Being around her sometimes is just... too much. She wants everything her way and she can get extremely mad when things go out of hand. Her greatest sin is being controlling and that's something I can deal with. My father on the other hand is unbearable. He cheats on my mom and she knows it. He's never sober. He finds a way to criticize everything I do because it's never good enough. I'm never good enough."

"Danny was a good kid once. His grades were amazing and he always had this charm that could get him anything he wanted. He could have had an easy life but he hated easy things. So he started stealing things and when he was twenty-two my father kicked him out from home because he almost got arrested. He said he didn't raise Danny to become a little thief."

"But before that? He would allow him to do anything he wanted to - and he's only two years older than me. He could bring girls home and he could stay out until late." "Meanwhile I'm can't drink, I can't smoke, I can't date, I can't even fucking sit the way I want to. If he knew I was swearing, for example, he would... God knows what he would do."

"Has he ever-"

"Hurted me? No. But only because - as you know - I'm fast."

Lou touched her arm.

"If he ever lays a finger on you, I'm gonna kick his ass".

"My saviour", Debbie smiled.

And that's how it went for a while. Debbie and Lou spending time together and Lou getting to know everything about Debbie while the brunette would try to make the other talk.

She wouldn't though.

"So what about a bucket list?"

"A bucket list?"

"Yep, a list with stuff you haven't done and you'd like to do before, you know, dying or something."

"Uhm, I don't know..."

"Come on, I can help you with that."

"Okay, what do you suggest?"

"For starters... How many items do you wanna add?"

"No idea. How many do you suggest?"

"Ten? Then you can add more later if you feel like-"

"Okay, ten" Debbie gave it a thought. "I wanna get a tattoo."

"Right, I have some friends who can get it done."

Debbie gave her a suspiscious look but went on.

"Right. I wanna learn another language."

"That's easy, I can also help with that"

Ialso wanna learn how to ride a motorcycle."

Lou gave her the biggest smile.

"I can teach you."

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angstymarshmallow · 6 years

Text

Retrouvailles Part 2 (Zig x MC)

[A little note: Today was a really rough day, and instead of finishing off holiday requests - here I am doing this instead. Originally, I sort of planned several parts inside my head but I didn’t know if anyone really enjoyed the first one. Plus I am so flimsy with sequels. Thanks to @debbienewnes84 for reawakening my urge to continue this. In general I would also like to add I don’t condone cheating, this is I stress purely for the plot of the story and a little more of my own personal headcanon.]

[Summary: When Dia (MC) slips out the next morning with the intention of avoiding Zig by all means necessary - she comes face to face with a dilemma that threatens to unravel five years of coping].

Retrouvailles (NSFW) Part 1

[Word Count: 3591]

Dia awoke feeling groggy and extremely satisfied.

Her arm shielded her from the light poking through her window, and she uttered a groan at the slight pressure she felt – a tinge of a headache awaited on the brink of awareness. Every movement even the slightest had a ripple effect; as if she’d just completed a marathon instead of turning in for the night.

Rubbing her temples, she sighed quietly. It took her a moment to realize she was tucked firmly against something, or better yet - someone reasonably warm. More surprisingly familiar. A fair amount of a particularly fair-skinned arm was braced between her and her pillow. It surprised her that she hadn’t noticed before.

Blinking, she glanced at the outstretched arm blearily as if trying to convince herself she was still asleep. Did she meet someone last night at the reception and forgot to kick them out of her room?

Fighting back sudden irritation rising with every unsettled nerve, she twisted onto her side ready to meet whoever this unexpected visitor was with a stern frown and nearly yelped at the sight of the person next to her.

Oh no.

It wasn’t just anyone cuddling up to her, with a half hard-on pressed by her hip. It had to have been him. Zigmund Ortega - a man she used to spend years learning every smooth part of his body. A body that somehow was more than just a dream as her eyes dipped momentarily towards his chest.

No wonder it felt familiar.

As events came flooding back to her – the subtlest of touches while at the wedding photoshoot; the grinding of her hips against his, their first shared kiss spiralled them both into desire; hastily yanking off clothes and falling into bed together – everything came back in a heated rush.

Her hand flew to her open mouth.

Shit.

Last night hadn’t been a dream.

Her sore muscles and the sight of him sprawled out beside her confirmed that everything last night had been, indeed real. Oh god. Oh god.

She needed to get out of here.

Slowly she uncurled her clenched hands and shifted her shoulders. She leaned as much as she could out of his embrace without risking the impromptu of waking him. She took her legs one at a time over her side of the bed.

Bracing herself for the vertigo; she got to her feet and hissed the moment she felt it. The rush. The pounding inside her head.

Ah, shit. It was far worse than she anticipated. Clutching her temple with a scowl, she could barely supress the urge to groan.

She had to focus.

Her eyes skimmed the room, searching for any sign of their discarded clothing.

The bad news was her underwear had been nowhere sight. Unfortunate for her – they were her favourite pairs of lace, however after another clean sweep of the room she caught sight of the dress she wore at the reception. She grabbed her heels on her way out.

When she heard the sudden rustling of sheets behind her, she froze. Gulping fresh air, she slowly turned towards him.

The sheet had dipped low, and she could almost make out his lean hips, the distinct v-line drifting lower until she bit her bottom lip at the sight.

She thanked her lucky stars that his eyes had remained closed. There was no way she could explain the amount of oogling she was currently doing in a justifiable manner. At least he was still asleep, even though she had growing suspicion he could stir at any given notice. A hand reached out blindly towards where she had been minutes ago.

Shit. Shit.

Panic made her almost drop her heels. She had to escape. She couldn’t face him. What if he saw her leaving? What could she say - how was she supposed to adequately put into words what happened last night?

It had been…amazing.

Mind-blowing amazing.

They both had been caught up in the moment; alcohol offered her an excuse not to question anything, and all those all-too-familiar memories she had locked tightly together inside a box had came bursting forward.

Now that she was in her right mind again. There was no alcohol to stop her from thinking. And thinking about this was the last thing she needed.

She didn’t want complicated.

Whirling around quickly, she tip-toed towards the door and with every step, she felt a little less nervous and a little more in control of her life.

Before she could touch the door handle, Dia heard him stirring again – this time a groan had filled the room before she heard his voice.

“Dia….?” It was nearly a croak – broken by sleep and exhaustion. When she glanced over her shoulder at him; his eyes were still half-open and he was nearly sitting up in bed.

She cringed. “This is all a dream.” She tried to keep the panic out of her voice. Cooing softly, she added. “All just a silly dream; I’m still right beside you – go back to sleep.”

For a moment, she feared her breaking the silence was enough to rustle the rest of sleep. He seemed unfazed, as if he were about to launch into a protest until he suddenly fell back. She uttered a sigh of relief instead when she realized he rolled over – taking the pillow she slept on, with him. “You smell so good, babe.” She heard him inhale deeply.

She waited a moment longer before she saw his head dip back under the sheets. Heaving another sigh, she promptly opened the door and slipped out of his room.

Peeking down the hotel’s hallway; she waited until she was certain the course was clear before quickly darting towards the direction of her room. She didn’t stop moving until she was safely inside.

Once Dia arrived, she discarded her shoes, dropping them carelessly before she leaned heavily against the door. Wedging her eyes shut, she took a deep breath. And then another. And another.

She made it.

Although, she wasn’t quite sure how long her quiet peace would last, she decided it was best to avoid it for as long as possible. Her patience with awkward and uncomfortable circumstances had never been good and yesterday hadn’t been one of her proudest moments.

She trudged towards her bed. Wasting no time, she jumped onto it and landed on her back. She stared up at her ceiling.

Dia knew she couldn’t keep this to herself. She had to tell someone, someone she knew wouldn’t judge her too harshly for making such a stupid mistake. Luckily, she knew Kaitlyn’s new number by heart, and toyed with a strand of her hair as she waited for her to answer.

On the fourth ring; she could hear her friend’s perky voice sweeping through. There was shouting and the sound of music in the background; almost too loud for Dia’s ears. “Dia! Hey!”

“Shit too loud.” She leaned away a little from the sound of her voice.

“Sorry.” She lowered her tone, and the loud heavy metal music began to fade into background noise. Eventually all Dia heard was the sound of wind picking up and a door slamming shut.

Dia hesitated. “Is this a good time?”

“Yeah, its fine. We just wrapped up our set.” Dia could hear her yawn over the phone.

“…So early?”

“Yup, our schedule’s been kinda crazy lately. But it’s nice to hear a voice that isn’t screaming at me.”

Dia laughed, “are you and the band fighting again?” She waited a beat. “Rachel or Amara this time?”

A pause. “Okay, kind of both – but it’s not anything we can’t work through or handle. We’ve been through worse,” Kaitlyn mumbled; and yet there was no mistaking the increasing frustration rising inside her voice. “Anyway, what’s going on? How’d the wedding go – I was just about to call Abbie when you called.”

“It went well, I guess.” Dia shrugged, “I mean it’s a wedding – so everyone was all happy and bubbly. I wish you could have seen it – the whole thing was pretty sappy.”

“Aww, damn.” She sighed, “I totally won’t miss the next one.”

Dia’s brows furrowed, “you say that like you’re expecting another wedding pretty soon.”

“Well there is Zack, Chris and you –“

“I am never getting married.” She emphasized never to bring her point home. “Besides, I think Chris is far ahead of me; every time I saw him and Maggie together – I swore I kept hearing wedding bells echoing off inside my head.”

Kaitlyn laughed. “I’m not surprised. I like Maggie, and they’re really good together.” She paused. “Still, it doesn’t hurt to hope, huh? I have to keep hoping we’ll all find that special someone. Or someones.”

