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1plus1kiyoomi · 4 years

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Chapter 20: This Time I’ll Stay

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[masterlist] [kia’s slambook]

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You hold the white item in your hand, staring at the two red straight lines on the small screen-like box. Tears run down your cheeks, a wide small on your face. All types of emotions washing over you like a big tide. Your trembling hands take your phone off the marble, calling the first people who you want to share it with.

“(Y/N)? What’s wrong?” Akaashi asks you worriedly, hearing your sobs over the phone. Kenma joins the call, shocked to hear your short breaths.

“Why are you crying?” You hear Kenma shuffling on his bed. “Do you want me to go to you?”

“Keiji... Kenma...” You call them, crying even harder, the happiness in your heart overflowing. “I’m fine, I’m fine. I’m jus-”

“You’re what? You’re worrying me so much right now.” Keiji sounds like he’s mad so you stop yourself from wailing to be able to talk.

“I’m crying,” you say, not able to form sentences properly.

“Yes, you are. Why?” You feel Kenma roll his eyes even if you don’t see him.

“I’m pregnant.”

There is silence for a while until you hear Kenma’s chuckle. Keiji then follows. Your cries are tampered with laughter even though nothing is funny.

“Congratulations. I didn’t expect another child from you this early,” Keiji tells you, Kenma humming in agreement.

“Me, too. I can’t believe I’m pregnant again.” You hear a small gasp from the side, making your head whip to that direction. You see Kia standing at the doorway of the bathroom door. She’s staring at you with her mouth gaped and eyes widened.

“Mama’s pregnant...” She mutters, taking slow steps back. She runs out of the room and you quickly follow her, knowing what she’s going to do. She goes to the living room and opens the drawer where Kiyoomi keeps her phone that she uses for emergency calls.

Speaking of Kiyoomi, your fiancé, is in another city in the country for game. He’s supposed to go home the day after tomorrow. You plan to tell him that day, in person.

“Kia, put your phone down. Now.”

“No. I have to tell papa.”

“Kia...”

“Mama...”

“Kia, no.”

“Kia, yes.”

“It’s a surprise for your papa. We’ll tell him together.”

“No surprises.” Kia shakes her head, pressing the number 2 button in the dial pad for a long time. You hear the ringtone from a far so you quickly grab it from her hands.

“Kia?” You hear Kiyoomi speak from the other line, you push Kia’s face away with your empty hand, the other bringing the phone to your ear.

“Omi,” you speak awkwardly.

“Why are you calling me using Kia’s phone?” He asks in suspicion.

“My phone died and I had an urgent question, but it’s okay now,” you reason. “Good bye, baby.”

“(Y/N) wa-” You end the call. You look at Kia and she is glaring at you.

“Papa has to know!” She whines, folding her together and pressing them on her chest.

“He will, when he comes back home.”

2 days pass by fast, especially if you have to constantly stop Kia from spilling the beans to her father who calls at least 5 times a day. Kia waits for Kiyoomi to arrive, standing by the front door. You also stand behind her, securing that she won’t say anything. The door finally opens, KIyoomi getting surprised to see the two of you standing like dogs waiting for their owner to come home.

Kiyoomi lifts Kia first, then gives you a kiss. “Why are the two of you so tensed?” He asks you as the three of you go to the living room. You watch Kia, giving her ‘don’t-you-dare’ look.

“I’ll make dinner. Go take a bath,” you tell him, ignoring his question. You kiss his cheek, taking Kia away from his arms. He raises an eyebrow at you, but goes to the bathroom anyways. You sigh in relief when he’s not in sight, thinking that you are able to keep the surprise from him.

But Kiyoomi knows, because of Akaashi.

Sakusa was on a break, sitting on bench. His phone rang, so he checked who was calling. ‘Akaashi?’

“Hello, Sakusa-san,” the former setter greeted. Before Sakusa could even say anything back, Akaashi continued, “Congratulations on baby number 2.”

“What?” Sakusa cleared his throat, his mind going blank. Did he hear him right? He said baby number 2. He was sure he said that.

“I don’t think (Y/N) has told you yet,” Akaashi laughed awkwardly. “Can you pretend that you don’t know until she tells you? She’ll kill me if she finds out I told you before she did.”

“Okay,” Sakusa let out, still in shock. The call ended, but his phone was still on his ear, his body not able to move.

“Hey, it’s time to go back to pratice,” Atsumu called him, but he didn’t answer. The blonde setter goes to him, waving a hand in front of Sakusa’s face. “Are you dead?” Suddenly, the dark haired spiker pulled him into a hug. “What the fuck? Did you reprogram or something?!”

“Thank you for being a good setter to the team,” he told Atsumu, patting his back. “Do you want to eat out dinner later? Just to relax before our game tomorrow.”

“Is the world ending?!” Atsumu gasped dramatically.

“No, not at all. I think the world is doing great to be honest,” Sakusa responded, showing off a smile. Atsumu froze on his spot while the other man went back to the court.

The practice started once again, Kiyoomi playing better than ever. He was smiling the whole time, his teammates were creeped out. “Why is Omi smiling like that?” Bokuto whispered to Atsumu. Hinata leaned in also, wanting to join their conversation.

“He even hugged me a while ago,” Atsumu murmured back, side eyeing Sakusa.

“I’ll ask for a hug, too,” Bokuto claimed. He walked close to Sakusa, then poked his shoulder. “Can you give me a hug?”

“Sure,” Sakusa responded with no hesitance, taking Bokuto in for a hug. The grey haired man was astonished. After that, Bokuto went back to the other two, still stunned.

“Is Omi dying? Why is he so nice? Are his days getting counted,” Bokuto blurted, dazed.

“Maybe he’s repenting for all his sins, so he can go to heaven,” Hinata added, agreeing with Bokuto’s theory.

Sakusa heard all of their words, but all he could feel is happiness. He couldn’t explain what he emotions he were experiencing. All he could of at that moment was the growing child inside your stomach, your child.

Sakusa finally comes out of his shower, acting like usual but inside he is screaming. He already wants to tell you about the names he has come up with. He is so excited to shove it to his teammates that he’s having another child that will no longer consider them as boyfriends.

“Omi, you’re spacing out,” you point and he shakes his thoughts out of his head.

“Ah, sorry,” he says then continues to eat. You notice his little mannerisms: constant tapping of fingers on the surface, bouncing legs, hair running through hair. All of that means that he wants to say something. ‘Does he know?’

After dinner, he puts Kia to bed, you watching closely. He looks so smiley and excited. You lie down beside him, and he looks like he’s going to burst. Now you’re sure he knows. “You know, don’t you?”

“The what baby?” He asks innocently, suppressing a smile. You pout and he starts laughing. “I can’t do this anymore!” He comes to you, protectively wrapping his arms around you.

“How did you know?” You ask him, burying your face on his armpit. He smells good so you sniff even closer. ‘It’s kicking in. The weird pregnant things.’

“That’s a secret,” he chuckles. He pulls away from you and you whine, your nose wanting to smell him. “Don’t you want a kiss?” You kiss him then stick your nose back to his armpit. “This is already weird and it’s just the start!”

“Shut up. I was supposed to surprise you.” Your voice is muffled but he hears you clearly. His hand rubs circles on your lower stomach, his lips planting a soft kiss on your forehead.

“Can we name him Kin?” he blurted out so you snicker at how excited he is. “What? Don’t you think it’s a cute name?”

“We’re not even sure if it’s a boy. Why are you so excited?” You push your upper body up, so you’re looking down on him. A pout forms on his lips, squinting his eyes at you.

“Are you not excited?” He pulls you back down. Your face is pressed on his chest, his hand returning on circling your stomach.

“Of course I am!” You reply to him, hugging him tightly.

1st Trimester

“Are you done yet?” Sakusa yawns, holding your hair for you while you vomit on the toilet. The moon’s still shining yet you’re already in the bathroom throwing up. “Why do they call it morning sickness when you throw up any time of the day?”

“If you’re gonna complain you should not have asked for another child!” You growl at him. He sighs, not wanting to argue. He knows that when he says anything in disagreement, you’ll start crying. Your hormones are playing with not only you, but also him.

You feel less nauseous so you stand straight, panting. He gently pulls your hand, leading you to the sink. He takes your toothbrush and starts brushing your tooth for you. He insists on doing that ever since the first time you experienced morning sickness with him around. He thinks it’s disgusting but it’s the least he can do for you.

“You want to eat something?” He asks as you spit the foam out of your mouth. He wets his hand and wipes the foam on that got stuck on your chin.

“Are you really asking me that after brushing my teeth?” You complain as he wipes your mouth with a dry towel.

“I don’t want you to go to bed with an empty stomach,” he reasons, fixing your hair. You hum, thinking about his question. So far, you have not been having weird cravings yet, which Sakusa thanks for because he won’t feed you disgusting combos of food.

“Just ice cream,” you finally answer, and he nods. The two of you go to the kitchen quietly, not wanting to wake Kia up. You take a seat at the dining table while Sakusa scoops an ice cream for you. As he hands it to you, the soy sauce bottle catches your eye. Something inside you tells you that you want it, so you point at it, but he doesn’t get it. “Soy sauce.”

“No,” he tells you in disgust. You feel yourself tearing up and Sakusa immediately grabs the bottle and hands it to you. You clap in excitement, pouring a good amount of soy sauce on your ice cream. Looking at you makes him want to vomit but at the same time the smile on your face warms his heart. ‘7 more months.’

2nd Trimester

You and Kia wait for Sakusa outside the gym. You are scheduled for your 18th week ultrasound today, and Sakusa insisted on going with you. You’re finally gonna find out about your child’s gender and he doesn’t want to miss any ultrasounds. He wants to make sure you and your child is healthy and in great shape.

“Are you excited to spend some time with Mu-chan?” You ask Kia and she excitedly squeals. Kiyoomi decided not to bring Kia at the appointment with you so you can surprise her at her birthday which is in a week.

You see his teammates come out, and Kia greets them one by one. Sakusa and Atsumu finally arrive, so you and Sakusa head out, parting ways with Kia. Before you leave Kia, Sakusa threatened Atsumu that if something happened to his daughter, he’ll drag his body around the court during practice.

“What do you our baby will be?” Sakusa asks you, intertwining his fingers with yours. He plants a kiss on the back of your hand, his eyes on the road.

“To be honest, I feel like it’s a girl,” you answer.

“You know what that means,” he teases and you let go of his hand. “What? You said we’ll not stop trying for a son.”

You stay silent, the smile on his face halting your anger. You can tell he’s excited and it’s hyping you up, too. It feels like you’re through your first pregnancy again. You arrive at the hospital and you walk to the clinic hand in hand.

A nurse greets you and heads you inside the clinic where the OB is waiting for you. She gives you a hospital dress and you change into it. You lie down the reclining chair. The doctors splatters gel over your lower abdomen, the coldness of the fluid making you giggle. Sakusa is standing beside the chair, his fingers playing with your scalp.

“Oh... you see that? Your baby is a...”

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“Happy birthday, Kia!” Everyone cheers after singing for her. Kiyoomi lifts her, then blows the candles of the cake with her. It’s her first birthday with her father.

“Before we start eating, we want to tell Kia what her sibling’s gender is,” Kiyoomi announces. He takes a box where either a girl’s clothes or boy’s is in. Kia excitedly rips the box open, gasping at the item inside the box. She lifts the dress up, showing it to everyone.

“A baby sister!”

Third trimester

“Kiyoomi!” You scream, your voice echoing through the whole house. He rushes to you and sees the liquid dripping down your legs.

“Shit! Shit! The baby is coming! The baby is coming!” He panics. He calls your midwife, notifying her about your condition. He runs out of your shared room and heads to Kia who is scribbling in the living room. “Kia, your sister is coming. You know what to do.”

Kia immediately takes her phone out of the drawer, prepared on what to do. She and Kiyoomi has been practicing for weeks for your birth. They panicking but prepared. Kia calls her grandparents first, telling them you’re finally giving birth. Next, she calls Akaashi and Kenma. Then, she goes to you, helping you calm down by holding your hand. She’s telling you bedtime stories and rubbing circles on your stomach from time to time.

While Kia is comforting you in your room, Kiyoomi’s in his bathroom, running a bath for you. You have opted for water birth at your home, which Kiyoomi had convinced you to do since it was said to be less painful than normal birth.

Your pregnancy have been nothing but smooth thanks to Kiyoomi. He never complained about your mood swings or 3AM cravings. He went to every appointment with you despite his busy schedule as a pro-athlete. He and Kia were there all through-out and you couldn’t be more thankful.

Minutes later, your midwife arrives, helping Sakusa transfer you to the tub. You take your dress and panty off, then wear a comfortable sports bra. They guide you into the tub, making sure you don’t slip and fall.

Kia waits on the bed, just like how she was trained to. She wants to go to you and hold you because she know you’re in pain, but she’s afraid that she’s going to be a nuisance to your delivery.

“Omi, can Kia go in the room?” You request in between pants, the contractions getting even stronger. He nods and calls her in. She slowly goes to you, sad that you are crying because of hurt. She caresses your sweaty forehead, then plants a kiss on it.

“You can do it, mama,” she cheers you up, grinning at you. She’s trying her best to calm you down and it magically lessens the pain. You hold onto her tiny hand, Kiyoomi standing by your side the whole time.

3 hours later, you hear voices from outside of the bathroom. You take a glance at the doorway and see your best friends waving at you. You manage to let out a smile, your weak hands waving at them. The Sakusas have also arrived, not wanting to miss the opportunity to see the new family member. You hear Akaashi’s parents voice, and it soothe you.

“Do you want me to join you in the water?” Kiyoomi asks, brushing your hair off your forehead, his other hand has been holding you for hours now. You nod eagerly, letting go his hand. He takes his shirt off and gets in the tub with you. He positions himself behind you, his legs on your sides. You lean your back on his chest, your skin contacting with him. He intertwines your hands again, placing it over your bulging stomach.

Kia enters the room with Akaashi and Kenma, a drink in her hand. She holds it out you with both of her hands. “It’s your favorite juice mama. Drink.” You take a sip from the straw, the drink hydrating you. Then she holds it out too, Kiyoomi. “You too, papa. You’re working hard, too.”

“You’re working the hardest, Kia,” Kiyoomi tells her, patting her head. You can’t speak now, but you definitely agree. Kia is just a child, but she’s trying her best to understand what’s going on. She’s comforting you as she knows you’re in pain. She’s helping Kiyoomi in handling the matters just like how she promised him. She’s working so hard for you, Kiyoomi, and her soon to be born little sister and it’s all paying off.

After a few more hours, you see your baby’s head. Your midwife tells you push, so you do. But it’s painful, it hurts so much. You stop pushing, crying hard due to too much pain.

“Baby, you can do it,” Kiyoomi whispers into your ear, holding your hand tightly. He kisses the top of your head, wanting to take the pain you’re feeling. If he could, he would definitely transfer the pain you’re feeling to himself. But he can’t so he’ll try his best to soothe you. “Look. Our baby’s almost out. Don’t stop pushing...” You gain motivation from his words and with one last push, your baby girl’s finally out.

The midwife catches your child quickly, then brings it on your chest. Kiyoomi’s arms wraps around your stomach, looking down at your child that is on top of you. The midwife gives him a pair of umbilical scissors. He gets to cut the umbilical cord for the first time ever. It’s something has been looking forward to. He tears up as his cuts the cord.

“Omi... she’s finally here,” you cry, hugging your newborn.

“Yes, she is. And it’s all because you did a great job.” He kisses the top of your head again, his hand softly landing on the back of your child. His hand is wider than her back it’s scaring him that she’ll hurt him.

“What are you going to name her?” The midwife asks the two of you. You stare at your child, waiting for Kiyoomi to answer.

“Mina. Sakusa Mina.”

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Kia finally wakes up from her nap, missing the rest of delivery. She quickly gets up, her blankie still in her hand. “Is my sister here?” She asks Kenma and Keiji who are in the living room. They nod at her with a smile.

They lead her to Kiyoomi’s bedroom where you are sleeping in. Mina is on the crib beside your bed, also sleeping. Kiyoomi sees Kia enter so he gently wakes you up. You had told him that you didn’t want to miss Kia and Mina’s first meeting. “Kia’s here.”

“Kia, come here,” you pat on the space beside you. She slowly climbs up the bed, not wanting to hurt you.

“Where’s the baby?” She asks you softly. You look at Kiyoomi and signal him to take Mina out of the crib. You put a support pillow on Kia’s lap, your daughter nervous and excited to meet her new sibling.

“Mina... your big sister is here,” Kiyoomi coos at the newborn as he lifts her out of the crib. Mina squirms, waking up. He puts her down on the support in Kia’s lap.

“Kia, it’s your little sister. Mina,” you tell Kia, softly petting the side of her head. Kia stares at the baby on her lap. The first thing she does surprises you and Kiyoomi. She places her blanket over her little sister, then softly cups Mina’s small cheeks. Kia places a gentle but tender kiss on her forehead. She starts crying, and so do you and Kiyoomi.

“Hi, Mina. I’m your Kia-neechan.”

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Facts:

Newborns has been hearing sounds since way back in the womb. Mother's heartbeat, the gurgles of her digestive system, and even the sounds of her voice and the voices of other family members are part of a baby's world before birth

Water birth might help you relax and help you feel more in control. Floating in water helps you move around more easily than in bed, too. Some science suggests that the water may lower chances of severe vaginal tearing.

Only 5% of babies are born on their due date. 50% are born within a week of the due date. 90% are born within 2 weeks of the due date.

The most popular day for babies to be born is Tuesday, followed closely by Monday

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live-the-fangirl-life · 3 years

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Blood and Boos

Elide Lochan x Lorcan Salvaterre - Haunted House OneShot

Lorcan gets roped into doing a Haunted House. Elide tries her best, but she isn't a fan of jump-scares. What could go wrong?

Masterlist | Read on Ao3

Warnings: Language

2348 words

*******

"No. Absolutely not.”

“Come on, it’ll be fun.”

“No way, I'm not doing that.” Lorcan wasn't going to budge. There was no way he was giving in to their stupid request.

“If I can do it, you can do it.” Rowan took a sip of his beer and leveled a look at him over the rim of the bottle.

Snorting, Lorcan shot back, “Just because your girlfriend’s got you wrapped around her finger, doesn't mean I'm going to do it.”

Rowan raised a brow at him, “And yours doesn't?”

It was Fenrys’ turn to snort. He grabbed his own beer and hopped up onto the counter. “Lorcan, Elide’s got you more whipped than Whitethorn over here.” He motioned to a smirking Rowan.

Rolling his eyes, Lorcan just repeated, “I’m not doing it.”

Sighing, Rowan asked, “Even if Elide asked you to? You’d still say no?”

“It doesn't matter what I would do—” Of course he would do it if she asked, albeit begrudgingly and full of complaints, but he’d do it. “Because she didn't ask me to. Aelin asked you to help out with this one.” he nodded at Fenrys.

The blond grinned at him. “Come on Lorcan, it’ll be fun.”

“Fun?” He seriously doubted that. The last thing he wanted to do was put on a ridiculous costume and watch teenagers pretend they weren't scared just to impress their friends.

“It's a Haunted House, Lorcan,” Rowan tried again, “We’re not asking you to hand out candy to trick-or-treaters”

“Yeah,” Fenrys chimed in, jumping down from the counter, “You’ll get to scare people for three hours. And get paid. You already do that for free just walking down the street with that scowl.”

Lorcan’s response was the aforementioned scowl and a simple one-fingered salute.

“Ha. Ha. My answer is still no. You won't get me in an absurd costume and I won't be doing your stupid haunted house.”

Rowan was interrupted from responding by Lorcan’s phone ringing. Neither had noticed Fenrys subtly typing away on his own phone beneath the counter.

He recognized his girlfriend's ringtone and toned down the irritation that was seeping into this voice.

“El,” Rowan and Fenrys perked up at the sound of her name, trying to listen to his conversation. He waved them off and walked into his room. “Hey, what's up?”

He could hear her laughing at something said in the background and then her voice ran through his speaker, “Hey Lor! I was just talking with Aelin and she was telling me about this awesome—”

“Is this about the haunted house?” He cut her off, already groaning.

“How’d you know?” She sounded surprised...almost too surprised…

“I’ll let you guess what I was just talking about with Rowan and Fenrys. And before you ask—” He rushed on, knowing that once she did, there’d be no way he could say no to her, “I am not going to dress up and play monster all night just because you think it would be so fun.”

He heard his girlfriend groan exasperatedly at his insistence, “Oh, come on, Lor. It really would be so fun! You guys would be in the haunted house and Aelin and I could keep coming through all night to keep you company. And just think,” She lowered her voice, he guessed so she wouldn't be overheard, “there will be lots of dark corners that we could sneak off to.”

He let out a long sigh. Gods, this woman had some magic power over him.

“...Fine.”

“Oh yay!” He could hear the smile in her voice and it made the scowl he wore soften a little. “This is great! Go let the guys know, I’ll tell Aelin. And babe?”

“Yeah, El?”