“Hmm, I think that’s really just the hopeless romantic deep down inside you talking,” Dia replied shortly. “Speaking of which -”

“You didn’t call to talk about my love life.” Kaitlyn breezed by the subject easily and Dia knew better than to push.

“You know I’d ask you anyway.”

“No such luck in that department right now I’m afraid.” She admitted finally. “So, what’s up?”

“Right, well.” Abruptly, Dia felt tongue-tied. Usually, she could approach most subjects with reasonable easiness and without any lingering second thoughts but she felt as if the moment she did – it made it all the more real. More real than she was ready for it to be.

“Did you sleep with someone?” Kaitlyn’s voice broke through her train of thought. “Isn’t that normal for you? No strings attached and whatnot?”

“Usually,” She snorted. “But I wish it had been just anyone,” she dragged her fingers through her messy hair. “I slept with Zig last night.”

“Ah.” Her friend didn’t sound perturbed or even surprised by the news.

“Ah?” Dia’s brows bunched together; “is that really all you have to say?”

“Well I knew you still had –” She hesitated, “hold on one sec I’m getting another call.” A pause, “I think it’s Abbie.”

Dia sat upright. “Really? Shouldn’t she still be asleep? Recovering from whatever Tyler did to her last night.”

“Ugh, I so do not need that mental image right now. I’m still recovering from the last time I accidentally walked in on them.”

“But that was literally years ago.”

“My point exactly. Anyway, give me one sec.”

Dia waited several minutes to hear a second click. Eventually, she heard Abbie’s voice. “Hey, Abbie! Shouldn’t you still be asleep?” She waited a beat. “You know, recovering from the night you had and all that. I bet Tyler kept you awake all night.”

“Shut up!” Abbie sounded mortified.

“You’re married now, you don’t have to sound so modest.”

Abbie fumbled to change the subject. “Shouldn’t you be catching the next flight back to San Francisco, Dia? You wandered off early last night, so I figured you were already out of here.”

Dia swore. She knew she had forgotten something when she woke up this morning. “No, I uh – woke up late today.” She swallowed slowly. Her flight was probably in the air already. “I have to re-book it.”

“Yeah, she woke up late because she was too busy booking something else.” Dia swore she could almost hear Kaitlyn’s smirk over the phone. “If you know what I mean.”

“I’m not really too sure Kaitlyn -“

Dia scowled. “Kaitlyn –“

“Booking someone else in. All night.”

“Thanks.”

“Dia, we talked about this!” Abbie’s abrupt outcry made Dia wince. “No random hook-ups allowed at my wedding! That was my number one rule.”

“It’s really weird that you have that specific rule…” Kaitlyn trailed off.

“It wasn’t just anyone!” Dia interjected, feeling defensive. Then slowly, she exhaled before bracing herself for the impending doom once she confessed. “It was Zig.”

It never came. Instead, she heard her friend’s voice crack over the line. “Oh honey, please tell me you didn’t.”

“I did.” Dia closed her eyes and fell back in bed. And it was everything I remembered...except better. Like figuring each other out all over again – “I know I shouldn’t have, but one thing lead to another.” She pressed her eyes firmly tighter together. “Then the next thing I knew we were naked in his bed.”

There was a pause from both women. Several seconds passed before Kaitlyn spoke. “I told you she wasn’t over him.” She sounded triumphant. “And he’s clearly not over her either.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Really?”

“Okay, well it doesn’t matter that they aren’t over each other,” Abbie replied crisply.

“Of-course it does! They were so good together –”

“Until they weren’t!” Abbie was almost shouting; rising loud enough for Dia to shove the phone away for a second. “Do you remember how bad it got? How badly it affected everyone else? They could barely stand being in the same room together.”

“But that was then and this is now.” Kaitlyn said insistently, “Now we’re all older – and wiser. I ship them Abbie. I ship them hard.”

“Ship us?” Dia interrupted; eyes flying open to stare at her ceiling incredulously. “Kaitlyn – there’s nothing to ship?! This doesn’t mean anything.” Liar, liar, pants on fire. Her inner voice nagged insistently. “Last night was a mistake – a momentary lapse in judgement – ”

Kaitlyn blew out an irritated noise of disagreement. “Yeah right,” she chuckled. “You can keep trying to convince yourself that it didn’t matter.”

“It didn’t!” Her voice rose too high. Dammit.

“It doesn’t matter!” Abbie interceded; her stern voice cutting through the pace of their conversation.

“Wait,” Dia’s own hackles rose, “why doesn’t it matter?”

“Because Zig’s with someone else!” Abbie exploded.

What?

“Are they on again?” Kaitlyn huffed, “sometimes it’s so hard to keep up - with whatever her name is.”

“Evaline.” Abbie corrected. “And I think they’re...on again.”

“Yeah, whatever. She isn’t good for him.” Kaitlyn added dismissively. “I hear about how much they fight - and the last time I saw them together, the room practically oozed with tension.”

Dia’s froze.

She sucked in a deep breath. “Wait, wait –“ She interrupted. “I need you both to back up for a minute.” She sat upright in her bed again. “What do you mean by other woman?”

“Well...” They both hesitated.

“Come on,” she gripped her phone a little tighter. She hadn’t entertained the thought that Zig had moved on – why hadn’t she thought about it until now? Was she hoping all this time that he still cared for her? She took a deep breath, weighing the question inside her head before saying it out-loud. “Who’s Evaline?”

Abbie answered her first. “When you broke up; it was hard on Zig. I’m not saying it wasn’t hard on you too, I know it was. But it wasn’t just you who was suffering.” She sighed. “He didn’t really open to us much about it – mostly we just heard a some of it from Chris, but what we heard was really bad.”

Dia closed her eyes as guilt assailed her. She felt a lump form in her throat and could barely manage a subtle nod. She knew after leaving Hartfeld and Northbridge behind her wasn’t easy on anyone - least of all him. “Go on.”

“He was a wreck with a capital ‘W’.” Kaitlyn mumbled.

“He threw himself into football and school more than we ever thought possible. We tried to get him to see other people, but he didn’t want to – he kept saying he wasn’t ready. And when he finally did, it was mostly just random hook-ups. It took awhile for him to date someone and it was never anything serious.” Even though Abbie was only explaining what Dia had missed, she felt partially responsible for everything she told her. “Then he met Evaline in one of the classes he TA’d for. He didn’t want it to interfere with his job - so they ignored each other at first. Then came next semester and they kept it pretty casual for awhile. But last year they made it official.”

Oh.

Dia hadn’t known what to say. She supposed she should be happy for him. That was the right thing to do right? The right thing to feel?

Five years was a long time to harbor anything more than that. But a bitter taste was inside her mouth. A part of her wanted to remain selfish – she wanted him to be miserable too; he deserved to be happy. She could easily imagine anyone – falling for him.

“But it’s not like it’s been easy for them.” Kaitlyn spoke up, “On and off again - I don’t know why they just don’t stay broken up. And it wasn’t until I met her during this summer why I started understanding why they didn’t work.”

“Kaitlyn,” Abbie chided. ‘That’s really not any of our business –”

“Not to mention she’s currently across the world for some foreign exchange program.” Kaitlyn continued as if Abbie hadn’t spoken. “Really Dia, they aren’t good together. They’re just something ridiculous, temporary –”

Dia knew Kaitlyn was saying all of this to make her feel better. She wanted to appreciate the gesture, but she was still mulling over their words. Whether or not their relationship was working – Dia had no right to interfere.

She wasn’t that person anymore.

And some part of her was having difficulty believing Zig was capable of doing something like that. Even though they were pretty out of it last night - she still knew she wanted him. The Zig Dia remembered from five years ago would never have done that. His sense of loyalty and passion wouldn’t let him.

However that was years ago - this was now. Maybe she didn’t know the type of person he was anymore; and she couldn’t help the rush of anger she felt - she was the other woman. She was mad at him. Mad at herself too. And it hurt more than she was willing to admit that it had been a fluke. Maybe some part of her had always….

She shook her head clear before she could finish the thought.

Last night had really been a mistake. Yet despite how complicated this was – she didn’t regret a single moment they spent together last night. She should, but she didn’t.

Clearing her throat, she realized the line went dead silent as if they were expectantly waiting for her to respond. “It’s fine,” she replied breezily. “Last night was a mistake,” she repeated the words out-loud, her convictions felt firm. “I just feel like I owe Evaline some kind of apology or something.”

Abbie harrumphed over the phone, “sorry Evaline I slept with your boyfriend? Even though I really didn’t know about it - I’m really sorry? How do you think that’s gonna work out?”

“Abbie!”

Dia winced. “No she’s right Kaitlyn. This is just completely shitty of me.”

“But it wasn’t your fault – well not all your fault, and I’m sure Zig wasn’t thinking clearly.” Kaitlyn rambled on. “Otherwise he wouldn’t have allowed things to go as far as they did -”

“It doesn’t matter. We’re both adults, and we should own up to our mistakes.” Dia interjected, biting her bottom lip. “Thanks for at least telling me girls.” She sighed dejectedly. “Now I’m really glad I didn’t stay around and wait for him to wake up.”

“That walk of shame back to your room must be feeling extra shitty right about now, huh?” Kaitlyn’s voice was at least sympathetic even if her words hurt.

Dia laughed with no real mirth. She was thankful her friends were just as supportive as they were witty enough to poke fun at her mistakes. “Oh yeah, you have no idea.”

“We’re really sorry though.” Abbie said quietly, “If I realized that you didn’t know, I would’ve given you a heads up –”

“Don’t worry about it.” Dia didn’t want to spend anytime discussing it anymore. The hardest part about growing up was letting go of what used to be – she wasn’t going to allow this to completely unravel her. Not even close. She had to keep moving on, being better than something she believed she no longer was. “I’ll meet you for lunch Abbie?”

She waited for Abbie to agree before quickly making an excuse to hang up her phone.

She wanted to sound brave – as if none of this had bothered her. But the truth was, she felt everything but that. All the progress she made over the years - building herself up again suddenly seemed meaningless. One simple thing shouldn’t have shaken her as much as it did; but Zig had never been one simple thing.

Now Dia was beginning to feel stuck. Stuck between who she was, who she wanted to be – and who she knew she had to be.

She wanted to cry. She wanted to curl herself inside a ball and forget the rest of the world. But, the rest of the world wouldn’t wait - it never did.

She showered quickly; changing into a pair of black slacks and a loose fitting tee before running a brush several times through her hair. When she felt it was decent enough to show her face, she pocketed her phone before swiftly heading towards the door.

Maybe food was all she needed to help her through the rest of this day.

At least it would give her brain something else to think about. She forced a smile at the thought as she reached to turn her doorknob hastily open. Her smile quickly disappeared the moment she met his somber stare.

Zig.

“You got a minute? We need to talk.”

143 notes · View notes

thethirdwheel404 · 4 years

Text

Med Rewatch Series (#2)

\haha yeah I was totally planning on sleeping but I literally cannot think about anything else other than getting this idea out of my brain. so, we will try to get through the finale of s2: Love Hurts. please enjoy.

-okay so right off the bat before even starting the episode, i noted a few things. the episode description is “Robin experiences complications and a new face arrives at the hospital.” How fucking annoying that it’s the season finale and the entire episode is centered around connor? of course, at this point we don’t know that the ‘new face’ is his future love interest.

-also!!! the fact that ava is mentioned in the episode description of the season finale? That’s huge!

-the episode description makes it sound like nothing fucking happens in this episode.

-also i am extremely scared to start the ep bc i feel like it is going to through me straight back into the deep end and put me in a state of emotional shock.

-i will try to take very deep breaths before the episode starts. okay. here we go.

-does this episode open with robin being carted in on the ambo bc if this is the ep im thinking about, i remember appreciating how angsty this scene was

-i still remember charles yelling ‘2 of adavan!’

-okay hi sarah i really was not expecting to see you this soon

-oh wow. just. sarah calling shots in the ed. in control. you love to see it. also. im just now remembering how early in the ep we get to meet ava. i always remembered it as being at the very end but. i remember connor being distraught with his messy hair.

-also i’m highkey loving how out-of-control connor is rn

-reese. god i missed you so much.

-they counted again. love that.

-okay but like i have no analysis just every time sarah’s onscreen i just want to say ‘i love you’

- i have not heard sarah speak in a HOT SEC and god i forgot how deep her voice was and it is sending me (its not even that deep i just like, forgot.) It has been years and I honestly think i have forgotten who sarah really was. sad.

-like i don’t remember the last time i could describe her as in control but right now treating robin she’s calm (honestly bc she’s the only other shrink on the show, but HOLD ON WAIT DOESNT CHARLES GET SHOT AT THE END OF THIS EPISODE WHAT THE FUCK. reese has one moment. and then her and charles start bickering. i remember why i was so mad)

-i’m in love with her.

-i really have to sit through the next 40 mins of this and just everytime i see sarah going ‘i love her,’ and now you do too.

-oh my god CHARLES SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU CANNOT BLAME CONNOR FOR THIS

-also the reason i became disillusioned: dr charles just started being suuuuuper sus.

-i do love sarah. and honestly, connor, not my favorite, but this storyline really made me empathize with him. his girlfriend is having a psychotic break and people keep shitting on him. (maybe the reason i didn’t like ava at first. really kicked him while he was down)

-I... haha. sarah. hnghhh. you can guess the rest.

-if you were in this situation, with robin, would you be thinking like connor or would you be thinking like charles? personally- connor. Robin was fine. maybe a little impulsive to take her home, but charles was being suuuper overprotective (from what I remember).

-Charles: “This is on you. You did this.” I remember that line hitting really hard when I watched it the first time lmao damn.

-SARAH. HER EYES ARE RED. SHE’S SAD. SHE’S CRYING! COME ONNNN MEDDD YOU CANNOT DO THIS TO ME!!! (and I swallowed my water the wrong way which somehow triggered my gag reflex so now im crying too please god stop Im sorry what did I do)

-yay sarah. hey guys look at that. sarah gets to, like, do her job.

-ALSO I JUST REALIZED THAT S3 STILL SUCKS FOR SARAH BC OF HER INTENSE INTENSE PTSD??? LIKE SHE WHOLE ASS PEPPERSPRAYS HER PATIENT???

-also these are the clothes charles got shot in and honestly i’m not even mad. I’m mad that him getting shot put sarah through so much pain (i talked a lot about ava but y’all are really gonna see just how protective i am of sarah. like god even I forgot.)

-you can see how much sarah cares about connor. which is like, fantastically crazy. (it fuels the rheese shippers which is why i tend to be against it) but just like, that’s just how sarah is. she cares so much. she’s not even close to connor, but you can see how much she cares. this is why its so unfair for sarah to work in psych. like, she’s way too soft for that come on man. (y’all remember the huge car crash episode and at the end she tells ethan that it was nice to be back in the ed bc you can fix people’s bodies but not their minds? 1) she was adorable in that. 2) i am so scared for her. she just cares too much)

-okay but the above bullet is probably the exact reason why people ended up shipping ava and sarah. they both are characters who care way more than they let on. sarah is the only one in the hospital who would probably give ava a second chance after an icy first encounter. That being said, being realistic? ava is probably the only one who would she the bullshit that sarah has to go through everyday, so she would never have the icy first encounter. which in turn sets sarah’s empathy bells off or whatever.

-honestly? ava is a mean to people because she thinks they deserve it. that’s it. she’s not a bitch or anything like that (and yeah, ava stans do a little bit of overlooking her behavior bc hey if a careless med student bumps into her while passing by, thats on them). (and of course, in this world and in reesker minds, sarah has never done anything wrong, ever.)

-look guys, i did it. i boiled reesker down to its bare essentials! (lmao tho literally walking through it again from almost a totally fresh perspective, it is still so easy to see how they would have been great together.)

-also. uh. not to pile on the reesker but. ----- connor just got paged by latham. is-is it happening?

-refusing to go home and sleep because the person you care most about is lying in a hospital bed is such classic angst oh my god

-wtf? charles has meds i completely forgot? for his heart? when is he gonna get shot the suspense is killing me.

-ALSO. YOU ARE TELLING ME. THAT S3 SARAH HAD TO DEAL WITH PTSD AND A POSSIBLE PATIENT LAWSUIT. AT THE SAME TIME HER FATHER WAS BEING SUSPECTED OF MURDER, AT THE SAME TIME HE TRIED TO RECONNECT. it is a fucking crime that that is the season we have to rewatch. its a crime they abused her so much.

-waiting for charles to keel over and die like

-the worst thing is that like, he actually cares. he actually truly cares about sarah, he just did a lot of bad things. so sarah has to justify them all! and sarah had no idea how to feel because now she’s disillusioned again. please chill

-lmao stoll wow

-oh. soft sweet boy noah. he really doesn’t know better, and that’s almost the worst thing.

-also. dr. shore. that’s really all i have to say about that.

-ohhhhh my god nat fucking chill

-what is it with couples on mad and not being allowed to be happy. (this could be about reesker if you, like, reallyyyy squint)

-aw! hey, look! it’s jay! he’s nice to look at too. ooh i also forgot how deep his voice was lol

-counting

- i honestly forgot what a good source of angst this show was. this guys parents are flying in from germany to go to his graduation and then he got hit by a car??? damn

- i still forget how much i like the cop/doctor brother duo. I love it.

-GUYSSS

-GUYSSS ITS HAPPENING

-the air literally left my lungs I am not ready.

-ITS FUCKING

-oh my god

-it is 3 am and I just screamed out loud holy shit

-I FORGOT I FUCKING FORGOT. IT DOESNT HAPPEN WITH HER IN CASUAL CLOTHES. THAT IS AT THE END. I FORGOT THEY INTERACT WITH HER IN SCRUBS

- I FORGOT I FUCKING FORGOT

--holy shit she is fucking stunning. she was just allowed to be like that? in her first introduction? while connor looks like complete shit? IMAGINE THE POWER SHE HAS HOLY SHIT. THIS IS THE GREATEST POWER MOVE IVE EVER SEEN.

-uh for those of you who are confused, ava bekker has entered the scene and holy. shit. is she fucking amazing. and she hasn’t even said a word yet. all she did was turn

-H E R P O W E R

-uhhuufhuahdoas back to the analysis - latham reiterated all of the points we just discussed in the premiere, only goes to show how this was planned, from the start.

- t h e p o w e r ava has to step on the scene and instantly fuck things up. I ASPIRE

-okay let me try again to move forward. (nope. i tried to go back to the tab and just. the expression on her face. guys. i cannot express the emotions. we will press on)

-deep breaths

-she’s so pretty oh my god

-I-uh- okay listen. it is really, really, really hard to analyze this because i have not watched an actual scene or actually heard her talk in her very very pretty accent in two years. I, uh, i need a minute.

-i honestly cannot recall a thing she just said. (i am literally in fucking love) (i’m gonna go back and rewatch the scene and see what I pick up)

-THE----the fucking way she puts her hand back in her pocket

-GOD IM FUCKING GAY

-as for analysis - god that cheeky little smile.