“I know you’re not super excited, so as a reward for stepping out of your comfort zone, I promise to make the night exciting.” He could picture her winking at him through the phone.

Chuckling, he ran a hand through his hair, “I’ll hold you to that, babe.”

“Love you, Lor! Bye!”

He said a quick “Love you, too.” before she hung up.

With one more resigned sigh, he walked back out to see Rowan and Fenrys muttering to each other. They both turned to look at him expectantly.

“…what time should I be there?”

***

Elide wasn't exactly sure why she agreed to convince Lorcan to do the haunted house. She had been out with Aelin when Fenrys texted her telling her that she needed to get Lorcan to agree. Aelin caught the text over Elide's shoulder and insisted she call Lorcan.

“Ooh, that'll be great! Your grumpy boyfriend can keep mine company. And hey,” Aelin beamed at her, feeling satisfied at how things were coming together, “knowing that it's the guys who are dressed up and not some rando, you don't have to be so scared about going!”

That was why Elide couldn't figure out how she’d agreed to both getting Lorcan to do the Haunted house, and also to going through it herself.

Elide loved Halloween...the cute, fun, wholesome parts of Halloween like carving pumpkins and watching cheesy Halloween movies, and wandering through corn mazes. She didn't love the over-the-top scary, ‘you're going to be so terrified you’ll wet yourself’ parts of Halloween.

But she could put on her big-girl pants and get through one night of terror. And, maybe Aelin was right. Maybe knowing that the ax murderer jumping out at her was one of her friends or her boyfriend, would make it less scary.

That's what she tried to tell herself as she and Aelin waited in line for the haunted house two days later.

Lorcan had refused to tell what his costume was, but she knew Rowan was some kind of zombie, and Fenrys was going to be, yup, an insane ax murderer.

She and Aelin would go in, find the guys, maybe hang out and watch them scare people for a bit, and then they’d leave. Elide knew Aelin wanted to come through a second time later on, and she promised Lorcan she would find him and take advantage of one of the dark corners she mentioned before.

Two times through the haunted house, she could do this.

***

She couldn't do this.

Elide let out another piercing shriek as a hand jerked out of the cobwebs to grab onto her arm. She spun, ripping her arm out of their grasp, only to hear a dark laugh and another hand brush the back of her head.

Whipping back around she saw Aelin pull her hand back, grinning.

“Ae, I love you, but I’m going to kill you.” She was jumpy, ready for something else to pop out at her. “I am going to murder you for making me come here, and no one is going to help you or find your body because they’ll all think you’re just some prop for this gods-awful house.”

“Oh El, I’m sorry,” but Aelin was grinning through the fake blood splatter on her face making Elide roll her eyes and huff. “Let's go find our big, strong boyfriends, and they can make us feel better.”

It should have sounded comforting, but Aelin wiggled her eyebrows at the end, and Elide chuckled lightly.

“That doesn't sound like you, Ae—the last bit, sure—but not the first.”

Tossing her head back to laugh as she draped an arm over the shorter girl’s shoulder’s Aelin laughed.

“Please, they just like to feel useful.” She winked, but Elide could see the fondness on Alein’s face as she thought about Rowan. “Let’s keep going.”

All Elide did was groan.

***

Lorcan was tired of this. He’d been stuck wearing a mask with a supposedly scary face on it, but besides that, he was just wearing his normal all-black attire. Black jeans, black hoodie, black boots.

According to Fenrys, Lorcan was already scary enough.

At least he didn't have to wear the zombie get-up Rowan had on. Lorcan didn't want to know how long it had taken him to put all the green undead-looking make-up on—something he was sure Galathynius was responsible for.

Lorcan wasn't about to admit it, but he was having a little fun scaring people. He had positioned himself in a corner, just behind a turn in the hall. He could hear when people walked by him, but they couldn't see him until he wanted them to.

All he had to do was take one step, say “boo” in his deep, deadpan voice, and watch as the victims screamed, jumped, or ran away. One guy had let out such a high-pitched wail that Lorcan thought the glass on the window might break.

He’d been there for almost an hour; apparently, Elide and Aelin took longer to get there than planned because they hadn’t come through yet. He was getting a little grumpy, having been promised alone time with his girlfriend somewhere private when she made her way through.

Another group of teenagers walked by. Another “boo.” Another shriek. Another herd of footsteps running down the hall away from him, but unknowingly towards the enthusiastic ax murderer.

He settled back into his corner and waited some more.

He heard a pair—no, two pairs—of footsteps getting closer to him. Maybe he’d have some fun with these people; he wouldn't half-ass his attempt this time. As they turned the corner, Lorcan took a breath and leaped out in front of them.

Several things happened one after the other.

Lorcan roared “Boo!” Not the scariest thing to say, but his size, stance, and volume made up for it.

The pair, two women, screamed. One severely louder than the other.

In less than a moment, he recognized his beautiful, terrified girlfriend.

Elide, letting out her shriek, and unable to see Lorcan’s face beneath the mask, moved instinctually letting her body take over instead of thinking.

She drew her arm back and punched him in the face.

Lorcan’s head flew backward, not expecting the impact.

“Elide!” Aelin gaped at her friend, but Elide was still screaming, partly because of the heart attack she knew she was having and partly because her hand immediately began to hurt once she made impact with the masked man’s face.

Lorcan grunted, bringing his hand up to hold his definitely broken nose. He could feel the blood already dripping down behind the mask.

“Fuck!” He groaned, managing to pull the mask off his swelling face.

The moment the mask was off and his face was recognizable, both ladies’ eyes went wide.

“Lorcan?” Elide screeched, moving toward him, her face caught between disbelief and guilt. “Oh, my gods, Lorcan! I’m so sorry!” She tried to touch his face but he winced as she brushed his nose.

Devastation crossed her face as she took in the very real blood and bruising on her boyfriend’s face, all caused by her.

Alternatively, Aelin found it all hysterical. She was bent over, cackling, tears streaming down her face. She was laughing so hard that soon she wasn't making any sound, just clapping her hands together so she could continue to show her amusement.

“Oh, Lor—”

“I’b okay,” he muttered.

Elide sighed dejectedly, “When you say I’b instead of I’m it means you’re not okay. Gods, I can't believe I punched you.”

“You punched him!” Aelin got out between laughs. “This is one of my favorite moments, ever.”

“Oh hush Ae.” But her lips tugged up at the corner.

“I saw ‘at” Lorcan said, his words getting clogged by the swelling of his nose and the blood dripping down, and letting Elide fuss over him.

“Saw what?” She asked innocently, trying not to hurt him and she turned his face from side to side.

“ ‘at little sbile” That little smile.

She gave him a light kiss on the tip of his nose, careful not to put pressure on the broken part. “You’re the one who jumped out and scared me, you should be proud that my instinct when being attacked is to punch my attacker.”

He rolled his eyes. “But it's be,” But it's me. He gestured to himself.

“Yeah, but you had a mask on, and I was already on edge after someone,” she glared at Aelin who had finally calmed down, “made me walk through this entire monstrosity of a setup.”

Elide gave him another kiss, this time on the corner of his mouth.

“It’s by nose ‘ats broken, not by lips.” He pointed out when she pulled away.

She laughed, and her smile almost made his broken face worth it—almost.

“Come on, let's get you to the hospital,” She cringed thinking about having to explain to the doctors how this happened, “and when they give you the all-clear, I’ll give you all the kisses you want.”

“You two go,” Aelin told them and tossed Elide the keys to her car, “call me later. I’m gonna go find Ro and Fen and tell them all about this.”

Elide rolled her eyes as Lorcan flipped Aelin off and Aelin waved cheerfully back before practically skipping down the hall.

“I’ll give it to you, ‘at was a damn good punch.” Lorcan grabbed her hand, pulling her into his side as his other hand kept a firm hold on his face.

She smiled up at him, but he could still see the guilt on her face. “Well, I did learn from the best. Now, please use your hulking body and bloody face to scare off any more characters as we leave.”

He laughed as best he could and pulled her tighter against him. “I t’ink ‘hey should be more scared of you.”

Luckily they didn't run into any more jump-scares on their way out.

Once they were in the car—Elide forcing Lorcan into the passenger seat after pushing it all the way back for him and climbing into the driver's seat herself—they left the grounds and started driving towards the hospital.

“You know,” Lorcan said, glancing over at his brilliant, violent girlfriend, “when you said you’b promise to make the night exciting, this is nob what I had in mind.”

Okay, so maybe her smile did make his bloody face worth it.

***

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sarcasmandships · 3 years

Text

how to save a life part 2︱spencer reid

word count: 8.7k

spencer reid x slight oc

spencer and veronica argue over him keeping their relationship from the team, but when spencer sustains a life-threatening gun shot wound it puts everything into perspective

angst + hurt/comfort with a n eventual happy ending

this is not an x reader because i hate writing y/n in place of a character name and it often forces you into writing in second person which i also hate - however I have avoided giving specific descriptions of hair/eye/skin colour, height and body shape so feel free to imagine it like an x reader

this is also heavily inspired by greys anatomy and ive taken characters from the show to be side characters, however you do not need to have watched a single episode of greys to follow the story

warnings: spencer being shot, descriptions of blood, descriptions of surgery

read part one here!

Veronica readjusted her dress for what felt like the 100th time that evening. The green, silk bodice was too restrictive; her feet ached from the stiletto heels April had picked out for her. She grabbed another glass of champagne from a passing waiter.

"That is for the guests!" April hissed, smacking her arm with her tiny clutch bag.

"And the hostages," Veronica said, raising her glass to an imaginary toast.

"Amen to that," Cristina agreed, taking a long sip of champagne from her own glass.

"You two are hopeless," April said, shaking her head before storming off.

"I like angry Kepner," Cristina chuckled.

"God, I can't breathe in this thing," Veronica gasped, pulling at the top of her dress again, "I think I've got a tension pneumothorax."

"Unfortunately, if I had a needle big enough to help you, I'd have stabbed myself in the eye hours ago," Cristina said, deadpan.

Veronica gave her a shaky laugh.

"Ooo, is that Kevin Gibbs?" Cristina said, suddenly filled with a burst of newfound energy as she spied a man at the next table, "oh, he is rich rich, I'm so getting a donation from him," she grinned before dashing off to take Kevin Gibbs' arm.

Veronica rolled her eyes as she watched Cristina twirl her hair and flutter her eyelashes; she was far too good at this. Veronica was left alone at the table, tired of pretending she was interested in anything these rich, old men had to say; she pulled her phone out to scroll through Twitter.

However, as she unlocked it, Spencer's name popped up on her screen, and her shrill ringtone cut through the low-level chatter and ambient music in the room. She hastily switched the phone to silent after receiving a few pointed glares but continued to stare blankly at the screen as it rang.

She did not want to speak to him.

But she had told him to keep in touch.

Via text, not a phone call.

But what if something was wrong.

Eventually, she clicked 'accept'.

"Spencer, I told you-"

"Hi, Veronica," the voice on the other end cracked, "it's Derek Morgan. We met earlier today..."

Veronica's blood ran cold as Derek spoke to her through the phone. She could hear the piercing wail of the sirens; it harmonised with Cristina's shrill laughter as she flirted with Kevin at the next table.

Blood was pounding in her ears. Her entire body was in free fall like she was being hurled down the drop of a rollercoaster that seemed to never end.

"... they're taking him to Stafford Grace Mercy West Hospital, meet us there when you can - I gotta go."

Derek hung up the phone.

Veronica stood frozen, her body trembling and mind spinning.

"Veronica!" Jackson snapped as he strutted towards her, "you're supposed to be getting donations, not standing in a corner drinking all the champagne…."

Veronica was staring straight at Jackson's face as he ranted, but she couldn't focus her eyes enough to see his furrowed brows or flared nostrils. Her mind was spinning at hyper speed, but everything around her moved in slow motion; she gripped onto the edge of the table.

"…are you even listening to me?" he snapped his fingers in front of Veronica's glazed eyes.

"Spencer was shot. In the chest, he's on the way to the hospital now," she said in a monotone, "I have to...I have to go...I..." Veronica clutched her head in her hands; the room would not stop spinning.

"Oh my god," Jackson gulped, "of course, go, go. Do you want me to come?"

Veronica stumbled away from him and towards the door. Why was the floor moving like that?

"No," she called back to him, "this is your event you can't leave, I just- I need to go," she turned on her heel and dashed out of the door.

The hospital was just up the street. Jackson had picked a venue close by so the doctors who didn't have the day off could get there quickly after work. Veronica pushed people out of the way as she staggered up the street; her feet didn't hurt anymore. Her whole body was just pins and needles.

She burst through the doors of the ER, in her floor-length, green dress and dazzling emerald necklace, with tears streaming down her face. Sections of her neatly pinned hair had broken free; she clutched her chest as she gasped for air. It was only a matter of time before someone called for a psychiatric consult.

With most of the other attendings at the gala, the interns and residents had swarmed like locusts to get their hands on a surgical case. Veronica pushed through the sea people, looking for someone she knew – why did all the residents look the same?

Veronica scanned the trauma rooms, hoping to catch sight of his messy hair. They were full of bloodied and beaten-up people, but none of them were Spencer. She had just stumbled through the double doors to the waiting area when she heard someone call her name.

"Veronica?"

She whipped her head around to see Derek Morgan standing in front of her. Several steps behind him, she noticed Penelope Garcia, who she recognised from this morning, and several other anxious FBI agents.

"Derek," she gasped, gripping onto his outreached hands, allowing herself to stabilise slightly, "w-what happened?"

"We were chasing down the unsub and Reid...he fell and just when he was getting back up, he got hit. It was bad luck. It caught him just above his vest."

"And he's in surgery now? I didn't see him in any of the trauma rooms?"

"They just took him up; come with us. You need to sit down," he said kindly, and Veronica allowed him to guide her over to the seats.

"Hi again," Garcia squeaked, but Veronica stared straight ahead and didn't answer her.

The others tried to introduce themselves, Aaron Hotchner, Emily Prentiss, Jennifer Jareau, David Rossi. They were names she knew well from Spencer's last night rants about work, but she couldn't bring herself to look at any of them long enough to put a face to the name. Derek was trying to reassure her when Veronica caught sight of a familiar resident walking past with a tablet in her hand.

"Murphy!" she barked, "get over here."

Murphy's head snapped up, and she looked around rapidly to see where the voice had come from; when her eyes finally landed on Veronica, she looked at her quizzically but shuffled over.

"Dr Grey, I thought you were at the gala-"

"I need you to look up a patient for me, Spencer Reid - came in with a GSW to the chest and should be in surgery now."

"Dr Grey, what's going on?" Murphy said slowly, her eyes darting between Veronica and the team of agents behind her.

"Just do it, Murphy!" she ordered, and Spencer's teammates looked slightly taken aback.

"Okay, okay!" she said, typing rapidly on her tablet, "he's in surgery with Dr Hunt and Dr Altman for an exploratory thoracotomy...chest x-ray showed a GSW to the chest with the bullet lodged near the thoracic aorta...he was tachycardic and hypotensive when he came in, with substantial blood loss-"

Bile bubbled up in her throat, "what OR are they in?"

"Dr Grey, I can't-"

"What O.R, Murphy?" she snapped; she gripped the edge of the plastic chair to prevent herself from strangling the resident.

"OR one!"

"Okay... OR one. OR one has a gallery," Veronica mumbled to herself, she tapped her foot against the floor and her stiletto clacked against the linoleum.

"Dr Grey, you know you can't go up there when you aren't working-"

"Murphy, do you want a medical career?"

"Y-yes," she stammered.

"Then you'll get out of my way before I have the AMA strip your medical license," Veronica snapped; she stood up and gathered up the skirt of her dress as she began to power walk towards the elevator.

"Wait, where are you going?" Derek called after her.

"Spencer's in OR one, that OR has a viewing gallery... I'm going to watch his surgery," she said flatly before turning away and continuing along the hallway.

It wasn't until she was in the elevator and ready to push the OR floor button that she realised that Spencer's team was directly behind her.

"What are you guys doing?" she sighed as they piled into the elevator after her.

"He's one of us. We aren't gonna hang around a waiting room if we can be there with him," the blonde woman that Veronica thought was called Jennifer, retorted.

She was ready to argue. To protest that they weren't allowed in the gallery, that surgery wasn't for the faint-hearted. But then she looked at all their faces, desperate and distressed; they looked how she felt.

So, she closed her mouth and jabbed the button for the fifth floor.

The elevator seemed to take forever to reach the fifth floor. It stopped on three, and a huddle of surgical interns tried to cram in, but Veronica snapped at them before they had the chance.

"No. You get the next one," she glowered at them, and they could only give her nervous stammers and shaky head nods in response.

Veronica rolled her eyes at them as the doors crept shut again, with her arms folded tightly across her chest and tapped her foot against the floor.

"You seem to have a lot of authority here," Hotch commented.

"I'm an attending," she said bluntly, "they're interns - bottom of the surgical food chain, their only job is to stay out of our way and try not to kill anyone."

"That seems...harsh," Garcia whispered to Derek.

Veronica whipped her head around, "a hospital like this doesn't work without a hierarchy; it's how we learn. If we don't treat them that way, then they get too confident. Would you rather have an intern perform Spencer's exploratory thoracotomy or two surgeons with years of experience who are chiefs of their respective departments?"

Garcia gaped at her, but the elevator doors creaked open, saving her from trying to respond to Veronica's scathing comment.

"The gallery is this way," Veronica grunted under her breath as she exited the elevator and crept up a short flight of stairs.

"That wasn't very nice; Garcia was only making an observation," JJ whispered to Emily as they followed Veronica.

"Who is this woman?" Emily responded, equally as confused as to why they were following this random woman around a hospital.

Derek turned round to face them, "she's Spencer's girlfriend-"

"Girlfriend!" Emily gasped, "did he ever mention a girlfriend to any of you?" she asked, looking between JJ and Derek.

"No, not once…." JJ frowned.

"He didn't tell me as much as he was forced to, that's why he's been acting so off recently, but I couldn't really get many details from him about her, so don't ask me anything - she's just worried about him like we are, she's on edge too."

Veronica burst into the gallery, which was thankfully empty. She pressed her forehead up against the viewing window and saw Spencer lying on the table. The glass was cool against her forehead, which seemed to somewhat soothe her pounding headache.

Spencer's face was draped, she couldn't see his eyes, but she could see his half of his rib cage. That unsettled her; she wasn't supposed to be able to see into her boyfriend's chest cavity. Veronica clung to the glass as she staggered to the intercom on the wall; she pushed the button that allowed them to hear what was being said in the OR.

"... there's a lot of bleeding here, more suction!" Dr Altman demanded.

"Right away, doctor."

Veronica flicked the switch that allowed her to be heard in the OR, "Owen," she said slowly, and he looked up at her in shock, "I need you to save him."

"Veronica, you're supposed to be at the fundraiser. What are you doing here?"

"Owen, listen to me," she pleaded, her voice cracking, "I need you to save him."

"Well, of course, I'm gonna try and save him, Veronica I don't understand-"

"Oh god," Dr Altman said as she suddenly realised what was happening, "Spencer Reid... he's your Spencer. I met him at Owen and Cristina's wedding; we talked so much about the Mechanical Complications of Acute Myocardial Infarction I thought he was a surgeon too…."

Veronica nodded silently.

Her Spencer.

She couldn't control the sob that wracked her body. She was vaguely aware of Garcia placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"Yeah, so I need you to save him," she sniffed, "because if he dies, I will literally go out of my fucking mind, and I won't be much of a neurosurgeon from the psych floor."

"Veronica, you should be up here," Owen said as he forced another clamp into Spencer's chest, "how did you even know where he was?"

"Murphy told me," she said, "but it wasn't her fault, so don't go and yell at her; I told her I'd have her medical licence taken away."

Owen paused, "you can't do that, though."

"She doesn't know that! Please just save him. I need you to save him."

"I-" Dr Altman hesitated, "we'll do everything we can, V, I promise you."

"Thank you, Teddy," she whispered through her tears; she flicked the button off again so they wouldn't be distracted by her sobs.

Veronica collapsed into a chair in the middle of the front row and kicked her heels off. Spencer's team had shuffled into the rows behind her and sat, whispering quietly among themselves and clutching onto each other.

"V-veronica," Garcia finally spoke after around an hour of near silence, "I know you're a different kind of doctor, but what are they doing? I don't understand any of these medical terms. Can you explain it?"

Veronica twisted slowly in her seat to face her, revealing her mascara coated cheeks and puffy eyes. She nodded slowly.

"They're doing a surgery called an exploratory thoracotomy; they're trying to remove all the bullet fragments from his chest cavity. Their main concern is that the bullet hit very close to the thoracic aorta, which is a major vessel that carries blood from the heart to the rest of the body."

"B-but it didn't hit his aorta, so that's good, right?"

"Right, cos' if it had, then he'd have bled out seconds after he was hit," Veronica paused to swallow the vomit creeping up her throat as she imagined Spencer's bloodless body lying in the morgue, "but the impact of the bullet creates shock waves when it enters the body. Considering the proximity to the thoracic aorta, it could weaken it and cause an aortic dissection."

"And that's bad?"

Veronica nodded gravely, "they're almost always fatal, the blood loss becomes too uncontrollable, and even the best surgeons, like Dr Altman and Dr Hunt, can't do anything," she turned back around to face the OR as a fresh set of tears threatened to spill over.

"Oh," was all Garcia could muster up.

"Those doctors, are they really the best?" Emily asked.

Veronica nodded, "Owen, Dr Hunt is head of trauma surgery, and Teddy, Dr Altman, is head of cardiothoracic surgery. They served together in Iraq; they've put soldiers half blown apart by bombs back together, if anyone can save Spencer - it's them," she reassured.

"Good to know..." Emily said in uncertainty, wrapping a comforting arm around JJ, who was silently sobbing into a tissue.

"What you need to understand is that every GSW is different, which is what makes them so difficult to fix, and when a bullet enters the body, it not only tears through structures, but the transfer of kinetic energy can cause damage to nearby tissues, like what I was saying about his thoracic aorta," she explained slowly, "that's why GSWs are so dangerous because the damaged area can ripple out around the entry wound."

"But you think he'll be okay, right?" JJ sniffed.

Veronica hesitated; she glanced back at Spencer's motionless body on the table. Her eyes scanning the monitors he was hooked up to, the constant stream of O neg he was being replenished with, the rip spreaders and clamps in his chest…

She felt sick again and had to turn away.

"I don't know. He hasn't been in surgery very long… it's just too early to say."

"There isn't anything more we can do for him now," Hotch spoke gravely, "he's in the hands of the people who are best trained to help him; we just need to trust that they are doing everything they can to save him."

Hotch's words had a sense of finality, and the room fell close to silent again with only Veronica, Garcia and JJ's sniffles and sobs echoing around the dimly lit room. Derek help Garcia's hand tightly in his own, JJ rested her head on Emily's shoulder, Hotch and Rossi sat next to each other, their faces stoic and stony. Veronica sat alone, tugging at the restrictive bodice of her dress every few seconds.

They sat like that for at least another two hours.

Suddenly, the monitors attached to Spencer began beeping rapidly, Veronica's heart seized, and she jumped to her feet to get a better view.

"What's happening to him?" Garcia whimpered; she clung onto Derek's arm as he also stood up and strained his neck to see.

"He's in DIC!" Teddy's voice echoed through the intercom, "push heparin," she ordered.

"Veronica, what's going on?" Derek asked; he tried to keep his voice steady, but it wavered slightly.

"He's in DIC, disseminated intravascular coagulation - it means that proteins in the blood that cause clotting go into overdrive, which actually causes excessive bleeding. If they don't control the blood loss, it's fatal."

"Lap pads! And more suction! I can't see a thing," Owen demanded as he packed Spencer's chest cavity to absorb the excess blood.

"And hang another unit of O neg, he's losing too much blood," Teddy added, "there was nothing in his medical history that indicated he was at risk of DIC...Veronica! Is he on blood thinners?"

Veronica dragged herself over to the intercom and pushed in on the button, "n-no, nothing like that, he takes zolpidem sometimes, but that wouldn't cause DIC..." she muttered.

Something clicked in her brain, and she spun round to face Derek, "you said he fell before he got shot."

Derek nodded, "that's right, the woman the unsub had abducted pushed past him to escape, and he fell down the full flight of stairs. That distracted me long enough for the unsub to get a shot in at him...."

"Teddy! He fell before he was shot, he fell down a flight of stairs, he could have a splenic injury or a laceration on the portal vein or hepatic artery- it wouldn't have been picked up on a chest x-ray. You have to do an ex-lap!"

"Veronica, we've already cracked his chest-" Owen began to protest.

"Pressures dropping, doctor!"

Veronica banged on the glass, "he'd rather be alive with two incisions than dead with one."

"Dr Hunt, you're the trauma surgeon this your call," Teddy said calmly, "but we need to do something and fast."

"We don't even know if he has a splenic injury! We can't take medical suggestions from our patient's hysterical girlfriend; that isn't how it works-"

"He's dying," Veronica wailed, "and he's going to die if you don't do something. If it were Cristina on my table, you would be begging me to do whatever it takes to save her. Teddy – you promised me you would do everything you could, and you're not doing anything! He's bleeding to death, and you aren't helping him," she sobbed against the glass.

Teddy and Owen exchanged a look.

"10 blade," Owen grimaced, and Veronica breathed a sigh of relief, "you better be right about this Grey – convert drapes for an ex-lap!"

"Oh God, I can't watch this," JJ said; she flopped back into her seat as Owen made a deep incision into Spencer's abdomen.

Despite dealing with horrific crime scenes daily, everyone else in the team had to follow JJ's lead as floods of blood gushed from the incision site. Garcia, who had screwed her eyes shut the minute the monitors started beeping, was rocking herself back and forth and mumbling under her breath.

"Okay, I need more suction! I'm seeing some damage to the hepatic artery," Teddy said, "can you ligate it from your side?"

"Yeah, I think so, clamp!"

Veronica wished she could be like Spencer's team. She wished she didn't have a medical degree; she wished she didn't know every possible thing that could go wrong from this point forward. She wished she could close her eyes or at least tear them away from the scene that would plague her nightmares for years to come.

She could hardly believe it when his pressure finally stabilised; she embraced the smile that crept onto her face as she watched the readings on the monitor slowly begin to climb up.

"You can open your eyes now; they ligated the artery and stopped the bleeding, combined with the heparin that should be enough to keep him stable for now."

"For now?" JJ questioned.

"He's doing well; that injury could've been fatal, but he pulled through, and that's good; it's just that I don't want to tell you he's out of the woods when he's far from it."

"It's been hours," JJ said, "how much longer before we know if he'll be okay?"

Veronica shrugged, "probably a couple more hours; they need to make sure the wall of the thoracic aorta is strong enough before they close and remove all the bullet fragments; they need to take their time."

"You'll have to forgive us, Dr Grey," Hotch spoke quietly, "we don't have the patience for this kind of thing like you do."

"It's okay, and you can call me Veronica," she smiled nervously and picked at her nails.

This was what she'd wanted all along, to meet Spencer's team. But now, she was standing in front of them and couldn't think of a single thing to say. She had imagined this moment every night for months, but never in her wildest dreams did it go like this.

"Veronica then," he said stiffly, "so you said you're a neurosurgeon?"

"Yeah," she said, tearing her eyes away from the surgery in front of her to face him, "that's how Spencer and I met; he came to a lecture I gave on the Endoscopic Fenestration of Arachnoid Cysts Through Lateral Pontomesencephalic Membranotomy, cos' that's just the kind of things he does for fun," she snorted.

"Sounds like him," Hotch said, smiling fondly.

"I just can't believe he never told us about you," Emily commented, "and I can't believe we never figured it out; I mean, come on, guys, we're meant to be profilers."

Veronica gritted her teeth, "Yeah, me neither..."

"Veronica!" Jackson said, bursting through the door to the gallery, "I just got away from the gala; how's he doing?" he asked, rushing over to embrace her in a tight hug.

"He's stable for now; his temp has come up a lot since he got here, but he did go into DIC, and they had to convert to an ex-lap..."

"Owen and Teddy will be doing everything they can; he'll be okay."

She nodded, "I know...I just want it to be over; even if he was in the CCU, I could handle it, but he's lying open on an operating table, and I can't help him."

He rubbed circles on her back soothingly, "it'll be over soon. Can I get you anything?"

"Something to change into. I don't think I have any clothes in my locker, but just grab me some scrubs... I'd take a patient gown if it meant I could get out of this dress," she said, tugging again at the restrictive top.

"You got it," he said, breaking away from their hug, "April wanted to come and be with you, but Harriett's with the sitter and she had to-"

"Don't worry about it, just get me something to wear. I can't breathe in this thing."

"Yeah, I'm on it," he said, giving her a gentle kiss on the forehead, "Cristina's on her way; she'll be here soon."

Jackson shuffled out of the gallery, giving a nod and a tight-lipped smile to the others as he passed them. Veronica retook a seat.

"That was Jackson," Veronica explained, noting the confused faces of the BAU team members, "Dr Jackson Avery, he works here too, but he was stuck at the gala - we were having this fundraiser for this hospital...stupid...."

"V! I just heard; why didn't you tell me?" Cristina burst into the gallery in a similar fashion to Jackson, "I had to hear from freaking Avery that your sexy FBI boyfriend got shot?" she berated as she sat down next to Veronica.

Veronica shrugged, "Jackson was there when I got the call. You were busy turning up the charm for that rich old sleaze."

Cristina shoved her lightly, "I'll have you know that rich old sleaze donated 1.5 million dollars to this hospital," she said smugly.

"Show off," Veronica grunted, folding her arms over her chest.

Cristina stood up to peer through the glass, "supervisory sexy agent, has Owen and Teddy working on him? You need to calm down and stop chewing your nails; he'll be fine."

Veronica rolled her eyes, "you need to stop calling my boyfriend supervisory sexy agent, or you'll be the one on the table."

"Aw, come on, I'm kidding! My husband is right down there...oh my god, my husband saves your boyfriend from a GSW? That'll be such a good story for me to tell your kids."

"Can we wait to see if he makes it off the table before we start discussing our hypothetical children?"

"Boring."

Jackson returned at that moment, "sorry, I didn't know your scrub size, so I just guessed. And you didn't have any shoes in your locker, so I stole some sneakers from April, you're the same size, and she won't mind - I also brought you some of her makeup wipes," he rambled, handing her the pile of clothes.

"Stealing shoes from your ex-wife now?" Cristina teased as Jackson sat down on the other side of Veronica, "I thought pretty boy Avery was rich enough to buy his own," she cooed.

Veronica stood up and slid the scrub pants on under her dress, and pulled the scrub top over the top. Cristina unzipped her dress, and she let out a deep breath as the pressure on her rib cage was released; she shimmied the dress off and threw it over an empty chair.

"Shut up, Yang," Jackson grunted.

"Children, behave," Veronica said warningly as she slipped on the socks and shoes she was borrowing from April.

Veronica sat back down and finished wiping off the makeup that hadn't been flushed away by her tears. Jackson gripped her hand tight in his, and she smiled appreciatively at him; Cristina gave her a pat on the shoulder.

"Guys, what if he dies?" she whispered as they watched Teddy and Owen work away on Spencer.

"He won't," Jackson protested, "he didn't code in the field, and the majority of GSW victims without penetrating vascular injuries survive if they get to a hospital on time."

"There is a bullet in his chest cavity! That is a penetrating injury," she blubbered.

"But it didn't directly damage his heart or any major arteries; yes, they could be weakened by force, but he's been in surgery for hours, and nothing has ruptured – plus after they close him up, we'll monitor him closely, and he will be okay," he said with a squeeze of her hand.

"Avery's right. It's far more likely he'll be a vegetable or something," Cristina shrugged.

"Yang! His best friends are right behind you," Jackson hissed.

"They are?" Cristina said, whipping her head around, "oh, hi."

Cristina gave them a wave, and they stared back dumbfounded.

"Who the hell are these people?" Emily hissed.

"I don't know, but they seem to think that Spence is gonna be okay, and that's all that matters to me," JJ answered.

"He could still die; people die from GSWs all the time. There could be complications, he could get an infection-"

"Look, Veronica, if the worst happens, then we can cross that bridge when we come to it, okay? And you know we'll all be here for you, no matter what," Jackson said, and Veronica smiled appreciatively at him.

"Thank you," she said, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Y'know, you should've married him when you had the chance - cos' if he dies and you were his wife, you'd get that life insurance. If he dies now, you'll just be poor and sad."

"Cristina!"

"No, it's okay," Veronica said with a slight smile, "it helps."

"God, talk about a dark sense of humour...."

"I think I'm just still drunk," Cristina shrugged.

"I think I'm hungover already; my head is killing me," Veronica groaned, massaging her temples.

"Want me to get you a banana bag?" Jackson asked.

"Yeah, why not."

Jackson stood up and made his way across the gallery and to the door; he turned back to face the BAU team members, "can I get anything for you guys? Coffee, water…I wouldn't recommend the food, but we got vending machines."

"No, thank you," Hotch answered politely, "anyone else?"

The rest of the team shook their heads or mumbled no thank-yous in response. Jackson gave them a sympathetic smile before leaving; JJ's stare was still firmly fixed on Veronica.

"What did she mean? You should've married him when you had the chance?" she asked.

"It means that supervisory sexy agent-"

"Cristina!"

"Fine, Spencer, asked V to marry him, and she said no cos' she can't let herself be happy."

"That isn't why I said no, and you know it."

"Well, no. But your real reason is stupid, so I'm gonna say it's your self-destructive tendencies instead. Do you know what I've give to never have to interact with Owen's dumb work friends? You're getting the best of both worlds here."

"You work in the same hospital! Owen's dumb work friends are your colleagues."

"Ugh, whatever."

"You turned Reid down because of us?" Rossi questioned, speaking for the first time since they had entered the gallery.

"It's a bit more complicated than that-"

"What's wrong with us? You didn't even meet us until today?" JJ snapped.

Veronica sighed and picked at her nails; her first interaction with Spencer's friends already wasn't going very well, and now she had to tread lightly as to not offend anyone.

"That's the problem; it took Spencer getting shot in the chest for us to meet because he refused to tell you about me; how could I marry someone when I'd never even met his friends? It's what we argue about more than anything else. We argued about it this morning actually...."

The blood drained away from Veronica's face as the events of the day flashed through her mind.

She turned to face Cristina, "oh God, we were arguing this morning about it, and again when I dropped his phone off at work - the last conversation we ever had was about that stupid argument. What if he dies thinking that I'm pissed off at him? I didn't even tell him I loved him before I stormed off," she said, tears welling up in her eyes.

"Well, he's a profiler, right? Even if you didn't say it, he would be able to tell...."

"He's a genius, not a psychic, Cristina."

"She's right," Derek interjected, "before he lost consciousness, he told me to call you and tried to say something else; he kept saying tell her... he never got to finish, but I'm sure it was just that he loved you."

"He really said that?"

Derek nodded, and a weight was lifted from Veronica's shoulders, although she quickly felt uneasy again when Jackson returned, IV kit and banana bag in hand.

"Okay, I know you don't like needles, but it'll make you feel better, so give me your arm," he demanded.

Veronica huffed and begrudgingly gave him her arm; she winced as he pushed the needle through her skin, "ow! I thought plastic surgeons were supposed to have a gentle touch."

"Plastics is barely even a real speciality; Avery gives boob jobs on the daily – we do real surgeries and save lives."

"Hey! I'm also a qualified ENT, and I practically run the burn unit-"

"Guys," Veronica groaned, "can you have your little dick-measuring-contest another time? Maybe like when my boyfriend isn't lying open on an operating table?" she said, gently massaging the tender skin around her IV.

"You said you liked my dark humour!"

"Only when it's funny," she sat down again and massaged her temples "hey, I think they're nearly done," Veronica cheered.

She dashed over to the intercom, "Are you guys closing him up?"

Teddy nodded, "yeah, and then we'll be taking him up to the CCU. You should get some rest before he wakes up," she advised.

"He's going to be okay, Veronica," Owen said; she couldn't see his face under his mask, but she could tell he was smiling.

Veronica couldn't fight the grin spreading across her own face; Spencer was going to live. He was going to make it off the table. Now all she had to do was pray that he woke up because Veronica didn't know how she would cope if she never saw his eyes again.

"He's really going to be okay?" JJ whispered; she held her hands up to her lips in a prayer formation as fresh tears spilt over onto her cheeks.

Emily pulled her into a tight embrace and stroked her hair, "Hey, don't cry. The doctor said he's going to be okay."

She nodded against Emily's chest, "I know, these are happy tears – it's just I've been sitting here for the past four hours wondering what I would tell Henry if his Uncle Spence died and now, he's going to be okay, and I'm crying more than when I thought he was going to die…stupid," she mumbled.

"It's not stupid," Veronica offered kindly, "your body has been in panic mode and how that you're finally able to relax a bit, you get an emotional outburst that makes you cry – it's totally normal," she said, tentatively reaching out her hand to take JJ's.

She nodded and gave Veronica's hand a squeeze, smiling at her for the first time since they had met. The mood in the room had shifted as the BAU members slowly began to accept that their teammate was going to live, and the nervous tension began to dissipate.

"Teddy's going to close him up and then wheel him up to the CCU, Cristina are you staying or coming home?" Owen's voice echoed through the intercom.

"I'm staying obviously!" she said indignantly.

Veronica shook her head, "no, it's okay, you go home."

"V, I can't leave you here-"

"It's fine, Cristina. You're working in the morning, and you'll need to be here for rounds at 6am, and you won't be any use to anyone if you're sleep-deprived. So, go home. Besides, I've got Avery to keep me company."

Cristina gave her an appreciative smile and squeezed her hand one last time before she left the room. A wave of jealousy surged in Veronica's chest as Cristina disappeared from her line of sight; it wasn't her fault that she was going home with her husband whilst Spencer was being stitched back together. But that didn't make it hurt any less.

"I'm so sorry, V," Jackson said, holding up his phone, "it's one of my burn patients, she's got an infection, and I think I'm the only sober attending after the gala…I can send a resident-"

"No, no, it's okay," she smiled sadly, "go and help your patient; she needs you more than I do."

"Page me if you need anything," he said, kissing her forehead gently before leaving her alone with the BAU team.

She was in a room with seven other people, but she had never felt more alone. They were clutching onto each other, whispering amongst themselves and smiling; Veronica didn't have anyone.

She shuffled away from the displays of affection and picked up her dress and shoes, "I'm going to put this stuff in the attending's lounge, there's coffee in there if you want anything – and on-call room seven is always empty if any of you need to sleep. He won't be awake for a while; you should get some rest," she said, giving them a tight-lipped smile.

"Thank you, Veronica," Derek said; he nodded over Garcia's head as he held her in his arms, "I don't think any of us will get much sleep until pretty boy wakes up, though."

Veronica laughed, "pretty boy, I always thought he was exaggerating when he said you called him that. If you don't want to sleep, that's fine, but you can't stay in here – the interns like to hang out in here before pre-rounds, and they'll be here soon," she said before gripping onto her IV pole and swiftly exiting the gallery.

Tears burned in her eyes as she made her way to the attending's lounge, grabbing a replacement banana bag from the nurse's station on her way; Spencer was going to be okay. He was going to wake up and have his team to comfort him, fetch him jello, keep him company through the recovery and bring homemade meals to his apartment. What else could she do for him that they couldn't?

She burst into the attending's lounge and slammed the door shut behind her. She let out a heart-wrenching sob as she shoved the dress into her locker, growing frustrated and kicking it when the poufy, underlayers of the skirt wouldn't fit.

Maybe that's why he had never introduced her to the team because he already had seven people who loved him unconditionally and could give him all the love he needed. And Spencer didn't want her to know that; what could she do for him that they couldn't?

Veronica darted into the bathroom and held her own hair bag as she emptied the contents of her stomach into the toilet bowl. Maybe she was just a fuck to Spencer, an outlet to release his frustrations after a hard day. Assuming he wasn't fucking any of his teammates, that was the only thing she was good for that they couldn't give.

Derek said that his last words before he passed out were about her; he asked him to call her. He tried to give her a message – why did Veronica not share Derek's confidence that the message was I love you?

She flushed the toilet and washed her mouth out with water from the tap. Her headache was beginning to subside, but she still switched out her banana bag before she limped out of the bathroom, using the IV pole as a support.

Veronica threw herself onto the couch. She wanted to scream, or kick something else or rip her own hair out, but she simply didn't have the energy to do anything except shut her eyes and drift off to sleep. The image of Spencer's open chest cavity and the knowledge that his team were everything she was and more burned into her brain.

***

Spencer's brain was awake before his body was. He was acutely aware of people moving around his room, but their voices were muffled, and he couldn't bring himself to open his eyes to see who they were.

There was a tight sensation in his throat, and suddenly, Spencer started gagging violently.

"He's fighting the intubation!" a voice called out, "page Dr Altman."

Dr Altman. He knew that name, he thought to himself. But his brain was still too hazy from the anaesthesia to think straight. Dr Altman…something to do with cardiothoracic surgery – probably one of his doctors. But where had they met before?

He felt hands all over him, grabbing at his neck and face; there was a horrible scraping sensation in his throat, and then he could breathe freely again. He's fighting the intubation, the voice had said. That was good; that meant he was breathing on his own.

However, he couldn't appreciate the joy of knowing he wouldn't be hooked to a ventilator for the rest of his life whilst his throat ached like that. The tube had been removed, but he still felt his gag reflex at the threshold of triggering.

He really needed to get Veronica more credit for that.

His limbs were heavy, he tried to at least wriggle his fingers, but they wouldn't move. The muffled voices which echoed around him were beginning to become clearer; he could make out what sounded to be JJ's voice by his head.

Finally, his brain allowed his eyes to flicker open. But he immediately wanted to screw them shut again when the blinding fluorescent glare of the ceiling lights shone down on him.