-she’s blunt. is what took me about 75 words to say. this is gonna be a nightmare. (if i torture myself and make myself watch s4 and s5 then I’ll be really sad) (at this point can you imagine what would’ve happened if i had watched her death? I’m remembering exactly how crushed I was)

-OH. YEAH. IN CASE YOU FORGOT? THAT GIRL? THE SNARKY ONE? ON SCREEN RIGHT NOW? SHE’S. FUCKING. DEAD. CANONICALLY SHES DEAD. HOLY FUCKING SHIT.

-like just that fact is sending me so hard. i am already so sad. I had like thirty seconds of elation. it’s not FUCKING FAIR

- i need another minute. AND SHE STILL HAS ANOTHER LINE.

-this doesn’t really pertain to the theory but the “loyal, that’s sweet” line has got to mean something. Like something to be said about how connor couldn’t commit to her in s4. (its just so fucking unfair that she’s dead but we really need to move on)

-this also means that ava isn’t entirely loyal? bc she’s looking down on connor for being loyal? I um really don’t have all the info to unpack All of that, but it should be noted.

-DID YOU CONNOR? DID YOU ENJOY WORKING TOGETHER???

-from ava stan perspective: @ connor you like made her life hell, which wasn’t your fault but still. uhh she’s the one that’s dead, you’re not, so obviously one of you enjoyed it a little more. let’s move on.

-i love her.

-haha oh man jack kelloggs back. FUCKING MERC HIS ASS (i don’t hate charles that much and this storyline gave me so much fucking anxiety throughout the ep)

-god jack kelloggs such an asshole

-OKAY BRUH ETHAN AND APRIL HAVE A THING THIS SEASON? jesus this show really moves

-there are a lot of things I could complain about.

-will: “Why’d she do that? Cut her hair. A woman makes a change like that, it’s a big deal.” S4 AVA WHAT DOES IT MEAN

-i can’t believe its the season finale and they have enough time for will to ask maggie why nat cut her hair. this show is the reason I have anxiety. charles is about to get shot and what are you doing

-oh. oh wow. noah and sarah bickering/noah flirting. it’s like, adorable. which i don’t think is really fair. just, sarah’s the best

-I- uh- can’t believe that was the first time I watched an ava scene in years? that was a really big step for me?? god wow.

-god remember how sarah just like, saved robin? yall remember that? REMEMBER WHEN SARAH COULD DO THINGS? there’s a reason i hated this show.

-okay but just like the fact that charles was - content with letting his daughter be holed up in a room for the foreseeable future? when sarah had a perfectly logical answer? who is he trying to undermine here? (and that is why i hate charles)

-sharon: “where’s the daniel who doesn’t give up? doesn’t your own daughter deserve that much?” kind of a reach but if charles really cares about sarah as much as he does, and sharon knows this, the double meaning here is almost impeccable.

-oh hey guys! ava’s back!

-okay this is like super nitpicky but at this point it feels like norma didn’t have the accent down packed and its a little exaggerated and awkward at times but, come on, still love her.

-Ava: “excuse me, you’re an emergency medicine resident, why are we even talking” AVA BEKKER REALLY TAKES NO SURVIVORS (the writers just really weren’t banking on the fans being that attracted to ava) (like i forgot how blunt she was and holy shit. wow. i kinda see where the haters were coming from. its amazing to see how we clawed her back tho [by we i mean the lesbians])

-analytical. That’s what ava is. It’s almost like that thing where people purposefully say something outlandish just to gauge people’s reaction. she doesn’t argue with connor, at least not now. she just looks between him and ethan, sees she’s outnumbered, and walks off. She doesn’t know how the place works yet. she’s testing the waters. - this could be why she slowly gets more and more confrontational as the series progresses. she sees that no matter what, everyone will be on connor’s side. she doesn’t fight a losing battle. but when you’re constantly losing, its frustration. (reminder, these things only hold true in s3. s4 doesn’t exist)

-I’m fucking?? where the hell did jeff go?

-also, oh, this is maggie’s storyline. the guy dies right but he wanted to propose to the girl? wait no that doesn’t seem right...

-yooo its the girl in the gorilla costume. certified iconic. also how the hell did they have enough time for all this crap in the finale. this show fucking moves.

-for like a split second i forgot that noah and april were siblings

-noah’s a sweetie

-oh hey look it’s ava

-knock knock. who’s there? oh boy, point one for ava stans, she’s right about the surgery (potential evidence showing how this is the first scene of connor not being shit/actually being out or equally matched)

-OKAY WOW SARAH GO OFF (she’’s just fantastic i mean look at her. she’s adorable)

-ava: “Why do all the residents in this hospital think they can offer their opinions?” DR BEKKER PLEASE (okay but like i said last ep i had the exact same question. go off ava)

-connor just took control of the case (first instance of ava outright saying ‘i disagree’) (and let me guess, he’s gonna be right in the end because he literally fucking always is)

-if you look at it from a different perspective, ava was necessary. they needed someone to put connor in his place. at least, she tried. (very disappointing that she also had to sleep with him but that’s not the current point) if they wanted to fix his problem of coming off as spoiled, ava gave him a force to fight against, to earn his stars. they could’ve done it better, and actually had him lose a few times. because what does constantly letting connor win do? it undermines ava, it also undermines his attending. his attending who he is constantly having to stick up for. dude. hero complex chill. ava never had a hero complex. which cannot be said for a lot of the people on the show (IF YOU EVEN TRY TO ARGUE THIS POINT IS WRONG I POINT YOU TO THE EPISODE WHERE AVA PUSHED THE CREDIT FOR THE SURGERY ONTO CONNOR WHEN A FAMILY MEMBER WAS HUGGING HER) they did it wrong. they tried to, idk, fix connor by giving him humility, but they kind of completely forgot the humility part. and the part where he learns things. HE EVEN HAS TO STAND UP FOR AVA TO HER OWN MENTOR. LITERALLY? DUDE? FUCKING. CHILL.

-okay but that’s what it is though. ava was always meant to be the villain. because she was always a counter for connor. and connor is the hero. (you may be thinking this goes against my theory because I’m fighting for ava rights, but my actual theory is that ava was never supposed to stay past s3. the only reason she stayed was because she became a fan favorite. she was supposed to take connor’s mayo clinic offer. and you know how it probably would have happened? Connor probably would have gave her the offer. letting him be the hero one last time. [of course, this isn’t what happened. we all know.])

-OKAY FUCK THIS RESIDENT? “good call, Dr. Rhodes” SHUT THE FUCK UP??? (resident speaking rights revoked)

-I have nothing for this but just want to point out how she looks around and says “yes” all contemplative. god if i could just think about what she was thinking

-jack bro stop

-okay. was there ever an active shooter in the hospital when ava was around. bc if there was. i legally need to know

-lmao stoll

-sarah... makes me smile.

-fun fact: we are at about the half way mark. I am so sorry.

-no no no nono. so, robin just got diagnosed and is getting prepped for surgery. Sarah. don’t give charles credit for solving it. stop.

-Hey! yall remember how the best characters on the show only got thirty seconds of onscreen time together? yeah! I’m still mad about it too!

-aww connor being worried. (i think im fine with connor as long as like, ava is no where near. this scene is just very pure)

-when is this guy gonna get shot already

-aww he loves her. i want to kill him. (why? playboy. gets feelings way too quick. stop him. keep him away from ava)

-HAHAHAH okay. robin just got put into surgery and latham and ava are performing it (is it a brain surgery? yes. are they ct surgeons? yes. don’t ask questions) BUT you can see this emotion on ava’s face. she feels sorry for him. it’s up for us to decide if its condescending or she just feels bad for or bc she is on a surgery he wanted, but for the sake of opinion, i’m inclined to say she just felt bad for him (cough empathy cough)

-literally everytime charles is on screen im like when is he gonna get shot

-this scene where both connor and charles admit they were wrong is very nice (hey actually look, connor does have humility! not in front of ava tho so hmm) (sexual tens- literally no, shut the fuck up)

-HAHA HOLY SHIT I FORGOT CONNORS MOM KILLED HERSELF?? HOLY SHIT? THIS FUCKING GUY LITERALLY CANT CATCH A BREAK (maybe take a hint bro? and go far far away? well he did. too little too late ig)

-connor: “i obviously couldn’t save my mom, but I sure as hell didn’t try to save robin” *through cupped hands* HEY! HEY CONNOR! D-DID YOU TRY? WITH AVA? DID YOU TRY? okay literally what is it with this guy and people dying. for such a good surgeon... oh yeah, irony.

-hi sarah! how nice of you to check in with connor and charles about robin!

-sarah: *looks between charles and connor, who have probably agreed on something for the first time since connor got with robin* “everything okay?” literally she’s so sweet my heart.

- sarah: *laughs in disbelief* SARAH STOP MY HEART IS ALREADY FULL

-this man needs to button the top button of his shirt, i do not like that i can see it

-I------ HOLY SHIT?

-WHY DID NO ONE FUCKING WARN ME THAT JOEY WAS STILL ON THE SHOW???

-FUCKING EXCUSE ME???

- the air left lungs on that one again, i was Not expecting that.

-HOLD THE FUCK ON. I JUST WENT OF HIS WIKI AND HE APPEARS IN S4??? FUCKING WHAT??? SOMEONE TELL ME WHAT HE FUCKING DID AND IF IT WAS IMPORTANT

-sarah reese is such a fucking dork she got her boyfriend a rubik’s cube as a gift?? a guy who is so nerdy that he definetly already has like five of them. hmm. things don’t add up. also he’s nerdy enough to give back a gift at the breakup. dude seriously. get some social cues. in like the bargin bin at goodwill. please.

-IF SARAH FUCKING CRIES I SWEAR TO GOD

-oh yeah she’s pregnant. that’s how the story ends.

-okay. natalie comes off as empathetic but like, in the most condescending way.

-like its fucking obvious she’s only ever caring about herself (ava bekker would never. sarah reese would never. get your head out of your ass) (ok wow that aggression came from nowhere lmao)

- i really wanna say something about - Connor: “We all know that love can hurt, but loneliness? that’ll kill you.” have fun with that fic writers. (insert obvious connection to loneliness killing ava? have we had enough? this doesn’t pertain to the theory)

-jesus will at this point stop hesitating at the ‘if we’re wrong, it could kill him’ stage. we all know you don’t care

-how funny would it be if the family just like, disowned that girl

-this will nat and co. love triangle is already so fucking exhausting

-JAY REALLY SAID WILL I AM TAKING NONE OF YOUR BS

-is he really about to break up with her. right now. i swear to fucking god

-this is so fucking stupid (what i would pay for ava to hand him his ass right here right now) (that’s a hc idea right there)

-FUCKING LEAVE ALREADY WILLIAM

-sarah and noah stay adorable

-aww stolllll, my heart

-lmao i forgot the girl who played robin was on once upon a time and i was like ‘ive seen her recently what was it’

-FINALLY HES GONNA FUCKING GET SHOT! HELL YES!

-charles looks high as balls

-the queen returns. she’s back

-IM GONNA FUCKING JUMP OFF A CLIFF

-okay. from the previous ep i mentioned ava’s line being something like ‘you’re quite the gossip magnet, your mother commited suicide, drove your girlfriend crazy, and you murdered your attending.” right? we all remember that?

-well lads, do we remember connor’s response?

-connor: “...Well you’d better watch yourself, hadn’t you?”

-...

- I-

-hahahah this is not okay.

-AND GOD. JUST THE WAY AVA TAKES IT AND JUST SMILES, ACCEPTING THE CHALLENGE. holy shit. this fucking breaks my heart.

-i like almost can’t even appreciate the easy ending of noah’s grad party.

-oh yeah charles still hasn’t gotten shot.

-god sarah is still adorable. the way she finally relaxes FOR ONCE and lets herself have fun. fun fact: this may be the last time we see sarah just easily enjoying herself. also maybe the first.

- i am officially starting the save ava campaign, anyone who wants to join can. the goal is pretty simple. save ava. save our hearts.

-oh my god is he finally going to get shot?? like what dude come on

Okay. another episode down, the first full one, and what have we learned?

Well, this was Ava’s first episode and we learned how it seems she was doomed from the start. It makes no sense, even just her writing is disconnected from s2 to s3, like how do they do that? This ava lines up so well with s4 ava it’s almost uncanny. if you completely cut out s3 her character arc would make complete sense, in a frighteningly tidy way.

Like I said at the top, the fact that Ava was referenced in the episode description of the season finale is huge. It means she is a big character, ground shaking, almost. I really don’t know why they had to make this introduction at the end of s2 and not the beginning of s3, other than making it fit with the three month time jump that i’m pretty sure starts the season.

The way I see it, Ava had 4 main interactions/points. 1) She called connor loyal (and was blunt about Latham) 2) She remarks that residents shouldn’t have speaking rights (that one’s just funny) and disagrees with connor on the surgery, which they go with connor’s decision because of course they do. granted they switch to her plan midway through) 3) connor takes over her surgery after they disagree on whether or not the patient can be saved. Connor is right. and 4) we have the final ‘I like dangerous men’ interaction.

Let’s focus on the train of Ava vs. Connor disagreements. If we go by my previous statement which was Ava was designed as the villain to Connor’s hero, so the hero could win the favor of the public by defeating the villain, the trajectory of their interactions is not surprising in the slightest.

First, Connor wins the first point bc they initial go with his plan. Then, mid surgery, they have to switch to Ava’s plan, because she was right. This obviously pisses him off, that he was wrong and she was right. His crown had been knocked askew. But then, he wrestles it back. They disagree on whether or not the patient can be saved, connor takes complete control, and he actually ends up saving him.

It’s interesting that the final disagreement came at the sake of a patient’s life. Ava was quick to dismiss the heart as gone, but Connor fought for it, being the hero. It’s easy to shut Ava down right then and there, call her heartless and call it a day.

if s4 had come immedietely (i have no clue how to spell that) after, it would be completely in character for ava to be a psychopath from what little we’ve seen. And honestly, no one would care. The villain would get her due justice.

Let’s switch gears to the conspiracy theory, or the redemption arc. whichever sounds cooler.

A hero is only as good as their villain. That’s really my argument. At this point, yeah, s4 seems like it was planned, just based on s2.

Okay, so, what? Is that another layer of the theory that I’m adding? that the connor/ava plot of s4 was ACTUALLY supposed to be in s3? I... no. we’ve established that is is very rare for the med writers to plan storylines that far ahead. so what am I saying?

I think that the s4 plot was actually a scrapped plot potentially to be used in s3. and when they were left floundering at the end of s3 for an answer? they retreated. sacrificing character development in the process.

So what the hell happened in s3? A horrible fluke? why was it so different?

in s3 ava became more of a rival and less of a villain. while those words can have very similar meanings, the bulk of it is that neither of them really wanted to be that mean each other, they never went out of their way to stomp on the other (at least that I’m aware of). they just were always forced to work together, naturally leading to friction.

This shift meant all the difference. Connor no longer had to beat Ava. it wasn’t required. as a result, ava was very very slowly allowed to interact with people other than connor. she was allowed to slightly develop.

Why the shift? well, the conspiracy theory suggests it’s because they wanted someone who could follow up connor if he left at the end. IF they were true rivals, each of them should be able to hold their own without each other.

okay yeah, i managed to get like 4k words out of like 5 minutes a screen time and 8 lines. jesus christ.still didnt do my hw tho

next we watch the premiere of s3 and see what happens. thanks for reading

read the next parts:

Part 1 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10 / Part 11 / Part 12 / Extra

#i got exactly one (1) hour of sleep last night holy shit #this was so many bad decisions wrapped in one #chicago med #med rewatch series #ava bekker #mine #love hurts

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faierius · 6 years

Text

In His Shoes (18. Hidden Talents)

Chapter One (Can’t We All Just Get Along?)

Chapter Two (Out Of Body Experience)

Chapter Three (We Don’t Talk About That)

Chapter Four (My Body Won’t Change My Heart)

Chapter Five (Myth and Mystery)

Chapter Six (Baby Steps)

Chapter Seven (Sleep on it)

Chapter Eight (Seeds)

Chapter Nine (All About Perspective)

Chapter Ten (Sweet Dreams are Made of These)

Chapter Eleven (This is Not Our Name)

Chapter Twelve (The More You Know)

Chapter Thirteen (Lie to Me)

Chapter Fourteen (The Choice is Yours)

Chapter Fifteen (Heat of the Moment)

Chapter Sixteen (Welcome Home)

Chapter Seventeen (Tears)

“I don’t like it.”

“Why not? You don’t think I look professional?” laughed Timorea, slicking his hair away from his face.

“No, I think you look ridiculous,” Eyoralin replied, twisting her own long red hair into a complicated style of braids.

“A week talking, and you certainly aren’t shy about voicing your opinions, Lyn.”

She smirked at him and nudged him away from the bathroom mirror. “Yes, well I am your sister, after all. Not hard to tell by looking, but I’ve yet to ask how you found me.”

“I’ll answer all of your questions, dear sister, once you’re stronger,” he replied, reaching over and tugging on a loose tendril of hair.

Sliding some pins into her twists and knots, Eyoralin frowned at Timorea. “How much stronger do you expect me to get, Scruffy? Between medicine, the food, and the weird potions I’ve been instructed to break over my chest daily, I feel stronger than I ever have. I’m healthy again, thanks to you.”

“Maybe so, but you need to start slow. Just being up and moving is a miracle after the state of your muscles. You were skin and bones, my sweet girl.” Patting her cheek, he returned his attention to the mirror to slather shaving cream on his jaw.

Huffing out a breath, Eyoralin finished fastening her hair and crossed her arms. “You needn’t baby me, brother.”

Sighing, Timorea stopped and faced the woman. “I’ll stop once you can lay me out on my back in training,” he told her. “So train up, take care of yourself, and maybe in a decade or two, you can.”

“A decade or two?” she laughed. “With this much help, I’ll be able to do it in six months.”

Timorea choked back a guffaw. “Six months? You think so, do you? Well, don’t overdo it/| Grinning, he kissed her cheek, leaving a smear of white cream on her face.

Swiping it away, she clicked her tongue and stomped out of the small bathroom. Her brother’s laugh followed.

I will do it in six months, just you watch. I may not know anything right now, but I’ll learn. I’ve learned how to be human again in just one week. Imagine the strides I can make in half a year.

Sighing to herself, Eyoralin sat down on the sofa, comfortable in its age, and waited. She had so many questions about her new life, her new family, but no one was willing to answer. It was true she was similar to a toddler learning to walk, but her mind was sharp as ever. She had never lost that, even at her lowest, she was always able to think. Though her thoughts were dark, sluggish from days, months, years of suffering, they were coherent.

When you’re stronger, they told her. Timorea, Mr. Gelida, the Citadel physicians, everyone. After being immobile, dying in the street, she felt superhuman in her strength. She was still stick-thin and could barely stand for half an hour without resting, but she didn’t need anyone knowing that.

A few minutes later, her brother entered the living room. The scruff on his face was gone, his glasses were gone, and his messy hair had been drawn back into a barely restrained ponytail. Black leather pants covered his legs, knee-high, buckled boots on his feet, a chunky belt around his hips, and a simple black tee-shirt with a skull motif covered his torso.

“That’s your uniform?” Eyoralin questioned, one brow arched.