"Oh my god," JJ gasped, "he's awake!"

He couldn't move his head to see her, but her worried face quickly appeared in front of his, "Spencer? Spencer, can you hear me?" she asked frantically.

"Ow," he mumbled in response.

"Thank God you're okay," she said, stroking his hair as tears streamed down her cheeks.

"You gave us a scare, pretty boy."

Spencer strained his eyes enough to see Derek standing in the corner; he leant against the wall with his arms folded tight across his chest, but Spencer could clearly see the grin he was fighting.

"What happened?" he groaned, trying to readjust his body into a more comfortable position.

"Hey, don't try and move," JJ scolded lightly, "the nurse said that you'll be groggy from the anaesthesia for a while," she took his hand in hers and squeezed it gently.

"Did we get him? The unsub?"

"Yeah, don't you worry about him, kid, he's going away for a long time," Derek reassured, "he got a shot in at you before we could take him down… I'm so sorry, kid, you fell, and it distracted me long enough for him to shot you before I could shoot him."

"Hey, it's not your fault," JJ said, "it could've happened to any of us."

Spencer nodded in agreement but didn't try and speak again; his head was throbbing, and he closed her eyes again, the darkness providing some brief relief from the brilliant light above his head. But with every passing second, Spencer became increasingly aware of the dull aches in his chest and abdomen, the pain growing sharper with each intake of breath.

"How many times did I get shot?" he groaned, "I can't remember anything…but my whole body hurts."

JJ bit her lip as she continued to stroke his hair, "just once, Spence, but you fell down the stairs just before you got him and it injured…something, I don't know what – I can't remember what she said," JJ looked over to Derek for a prompt, but he shook his head in response.

"Hey, don't look at me; I didn't understand a single word any of those doctors said," Derek shrugged, "Dr Altman is coming to check on you, though, kid. I'm sure she'll explain it all to you."

Dr Teddy Altman!

They met at Cristina and Owen's wedding; Spencer could tell she was in love with the groom and distracted her with a rant on Mechanical Complications of Acute Myocardial Infarction. She was Veronica's friend.

Oh god, Veronica. She must be so worried – if Derek had even called her that was, she might be oblivious to his condition. Spencer was ready to open his mouth to as about her, but JJ was already speaking again before he had the chance.

"…and our resident genius will definitely be able to understand better than us," she said, pressing a gentle kiss against his forehead, "I've never been so nervous as when we were sitting in that gallery, thank god those doctors fixed you up."

"Wait, what gallery?" Spencer asked, opening his eyes to squint at her, her words distracting him long enough to forget to ask about Veronica.

JJ paused and exchanged a look with Derek, "we hoped you wouldn't mind – we were in the OR gallery during your surgery, but we didn't actually see anything," she reassured, "none of us could actually bring ourselves to watch, but we just wanted to be there, in case anything happened to you."

"Not that we'd have been much help," Derek chuckled, "but I got you to the hospital in one piece. I wasn't about to let you out of my sight until you were stable."

Spencer nodded slowly, "how did you even get in there?" he mumbled.

"Veronica," Derek said, "you asked me to call her, and she came straight over, but she wasn't about to sit around in any waiting room, so she found out where you were…we just followed her up there."

Spencer tugged on his blanket, "so…you met her then?"

JJ nodded stiffly, "we did."

"Oh. Suppose I did ask you to call her, I don't know what I expected…."

"We didn't get a chance to talk much," Derek said carefully, "you were touch-and-go a bit in surgery, so it was a bit too tense for small talk."

JJ moved away from him and sat back in the chair next to his bed; she picked at her nails, "I don't get why you never told us about her, Spence?"

Spencer didn't answer her. This was not how he wanted this conversation to go; in fact, he was hoping he'd never have to have this conversation at all. The rational part of his brain knew that was unrealistic, but the rational part of his brain didn't seem to exist when it came to protecting Veronica.

He shrugged, "I didn't think you guys needed to know."

Derek unfolded his arms and moved out of the corner, coming to rest at the end of Spencer's bed, "didn't need to know? You've been making excuses about this to me all day, kid. And I'm not buying the - you wanted to have something to yourself - bullshit anymore-"

"You asked her to marry you," JJ said, her voice cracking slightly, "you wanted her to be your wife, but you didn't even tell us about her? Were you just going to get married without any of us there?"

"She told you that?"

Spencer had the strength to ball one of his fists; this was going horribly. The tension he had created in his hand spread up his arm and along to his chest. He grimaced as another sharp stab of pain rippled across his body.

JJ shook her head, "no, her friend mentioned it, and we overheard. I don't get it, Spence, we're supposed to be like family, and she…we didn't get to talk, but she seems nice. And she's a doctor – she's smart like you, and she obviously loves you. Did you think we wouldn't like her?"

"No, and she said no to me anyway, so it doesn't matter…."

"She only said no because you wouldn't introduce her to us," Derek stated bluntly, "that's what she said when we asked her about it and considering I didn't even know she existed till this morning, I can't say that I blame her."

"Guys, I will explain later, I promise," Spencer began as he tried to sit up in the bed, "but I need to talk to Veronica. Right now – where is she?"

"She is in a patient room down the hall," Dr Altman said as she waltzed into the room and picked up Spencer's chart from the end of his bed, "nice to see you awake, Dr Reid."

"A patient room – i-is she okay?" Spencer stammered.

Teddy peered over the chart to look at his concerned face, "she'll be fine, she's just dehydrated and a bit hungover – we've got her on an IV. Besides, the couch in the attending's lounge is not the place you want to sleep unless you want to give yourself scoliosis."

Spencer tried to move one of his legs, "I need to go see her, I need to explain everything, I-"

"You need to lay back down," Teddy said as she moved over to his bedside and pressed her stethoscope against his chest, "I need to listen to your chest, take a deep breath for me-"

Spencer begrudgingly breathed in.

"-breath sounds are clear and equal, that's a good sign," Teddy said, hanging the stethoscope back around her neck, "and your latest round of labs are all within normal limits. Dr Hunt and I were able to remove all the bullet fragments during surgery, we were concerned that the impact could've weakened the wall of your thoracic aorta, but it seems unaffected."

Spencer nodded, "okay."

“We had to convert to an exploratory laparotomy mid-surgery; you had some bleeding in your abdomen which we needed to repair; that's why you have two incision sites. They will likely leave scars, I'm afraid, but the abdominal bleeding triggered a condition called DIC and would have been fatal had we not caught the bleeders."

Spencer's brain was spinning. He knew he had been in bad shape, but he really nearly died. He needed to talk to Veronica, and fast.

"…it was actually Veronica who made the connection between your fall and the bleeding. She wasn't even operating, and she saved your life," Teddy smiled at him, "I just need to take a peek at your incision sites, and then I'll be out of your hair."

Spencer winced as she lifted up his bandages to take a closer look.

"Okay, they look all good and no signs of infection. You will need at least another day for observation; I'll get the nurse to administer your post-op antibiotics, so let her know if there's anything else you need."

"He won't admit it, but he's in pain. Can he get any more morphine or something?" JJ asked, biting her nail.

"What? No, I'm fine. I don't need any more painkillers; I'm all good!"

Teddy raised an eyebrow at him, "you just had major surgery, but you don't want more pain meds?" she asked sceptically, "you aren't maxed out on anything; I can order more-"

"No," Spencer snapped, "I mean…no thank you, Dr Altman. They make me too disoriented, and I need to be clear-headed when I talk to Veronica," he said, adjusting his tone.

Teddy gave him one last suspicious look before she moved back towards the door, "okay, no more pain meds. I'll let Veronica know you're awake," she said before exiting the room, closing the sliding glass door behind her.

Spencer let out a deep sigh of relief and relaxed back into his pillows slightly. Even the brief conversation with Dr Altman had left him exhausted, so he wasn't sure how he would manage when the rest of the team flocked to his bedside to question him about his condition and Veronica.

Veronica.

That was going to be a long conversation.

JJ and Derek stayed by his side as the nurse came in to administer his antibiotics, just as Dr Altman had said.

"Hotch and Rossi had to go sort some things out with the arrest," Derek had informed him, "they said they'll stop by later when they can."

"And Emily and Garcia are in the cafeteria, we've let them know you're awake, but we didn't want to overwhelm you with too many visitors at once," JJ explained, "and Garcia really needed some sugar. She's been freaking out, Emily's trying to get her to eat something," she chuckled.

"I feel bad I caused all this stress…." Spencer mumbled.

"Course we're worried about you, Spence; we're a family. But you didn't cause us stress; it's not your fault," JJ reassured; she leaned closer to Spencer to grip his hand in hers.

"Exactly, it's the unsub's fault. You didn't choose to get shot," Derek added; he shuffled over to the bed from his corner and took hold of Spencer's other hand.

The three of them sat in comfortable and heartfelt silence for a few moments with their hands intertwined until they were interrupted by a hesitant voice in the doorway.

"Uh, sorry, I did mean to interrupt. I'll come back later…."

part 3 coming soon

sorry there’s not too much spencer in this part, i promise there will be more in part 3 when veronica and spencer have their confrontation

if you enjoyed this please consider leaving a comment as it really keeps me motivated, and reblogging! i really appreciate likes but on the tumblr reblogs are the only way to get my work out there x

tagging anyone who commented on part 1, message me/ comment if you want to be tagged for part 3:

@dilaurantisbitch

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sukifans · 4 years

Text

HELP ME // sokka

WARNINGS: language, a Bug

WC: 3.3k

A/N: a little somethin somethin for @fromthewatertribe’s 1k event! i had a lot of fun doing this drabble. i used 2 (“please help me”) and 8 (“i thought you loved me”) for this bad boy that definitely got away from me lmao

⇦ 𝘔𝘈𝘚𝘛𝘌𝘙𝘓𝘐𝘚𝘛

Panic surged through Sokka when he checked his phone and saw he had about twenty missed calls from you over the past ten minutes. Just as he was about to call back, your contact photo popped up on the screen accompanied by the duck quack ringtone you’d set for yourself ages ago.

“I’ll be back,” he mumbled to Zuko, who nodded absently while preparing a customer’s tea. He stepped out the back of the Jasmine Dragon and slid his thumb across the screen. “Hello?”

“SOKKA, THANK FUCK!” You sounded like you were crying on the other end. He frowned, pulling the phone away from his ear in response to your screech.

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt? Where are you?” he demanded over the ruckus of your wails. His hand dropped to his car keys in his pocket, ready to leave if you needed him.

“I’M AT HOME AND THERE’S A R-ROACH IN—“

Sokka groaned. “(Y/N), I’m at work. I cannot come kill a bug for you.”

Your blubbering paused. “B-But... I need help! And no one else will help me! Please help me!”

“As much as I want to help you I can’t right now, princess. I can swing by after we close in about an hour, though.”

You made a strangled sort of screaming sound and hung up. He brought his hand down, staring at his screen in surprise. The line was busy when he tried to call you back, so he pocketed his phone with a sigh and headed back inside.

Zuko was speaking on the store phone with someone when he got back to the front, making a face like he had just eaten something sour or smelled something foul. Sokka shot him a questioning look as he tied his apron back around his waist and Zuko beckoned him over.

“What’s up?” Sokka asked in a low voice.

“Just go,” Zuko huffed. “I can finish closing by myself and she said she won’t stop calling us until you help her.”

“Wh- give me that.” He took the landline receiver from Zuko. “Seriously, (Y/N)?”

“I’M FREAKING THE FUCK OUT, SOKKA!”

“It’s a bug!”

“IT’S FUCKING HUGE AND IT’S IN MY FUCKING ROOM, PLEASE GET OVER HERE! I NEED YOU!”

He made eye contact with Zuko and his friend just shook his head. “Fine, okay, you win. I’m on my way.”

She hiccuped. “You’re the best friend I could ever ask for, Sokka. I love you. Please hurry.”

“Yeah, yeah. Love you, too, princess,” he grumbled before hanging up. Zuko was watching him with raised eyebrows. “Oh, fuck off, dude.”

“I didn’t say anything.” He tried to hide his smirk by turning away to wipe down the counter.

“Don’t look so smug.” He smacked the back of his friend’s head after he threw his apron in the laundry bag.

“Hey!” Zuko punched his shoulder. “It’s not my fault you’re whipped for (Y/N) and too much of a pussy to make a move.”

“You’re fucking lucky I’m whipped and have to go kill a bug for my girl otherwise I’d kick your ass, Zuko.” He flipped him the middle finger as he headed out the door, keys in his other hand.

“Later, princess.” Zuko twiddled his fingers mockingly in goodbye. Sokka scoffed as he left, shaking his head and muttering under his breath. Yeah, he was whipped for you. He was wrapped securely and comfortably around your pinky finger. So what? It wasn’t like he had plans to do anything about it. He was perfectly happy being your friend — your best friend, in your own words. No way in hell would he risk fucking that up and losing you.

When he banged on your apartment door you simply yelled from inside that it was unlocked. It was hard to suppress a laugh at the scene that greeted him. You were curled up on your kitchen counter, hood of your sweatshirt drawn tight around your head so only your nose and eyes were visible and a can of bug spray in your trembling hand. Your tear-streaked face lit up when you saw him and it made his heart clench in his chest.

“Hey, princess.”

“Sokka!” You dropped the can and threw yourself at him. He caught you in his arms with a grunt and you wrapped your legs around his middle, clinging to his neck. His hands supported your back to keep you upright. “God, I’ve never been so happy to see you in my life. I could fucking kiss you right now.”

He had to recover quickly from almost choking on air in order to keep his composure. “Just doing my manly best friend duties.” He gulped when you slid down his body. Your feet hit the floor again but you still held onto him. “Alright, where’s the big bad bug?”

You glared up at him for his teasing. “My room. I was about to go take a shower when it fucking flew at my face! I don’t even know where it came from!”

“Stand by, princess,” he ruffled your hair and pulled off one of his sneakers to wield as a bludgeon, “I’ve got it all under control.” You rolled your eyes a bit when he puffed his chest out and flexed comically. You released him from your vice grip so he could stalk up to the closed door of your bedroom. Of course, you stayed planted firmly in the kitchen and watched from a distance.

“Be careful,” you warned, “it’s literally the biggest roach I’ve ever seen.”

“It may be big, but I’m bigger. And smarter.” He tapped his temple with his finger.

“I don’t know about that second part,” you giggled. He shot you a withering look.

“Do you want me to kill this thing or not?”

“Yes, sorry! You are so very strong and intelligent and handsome, Sokka. Much more strong and intelligent and handsome than the roach.”

“You know what? I’ll take that compliment.” He winked at you, sending your heart into your throat. You stuck your tongue out and made a face to hopefully hide how flustered you were.

“Stop flirting and kill the fucking bug!”

“You started it!”

“Sokka!” Laughing, he pushed open the door to your bedroom and disappeared inside. You watched the doorway with bated breath, listening to Sokka rummaging around to find the vermin.

There was an almighty thud, then a crash and a shriek along with thundering footsteps as your friend dashed out of the room with a massive roach flying behind him. You screamed too when you spotted the bug as it landed on your wall. Before you could react any further, Sokka had grabbed you and yanked you out the front door, slamming it shut behind you both.

“That’s no ordinary roach,” he panted, leaning against the door. He still held you close to his torso with an arm wrapped protectively around your waist. “Fucking military drone or something.”

“Did you think I was fucking joking?” Your stomach churned uneasily thinking about the insect walking all over your walls and prized possessions. A shudder ran down your spine and you buried your face into his chest, grabbing a fistful of the front of his shirt. “What am I supposed to do now? I can’t go back in there with that thing loose!”

“I don’t know.”

“You were supposed to kill it!”

“It charged me!”

“You big chicken!” Looking up, you flicked his forehead and giggled at his incredulous look. “I thought you loved me!”

His face felt like it was on fire. “I do!”

“Then why didn’t you kill it? You were supposed to protect me, Sokka!” Your hands settled on his chest and he hoped you couldn’t feel how fast his heart was beating. “So much for being smarter and stronger!”

“But you admit I’m more handsome still?” Your cheeks burned when his hand slid to your hip, using his thumb to rub circles into your hipbone through the fabric of your clothes.

“More handsome than the roach?” You couldn’t help but laugh at his goofy smile. “I guess you qualify for that.”

“Tough crowd,” he sighed. “I was going to bring you back to mine so you could get out of your roach-infested apartment, but if that’s how you really feel then I’ll leave you with the stronger, smarter organism.”

“The roach?” you squeaked indignantly. He chuckled at your wide eyes. “I’m sorry, I changed my mind. You are the smartest and strongest and handsomest again. Please let me crash at your place?”

“Wow, using me for my sweet crib? And here I was thinking you loved me for me!”

“Pretty please?” You clasped your hands under your chin, pouted, and gave him the best puppy dog eyes you could muster.

He groaned dramatically and rolled his eyes as if he were being greatly put out. “You know I can’t say no to that face. Let’s go, princess.” He disentangled himself from you and started to walk away only to realize you weren’t following. He turned back to you. “(Y/N)?”

You looked down at your socked feet. “I don’t have shoes. Or my keys.”

“I’m not going back in there.”

“Well, I’m not either.”

“Then it seems we’re at a stalemate.”

You pursed your lips thoughtfully. “Do you still have that spare key I gave you when I went out of town?”

“Good thinking, kid.” He shuffled around his key ring until he found yours, easily identifiable by the heart you’d painted onto it with your favorite nail polish. “Way to use your noodle.” He locked your front door and stood in front of you once again.

“Shoes,” you said simply, extending your leg to lift your foot in the air. “I’m not walking around like this. Knowing my luck I’ll step on a used needle and end up with some rare blood disease.” Sokka scratched the back of his neck as he considered this before a wicked grin split across his face. You did not like the looks of that. “Sokka...”

Without warning, he grabbed you around your middle and hoisted you onto his shoulder like a sack of flour. The inversion of your body made you squeal, scrambling to grab something to stabilize yourself. In your panic, you sunk your nails into the flesh of his ass.

“Jesus!” He gripped you tighter to stop you from slipping in his surprise. “I know I have an irresistibly fat ass but you gotta be careful back there, babe. That’s my moneymaker!”

If all your blood hadn’t been already rushing to your head you would’ve flushed. “That’s what you get for picking me up, asshole!” You paused. “What the fuck are you talking about, ‘your moneymaker?’”

“Well, I couldn’t have you stepping on a used needle and ending up with some rare blood disease, now could I?” You could practically hear his smirk as he carried you down to the front of your building.

“Do you derive joy from driving me up a wall?”

“Yes,” he answered without hesitation. You made an indignant noise and pinched his side. He yelped and smacked the back of your bare thighs in response.

“Did you just spank me?” You thrashed in protest, making him stumble a bit.

“No,” he grunted and then brought his hand down on your ass, eliciting a gasp from you. “Now I did.”

“Sokka!”

“That’s ‘Daddy’ to you, princess.” He tried to drop his voice an octave to sound stern but he couldn’t suppress his laughter. You were just glad he couldn’t see your face.

“I’m going to throttle you when you put me down,” you threatened.

“Kinky.”

“You know what? I’ll take my chances with the roach. Bring me back, you fucking deviant.”

He dropped you down to the ground and you leaned back against his car door, looking away from his face. “Aw, you’re hurting my feelings, babe. I seem to remember someone telling me—“

You clapped your hand over his mouth before he could continue. “That’s enough out of you, thanks.” You could feel his smile against your palm at the reference to a highly inappropriate conversation you’d had together when you were both extremely drunk. You recoiled when he licked your hand.

“Alright, alright; let’s go home. I’m exhausted.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” you muttered without any malice as he reached around you to open the passenger door. He simply gave you that same shit-eating grin and closed your door.

Sokka decided to spare your pride and carried you up to his apartment on his back instead of over his shoulder. His hands on your thighs, shifting your position every so often, made your heart race. You could still catch whiffs of the tea from the Jasmine Dragon off his clothes, mingling with the masculine smell of his deodorant. The combination put you at ease after the trauma of dealing with the roach and you sighed happily, setting your chin on his shoulder and pressing your cheek against his. The stubbly scruff along his jaw prickled at your skin but you couldn’t find it in you to care much.

You thought he’d drop you down onto his couch once you’d entered his apartment but instead he carried you into his bedroom and flopped backwards onto his mattress, knocking the wind out of your chest as he squished you under his body. Despite the squeezing weight on your lungs you were laughing uncontrollably, arms still thrown around his shoulders. Sokka wished he could have moments like this with you every night; that he could turn around and kiss you without ruining everything.

“Why so giggly, kid? Are you enjoying this?” he teased, leaning his head back onto your chest.

“Laughter is my panic response. You’re suffocating me, fatass,” you wheezed

“Nah, I think you like it.”

You hummed thoughtfully as the giggles subsided. “Maybe. You’re kinda like one of those weighted blankets.”

“Yeah?” He turned so he faced you, propping himself up on his forearms on either side of your head. “Do I relieve your anxiety?”

You quirked an eyebrow. “The opposite, actually.”

“You wound me, really. I am a calming, peaceful, meditative presence. I am a delight and a joy to be around.” He frowned when you threw your head back in incredulous laughter. You hooked your leg around his hips and flipped him onto his back, pinning him underneath you.

“Maybe you have your moments.” He stared wide-eyed up at your teasing smile and considered closing the space between your mouths. Before he could work up the nerve, you sat back on your haunches out of reach. “I need to shower.”

“Without me?” he pouted. You groaned and shoved his face into the mattress as you stood.

“Don’t wait up, baby.” He flushed at the nickname you used to tease him. He propped himself up on his elbows to see you down the hall.

“I’ll take the couch tonight,” he said. You stopped just outside the bathroom door.

“Sokka, we don’t have to do this every time. I think it’s okay if we just sleep in the same bed without arguing over who gets the couch at this point.”

“If you’re alright with it,” he sighed, dropping his head back down.

“Why wouldn’t I be? It’s you.” You gave him a quick smile before disappearing into the bathroom.

You always secretly loved staying over with Sokka. The lather of his soap running down your body into the drain made you feel wrapped in his presence — a great comfort despite your teasing that suggested otherwise. His meticulous organizing even in the shower always made you laugh a little to yourself. His products were neatly organized in the order he used them, likely something he started doing when you’d dragged him to a beauty store after finding out he used 3-in-1 “for efficiency.” Now, to your immense pride and satisfaction, he had a full skincare and haircare routine.

Upon exiting the shower wrapped in a towel, you saw Sokka snoring lightly on his bed next to a pile of clothes he’d left out for you. You pulled on his shirt and quickly wriggled under the covers, propping yourself up on your elbow. You poked your finger into his cheek and he grunted, swatting at you.

“Leave me alone, woman,” he murmured.

“You need to shower.” He cracked an eye open to glare at you.

“You’re awfully demanding for a guest in my bed.”

“Well, you worked today and you stink.”

“That’s just my natural man musk. Pheromones and stuff. Nothing to be done about it.”

“Are you an ant?”

“Only if you’ll be my queen ant.” He sent you a cocky smirk and you simply shook your head.

“You’re fucking weird, dude.” He laughed and wrapped an arm around you, pulling you directly into his armpit as you squealed. Finally you freed yourself and rolled onto your side away from him with a huff. Sokka slid behind you and rested his head on your shoulder, sliding his arm around your waist.

“You know you love me, princess.”

“Whatever,” you grumbled. He chuckled and the sound reverberated against your back, his warm breath on your cheek making goosebumps rise on your skin. His thumb slid absently back and forth across your stomach and the soft touch lulled your heavy eyelids closed.

“Don’t go to bed mad, babe. At least give me my goodnight kiss.”

Enough. It’s now or never.

Before you could start second-guessing yourself, you rolled onto your back underneath him and surged upwards to press your lips to his in an insistent kiss. It lasted only a few moments before you pulled away because he remained frozen against you. His clear blue eyes were wide as he stared down at you and you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks and the tears threatening to spill as you realized what you’d done.

“You shouldn’t flirt if you don’t mean it, Sokka. It gives people the wrong idea,” you whispered, the corners of your mouth pulling into a frown. His gaze darted from your eyes down to your lips and back again.

“Who says I don’t mean it?” And then he was finally, finally kissing you before you could tell him off. You snaked your arm around his shoulders and pulled him down on top of you, desperate to be closer, to feel his body on your own to reassure yourself that yes, this was happening and it was real. His hand trailed up to cup your face, skimming his thumb gently along your cheekbone. You both broke away to gasp for air. Sokka looked down at your flushed cheeks and bright eyes and lips that were just beginning to swell and he thought you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“Oh, don’t look so pleased with yourself,” you laughed, swiping your thumb over his satisfied smile on your way to pull the tie from his ponytail. The ends of his loose hair tickled your face as he kissed you again, this time much more gentle.

“And why shouldn’t I be?” Another kiss. “I’m kissing the girl I’ve been in love with for years.” Your eyes widened and you shoved him back onto the bed.

“Years?” you squeaked. “We could’ve been doing this for years?”

“I didn’t know you had feelings for me!”

“Of course I had feelings for you, are you joking?”

“Then why didn’t you do anything before now? I flirt with you constantly!”

“Because I thought you were joking!”

“Well, that’s on you, then. Now c’mere, princess,” he reached out and hugged you close to his body again, “we have a lot of time to make up for.”

“God, you’re such a cornball.” You giggled at the teasing kisses he peppered all over your face. When he finally caught your lips you hummed happily against his mouth. He tasted sweeter than the most tooth-rotting candy and gave you the same sugar high.

“Yeah, but you love it.”

“I do.” You snuggled down under the blanket and rested your head on his chest. “I love you, Sokka.”

He ruffled your hair affectionately. “I love you too, princess.”

“You still need to shower, though.”

“Ugh.”

ATLA TAGS: @hotgirlazula @octophopi

SOKKA/ZUKO TAGS: @fiantomartell

#sokka x reader #sokka fluff #sokka imagine #sokka x you #sokka fanfic #atla sokka #avatar: the last airbender #atla #atla fanfic #atla x reader #mine #nina’s 1k event #sokka

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wraithproblem · 3 years

Text

Things That Shouldn't Be

Title: Things That Shouldn't Be Pairings: Emhyr/Geralt Rating: G Wordcount: 1,250 Summary: An unexpected thunderstorm leaves Geralt stuck cuddling Ciri's terrified tiny fluffy puppy while trying to ignore her unbearable biological father Emhyr. It seems like a terrible combination, but then things get even more unexpected. Notes: Prompt fic for @omaano.

It's ten o'clock at night, and a whole lot is going wrong: the windows are getting assaulted by a deluge of freezing cold rain, thunder and lightning are incessantly crashing like a nature sounds tape on a loop, and Geralt's got a tiny fluffy white puppy shivering and whimpering in his arms while Emhyr var Emreis sits stiffly on his sofa. These things are all connected.

Geralt wasn't supposed to be stuck with either the puppy or Emhyr. Ciri's the reason both of those creatures are in his house - she recently adopted the puppy, Kelpie, and got spawned sixteen years ago by the ornery bastard, Emhyr - and yet Ciri isn't here. She was supposed to come home from her friend's house at nine o'clock, go to Emhyr's mansion for the weekend per the split custody arrangement, and take Kelpie with her. But then this damn storm came out of nowhere, trapping Ciri at her friend's house to wait it out, and trapping Geralt with the two beings that were waiting for her in his living room at nine. Geralt doesn't mind Kelpie, despite the pitiful little sounds she's making. He does mind Emhyr, because it's only a matter of time until the irritable pain-in-the-ass that is his daughter's biological father makes an unbearable bigger sound that drives Geralt to murder. Emhyr always pisses Geralt off to the point of near violence every time they cross paths, whether it's a five minute transfer of Ciri or a two hour dinner she's dragged them into.

"It's okay, Kelpie. Nothing's gonna hurt you. It's just noise. It's okay," Geralt repeats for what feels like the million-and-one-th time. Kelpie doesn't seem any more convinced than she did after the first million. Geralt's got her wrapped in a blanket and is gently squeezing her through the layers of fleece and fluff, because he's heard that warmth and comforting pressure can calm down a dog that's scared during a storm, but it's not proving to be a long-term solution. Every time her crying starts to quiet or her trembling gets a little less forceful, another thunderclap or lightning crack sends her back into a panic. No matter how much Geralt paces around the room and hugs Kelpie and talks soothingly to her, she's still afraid. Geralt doesn't know what else to do for this poor terrified dog, and it's kind of breaking his heart. Emhyr, he's simply ignoring.

Geralt's cell phone rings, and the breath jerks sharply out of his lungs when he recognizes Ciri's ringtone. He fishes his phone out of his pocket immediately, wincing at Kelpie's devastated wailing when that requires him to remove one of his arms from around her. "Ciri?"

"Geralt!" Ciri wails, in the exact same tone as Kelpie. "You have to come get me! A tree fell on my friend's house and crushed a wall and broke a bunch of windows, so I tried to drive home, but then my car got stuck in the mud, and - I'll send you my location, Geralt, just come get me!"

Now Geralt's the one mirroring Kelpie, with the way he's suddenly feeling very shaky. "I got you, Ciri. I'm coming. Send the location, and try to find shelter that won't fall on you."

"Okay! Hurry!" Ciri cries out, then hangs up the phone.

"Fuck," Geralt breathes. He shoves his phone back in his pocket and wraps his arm around the dog again. It's pretty clear that Ciri panicked after that whole incident with the tree and the house, so he's not going to blame his daughter for making the stupid decision to put herself in some pretty serious danger, but he is going to internally freak out until he knows that stupid decision isn't going to kill her. Geralt looks down at Kelpie, who's got her face buried in his chest and is whining into the fabric she's clutching between her teeth, and sighs. He can't bring her with him, not with how treacherous the roads will be, but she's so small and so scared and he can't just leave her. Dogs can get trauma just like humans can, and Geralt has a feeling he'd traumatize Ciri's poor dog by abandoning her like this. He tries to detach Kelpie from his shirt, just to see if she'll let go, and she gives him these big sad horrified eyes that leave his heart fully shattered. But every second Geralt stands here is another second that Ciri's out there in the storm, so he has to leave now. Acting on some panic of his own, Geralt pushes the bundle of blanket and fluff and dog into Emhyr's arms. "I'm going to save our daughter. Hold my puppy."

Geralt sprints out the door and to his truck without waiting for Emhyr's reply.

An hour later, Geralt slogs back into the house with his arm around a fully drenched and very shaken Ciri. She's wrapped in his jacket, clinging to his side, and the whole thing feels familiar. Geralt's just as drenched and shaken as Ciri is, but he's doing a good job of hiding his inner turmoil for her sake. Now that his daughter is home safe, though, Geralt remembers that he gave Emhyr a puppy. He gave Emhyr, the world's most unsympathetic man, a small emotionally vulnerable creature that needed nurturing care. Geralt's mind has cleared enough to fill with horror at the thought of what might've happened to that poor dog. Emhyr could've dumped Kelpie on the floor to let her cry, or snapped at her and scolded her for yelping, or glared her into a pile of ashes, or -

- fuck. Geralt is going to kill Emhyr. If Emhyr hurt that sweet little puppy in any way, shape or form, Geralt is going to kill him. That is, if Ciri doesn't get there first. Ciri would kill Geralt next for handing off her pet to Emhyr, of all people, and Geralt would deserve it.

Geralt rushes into the living room, already opening his mouth to call Emhyr an asshole and ask him how the hell he could be so coldhearted towards a helpless innocent being that just needed some comfort, goddammit, and - snaps his mouth shut. Emhyr is cradling the blanket-wrapped puppy to his chest, cupping her tiny back with a big hand and softly stroking between her ears with his thumb, and Kelpie seems to... like it. She's quiet, not a single whine or whimper to be heard, and her big eyes are blinking slowly as she keeps starting to drift off to sleep. The thunder and lightning haven't died down any, the clashing sounds just as loud and aggressive as when Geralt dashed out of the house into the rain, but Kelpie is calm.

Emhyr hasn't heard Geralt and Ciri enter yet, their return drowned out by the ferocious howling of the storm, so he doesn't stop talking to the dog. Geralt catches a snippet over the din: "- and, frankly, I understand your fear. I don't like thunderstorms much either."

Geralt's heart beats hard, several times in quick succession, and - fuck, not again. Not another one of those sudden, unexpected, and intense bursts of feeling towards this awful man. He hates when that happens. Kelpie, however, doesn't seem to mind her warm and fuzzy feelings towards Emhyr. Watching Kelpie finally fall asleep in Emhyr's arms, and hearing Ciri's soft cooing noise at the sight, Geralt gets the sinking feeling that he and Emhyr var Emreis might end up raising another child together.

#the witcher #emhyr/geralt #fanfiction

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janekfan · 3 years

Text

Tim shouldn’t be here.

He couldn’t make himself leave.

Tim should’ve told Sasha.

She wouldn’t be out of work for hours yet.

At the very least, Tim should’ve called ahead.

Jon had no idea who was standing on the other side of the door. It was apparent in the way his eyes widened. In the way his breath hitched in his chest like a skipping cassette, in how his fingers tightened on the scuffed up brass knob. In the tentative way he caught his lower lip between his teeth before his tongue darted out between them in preparation to speak.

“Tim.” Surprised, glancing to either side of him before staring at his eyebrow. Close enough. “No Sasha tonight?” Gentle inquiry as he stepped aside to let him in.

“Jon?” Martin was somewhere else in their little flat. “Who was that at the door, love?”

“Tim stopped by for a visit, habibi.”

Unannounced?

Tim could hear Martin’s unspoken question. This wasn’t what they’d agreed on when they first found out they were all alive, that they’d made it through everything after all and realized that Tim brought his old grudges along with him. It didn’t matter that he didn’t want to feel that way, not when he so clearly still did. It didn’t matter that the lingering worry and doubt and fear in Jon’s eyes made him sick to his stomach because he’d put it there.

“I’ll put the kettle on.” As he settled on the lumpy couch, Tim heard Jon click on the hob and then begin rummaging around in the cupboards.

“Hayati, where’s that jar of orange blossom…?” Tim smiled privately at the domesticity. He doubted any of them expected to have that. He certainly hadn’t. There was no answer in return but Jon’s phone pinged with a notification and a muffled burst of laughter followed. He came out shortly with a tray. “Martin’s putting our Emma down. He threatened bodily harm if I interrupted them now.” While he spoke, Jon busied himself setting out cream and sugar, pouring the tea, nervously rearranging biscuits already arranged on a chipped china plate painted delicately with roses. He recognized it as part of a set belonging to Jon’s late grandmother. When Tim went to reach for the cup offered up by a shaky hand, Jon flinched, spilling the hot liquid over his skin with a sharp hiss.

“Hey--!” Tim’s hands shot out, reacting too quickly, and this time Jon lost the entire cup over the both of them with an aborted yelp. “Damnit, Jon, stop!”

“S’sorry.” Jon mopped up the liquid, posture small and tight and stiff. “Please don’t um, uh reach for me like that.”

“Like what?” Annoyed, scrubbing a hand over the stain spreading across his shirt, Tim tried to stay calm. After all they’d gone through, none of them had escaped unscathed.

“So er, f’fast.”

“Why?”

“I don’t. It makes me--please don’t, Tim.” The tea towel was gripped in both hands, held close, even as he faced him. “It should be. I should be able to just a’ask.”

“I was trying to help.” This was ridiculous.

“And I appreciate it but--” had he ever?

“It really doesn’t seem like you do.” Tim needed Sasha here with her level head and grounding touch.

“I’m trying to ask you to--” He didn’t mean to interrupt. Really. But how were they supposed to move forward in this if Jon was so visibly afraid? He didn’t need to be afraid. He could trust him. He just refused to at every turn!

“I don’t see why you have to make this such a big deal everytime!” Tim shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be doing this. He definitely shouldn’t be yelling at Jon for something he had no control over, for asking him to just be.

Just be gentle with him for once.

The ire and anger in him rose, a clawing riptide, one he recognized from before the Unknowing. Cloying in its familiarity and power over him and he moved through it like he was stuck in honey, desperate for an escape, to not drown in it even as it closed over his head and his mouth flooded with salt and erupted in vitriol.

“I don’t see why you can’t get over it!”

“Tim!!” Martin’s roar broke him out of those rank jaws and snapped him back into reality. “Back. Off. Now.”

Martin stood in the doorway, a sleepy, clingy baby in his arms looking seconds from bursting into tears while her father looked seconds away from throwing him bodily out of the flat. Emma began to wail. Martin refused to look away from Tim.

Tim.

Who was standing over Jon, towering above his trembling body curled small and pressed into the cushions, tear-stained face shielded by arms drawn with a roadmap of scars Tim both knew and didn’t, that matched and told stories he’d yet to hear. His own chest was heaving like a bellows, hot, heavy, and he unclenched fists so tight his fingers ached, stepping back, stepping away. Only then did Martin stride forward, placing himself as a bulwark between the pair of them, taking up the whole of Jon’s vision and whispering sweet things, reassuring things.

"Hayati, I need you to hold Emma for a moment. Can you do that for me?" Mechanically, Jon accepted their daughter into his hold, angling away from Tim--and didn’t that sting? And didn’t he deserve it. Martin waited to be sure he had her, pressing a soft kiss against his cheek even as Jon paid him no mind, lost in bouncing their daughter a little to soothe them both. Firmly, Martin grabbed Tim by the arm and tugged him into a tidy kitchen.

“Martin, I--”

“The hell is wrong with you?” Voice kept to a sharp whisper, Martin kept looking past him into the sitting room; keeping a close eye on Jon no doubt who was beginning to babble at Emma, words pitched high and sweet, if a bit quivery. “Yelling like that, we don’t yell in this home. You know that. You know that and you came here anyway and maligned my husband and you don’t know the half of what he’s been through, so don’t come here with your guilt and anger and take it out on my family.” This was a Martin that Tim had never met, almost unrecognizable from those first few weeks they’d all spent together in the Archives. When everything was new. Before any of this happened. Before everything changed.

“I’m. I, I’m sorry, Martin. I’ll go. I’ll.” Tears, stinging, bright, prickled at the corners of his lids. “You’re right. I’m out of line. I don’t know--why did I come here? I’m sorry. I’m, I’m really sorry.”

“I’m not the one who needs to hear that.”

“I know. I. I should go.” He should never come back.

“This is why we came up with these steps together, all of us.” Martin handed him a handkerchief and Tim realized belatedly that his face was wet. “We heal on our own time, and it’s going to take time. But you have to respect Jon’s boundaries. He deserves to keep himself safe. He deserves friends who want to protect him, even from themselves.”

“Yeah.” His next breath got stuck, caught in the too-small cage of his ribs. Jon must’ve felt this way. When he shouted. Stood over him like that. “I wasn’t. Wasn’t. I’m not ready. I thought I could be.”

“Rushing this is going to hurt Jon and I’m sorry, Tim. I’m not going to let you do that.”

Not again.

It went unsaid and yet somehow hung heavy between them.

“I’ll tell Sash. I’ll. Come clean and she’ll chew me out and I won’t do this again, Martin. I promise.” Having them back was the greatest gift he’d ever been given. Why did he want to sabotage it? Question for therapy next week. Probably a good one.

“No, you won’t.”

I won’t allow it.

“T’Tim?” Tentative, behind him at a measured distance. Jon, cuddling a sleeping Emma close. “Are you alright?”

“No.” Tim laughed, choked on the sob rising in his throat. “But I’m working on it.” Jon offered him an understanding smile.

“We are too.”

“Yeah.” Tim swiped at damp lashes. “I’m sorry, Jon. I’m going to be better. I want to be better.”

“Okay.” Simple as that. Despite all their wretched history. Sash’s ringtone began to play and Tim found it hard to be angry at Martin. He didn’t want to go home on his own.

“Okay.”

#TMA #the magnus archives #jmart #jonmartin #angst #hurt/comfort #tim stoker #martin blackwood #jon sims #everybody lives #tim ignores jon's boundaries #yelling #Emma AU #babby!

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maybe-your-left · 3 years

Note

Skiing day two with Dr Ren and Gucci please 😘

Skiing - Part 2 Gucci & Dr. Ren M.D.

TW: INFIDELITY (only Gucci)

You barely slept, unable to swallow the guilt that had settled. You slept with a married man, who had you meet him in an extra room. Separate from his family, so he could fuck some random woman he met.

It felt disgusting, knowing you were that random woman.

What felt even worse, was how his touch lingered. His fingertips tracing every line of your skin, plush lips tasting every inch. Tongue laving at your nipples while you cried, legs open wide for his cock.

Maurizio made you cum three times, fucked you on the bed, on the couch, bent over by the fire. Digging his hands into your hair, cracking your back so you would arch for him.

Cumming deep inside your cunt, moaning when he saw it dribble down the back of your thighs. A thick finger swiping it up, to bring it back where it belonged.

No amount of hot water could scrub the shame, the tingle of your skin from his words. How beautiful you were, how he loved your cunt, ‘such a wonderful little dove’, ‘you taste of heaven’.

Wiping your tears away with the pads of his thumb, a soft kiss as you walked out. You looked back from down the hall, seeing him leave moments later. Hair put together, glasses back on, barely looking like he spent the past hour fucking someone.

Must be a normal thing.

———

“Holy shit,” you groaned, legs sore from more than skiing. Barely able to get dressed for another day, you debated just staying in the lounge. But you spent so much to be here, and all your friends were going.

You didn’t want to be alone, in case Maurizio decided to see you. You promised yourself you would t indulge him again, it was wrong. Even though it felt so right, so delicious.

Maybe one kiss wouldn’t hurt.

“Come on, let’s go get food,” your friends yelled, filing out the doors to the halls. Ski suits dangling around your waists, you carried your boots under one arm. Hooking arms with one of your companions, he knew you were having trouble walking.

Didn’t know why, but he was helping you.

Making you laugh, smile, feel so much better. You had almost forgotten about your shame until you made it to the lounge. Making full eye contact with Maurizio, who looked just as shocked.