Smirking, Timorea turned, showing off the patterning on the back of his shirt. A large silver skull and crossbones between his shoulders with consistently smaller replicas trailing down toward his hip. “Pretty spiffy, right? Designed it m’self.”

Eyoralin blinked at him. “Probably a good thing you didn’t go into fashion.”

“Ouch.” He winced comically before crossing the room to the closet. Pulling open the door, he tugged his coat off the hanger. Swinging it around his shoulders, he put it on with a flourish. The double-breasted jacket fell to mid-thigh, flat black with bright blue collar and lapels, buttons in the shapes of skulls, and a split tail in the back which fell a touch longer than the rest of the hem. It was fitted at the waist with two more large skull buttons on the back. The sleeves hung to his knuckles, the cuffs the same blue as the collar, with another pair of skulls on each.

“I like the coat. Doesn’t really go with your hair, though,” she told him as he closed the door.

“Goes with my skill set though, dear.”

“And what, pray tell, are your skills? Besides sass and sarcasm?”

“Have I not told you?”

“Timorea, you didn’t even tell me your name until four days ago. Your mind is so scattered, I doubt you ever would have had I not asked Mr. Gelida.”

He waved his hand, trying to distract her from the tinge of pink coloring her cheeks. “Pff, Mr. Gelida. Just call him Pops like I do. And I’m so used to everyone knowing my name, it slipped my mind to formally introduce myself. You don’t have to use my full, stuffy name either. One of my many nicknames is perfectly fine,” he explained to her, picking up the boots he purchased for her.

“You didn’t answer my question,” she said, accepting the footwear. Staring expectantly at him, she slipped her feet into the knee-high red leather boots.

Licking his lips, he smiled softly and raised his hands, cupped together like he was holding a small critter inside. “I was born with a gift, one which has placed me in great favor with King Mors.”

“You can hold your own hand?” she teased, smoothing a wrinkle in her black leggings.

“Your tongue is nearly as scathing as mine, love. Just be quiet a moment and watch.” Rolling his eyes, he slowly parted his hands and knelt before his sister. In his palm rest a tiny contained flurry. A compressed snowstorm, shiny with ice crystals, swirled in his cupped hand.

Eyoralin’s eyes grew wide. “Magic? I thought only the royal family could control the elements!” she whispered in awe. Reaching out with trembling fingers, cold washed over her hand, radiating from the spell.

“Typically, yes. No one knows why I have this ability. I was never blessed by the King, and my magical talents are limited to ice and minor healing,” he explained to her, dispelling the ice and extending a hand toward her. He placed two fingers between her brows and blinked slowly.

A rush of warmth and a minor surge of power tingled through Eyoralin’s body. She sighed.

“That should keep you through the afternoon. Your legs won’t tire for some time.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, dear.” Patting her knee, he stood once again. “I need you fit as a fiddle for your visit to the Citadel. I’m back to work today, and I want you to come along.”

“Do you, now?”

“To see what you’re up against when you’re deemed healthy enough to join us.”

Eyoralin tipped her head. “Join you?”

“The Guard. You’ll be joining the Crownsguard.”

“What?” she gasped, brow twitching into a frown.

“Think about it,” he replied, moving back to the closet, “You and I are siblings, right? As you said, not hard to tell by looking. I’ve got these fantastical abilities, so it stands to reason you must have some as well, right? Enlisting you in the Guard will help you discover them!”

“Timorea, as far as I know, in my entire seventeen years I have not shown any signs of having magic,” she grumbled at him, standing up to accept the hand-me-down coat she had been using. Mr. Gelida promised to take her shopping for new clothes once she put a little weight on her bones.

“Doesn’t mean the talents aren’t there, dear girl. We’ll find something, Sweetpea.”

“I’m just an alley cat,” she reminded him, shaking her head.

“On the contrary, m’dear. You’re a coeurl who was never taught to use her whiskers.” With a wink and a bow, he extended his hand toward her.

“You’re a charmer,” Eyoralin sighed, walking past him and delivering a solid smack between his shoulder blades.

“And you’re blunt as can be. We’ll make a dangerous pair, sister.”

“Try and keep up.”

***

My life had taken an abrupt about-face. From a nobody people wouldn’t blink twice at, to a respected, though yet unofficial member of the King’s Crownsguard. Much like yourself, yes? Picked up off the street due to a stroke of dumb luck.

I am official. I was asked by Noct—

Not my point, Sunshine. You were nothing until the Prince. I was nothing until my brother. My life went from hell on Eos to paradise. Three years passed before that all came crashing down around us. I’m going to show you, make you suffer through the pain I felt, to drill it into your stupid little brain that people are never what they seem.

My friends are! Noctis, Ignis, Gladio…they’re all honest, amazing, loyal friends. We stick together no matter what.

My brother, the charmer, has his claws in them. No one stays loyal for long with him messing about.

You don’t know them like I do.

They’re all the same! They work for themselves, screw everyone else! It’s always been the same, from the beginning of time. It happens again and again and again. You trust someone, and they betray you. You love someone, and you lose them. The nobody is never the hero.

That’s not true, Eyoralin.

You know nothing! I have lived and died, reborn again through centuries of horror!

…Centuries?

We are undying! Cursed by the Astrals to suffer over and over again simply for existing! No more questions. Just watch. And suffer with me.

#holy crap its another chapter #writing #fanfic #ffxv #noctis #ignis #prompto #gladio #body swap #gladnis #promptis #the plot monster resides here #plot #cameo from prompto in this chapter #in his shoes #faierius writes

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huffletiika · 7 years

Text

Back to you

Lutteo | kinda canon Best Friend’s Wedding AU

Ok, so... I KNOW I SHOUDLN’T be doing this, but this last chapters of the season inspired me, and so I wrote something that was supposed to be a OS but ended up being a multi-chapter. But is not going to be very long, three chapters at most, so I hope you enjoy it... I will continue my other multi-chapter soon, I have a chapter of the Gastina one almost ready.

This is kinda canon, but at the same way it’s inspired by one of the prompts from day 6 of the Lutteo FicWeek. This one is dedicated to @deliverychicafresa because I know she will die, and to my babies @slxever and @karaa-danverss because I know they love some Lutteo, and that their birthdays are coming.

Warning: some scenes and conversations are more adult, as the characters in this AU aren’t children anymore. | 5.2k words... and it’s not proofreaded because I’ma lazy.

CHAPTER 1 [other chapters]

The light coming through the windows hits directly in her face, making her wince and try to cover her face with the blankets, because it’s too much for her to handle in that exact moment. She doesn’t know what time it is, and doesn’t want to open her eyes and look for her phone to find it out, she just wants to sleep a little bit longer, like for the rest of the weekend if possible. But she knows that it is an important day for her best friend, and she has to be there for her. However, five more minutes in bed wouldn’t kill anyone, as the wedding preparations would start after noon, and that gives her a little bit more of time to have some kind of rest.

Hotel room beds have something special that she has always loved. Somehow, they are more comfortable than any regular bed, it even feels like you’re sleeping in a freaking cloud. When she figures out that not even the blanked will protect her from the sun coming through the window, for the sake of her five more minutes, she rolls in the bed seeking for some shadow. But then, she collapses into something, or rather into someone, and that makes her open her eyes with confusion, finding his face just millimeters away from her own.

Memories from the night before start to storm over her brain at that precise moment, and she gets paralyzed, while her heart threatens to break away from her chest. Oh God! It has been one of the best nights of her life… by far. But, at the same time, it has been her biggest mistake, because the two of them had been carried away for the moment, for those feelings that remain there despite everything, without even thinking how complicated the situation would become afterwards.

She knows she has to leave his room, because there is where she is, as he soon will wake up, and she doesn’t know what to say or what to do when that happen. She is confused, more than she has ever been in her whole life, although the whole Sol Benson drama is a very close second place to this. But instead of turning away from him she stares at his face, his eyes closed, his relaxed expression, and the soft smile which looms at the corner of his lips. She has always loved his smile, more than anything, and his fresaness, how could she forget about his fresaness? She loved it when they used to tease each other, and his stupid jokes, she has missed them the most. All this time being apart from him she felt like there was a missing part of herself, and now she feels that missing part is there, right in front of her eyes, and still she can’t reach it.

He mumbles something, but she can’t understand a word, even if she tries really hard to do it. Then, she looks up at his hair: it is messy, his locks going in all directions, making him look even more perfect, if that was even possible. She remembers her own hands sinking in between them the night before, as they fell in the bed, their lips passionately crashing into each other’s, and she wants to touch it again. Biting her own lips she raises her hand to accomplish her wish, but then she remembers she shouldn’t wake him up, so her hand stays suspended on the air, mere millimeters away from his locks.

She knows she has to leave, and so she does, even if it’s the hardest thing she has ever done. She stands up, picking up her clothes from the floor and putting them on, before making sure no one was outside the room, and sneaking out of it.

Twenty four hours earlier, she was leaving her own room to meet Nina at the breakfast catering from the hotel in Bariloche where the wedding between her best friend and Gastón would be taking place, as the couple decided they wanted it to be at the mountains, far away from the loud city of Buenos Aires. And what a place it was! Luna had arrived with the happy couple, their parents, and Mora the day before everyone else, as her role as maid of honor demanded, and got some time to walk around the hotel and its surroundings, being amazed by the views.

They rest of the guests would arrive later that day, many of them from very far away, the best male included. She hadn’t seen Matteo for a long time, he had been traveling around the world due to the commitments of his record company, and his own career as a singer. And, in those days when he had been in city of Buenos Aires, she did anything to avoid him, making up any excuse to get rid from any attempt of their best friends to make them meet and talk about what happened between them many years ago.