You stalled for a moment, gasping at him. On his arm was a child, maybe 4-5 in age. Clinging to her father, and there standing next to him was the woman on the slopes. Who was wearing all red, now dressed in even finer clothes.

Maurizio smirked at you, seeming to not care that he was with a child and wife. “Trouble on the slopes?”

You opened your mouth, shocked he even spoke to you. Weren’t you supposed to keep things like this under wraps? Next to you, your friend piped up, “She must’ve fallen yesterday. You know how it is, women are clumsy.”

“Real women aren’t,” the woman sniped, snatching Maurizios free arm and dragging him away. You glared after her, wounded by her calling you a fake woman. Who did she think she was?

“She seemed high strung.”

“Yeah,” you mumbled, “I’m sure she’s a bundle of joy.”

———

You spent the rest of the day with no incident, didn’t see Maurizio or his frigid bitch of a wife on the slopes. Nor did you see his adorable daughter, instead you could focus on the landscapes.

The sloping mountains, snow banks, pine trees, fresh air, little tracks from animals burrowing for the winter. You were in awe, it really was a luxury. Something you wish you had more of, like Maurizio said.

You deserved it all.

Dinner was beautiful again, all of you mourning the end of your trip. Knowing that tomorrow you’d have to drive back down the mountain. To head to your small apartments in the bustling city of Milan.

You excused yourself from the group, needing to use the powder room. Not paying attention to your surroundings, leaving you alone on the walk down the dimly lit halls.

A whistle drew your attention, spinning around to see the culprit. Much to your surprise, Maurizio was walking down the hall. Hands stuffed in his pockets, a lush black turtleneck, some tight pants. Even under the darkness you could see his smirk, blue eyes devouring your form.

“Dove, you’ve been avoiding me.”

You scoffed, “I wonder why?”

He shrugged, now standing directly in front of you. The smell of his cologne filling your nostrils, the cut of his shirt showing his impressive frame. Lowering your defenses, “Why did you have to be married?”

“That’s not important.”

“Your wife is here,” you hissed, “She knows you did something!”

“I’m sure she does,” he brushed a stray hair from your face. Cupping your with a warm palm, “It wouldn’t be the first time, but you’re the first one I’ve come back to sweet dove.”

“Oh.”

“Shall we go for a walk,” he held his arm for you to take, “That way we can discuss our future.”

———

You don’t know how it happened, but you ended up in his bed again.

Panting and wailing under him, ankles on his strong shoulders. Cunt filled repeatedly by his cock, babbling how beautiful you were. So perfect, fit so well with him. His sweet dove, no one else could have you now.

He filled you with his cum over and over, well into the early morning. Telling you his wife didn’t matter, not when he had you. She could be handled tomorrow, bought off with another trip, maybe another child.

Maurizio walked out with you, telling you how wonderful you were. You assumed that would be it, you were his holiday romp. Never to be seen again, that was better to keep it how it was.

In the past.

You slept soundly on the drive home, smiling happily when you were dropped off. Grabbing your bags from the car, they felt heavier than before. But you were tired, from being thrown around in every position Maurizio wanted you in.

Throwing your bags on the ground of your apartment, you walked to the answering machine. A few messages, you clicked yes to listen.

Hello, this is Collette from Mr. Maurizio Gucci’s office. He was hoping to hear from you, there’s a package being sent to your residence that he wanted to discuss. Here’s his direct line for your convenience. Have a nice rest of your day!

You almost pushed Belle down the mountain, face flooded with embarrassment. Of course, your daughter heard you begging to be fucked. And of course, it had to be when you called her dad, Daddy. Because you have daddy issues, hence the husband who is 14 years your senior.

Its fine.

This is fine.

“Hey mom,” Belle stood with you at the base of the mountain, watching Ren and Odin play in the snow. “Do you want to hear my new ringtone?”

“Sure.”

“I think you’re gonna love it,” she smiled, “It’s for you and dad.”

She held it to your ear, “Fuck my ass Daddy!”

You snatched her phone, furiously locking it to stop the sound of you wailing loud enough to hear through the WALLS. Completely ignoring how she recorded her dad growling afterwards, you ran off towards Ren.

Belle squealing when you took off, “Mom! Give it back!”

“No!”

“MOM!”

“Kylo!”

Ren looked over his shoulder, frowning when he saw you running over the snow. Your hand extending Belles phone as high as you could hold it. Even though Belle was taller than you (thanks Kylo!), a hand square on her chest to hold her off like a rabid dog.

“What the fuck is going on over there?”

Belle screamed, probably alerting the resort security.

“Mom took my phone!”

“Were you being a shit?”

You wiggled away from Belle, throwing her phone as hard as you could towards Ren. She paled when it slid to his knees, Ren was holding Odin. Looking down at it with little interest, even though his daughter now had you pinned to the cold snow.

She cackled when she got you down, sitting on your back. “Dad, can I have my phone back?” You squirmed under her, jesus. What were you feeding her? Is she always going to be this strong? Is it just in the Ren genes, would Odin overpower you??

You heard snow boots coming over, accepting your fate. Maybe the cold snow would cool the heat rising in your cheeks, because Belle was absolutely going to show her dad what she heard. And he would probably laugh and say something gross.

Odins little body fall over yours, mimicking Belle. You heard your back crack, groaning under their weight. Now you would be hurt, emotionally and physically, all the way in Italy. With your demon children and Satan himself.

“Why are you tackling your mother?”

“Because she’s a whore.”

Ren growled, “Don’t call her that! Who do you think you are?”

Belle scoffed, “You call her that all the time! You just don’t think I can hear it!”

“Kylo,” you whined, “Get them off me please.”

The children stood, soon you were lifted by your husband. Looking down at you concerned, brow furrowed as he brushed snow off you. “Belle, apologize to your mother.”

She rolled her eyes, “You guys should be apologizing to me.”

Ren scoffed, “What is going on with you? We’re on vacation, do I need to send you home to go be with your birth mother?”

You grabbed the phone from Ren, stuffing it in your breast pocket so neither of them had it. “I need a drink,” you push past the stalemate. waving kisses to your son who was holding Rens hand.

———

Belle hounded you all evening for her phone, but you kept it tucked away. Staying on Rens arm the entire night, at dinner in the lounge you were half on his lap. Your children sitting across from you, Odin snoring by the fire pit after having a s’more.

You clung to Ren, kissing behind his ear while the flames flickered out. He chuckled at you, “What’s wrong, Love?”

“Nothing,” you trailed a finger up his arm, “I’m just tired.”

“Let’s get them to bed,” he kissed your forehead, standing up without you. Ren ushered Belle out of her chair, even though she was half asleep too. You listened to her groan, “I’ll carry Odin, you can carry her.”

You both dragged the children up to the rooms, Belle was dead weight in her fathers arms. Carrying her like she was nothing, while you struggled to hold your 60 pound baby.

Ren carried Belle in carefully, setting her on the bed, you watched him with tears eyes as he laid her. Like she was five all over again, kissing her forehead. You tucked in Odin in the same fashion, swapping with Ren so you could love on your daughter.

It was hard to believe she wasn’t yours, you’d spent so much time with her. Belle was your baby, before you had a real baby. Defending her from Callie, wanting to share moments with her. Fighting to be a mother figure in her eyes, and it paid off.

“Come to bed, love.”

You let Ren carry you away, throwing you on your large bed.

He pulled off his clothes, “So, why did Belle attack you earlier?”

You laughed, curling into the sheets, still fully dressed. Ren grumbled at that, tugging your clothes off as your tried to burrow.

“Lovely,” he cooed, burying his face into your bare breasts. “Why did Belle upset you today?”

You shushed him, letting out an exhausted sigh.

“Why’d we get an attached room?”

———

i fucking love gucci. also DIDNT PROOFREAD

TAGGING: @finn-ray-nal-beads s @onlykyloscenes @candycanes19 @historyandfandoms50 @caelum-phyriina-vermillon @ghoulian13 @mrs-kylo-ren @millenialcatlady @mrs-zimmerman @relationshipwithmybed @dancingmicrobes @wayward-rose @contesa-lui-alucard @daydreamsofren @insufferablelust t @ohdamnadamm @mariesackler @caillea @safarigirlsp @jalexunderthestars @shesakillerkween @glassythoughts @zimmermansbrat @not-the-teen-witch @jynzandtonic @roanniom @celestiasin @glassbxttless

#tw: infedelity #adam driver #kylo ren #adamdriver #maurizio gucci #house of gucci #doctor ren #doctor kylo ren #my writing v #ask fridays #3.12.2021

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worldwidemochiguy · 4 years

Text

Coming Back Home (Yandere! Taehyung)

➵ Two years after you left Taehyung, you call him from an empty hotel room feeling lonely.

➵ Warnings: Yandere Taehyung, Idealisation of Yandere Behaviour, reader is messed up lmao, Stockholm Syndrome big time, basically what happens if someone leaves their captor and then does not recover from SS

➵ Word Count: 1.4K

➵ Masterlist

➵ a/n: this is dedicated to @kpopyandere who left a rly nice reply under a post where i was whining abt not being able to write this fic lol. you motivated me to keep going and make this! <3 it’s not perfect but like also it’s not awful (i hope)

also tysm for 1.5k!!! 💜💜💜💜

You bit your lip, thumb hovering over the number you knew you should’ve deleted so long ago.

Two years. It had been two years since you last saw Taehyung. Would he even remember you? Would he even care? Probably not, you thought. So what’s the harm so calling him, just to see how he’s been doing?

Except you knew it wouldn’t be just a call. You knew that Taehyung’s obsessive tendencies were not the kind of thing to mellow out over the years. You knew you had gotten a lucky break, and if you hadn’t run away all those years ago then maybe you would still be with him. Trapped.

But at least you felt safe then. At least you felt needed. Unlike now, sitting in a hotel room with a half-empty suitcase and a heart filled with broken promises.

It’s remarkable how much can be reversed with the simple press of a button.

The ringtone sounded morbid in the room, accompanied only by the distant noises of traffic on the streets below. It felt strange, you had never had to wait on a call with Taehyung before. He used to answer you straight away.

“Hello. Who is this?”

His sharp voice — much harsher than you remembered, but maybe that was just your memory softening over the painful edges — drew all the breath out of you in a quick exhale. You suddenly forgot how to speak.

“Who is this?” He repeated. Of course, he didn’t recognise your number. You had bought a new phone. You had bought a new everything, not wanting any trace of him once you’d escaped. And yet, still, you transferred his number to your contacts list, a shameful action you knew you would regret even as you typed in the digits.

You had been silent on the line for almost a minute now, waiting with bated breath for the moment he would lose patience and hang up. You predicted it would happen any second now, Taehyung was never the most patient man.

Except when he was with you.

But he still hadn’t hung up, and you listened to the sound of his silence intently, imagining Taehyung standing somewhere in his office, holding a phone up to his face and waiting, wearing that furrowed expression he always had when he was frustrated.

But he didn’t sound frustrated, not when you heard a hopeful inhale, and then a tentative whisper.

“…Princess?”

That endearment— you hadn’t heard it in so long, and you didn’t realise how much you missed it — it broke the distance you had gone to such lengths to ensure.

“Taehyung,” You sobbed, finally finding your voice and using it to wail his name, a name you hadn’t allowed yourself to even think of for six months after you had left him. You heard a flurry of clicks, probably Taehyung tracking your location through the call, and for once you just didn’t care, you wanted him to come to you soon.

“I’m here, Princess.” Taehyung panted, and it sounded like he had started running, “I’m right here, don’t worry.”

“I-” Now you had started crying, you couldn’t seem to stop, fat tears sliding down your cheeks as you, for the first time in two years, knew without a doubt that someone was coming to rescue you. He was running, that’s how desperate he was to reach you.

“I’m in Seoul.” You choked out, “I’m on the same street as our old apartment. In a hotel.”

“Good girl,” You imagined Taehyung’s long fingers carding through your hair like they used to whenever you were distressed, and felt a little bit better. “I’m coming right from the office, baby. I’ll be there so soon, and then we can both go home. God, I’ve been waiting for you to come back for so long.”

His voice cracked slightly at the end of his statement. Your heart felt like it cracked in a similar way.

“I’m sorry,” You gasped, the sincerity of it pressing out of your skin. It felt like you had forgotten how to breathe. Your lungs were still working, expanding and contracting mechanically, but there was no air left in the room. It had disappeared two years ago, along with Taehyung and your apartment and everything you had known for so long.

And even Jongin, who had taken you away from it all, and in return, promised to give you safety, was gone.

You’re too clingy, he said when you had panicked over him leaving you alone for too long, you’re too dependant, he said when you didn’t want to go outside, I don’t love you, he said, two years after he had drawn you away from Taehyung.

In the end, all Jongin led you to was an empty hotel room, with a broken heart, and an outgoing phone call to the very person he vowed to protect you from.

“Come quickly,” You whimpered to Taehyung, and you heard crackling noises out of the receiver that vaguely registered as the soft hushes Taehyung would always comfort you with.

“I’m coming, I’ll be there so soon, Princess, I promise. I’m so proud of you, this must have taken a lot of bravery and I’m glad you finally decided to listen to what your heart already knew.”

“I’m sorry,” You said again, because you barely knew how to say anything else. “I’ll never leave again, I’m so sorry, just, please, come and get me soon.”

“I’m at the hotel, Princess.” Taehyung told you, and then you heard other voices and a muffled shouting.

Taehyung didn’t say anything else. You sat on the bed clutching the phone to your ear, waiting for his voice, an update, anything…

What if he decided you weren’t worth it?

“Princess, it’s me.”

Taehyung’s voice waited on the other side of the door. You froze. Hearing it in person was different to hearing it over the phone. Hearing it in person was… it brought back so many memories. Lying on his lap while he fed you chocolates. Crying onto his shoulder. Pain. Quiet reprimands and hushed apologies. Pain. Pain. Pain.

Fear.

But never loneliness.

And you were so achingly, helplessly alone without him.

“Stand back, Princess. I’m going to break the door down.” Taehyung warned. You watched as the lock buckled underneath the force of his kick. And you saw him for the first time in two years, frantic and determined.

His eyes found you before the door even had time to bounce back against the splintered frame.

“Princess,” His voice was hoarse, the word sounding like a prayer on his lips. That was all it took for you to shoot up and fling yourself across the room, trusting that he would catch you. He would always catch you in the end.

He cradled you in his arms like something precious, raining kisses down on everything he could reach, your head, your cheeks, your lips, your neck, your lips, your lips, your lips. Kissing Taehyung felt like falling into a daydream — one which had already been experienced, but still carried the same sweet, addictive taste.

“Princess,” he murmured, leaning away from the kiss slightly to do so and you let loose a displeased whine, chasing back to fit his lips against yours once more. He smiled, breaking the kiss and resting your foreheads together, sharing breathless pants in the space between your matching grins.

“I…” He trailed off, eyes shining with the weight of all the constellations in the sky.

“What?” You whispered.

He smiled, slow and sweet. “You have made me speechless.” He eventually said. “I’m just… so happy.”

Taehyung always had the habit of saying things you didn’t know how to respond to. You couldn’t help but gaze at him, taking in all the slight changes two years had caused.

He had a new scar above his eyebrow. He was paler. He had lost some weight. It had carved itself out of his cheeks, leaving behind a more hollow replication of the bread cheeks you used to kiss every morning. Jongin had never cared that much about cheek kisses. He didn’t value small shows of affection the way Taehyung did. The way you did.

You leaned in and kissed Taehyung on the forehead, right above the unfamiliar scar. When you pulled back, you realised that the way Taehyung looked at you was one of the things that had not changed at all.

For the first time in two years, you knew that you weren’t alone. Not anymore. And you never would be again.

“Let’s go home.”

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jungshook69 · 3 years

Text

Love is a myth :: 03

DISCLAIMER: This doesn’t represent the members’ actions or the army’s actions in any manner it’s pure fiction. This is an original work, do not copy. The taglist is open if you want. Taglist is now closed.

WORD COUNT: 4.3K words

MAIN PAIRING: musician! Yoongi X waitress! female reader

SIDE PAIRING/S: Jungkook X female reader ; Taehyung X female reader

GENRE: FWB! au ; Strangers to lovers! au

WARNINGS: Implied smut (Forgive me cuz I suck at writing it, no puns intended) ; Mentions of alcohol and smoking (I do not condone smoking) ; Profanity ; Mentions of infidelity ; Heavy angst ; Self loathing (Namjoon’s about to wack me in the head with his slipper) ; I apologize in advance if there’s any spelling errors.

SUMMARY: "You covered your bare form with the silk sheets beneath you, as you watched him walk out your door without a word." // "Love is a myth. All that existed between you two was pure lust." // "The last rule was if anyone of the two of you caught feelings for the other, the deal would be off."

SERIES MASTERLIST: Trailer » Meet the cast » Chapter #1 » Chapter #2 » Chapter #3 » Chapter #4

STATUS: Complete

It was a pleasant morning, and you thought it couldn’t go any better. At least that’s what you thought, before your luck was inevitably snatched away from you.

You heard a gruff voice clear their throat, in close proximity to you, before they spoke up, “Y-Y/N?”

You looked up through your round lenses, and your jaw dropped open at the sight. Your eyes roamed the man’s face, unwilling to blink. It took you a nice long 10 seconds, to find your voice, which still came out small and slightly wavered, “J-Jungkook?”

“Hi…” his soothing voice managed to mutter, his shocked expression mirroring your own.

“Long time no see…” you say with a heavy breath.

You observed his figure. His beautiful doe eyes were shining with the same sparkle as they did back when you both were lovers. His face had gone from being a bit boyish, or babyish as you liked to call it, to a bit more structured. His jaw had sharpened, although there were no visible wrinkles lining his face, except for some adorable smile lines beside his crescent eyes. His hair was far different from what is was back then. You used to call him coconut head, in owe to his soft brown hair that lay across his forehead. But now his hair was much longer, and a dark shade of black, lengthy enough to be easily pulled back into a man bun. His shoulders were broader and his body looked much more buff, and his arms were fairly big as compared to a few years ago. He was adorned in black trousers and a white button down, with the top 2 buttons undone, giving you a slight peak at the tattoo you had grown to love, on his right collarbone.

“Do you mind if I take a seat beside you?” his melodious voice asked softly, contrary to his rough exterior.

“Y-yeah sure…” you said, shutting your journal close and making room for him on the small park bench.

You lay your hands across your lap, unsure of what to say next. But he saved you the pain and spoke up first, “How have you been?”

“Good… you?”

“Great…” he said his gaze fixed on the playground.

“Still married?” you ask. You want to mentally slap yourself for letting such a question slip, before he interrupts your thoughts.

“Yes… you see her?” he says pointing to the playground. Your eyes search for a female, perhaps the same height as Jungkook, but your eyes widen at what he says next, “You see that small girl with pigtails on the swing?”

“Y-Yeah…” you manage to speak.

“Her name is Hana, she’s my daughter.” He says letting out a deep breath.

“O-Oh…” you didn’t know why you were surprised. He was married. It had been 6 years. Of course he had a child. You watched as the small girl giggled, as a woman with straight platinum blonde hair, a smile on her lips, stood behind the swing and pushed the little girl back and forth.

“And that’s my wife… Sana.”

“Wow… you got a whole family… nice…” you cringe at the words that left your mouth. You felt a twinge of envy. How did everyone around you have their life so put together? Were you the only one who would never settle down with a special someone? Were you only made to work and never love?

“Not the family I envisioned, but none the less, a happy family.” He whispered to himself. “So… you seeing someone?” he asks.

“Not at the moment no…” you speak, ashamed of your toxic lust-induced lifestyle.

You share a moment of silence, both of you keeping your eyes fixed on the playground. “Y-You still where that?” Jungkook spoke up.

“Huh?” you looked up to see him pointing at your fingers which were unconsciously playing with the band of your silver ring. “O-Oh yeah… umm… just— yeah I wear it… it looks cool…” you cringe in disgust at your word vomit, knowing he wouldn’t buy it.

But he knew better, and didn’t question it further. You laid motionless as you tried to keep your emotions at bay. You were mad at him. Infuriated even. He left you in the dust. But at the same time, you loved him dearly. He was the only one you could trust in this cruel world. He was the only real thing that happened to your young naïve 16 year old self.

You immediately froze in your spot when you felt a warm touch of skin on the back of your hand. You looked down to see Jungkook’s tattooed right hand laying over your hand, which was on your lap.

“I’m sorry Y/N, I’m sorry for doing what I did and hurting you.”

Your eyes were glossy, tears threatening to overflow, as you fixed your gaze on the woman and the small girl in her arms, as they walked into the neighboring convenience store.

“We weren’t meant to be…” was all you could muster out.

“We were meant to be… I was a coward.” He says, his hand not leaving yours.

“Don’t blame yourself. It was my fault, I pushed it too far, by planning to run away.” You try sounding cold and stern, but it comes out as a whimper.

“The people were right…” he says, his finger absent-mindedly playing with the ring on your finger. “…the timing was wrong.”