At this point, she wasn’t even mad with him, not anymore, not for a long time. She was, years ago, when he forgot all the promises he had once made about their relationship being his priority, and about him not letting anyone or anything to get in between them. But now she was just– she didn’t have a word to describe it, it’s a mix between sadness for what it could have been and never was, and uncertainty, because she didn’t know how it would feel to see him again, if the butterflies she felt every time their gazes met would be back there, or if they were already gone. She knew she shouldn’t care anymore, she had told that to herself more than once all these years, but somehow, she wasn’t able to let it go.

She thought that seeing Matteo again during the wedding would make her find peace, it could be the opportunity for her to let the past in the past and look forward, as she was sure he had already done. She had seen in some magazines (by accident, obviously) that he hasn’t precisely stayed single all these years. Only a week before there were pictures of him kissing with an unidentified blonde in a club in Milan, and a couple of months before there were rumors of him dating a famous fashion model. Not that she cared if he did, of course.

She had been dating as well, just a couple of weeks before she went out with a really nice guy Jim introduced her with, being the wedding preparations with Nina, Mora and Ana, the only reason why they haven’t had the opportunity to meet again. But she promised him to go out again when she is back at the city, and so she would, because she is not one of those people who break their promises.

At the restaurant, she met with Nina and Mora, who were discussing about the dress she would wear that night for the pre-wedding dinner, as the latest have made three of them for the occasion. “What do you think, Luna? Which one should I wear?” her friend asked, showing her the pictures that Mora had in her phone. “I just can’t decide, I love the three of them!” she sighed.

Luna scrolled through the pictures, and when she made her decision she showed it to, with a bright smile on her face. “You should wear this one,” she said. “Blue is one of Gaston’s favorite colors, and it looks amazing on you.” Her best friend smiled back at her.

“Yeah, I had thought about choosing that one,” she replied, and having an answer about the dress, Mora left to meet with Ana and continue working on the preparations for the night.

Both girls start having breakfast when they are finally alone, and talked about some of the things they still had to do for that night’s dinner, and the wedding ceremony that would take the next day at the gardens of the hotel. Nina told her about the flowers having arrived already, and about the fact that her dad got her a very beautiful hair comb that belonged to her grandmother, which matched perfectly with her dress. The hair stylist had approved it as well, showing her some hair styles that would go perfectly with it, so now she only had to choose one.

“That means I have already something old and something borrowed, but I don’t have the rest,” she was saying, when Gastón came to meet them with bright smile, covering his fiancée’s eyes with his hands. Nina laughed and put her hands on top of his, before turning her face to him, leaving a soft kiss on his cheek. “Did you sleep well, love?” she asked him, and he nodded before looking at Luna.

“Can you believe our parents are not letting us share bedroom until the wedding night?” he asked, truly offended. “I mean, we have been living together since Nina went to finish her mayor in Oxford, isn’t it very stupid to keep that dumb tradition?” he leaned, putting his arms around the bride, and resting his chin on top of her head.

Nina laughed. “It’s only for a couple of nights, love.” She reassured him. “By tomorrow night we will be married, and they won’t have any excuse to keep us apart.” She relied her back on his chest, and Luna started to consider that it was a good moment for her to leave them alone.

“Well, maybe I can leave you two alone…” she started to say, but Gastón stopped her.

“No, no… don’t go anywhere,” he said. “I’m the one who is leaving. I have to go to the airport to pick up the international mega star, and astronaut, that I have as best friend.” Luna felt the mention of Matteo as a punch on her chest, mostly because she knew where that astronaut pun comes from, and that she had something to do with it.

“Why? can’t he take a taxi? Are the seats too ordinary for his multi-platinum butt?” She asked, trying to sound as casual as possible, but failing. Fortunately, no one seemed to notice it, as the happy couple was hysterically laughing.

“I need him to go with me to do some groom duties before tonight’s dinner,” he shrugged. “Also, I like to imagine he missed his best friend so much that he wants to spend every possible minute with me.” The guy added, and then dramatically paused, the corners of his lips lifting in a malicious grin. “I even made a sign for him.”

At this point, Luna was curious.

“Can I see it, please?” she asked, but Gaston shook his head.

“Sorry, moon-girl, it’s supposed to be a surprise. And it’s an inside joke, anyway, you wouldn’t get it.” He shrugs. “Besides, it’s already at the car.”

“It’s a super annoying pun for him, right?” This time it was Nina the one who talked, and he smiled down at his fiancée, who rolled her eyes at him.

“You always get me, love.” He said, leaving a kiss on her forehead, before looking at his wristwatch and wince. “Oh shit! I’m freaking late,” he shout.

“Go and annoy your best friend, then. Let me know when you’re back at the hotel.” Nina said, and he nodded, before saying goodbye and taking a bread from the table, putting it on his mouth as he left the room.

“So… what were we talking about?” Luna asked, trying to avoid the unavoidable: her friend asking her about Matteo. “Oh right! Now I remember. You still need something new, and something blue. We could go to the town to look for something blue you could wear under the wedding dress and buy it, that way it would work for both charms.” Luna said, but then noticed her friend’s eyes fixed on her, and sighed, because she knew she had failed. “Nina… don’t.” She begged.

“I just want to make sure you’re fine about having to spend the whole weekend at the same place as him,” her best friend ignored her plea, taking one her hand in hers. “I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable in any way.”

Luna smiled at her. “It’s ok, it was long time ago, and it is about time for us to meet again,” she reassured her. “It has been very childish to avoid him all these years, we are not teenagers anymore, and he has his own life and I have mine. I believe we can behave as the civilized adults we are now while being around each other, even if things didn’t end that good between us.”

Her friend squeezed her hand.

“Are you sure?” she asked, concern tinted in her eyes.

“Yes, I am,” Luna smiled at her, and then clapped and jumped in her seat with excitement. “Now, going back to what is really important, we have to go get that blue and new thing you need to wear for the wedding… and I was thinking about something that could be very useful for the wedding night, if you know what I mean.” She added, with a mischievous smile, and Nina turned completely red.

“Luna!” She shouted, throwing a napkin at her best friend, who was laughing out loud. But it wasn’t a bad idea, not at all.

Matteo yawned as he walked his way out from the luggage belt to the national arrivals door, thinking about how nice it would be to go to his hotel room and sleep for the rest of the day, as he hasn’t been able to do it in almost 48 hours. He had a concert in Rome that ended around two in the morning, then he had to fly very early in the morning to Madrid, were he had a press day to promote his upcoming concerts in that country, after which he had to go immediately to the airport so he wouldn’t miss his flight to Buenos Aires, where he arrived at four in the morning (after a 13 hours flight),before having to take another plane to Bariloche, after a five hours scale in which he only got time to get home and change his suitcase.

And yes, he could have slept during the flights, but he couldn’t. Every time he closed his eyes he thought about the fact he was going to actually see her again, that this time she couldn’t avoid him, and his mind did anything but rest.

His best friend had told him that he was going to pick him up at the airport. At first, he had rejected the offer, it was Gaston’s wedding weekend after all, and he surely had more important things to do than giving him a ride. But the idiot insisted, and he… well, he missed his best friend too much to be able to say no to the opportunity to see him at the airport, even if he regretted this decision as soon as his eyes found him: Gaston was holding a sign with the words ‘The Astronaut Balsano” written on it, and drawings of moons and suns around them. He seriously considered passing by and not even looking at him, but instead he stood in front of him and only rolled his eyes, before going in for a hug.

“So, how were your flights?” Gastón asked as he put the bags at the trunk of the rented car, and Matteo stretched and let out another yawn.

“Long… boring, I had already watched all the movies that were available on board, and I couldn’t sleep at all.” He shrugged, and then got in the car, looking at his friend as he started it. “I tried to use that time to work in some new music, but I didn’t get to concentrate on it, so I ended up just looking at the screen of my laptop for hours like a freaking idiot.”

“And I guess your distraction has a really nice name that is related to space, correction… two names related to space, indeed.” his friend teased and he winced, but didn’t say anything to contradict him. “I saw her with Nina at the breakfast before coming to pick you up, by the way.” Gastón continued, while still driving. ��She even made a very funny comment about you not being able to take a taxi because of your fancy behind which, as you can imagine, made me proud.”

Matteo slightly smiled.

“It wouldn’t be the Chica Delivery if she didn’t,” he said, nostalgic. “Is she coming with a date for the wedding?” he then asked, after a couple of minutes of complete silence.

Gaston frowned at him, before looking back at the road. “No, she didn’t,” he replied. “Are you asking because of something in particular?”

“Nothing, just curiosity,” Matteo shrugged, trying to downplay it, and then looked at the window. But soon his real concern overcomes, and he ends up looking back at his friend, breaking the silence again. “It’s just that… I was talking with Ramiro a couple of weeks ago, and he told me he heard Jim telling Yam that Luna was dating a guy she had introduced to her, and I just–“ he hesitated “I´m aware that’s not on my business, I just need to be prepared, you know? I can’t behave as I did every time I saw her with someone else in the past, if I want to make things up with her.”

“Aww… It sounds like you are up to re-ignite the flames of love” his friend mocked, looking sincerely excited about these news. It felt like they were back at the Jam & Roller lockers, talking about his disastrous love life, all over again. He sighed.

“No, I’m not,” he replied. “I just want her back as a friend, nothing else. I damaged our relationship so much that… only hopefully, I could aspire to have her speak to me again.”

“Yeah, you screwed it big time.” His friend agreed, and he rolled his eyes.

“Thanks for the words of encouragement, bro” Matteo sarcastically said, and Gastón laughed.