You control your rapid heartbeat as you feel a tear slip out from your right eye, staining your cheek, as the drop slid down the length of your face. You hear the loud piercing sound of his ringtone, before he picks up the call and puts the phone up to his ear, his hand never leaving yours. You hear the loud voice on the other end.

“Baby, I got the diapers, I didn’t see you anywhere. Will you come to our car in the parking lot?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there in 2 minutes.”

“Okay bye baby!”

“Bye.”

You here the beep of the phone call hanging up as you feel his figure shift next to you. You gasp as his hand tightens his grip on yours. You swear your heart stops when you feel his other hand turns your shoulder to face him. This is the first time you’ve looked straight into his eyes, in the last 6 years. He looks at you with the same warmth and guilt, as his large hands clasp your tiny ones.

“I missed you.” He huffs out.

“I missed you too. But you have a family to get back to.” You sigh sadly.

“I hope we meet again Y/N.”

“I don’t.” you mutter out too low for him to hear. It was too painful even thinking about seeing him again.

He stands up, his figure looming over yours, before you decide to do the same. He then leans in and wraps his arms around your waist, in an all-too-familiar manner, which breaks the last wall you’ve been holding up. You feel his breath skim the skin on your neck, sending goosebumps down your spine. You feel his warm cheeks brush against your collarbones. You try to hold yourself back from surrendering and dropping yourself in his strong arms right then and there. He slowly backs away from you before you could do so, “Bye Y/N…” he says giving you a sad smile.

You’re unable to form words, as your hands feel cold, needy to feel his warmth again. You watch his retreating figure, until he disappears behind the rows and rows of cars. You slam your journal into your sling and run back home as fast as your feet can carry you. You promised yourself, you would never let another man get to you. You’d never let another man, make you cry for him again. But you never expected the same man from your past, to break you a second time.

The first 10 minutes after you reached home, you just blankly started at the white wall in front of you. The next 20 minutes were spent with you cleaning up the mess after you broke a glass plate in anger. You didn’t know what to do with yourself. You’d never been so devastated in the last 6 years. You’d learnt to control your emotions, and to not take love seriously. But when a certain someone had walked into your life for a mere 20 minutes, all of that had gone down the drain. You felt helpless. You felt powerless. How could a man have such an effect on you?

You were on the ground sweeping a few remnant glass shards, when you heard a soft knock on the door. You opened the door to reveal a smiling Yoongi, a rare sight you would’ve teased him for, if it weren’t for the horrible morning you’d had. His smile immediately dropped on seeing your red eyes, concern washing over his features, “You okay?”

“Yeah” you mutter out uninterested, walking back into your apartment. You watched him drop his phone and keys onto your shoe stand, as he took off his beanie placing it down, ruffling his soft hair.

“I was actually gonna ask you if you wanted to get an early dinner together, some friends from my college are meeting up. What would you like? Maybe ramen, ooo how about gimb—”

“You can go without me, I’m not feeling too well…” you say trying to stop your voice from cracking.

“You sure?” he asks again.

“Yeah…” you say louder than you intended to speak.

“O-Oh… ummm okay…” Yoongi says before you here the jingle of his car keys and the click of your front door. Yoongi wasn’t one to pressure people into doing things. He liked giving people space. As soon as he left, you let your tears flow. They were unstoppable. You were still wailing, as your form dropped to the ground, even though there weren’t enough tears to flow out.

It was 9 PM. Your eyes were puffy and your sinuses hurt from crying for the past 2 hours. Your head was throbbing and your empty bedroom was filled with the sounds of your sniffles. That was before there was a loud knock on your door.

You slipped out of your bed, still dressed in your pajamas, as you made your way to the door. You peeped through the hole and saw Yoongi’s form leaning against the door frame. You opened the door and made sure to turn around immediately in a feeble attempt to hide your mess of a face.

“Hey sorry to disturb I left my beanie here.” He said picking it up. His eyes narrowed as you walked back towards your bedroom. “You can close the door on the way out.” You say, failing to contain a crack in your voice.

Yoongi notices and closes the door, with him still inside. “Y/N, seriously what’s wrong?” he asks.

“Nothing, I just have a cold…” you sigh, your back facing him.

You hear his consequent footsteps getting closer as his hand lands on your shoulder, whipping you around. His eyes widen, as he sees your puffy red eyes, and distraught face stained with dried tears.

“A cold huh?” he says his eyebrows furrowed.

“Yeah…” you say softly, sniffling.

“What’s going on Y/N?” he says, his tone serious.

“Why do you care? You’re my fuck buddy, not my counselor!”

“I’m your friend, before any of that.” He says sternly, before he grabs your petite withering form in his strong arms for a tight hug. Your face collides with his firm chest and before you can overthink it, you wrap your arms around his waist, nuzzling your face closer into his warm neck. His hand threads through your hair as he whispers, “It’s okay I’m here…”

You woke up to the sound of a phone ringing off the hook. You were quick to realize that it wasn’t your ringtone. Your eyes fluttered open as you realized the position you had slept in. Your arm remained draped over Yoongi’s chest, and you were snuggled into the crook of his arm. You were leaning into him, while he had slept partially upright on your couch. Your legs were covered by a blanket, while Yoongi’s feet were propped up on the coffee table.

It all came back to you. How you had cried onto his shoulder for the umpteenth time that night. How he had cuddled your shivering form and insisted to stay with you, afraid of leaving you alone. You carefully let go of his sleeping form, trying very hard not to wake him up. You reached over to see a phone call from an unknown number, and put his phone on silent. You checked to make sure he hadn’t woken up. You got up and pushed your hair into a neat ponytail. You blinked hard to get the remnant sleep out of your pupils, as you tried to decipher everything that happened yesterday. Yoongi had stayed over with you… why? It went against the rule you’d made in your agreement. You weren’t complaining though because you needed someone last night. And you were more than glad that it was Yoongi. You just didn’t take him to be the type to break the ‘cuddling’ rule.

You cleared your mind of all these thoughts, brushed your teeth and took a much-needed shower. By the time you were out of the shower, in your work clothes, you found Yoongi awake, sitting upright on the couch, his head hung low, hands cupping the back of his neck. You slowly walked towards the back of the couch and laid your hands on his shoulders, your thumbs extending to press into the back of his neck. He visibly flinched, not expecting your presence, but soon relaxed under your touch.

“I’m sorry, your neck must be hurting because of the uncomfortable position you slept in last night…” you say, with a guilt-ridden voice.

“No it’s okay…” he hummed out.

You make your way around the couch and sit next to him. Confrontation. It was the solution to every problem. “Seriously, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have forced you to stay last nigh—”

“I stayed… because I wanted to stay.” He says, rubbing his eyes. “What’s the time?”

“O-Oh… it’s 10 am.”

“Don’t you have to leave for work in 10 minutes?”

“We have to leave for work.” You say chuckling.

“O-Oh… I was actually thinking of not coming in today… ya know… my back hurts and stuff…”

You were suspicious of his stuttering but decided that you tortured him enough, and just let it slide. “Well I have to leave, you can take a shower if you want, you already know where it is, and please close the door when you leave, okay?” you say grabbing your purse and your coat.

“Yeah sure… hey Y/N?” he says.

You stop in front of the door.

“Are you okay?” he says sincerely.

“Yeah I am, thank you Yoongi…” you smile and leave for work.

While you were in your own little bubble, occupied at work, Yoongi, having showered and carefully locked up your apartment, was headed to a certain someone’s humble abode, on his day off. He stood before the wooden door, as he knocked, waiting for his doom residing on the other side of the door. The door opened to reveal a familiar female, long pink hair pulled into space buns, her lips chewing on a pencil.

“Yoongi… didn’t expect to see you back here after a month… come in…”

“Actually I’m gonna make it quick” Yoongi says rubbing his palms together. “Where is Maria?”

“Oh she actually had to turn up at work, they were understaffed today…” her pink-haired roommate said.

“Oh okay thanks for your help.” He says leaving the doorstep, headed back to the restaurant. He walked in, and his eyes immediately searched for you. You were nowhere to be seen so he assumed that you were probably back in the kitchen. Then his eyes searched for a female with a short black bob, in uniform and spotted her at a table, close to the washroom. He walked up to her and tapped her shoulder.

“Oh Yoongi, hey…” Maria said, surprised to see him.

“Yeah hey, can we talk?”

She smirked at his question, assuming that wanting to “talk” was code for a hook up. She latched onto his collar and pulled him discretely towards the washroom. Before Yoongi could protest she slammed him against the empty washroom walls.

Yoongi never got to say, what he wanted to, what he had gone all the way to her apartment for. His mouth was clasped shut when Maria’s heavily-glossed lips landed on his own. He struggled to push her off, but before he could pry her off of him, he heard the sound of a toilet flushing, and a washroom stall door creaking open. He finally pushed Maria away and met your eyes, widened in shock.

You stood there, horrified, as you watched Maria smirking at you, an eyebrow raised in a challenging manner. You looked over to see Yoongi panting, against the wall, his lips swollen and smeared with Maria’s red lipstick. You held your whimpers in, and merely walked, no more like rushed out of the humiliating scene.

You walked out the back kitchen door and took in a deep breath. You calmed yourself down and did not allow any tears to flow. He was kissing her. So what? You were no one to decide who he kisses, much less sleeps with! You both had mutually decided upon staying anonymous about your personal affairs. Then why did it hurt? Why did it hurt to watch another woman lunge herself at that man? Why?

Your thoughts were interrupted by Maya’s voice, “Hey ummm… the customers are starting to line up, we need your help.”

“Yeah, I’ll be right there.” You respond facing away from her.

“Okay…”

Back in the washroom Yoongi watched you leave, his mind in utter chaos. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Yoongi asks in frustration, turning to Maria.

“You were the one who wanted to ‘talk’.” She says scoffing.

“Yeah I wanted to ‘talk’, literally talk.”

“Don’t lie to yourself Yoongi. We’re both hot and we both obviously have a lot of sexual tension between us. What would it take for you to let go off her puny ass for once and give us another try?”

“I already told you! When I slept with you a month ago, it was a mistake! We were both shit drunk!”

“What does she have that I don’t?”

“She has some god damn respect and dignity. She doesn’t just throw herself at me, when I say no. No means no. At least she respects my decision.”

“Jeez what happened to you Yoongles? You were never like this… like a lost puppy following around that bitch Y/N.”

“Don’t you dare call me Yoongles.” He says, his tone dead serious. “And look in the mirror when you call Y/N that.”

“You’re just as fucked up as she is.” She says scoffing.

“Just stay away from me. I’m never gonna come back to you and sleep with you. Give up already and find someone else to latch onto.” With that Yoongi leaves the washroom and exits the restaurant, feeling an unhealthy amount of guilt in his heart.

When you got absorbed into work, you couldn’t care less about Yoongi’s absence. But your eyes did drift over to the young gentlemen who was playing in Yoongi’s place today, and everytime you looked over, your eyes would drop down in disappointment of the person that met your eyes. Maria pretended like nothing happened and you went along with it. Confronting her would lead nowhere sensible.

Soon it was night time, well more like early morning time, and you were walking down the dark midnight streets, Jackie and Mark by your side. You had all decided to walk to a bar down the street and have a few drinks before turning in for the night. You needed to drown your misery in shots, and were more than happy to receive an invitation to accompany your friends.

“Y/N?” Jackie spoke up.

“Yeah?”

“Please don’t be mad…”

“Oh no, what did you do?”

“I observed that you sorta looked sad today. And I wanted to cheer you up…”

“Oh no…”

“I’m afraid to say it, but yes… I kinda reached out to a good friend of Mark’s and set you up on a blind date for tomorrow night.” She finishes.

“What?!” you exclaim.

“I’m sorry okay, but I thought you needed to brighten up a bit…”

“First of all what were you thinking, setting me up on a work night? It’s Tuesday tomorrow for Christ’s sake!”

“It’s the only time he was free! He has a busy schedule okay?” Mark defends, looking up from his phone screen.

“Ohh Mr. businessman is busy. I hate boring people, I’ll pass.” You say rolling your eyes.

“He’s a model… wait for it… for Gucci.” Jackie says, eyes shining.

“Keep talking…” you said, suddenly interested.

“His name is Taehyung. Age 24, same as yours. Aspiring to become an actor. Currently a model for Gucci. Also… he’s a god damn work of art.” Jackie says.

“I should be jealous, but I can’t lie, he’s too pretty to be human.” Mark says pitching in.

“Hmm…” you quietly think to yourself.

“Please, just try it out once? Get out there, have some fun!” Jackie pleads.

“Why the fuck not? YOLO right?” you say chuckling, heading to the bar, to drown all your obsessive thoughts.

Unlike waking up to your neighbor’s baby screaming loud enough to summon Satan like always, you wake up to a throbbing in your forehead. Your eyes scan your surroundings and finally focus on the clock on your wall. 11 am! You had to be at work in 15 minutes. You ran around your apartment, your brush in your mouth, one hand through the sleeve of your white button down, the other searching your dresser for your hairbrush.

You were at work. Even though you were 15 minutes late, and looked as though you had just survived a hurricane, you were still present, and that’s what mattered. Luckily, Mark had taken care of inventory for you, so that left you with enough time to polish yourself in the restaurant washroom before the doors opened for business. The washroom brought back unwanted memories from a day ago, but you ignored those, and focused on fixing yourself up, trying to make yourself presentable enough to match the class of the restaurant.

You were in your pajamas, happier than ever, watching a really good kdrama, ‘Its okay not to be okay’, definitely recommend 10 outta 10. Your work shift had ended early. You all had gotten a call from the owner and manager Kim Seokjin, that there was gonna be an extermination. You couldn’t be happier as you relaxed into the comfort of your couch. It hadn’t been 3 minutes into the new episode, when someone knocked on your door. You groaned in irritation.

“Just as it was about to get good.” You huffed out and approached the door.

You opened the door to a rather dim looking Yoongi. “Oh hi… ummm… wassup? Were the only words you could form.

“Can we talk?” Yoongi asks rubbing the back of his neck.

“Sure come in…” you say stepping back and closing the door behind him.

“I’ll get straight to the point…” Yoongi sighs. “What you saw, it wasn’t what you think happened.”

“What’re you talking about?” you asked chuckling nervously.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about Y/N.”

“Oh that… yeah right…”

“Listen, I just want to clarify that yes I did sleep with Maria a month ago, back when we never used to talk, when we used to ignore each other 24/7. But I haven’t slept with her since. What you witnessed today was me telling her to back off, but she kissed me without my consent, and you happened to walk in at a bad time.”

You let out a huge sigh and folded your arms. “And why’re you telling me this?”

Yoongi’s eyebrows scrunched in confusion. To that, you poke again, “I don’t control who you sleep with or who you choose to date Yoongi. We had a deal. We don’t get involved in each other’s personal lives.”

“Well I’m sorry if I seemed to be ‘involved in your personal life’ after we told each other something that I thought was personal to both of us.” He speaks out, in irritation.

You looked down at your ring and remember how you had told him about your past. You remembered how you both had shared a moment, sitting at the piano, which reminded you of the fact that he had also shared his past with you. But you were scared, terrified even. You were scared to let someone close to your heart again, afraid of being left alone again. You were frightened that someone would finally get through the tough walls you’d put up around yourself, and steal your fragile heart, only to break it into a million pieces again. The pain was too much.

“Well maybe we shouldn’t have shared that with each other!” you yell out without thinking twice.

You heard nothing but silence on Yoongi’s end. It took a minute before he spoke up, “So you regret it huh?” his voice alarmingly calm.

“I-I- I don’t know…” you say, unsure guilt settling in your heart.

“Well that just about explains every fucking doubt I’ve been having about this relationship.”

“That’s not wha—” you protest.

“Save it.” He said sternly. “I made a mistake. I tried to get us to be friends. We should go back to our old ways. Just text each other when we’re needy, and ignore each other at all other times. Got it. If that’s what you want, then that’s what you’ll get.” He storms out of the apartment, slamming the door with a loud bang on the way out.

You felt a tremendous guilt envelope your heart. You didn’t want things to go the way they did just now. He was never the issue. It was you. You were the coward who had commitment issues. And you didn’t want him to waste his time trying to get you to open up. This was the only way. You were never suited for love. It was always lust.

«Previous :: Masterlist :: Next»

A/N: Don’t forget to follow @jungshook69 for more content:) You can check out more works of mine here. Have a great day:)

TAGLIST: @kookieebangtan

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todisturbtheuniverse · 3 years

Text

FIC: Adjacent Truths

Rating: M Fandom: Stardew Valley Pairing: Shane/Female Farmer, Shane & Jas Tags: Depression, Suicidal Thoughts, Friendship, Pre-Relationship Word Count: 1900 Summary: Jas overheard something Shane can't take back, and it's eating him alive. The farmer notices. Also on AO3. Notes: Post-4 Heart Event—a direct sequel of it, if you will. Content warning for suicidal ideation.

When Jas had still been just a baby, Charlotte had told Shane that something changes in your brain after you have a kid. Hormones, chemicals, neurons firing, all fine-tuning, honing in on the sound of the baby's cry, making interpretations on an instinctual level. He'd panicked when Jas had started crying apparently unprovoked in his arms, but Charlotte hadn't even twitched. "She's just hungry," she'd said, with her tired-happy smile.

"She seems mad about it," Shane had said, looking down into the scrunched-up, red face, the tiny mouth open in a hiccuping wail.

"She gets that from Patrick."

But Shane wasn't, had never been, Jas's parent. By the time he'd learned to sort her hungry-crying from her tired-crying and everything else, she'd been nearly out of babyhood.

And there was no easy fix, anyway, for the way he'd made her cry this time.

She avoided him after what she'd overheard. He didn't blame her. She was a smart kid; it was a good time to cut her losses, free herself of any emotional attachment she had to him. Marnie would be a better guardian than he was, anyway. Maybe the ranch wasn’t doing all that great, but no one in the valley was, and they all managed to keep limping along somehow. Once he was gone, they'd probably be just fine, lightened by the absence of his dead weight.

But he kept hearing her. That was his brain's special talent: replaying, over and over again, the bad moments, so that he wouldn't forget how terrible he was. The sound of her sobbing echoed around in his head with the hundreds of other unpleasant things that repeated themselves there: the song he’d been using as a ringtone when he got the call about Patrick and Charlotte; the stuffed pig that Jas wouldn’t let go of that first week, the one that made the most obnoxious oinking sound; the disinterested scratch of the social worker’s pen on paper, changing the course of their lives forever.

“You want to talk about it?” Lydia asked.

Jas still went to the farm with him on Saturdays. She just didn't make conversation during the walk. The first words she spoke were to Archimedes, and then she waded into the woods, heading for the treehouse, silent.

He didn’t talk much, either, but that was how it had always been. Lydia would tell him about whatever project she was working on; she would remind him again that he could come back later for Jas instead of helping; and then, inevitably, they would get to work. Because he still wasn't enough of an ass to pawn his goddaughter off entirely on someone who hardly knew her.

It was a low bar, but it was what he could clear.

“Talk about what,” he said, and swung for the tree again. He was glad that the damn sprinkler system hadn’t had another crisis since last weekend. If Lydia had put him to that kind of fiddly work today, maybe he wouldn't have cleared that bar.

“Whatever it is,” Lydia said. She watched the tree, eyes darting between trunk and canopy, waiting for the moment it began to tip so that she could warn him out of the way. “I can’t read your mind, but obviously something’s been eating you the last few days.”

He swung the axe again. She hadn't traced his mood back to The Incident. Maybe she didn't want to bring it up if she didn't have to, or maybe other people just didn't spend as much time thinking about how much of a loser he was as he thought they did.

Sounded fake.

“I don’t know,” he said. Thud. “Maybe you’re imagining things.”

Lydia was no saint. Sometimes, just like everybody else, she got impatient. Usually it was because of the sprinklers. But those sometimes were rare, and she wasn't taking the bait today, as usual.

“Maybe,” she said amenably, and lapsed into silence again.

After a few more strikes, the tree creaked warningly. “Now,” she said, and they both hustled out of the way of the trunk. It fell slowly at first, then faster, faster, until it hit the ground thunderously right in the space they’d cleared for it.

Lydia was the mastermind, but at least Shane wasn't terrible at brute force labor.

She picked up a second axe; they both positioned themselves along the fallen tree to start chopping. She needed a fair amount of lumber to get that barn built before winter hit. It was hard for him to imagine thinking so far ahead. The farm was just overgrown enough that she could probably collect all the lumber she needed right here, instead of having to buy it. He didn't need to ask if she'd be able to afford it, if it came to that.

“But maybe I’m not,” she said, picking up the conversation after five minutes, like it’d never been dropped. “I mean, you’re cutting up this tree like it’s personally offended you, so there’s a chance. Just saying. I know you think I talk too much, but I’m a good listener.”

Shane took a deep breath. He fully intended to let out a heavy, annoyed sigh, the kind that usually sent anyone who’d dared take an interest scuttling.

But, as happened too often with Lydia, a stream of words came out instead, like he was powerless to stop them. One more thing he couldn't control.