“Anytime, Buzz Lightyear” he replied. “Now, let me reassure you she isn’t coming to the wedding with any date, I would know, I saw the guests list and the seats arrangement this morning, there’s no any Luna’s date in it. In fact, I have amazing news for you, and this one is better than when I told you that your moon girl and Simon had broken up: you will be sitting next to each other at tonight’s dinner.”

Silence again.

“You arranged the seats, right?” Matteo suspiciously asked, as he freaked out internally.

Gastón shrugged.

“If Nina asks, it was my mother’s idea.”

Luna and Nina entered to the salon where the dinner would take place later that night, around them many people were arranging the tables with their respective centerpieces, and Ana and Gaston’s mother coordinated them as if they were the perfect orchestra conductors. The girls smiled. The biggest fear of Nina was her mother not getting along with her fiancé’s mother, as both women were well known for having a strong character, and little to none chill when someone contradict them, but they connected immediately and with incredibly ease, surprising their respective children, who were expecting the apocalypses.

“Finally, you are back!” Ana shouted when she saw her daughter, and went to hug her. “Where have you been, young ladies? We have been looking for you the whole day.” She came closer to them, hugging Nina.

“We had to go downtown and buy some things I had forgotten.” Nina replied, with a soft smile, showing her mother the bag with her purchases. “I needed something blue and new to wear tomorrow, as my dad got me grandma’s comb.” she added, with a smile and a soft tint of pink on her cheeks.

Ana smiled.

“Oh! What is it? Can I see it?” she asked, and Nina got violently red.

“Let’s just say, it’s a little surprise that only the groom himself will see,” Luna intervened with a mischievous smile in her face, taking the bag from her friend, to prevent Ana from looking inside it. Gaston’s mother was shaking in laughter. “So, why were you looking for us? Has something happened that requires our immediate attention?” then she asked, to change the topic.

“Not exactly,” Ana replied, after clearing her throat. “Some guests have already arrived, and they were looking for you two, especially Jim and Yam, and this guy... the one from that nice band,” she tried to remember his name, but couldn’t.

“Simón arrived!” Luna shouted, with excitement.

She hasn’t seen her best friend in a while, not since the Roller Band’s tour started a couple of months before, and she was glad they got to arrange the dates so them three could be in the wedding. They were even going to play at the party, so it would feel as if they had traveled in time, to that time when they all used to hang out at the Jam and Roller, skating in the rink, and singing at the open music. He would never forget the day she introduced Simon to the other guys, and that first time they played together: she had known, right away, that something important had been born.

“Oh God! I have to look for him. I need him to tell me everything about the tour.” She said.

“And I have to take this to my room,” her best friend said, taking her bag from Luna’s hands.

They both left, and as Nina took the elevator to go to her room, Luna took out her phone from her purse and called her friend, who told her that he was at the hotel’s bar, chatting with the guys and the rest of the guests who had already arrived.

The first thing Luna noticed when she got to the table was Ambar sitting next to Simon, with a bright smile on her face, as she merrily chatted with the rest. The couple had had their ups and downs during the past years (more downs than ups, to be honest), but time had passed, and after a while Ambar started to gain back their trust. It hasn’t been easy, after the competition she started to behave even meaner than before, but Luna always thought there could be some good in her, so she let her stay at the mansion when Sharon left, and did everything possible to bring back the girl with whom she had those deep conversations about their pasts, even when the rest told her she was naïve for doing so.

Simon, hurt as he had been at the time, was one of those who told her to stay away from Ambar. But, as time passed, and the changes started to show in her, Simon went to make up his mind as well, and helped Luna to bring back that Ambar he felt in love with. However, Ambar was prideful, and even if she still loved him, she couldn’t forgive him for releasing her when she needed him most, and so the arguments between them kept coming. After a while, Ambar decided to apply for a scholarship to finish her studies in Paris, and when she got it Luna offered her to help her economically with the Benson’s fortune, but she refused and told her that she wanted to learn how to be responsible of herself. Luna felt proud of her decision, even if she knew how much it would hurt her best friend, as she knew that both of them needed that time to figure out their feelings for each other.

They had seen each other again back in April, although they had stayed in contact by phone during all those years, something she learnt after a long interrogation. Ambar went to one of the Roller Band’s concerts in Paris, where she is working as corporate executive in a very well-known fashion house, getting a backstage pass to get to surprise Simon. Luna didn’t know what had happened next, but seeing them both together in the table, looking so happy and close to each other, gave her hope.

“Hey, guys!” she greeted as she got to the table. Next to Simon and Ambar there were Pedro and Delfina, whose pregnancy was beginning to be notorious, with Jazmin and her boyfriend, a British Youtuber she met in one of the Vidcons she has being part of. Her best friend’s smile widened as soon as he saw her, and then he stood up and went for a hug.

They spent an hour talking about the tour, and about everyone’s latest whereabouts, including the fact that Nico hasn’t been able to arrive yet, as he had to stay one more day in Buenos Aires for a family issue, but would arrive the next day just in time for the wedding and the party, and that Jim, Yam and Ramiro had arrived as well, the latest with their twin daughters, and had gone to their rooms to have some rest. During this conversation, Luna also learned that Ambar had asked for some days off at work, and met the guys during their latest concert in Munich, so she could travel with them to Argentina. And it looked like her vacations wouldn’t end there, as it seemed like she and Simon had planned to go somewhere else, without the rest, before going back to reality.

They didn’t say where, though.

Luna was trying to get them to tell their destination when Gastón approached them. Unconsciously, she looked behind him as if she was expecting to see someone else to come as well, but he was alone. It was perhaps disappointment what she felt in that moment? Because suddenly, it was as if her lungs where a deflated balloon. However, she didn’t dare to ask him about Matteo, so she just looked down at the drink she had bought for herself, as if it was the most interesting thing in the world.

“Hey! Look who is alive: the lucky bastard who is getting married tomorrow,” Pedro greeted him, and they all started laughing. “Enjoying your last hours as a single man?” he then asked, as Gastón took a seat.

“Yeah, I am… even if my best friend has just dumped me to go sleep.” He replied, and asked for a beer to the waiter. “But I don’t blame him, I have no idea how he can keep up with the amount of work he has lately, he hasn’t sleep in more than freaking two days! You musicians have a very busy life, which I don’t envy at all,” he looked at Simon and Pedro with a grimace, and then thanked the waiter when he brought his drink.

“Well, our life is not as busy as his,” Simon replied, “I mean, tours are exhausting and all, but at the end of them we go back home and have some time to rest before having to make another record. He, on the other hand, has his own record label, so he has to keep up with other people’s career… as ours from now on.” He shrugged.

“Oh, so the rumors are true, you are really leaving Vidia,” Jazmin’s boyfriend asked, and Simon nodded.

“Vidia has been trying to change a lot of things lately, so we weren’t very comfortable working with them anymore, and I was talking with Matteo about it like… three months ago? And next thing we know someone from his label contacted us and made us an offer we couldn’t refuse, considering how big Deimos Records has become.” He took a sip of his drink. “They told us we would have the last word in everything, that our music would be the priority, and even offered to pay the penalty to finish the contract with Vidia. So, this is our last album and tour with them, before we move to Deimos.”

Luna knew all this already, but when she first heard about it she couldn’t believe it. First of all, because… since when are Matteo and Simon so close they regularly talk by phone, and tell each other such personal things? And second, because Matteo helping Simon with his career was something she thought she wouldn’t live to witness, more than anything for how their Vidia soloist contracts ended. She asked Simon about it, about how he ended up being friends with Matteo, and he told her that what happened with Ambar had taught him that time can help people to grow to their mistakes, and that this has been Matteo’s case as well.

Her phone vibrated, and she looked down at the screen to find a message from Nina.

“Excuse me, guys. I have to go.” She suddenly said, finishing her drink and standing up.

“But Lunita, you don’t have to leave.” It was Ambar the one who spoke. “If our conversation about Matteo makes you feel uncomfortable you can tell us, we can change the topic, talk about something else.” She looked at her with sincere concern. Luna noticed the grimace in Gaston’s face, and frowned at him, before shaking her head at Ambar.

“No, I’m not leaving because of that,” she assured. “Nina asked me to meet her, Jim and Yam in her room. Some bridesmaids meeting, I guess.” She showed them her phone as she left, walking to the lobby to take the elevator.

As the numbers of the floors lit up showing that she was coming up, Luna leaned her back against the wall of the elevator and closed her eyes. Truth be told, she was actually a little uncomfortable since they started talking about Matteo, because they all sounded like they really get along with him, even Ambar, and that made her feel guilty for wasting all that time. Simon could be right, with time people learn from their past, and she had spent all those years denying herself the opportunity to see that change happening in him. But he had avoided her as well, she reminded herself, after the competition in Cancun he totally made up any excuse to not talk with her, until he left the skating team to focus in his studies, and then started to go to the Roller less and less, to eventually not going there at all. Only years later she was offered the opportunity to meet with him again, but her pride didn’t let her accept: he started the avoiding game, after all.

The elevator stopped moving, and a soft bell let her know that she had arrive to the correct floor, so she opened her eyes and waited for the doors to open so she could step out of it. She has never been a big fan of elevators, they make her feel trapped, as if there was no way out. Some people have told her that fear comes from the fire in the mansion, as she was hidden in a reduced space during it as well. But as soon as she was free to leave her whole body got paralyzed.

Matteo was there, right in front of her.

#Soy Luna #Lutteo #LutteoBTY #Soy Luna fanfic #Lutteo fanfic #Gastina #Simbar #Matteo Balsano #Luna Valente #Gastteo #Nina Simonetti #Gaston Battan #Gaston Perida #Simon Alvarez #Ambar Smith #Written by Me #DeimosAU

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