“Take your pick,” he said, and went on dicing up the tree like it deserved the cutting. “Morris is on my ass about saying the catchphrase whenever I spot a customer.” Thwack. “Gus is on my ass about my tab, which is nowhere near as bad as Pam’s, but apparently it’s a problem when you’re not best friends.” Thwack. “Marnie is on my ass about looking for a better job, like there’s a lot of options in Pelican Town.” Thwack. “Jas won’t even look at me, let alone talk to me.”

They'd established a pleasant kind of rhythm. Lydia’s axe fell not far behind his, creating a rhythmic one-two-beat, one-two-beat.

“Jas,” Lydia said after a moment.

His axe fell out of rhythm. “What?”

“You told me to take my pick. I say Jas is the item on that list that’s really bothering you. The other stuff happens all the time.”

It was no use telling her it was just a figure of speech. It was, but at the same time, she was right. All that other stuff was background noise, compared to Jas.

He hated when she was right. Except when he didn't mind. It was always hard to tell which it was until much later, which didn't help a lot with in-the-moment reactions.

He settled for hitting the tree again.

“Why do you think she’s not talking to you?” Lydia asked, taking up the rhythm again behind him.

“You know why.” He said it to warn her off, in case she’d forgotten—but he didn’t think she had. He wasn't that lucky.

“Maybe. But tell me again.”

Lydia didn't believe in hiding things, letting them fester. She was completely fine wearing most of her bruises out in the open, cheerfully admitting that something had gone wrong and she was working on it—again, most of the time. She had a couple secret bruises that he'd poked, accidentally or intentionally.

But he was all secret bruises, or at least, he'd have liked to be. As long as he kept hanging around her, though, she'd keep digging them up to air out. The obvious solution was to stop hanging around her. He wondered, again, why he hadn't done that yet.

“She overheard something she shouldn’t have,” he said, “because someone dumped a canteen of water on me and made a scene.”

Lydia actually laughed, a little breathless, in the middle of her swing. “Oh, I see. It’s my fault.”

She was kind of refreshing, was the thing. Everyone else at The Incident had taken it so damn seriously. Granted, that was exactly two other people—Marnie and Jas—and one of them was seven, so maybe that wasn't surprising. But still. It was nice that someone had heard the thing he said and wasn’t afraid to talk about it.

“Maybe,” he said.

“I panicked,” she admitted. “Not my finest moment. I’m sorry.”

He grunted in acknowledgment. They went back to the beat, one-two, one-two. In the distance, Archimedes barked.

“So she knows you meant it,” Lydia said, after a moment.

His axe hit a little crooked, and the rhythm stuttered again. He looked up at her. She realized he'd stopped, and she stopped, too, returning the look.

It wasn't that she didn't look sad, or worried. It was just that those things seemed secondary to a kind of openness, a thoughtfulness, like she was solving some kind of puzzle. He wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing, or whether he liked it or not.

“Haven’t told her otherwise,” he said.

He expected a lecture. He gave one to himself more or less every hour. Put on a good face for Jas, or Just tell her you were having a bad day and didn’t mean it, or Tell her you’re going to be around for a good, long time, even though you don’t know, even though it might be a lie. The kid had already been through hell. He should've figured out some way, any way, to keep her from going through more by now.

He just couldn't. He didn't know why.

But she didn’t lecture. She said, “You don’t want to lie to her.” As if she understood.

He went back to his wood-chopping. “I don’t know how to lie to her.” He wished he did. That would have made this a lot easier.

But then, if he lied, she wouldn’t see the inevitable coming before it hit, which would make it all the harder for her.

Lydia went back to chopping, too. “I don’t think you need to, for what it’s worth.”

“Yeah? You got an age-appropriate way to explain wanting to die?”

Finally, she hesitated, but only for a one-two beat of the falling axes. “Not really,” she said. “But Jas has already been through a lot. She knows stuff that most kids don’t at her age. So you can tell her adjacent truths.”

“Lotta syllables.”

Finally, she gave an impatient little sigh. “I mean things like—you’re sorry that she had to hear that. That it has nothing to do with her, and doesn’t mean you don’t love her. That things are just hard for you right now.” She breathed heavily on the next swing, more exasperation than effort. “She gets that you’re grieving, too, Shane.”

Trust a person like Lydia to paint it in such nice strokes. Like his best effort, which fell far short of winning any prizes, would be sufficient to a needy little kid.

But maybe...well, saying something could always make things worse, but the idea hadn't come from him. It was a start.

“I’ll plagiarize,” he said. “Thanks.”

It seemed like she was going to let it lie there, but then she spoke up again. “Like I said, I’m a good listener, so. You need an ear, I’m here. Day or night. I mean it.”

She wasn't wrong. She was a good listener. But she had some kind of future ahead of her, still, and he'd poisoned enough people with his failures. It was out in the open now; it didn't need to be rehashed. Next time, he would keep his mouth shut.

#sdv shane #sdv farmer #shane/female farmer #universe writes #depression cw #suicidal ideation cw #friendship #pre-relationship

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alexwritesfiction · 3 years

Text

heaven

word count: 2k

tw // mcd

A/N: This is an emotional scene so take care lmao

I take a deep breath and step up on the alter, my nerves wracking. Anxiety sets in, the only question on mind as to where Xavier could be. And what did Aleander mean by gift?

As more time passes by, the looks on our families’ faces grow worried, making me even more nauseated. I can't believe he's late on our wedding day. As pissed off as I am, i can't help but want to call him and make sure he's alright. A bad feeling sets itself in my stomach. I'm gonna kill him.

“Where is he?” I almost growl at Ray, who’s standing just a few feet away from the steps.

“I don’t know, Cath,” he whispers in a shaky voice, and I know he's freaking out too. Xavier means so much to him, he knows that today was important to him. I can tell by his face that he can't comprehend why he wouldn’t be here on time.

I try to calm myself down, to not think about worst case scenarios, but my mind is a haze.

A ringtone cuts through the air and I can feel it in my heat that it's him. I sigh in relief.

Everyone’s eyes whips to Mom, who has my phone in her clutch. Her eyes widen as she frantically takes it out, almost stumbling as she tries to reach me.

I hurry to her and snatch it out of her hands, my fiancé’s name flashing on the screen with our photo from the baking session. My fingers shake as I look up to see everyone desperately waiting for me to pick the call. My fingers slide across the screen and the phone is barely put to my ear before I hear his faint voice.

“Principessa, how are you?” a small but firm voice speaks through the line. That’s all he's got to say? He's late and he's asking me how I am? My tolerance shoots through the roof as I try not to blow up.

“Xav, where are you right now? I'm here literally standing at the altar and you're not here and the officiant—” I rush out, only to be cut off.

“This is goodbye, baby,” he chokes out in a broken voice, and I try to imagine his face right now but I can't. my heart stops. Freezes for a second before completely dropping to my knees. The thing that scares me the most about this is that his voice is as serious as anything and I know he isn’t joking. He didn’t call me by my nickname, he just said goodbye.

A lightheaded feeling takes over my mind as I try to form a complete sentence to reply to him. I can't breathe, there's a heaviness in my chest that won't go away.

“What— Xav, what,” I stutter out. A beat passes before a small “no” falls from my lips and I feel everyone around me tense. I don’t have the mind to look at them and all I can concentrate on is how he just said goodbye.

“Marry me, principessa? Right now?”

And that does it, a tear escapes my eyes and I lose my cool. My ohone almost falls from my grip but I tighten it in my hand so much that I feel my knuckles turning white. I walk back up to the altar, I feel safe there. I wipe awy the stray tear and set my face into a firm expression , failing to let it seem like my soul didn’t just escape me.

“Get your ass down here, Xav, or I swear to god I'll hunt you down right now,” I almost growl out, and I hear a faint chuckle. I feel Ray pacing around and I look up at hik to see him on a phone call. I can hear him telling someone to find out where he is. He runs out to his car and I divert my attention back to him.

“Ray’s coming to get you, Xav. What’s going on?” I croak out, no longer able to hold back the desperation in my voice. I tremble as I speak, and Tahlia comes up behind me, placing a hand on my shoulder. I barely register to shoot her a grateful look but his next words break me.

“I'm so sorry, principessa, always and forever,” he says in a soothing voice, God darn it, Xav. It's only then that I register what’s happening. He promised to never say goodbye, and now he is. He promised he’d never go away and now I feel like he is. He said he’ll only ever say goodbye when of us is taking our last breaths when were old and wrinkly and he's saying it right now and I'm losing my control.

“No!” I exclaim, “I'm not letting you die on me, Xav! I won't! Don’t you even dare, you can't do this to me,” I say loudly, hating how my voice cracks at the end.

“Principessa, I accept you to forever be mine, and that youll forever live in my heart. I take you to be my wife till death do us apart. I do, Cath. Do you—”

He just said his vows.

“Yes! God yes, Xav. You don’t get to do this to me! This isn’t how it's supposed to work! We were supposed to have this…this magical ending and we were supposed to take on the world and you weren’t supposed to do this, Xav,” I cry.

We just got married, and he's not here

“We don’t always get our happy end, do we? And you, principessa, you were the biggest happiness of my life,” he says, sniffling. I can't hear him cry, haven't heard him since his mother’s death anniversary. It's unreal, to see him unravel. I don’t like how he's using past tense, like he's already not there.

“Xav, no, please, I love you so much, come back here, hold on a little while, baby, you’ll be okay,” I choke out. I feel numb, like everything arounf me has turned into thi air and I'm alone, holding on to his voice like it's life support.

“I love you, Catherine Lily North,”

“I love you, Xavier Lee Blackheart,”

“Catherine Lily North, I love you,” he says with a huge smile on his face. My heart beats out of my chest as I try to comprehend what he just said. As reality sinks in, I mirror his smile, clutching his hand. “I love you, Xavier Lee Blackheart,” I say, and his eyes widen. I guess he didn’t expect me to say it back because the next thing I know, he's pressing his lips to mine.

His unruly breathing makes its way to my ears as he doesn’t reply, making me grip onto Tahlia’s hand, almost crushing her fingers. It's a miracle I'm still standing. I let go of her hand and bunch up my gown’s clothing, like it's somehow gonna take me to him.

His breathing shallows, and my mind almost bursts in panic.

“Xav? Xav! Stay with me! Please, babe, I won't be able to do this without you, I can't,��

“Yes, you can, principessa—”

“Not without you! Never without you, please. I need you here with me, right by my side, holding my hand, Xav,” I beg him to stay, but it's like my plea falls on deaf ears.

He doesn’t say anything, and his breathing keeps getting fainter and fainter, until he cracks the silence.

“I hope you know I fought for you, my love,” he whispers. He seems to calm down from the high of pessimistic things and it makes a small ray of hope shine through me.

“I know you did,” I say, but something tells me he isn’t just talking about with his father.

“I got your lillies,” he says. I can detect the small smile on his face as he laughs softly. He bought me lilies, for my middle name, for my wedding day. For us.

Memories flashes through my mind and I let go of my dress I was clutching on, flicking it back and forth in anxiety.

“Remember what I said about last words, principessa?” he voice suddenly reappears, his words striking a memory and making my heart race.

“i’ve always wanted my last words to be your name,” he says, a serene smile on his face as he strokes me cheek, before leaning in and pressing a small kiss to my forehead. I giggle, feeling all the peace in the world right here with me.

“Yes…Xavier, NO, nope, not happening. We are not doing this right now. Xavier, listen to me,” I choke out, shaking my head frantically, holding onto the officiant’s desk for support.

A long inhale follows, like he's struggling to breathe. Struggling to stay.

“Principessa,” he says, with a sudden franticness in his voice that makes me almost fall over the edge. His breathing softens.

“Xav—”

His breathing stops. Terminates. Discontinues.

And he dies.

“Xavier!” I scream out, my throat rough. I want to shout out at the heavens, I want to kill the people who killed him, I want to freaking destroy the planet for bringing our story such an ill fate. I want to do so much, but I can't.

I can't, because he's not here. I can't, because he's gone. Because he’ll never be here again.

My hand loses its grip on the desk and I collapse, the call falling from my hand. My knees crumble and I fall to the ground as violent sobs wrack my body, refusing to stop. I vividly feel someone putting theIr arms around me, and I just fall onto them, my eyes closing. I want nothing more to see him

To feel him one last time. To tell him I love him. To hug him, to kiss him until we’re dazed. To spend forever with him.

My numbness leaves and I feel everything all at once, a whirlwind of emotions staggering me with their force and I can do nothing more than wail and cry. I feel the force of the universe weighing me down and I physically can't get away. My mind claws at me and I cry out in pain, thrashing out at anything that comes in my vicinity.

My wedding dress that he picked out for me with adoration in his eyes comes to bite me and I want nothing more than to feel him with me again. To rip this dress in half but also treasure it forever.

I hit the ground and then gently run my hands on it like it’s Xavier’s face. I cradle him in my mind and it’s like the earth has shattered beneath me. It tears me apart that I just lost a part of myself to heaven.

The darkness around me becomes so much that overcome with love and grief that when I finally close my eyes and surrender myself to darkness, I only see him everywhere.

Him. Everywhere.

———

How you like that? XD

taglist:

@petitpancakes @skinni-ciggis @bubblegum18 @cbfjdx @fckingpernico @dumbsouvenir @i-like-5sos @heartbreakgirlisagoodsongcalum @neptune-falls @metanoiamorii @thescatteredscribbles @little-boats-on-a-lake @talesofsorrowandofruin @w-l-ink @baguettethebooklover @euphoniouspandemonium @wannabeauthorzofija @lady-of-himring @the-writing-avocado @ink-fireplace-coffee @your-local-book-worm345

#DONT KILL ME #my works #my writing #heaven #excerpts #excerpts by me #xavier #am writing #writeblr #short story #epilogue scene

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collabwithmyself · 4 years

Text

1-3: Turnabout Transfix (1/2)

Ray and Maya both teased him about his "old man phone," but in Miles's opinion, it worked perfectly well, so he saw no point in replacing it. It was simple, it was solid, and most importantly, he could still customize a ringtone with it.

This meant that waking up abruptly to a tinny rendition of the Steel Samurai theme song had him in a marginally better mood than if it were a normal, repetitive ringing dragging him out of slumber an hour earlier than usual. He fumbled blindly for the cell phone chiming away on his nightstand and dragged it over to him, squinting futilely at the caller ID before answering.

"Mlejerth," he managed.

"My!" screeched a voice, shouting directly into his ear and startling him into sitting up. "It's a disaster!"

"Wh-- Maya? What happened? Are you in danger?"

"It's the Steel Samurai!" Maya wailed. "He killed the Evil Magistrate!"

"Well, that seems largely out of character for him," Miles mused, rubbing his eyes. "...Wait, hold on, where did you get this information? Why are you giving me spoilers?"

"I mean in real life! Turn on the TV, or whatever it is you old men do to get news!"

"In real--" Miles's sleep-addled brain struggled to comprehend what Maya was trying to tell him. "You... do you mean their actors?"

"Yes! Duh!"

He fell back against the headboard in shock. "You're telling me Will Powers killed Jack Hammer?" Why didn't she say that in the first place?!

"That's what the police are saying! You're a defense attorney, My, do something! There's no way the Steel Samurai would kill anybody!"

"Wh-- Maya, you can't expect me to be able to catch the attention of a celebrity, let alone be picked by him to defend him in court! I've only acted as an attorney in two trials!"

"Yeah, and you beat Sascha von Karma! That's better than a whole resume of cases or whatever! Come on, My, you gotta!"

Miles pinched the bridge of his nose. "You won't stop pestering me until I agree to this, will you?"

"Nnnnope!" Maya popped the P emphatically. "Meet you at the detention center!"

"Yes, I'll see you--"

Click.

"...there..."

What had he just gotten himself into?

⁂

"So this is Global Studios?" Maya asked, hands on her hips as she peered around. "I kinda expected it to be... I dunno, bigger."

"Bigger isn't always better, you know," Miles replied, pushing up his glasses. "They make do excellently with what they have, wouldn't you agree?"

"You can say that again!"

Maya strolled closer to the gate, standing on her tiptoes. "Geez, where's the handle for this thing? You think we might have to climb it?"

Miles gave her a look that he hoped conveyed his lack of amusement properly. "We are not breaking into the studio. I highly doubt they'd let just anyone in, especially after a murder just took place. We might need to go back and get, well, a permission slip from Mr. Powers."

Maya smirked at him. "You just wanna get his autograph."

Miles's ears burned. "It's important to the case--"

A horrible screech startled them both, and Maya sprang back from the gate, reflexively snagging Miles by the sleeve and making him flinch a second time. It took him a moment to recognize the piercing cry as a human voice instead of some furious animal.

"Hey! You there! You wanna get in, you're gonna have to go through me! Honestly, all day I've had to deal with nothing but gawkers and sightseers, it seems like nobody in this city knows how to keep their nose out of things, they've all got another thing coming if they think they can get past me--"

He turned to find a person in blue storming out of the nearby security station and towards them both. Intimidated, but knowing better than to let that show, he straightened up, and beside him, Maya did the same.

"Er, pardon me. I'm a defense attorney, and this is my," Miles hesitated, "paralegal. We're here on behalf of--"

The elderly woman squinted at him, then brightened like a light being turned on. "Oh! What a lovely young man you are, aren't you just a sweetheart?"

Miles blinked at the praise. Beside him, Maya made a sudden retching noise, though he couldn't fathom why. "Er, I'm representing Will Powers," he continued, gesturing to the badge on his lapel, "and I was hoping you could let us in to conduct an investigation? You are the security guard, aren't you?"

"Oh, where are my manners? Wendy Oldbag, Global Studios security, but you can just call me grandma!" The old woman waved a hand at him. (Miles was... not going to do that.) "Why, you're so polite, not at all like most people these days, so pushy and impatient, looking to sightsee just because something horrible happened! No, I can tell you're an honest young man, you wouldn't dream of causing trouble, would you?"

Miles shook his head. Oldbag continued to ramble, so his gaze slipped away from her and towards Maya, who looked positively mortified.

"My, I think she likes you," she stage-whispered.

"Is that not a good thing?" Miles was puzzled. "She'll be more likely to let us in."

"Ohh, boy..."

It took a lot of convincing to assure this woman that they didn't need a personally guided tour, thank you, and it was Maya being her blunt self that eventually got her to take the hint and leave in a huff.

"That was..." Miles searched for the right word as he gazed about the studio grounds.

"Yikes," Maya finished.

"Maya, she was a perfectly agreeable woman--"

"Are you that oblivious, My? She was totally into you!" She threw her hands into the air. "You get such a bad crush you practically block out your memory when Mr. Powers talks to you, but this lady flirting with you doesn't set off any alarm bells?"

Miles spluttered. "She was not flirting!"

"She was totally making kissy eyes at you!"

"This is an entirely irrelevant discussion topic anyways, we should be investigating."

Maya puffed her cheeks out, balling her fists. "You can't just stand there and let weird old ladies creep on you, My!"

"Believe me," he huffed with finality, "I would never let any weird old person get into my head."

They didn't get far before a figure standing under the archway leading to the studios spotted them. The already large detective puffed up in anger when they approached.

"Hey! Aren't you that murderer from the other day?!"

Maya squeaked, bravado evaporating. "Yikes! It's that himbo detective...!"

"I-- I beg your pardon, Maya, what--"

The detective - Gumshoe, was it? - stomped a foot in frustration, chest heaving. "Prosecutor von Karma's real upset because of you! All frustrated and can't focus on work, staring out the window and muttering..."

Maya seemed to regain her resolve. "How is it our fault she's a sore loser, huh? And besides, if anyone's at fault, it's you for doing sloppy detective work!"

This only served to agitate Gumshoe further. "Don't you insult my boss!" he exploded. But then, all at once, he deflated, brows knitting together guiltily. "...I did my best..."

Maya looked thrown. "Um... s-sorry," she stammered. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings..."

The detective shook his head. "Nah, you got a point, pal... I shouldn't be blaming other people like that..."

Miles refrained from pointing out that it was pretty much his job to be blaming other people, along with his boss's. "Well, I suppose there's always the next case."

"Yeah... hey! Speaking of which! What the heck are you two doing here?!"

Maya put her hands on her hips and tried to make herself look bigger. "Well, we're on this case too, pal!"

Gumshoe's mouth fell open in offense. "Hey! You can't just go around calling people pal! That's my endearing character trait, pal!"

"Well, what are you gonna do about it, pal?!"

"Pal, I'm gonna--"

"Are you here," Miles interrupted loudly, "on behalf of Miss von Karma?"

It was the wrong thing to say, evidently, as Gumshoe set his jaw again. "I told you to address Prosecutor von Karma by the proper title! Don't let me catch you saying that around my boss, or you're in for it!"

What an odd thing to insist on, Miles thought, but he nodded along nonetheless. "Well? Are you?"

"Am I what...?" Gumshoe took a moment, most likely replaying the conversation in his head. "Oh! Yeah! Prosecutor von Karma's on this case, and this time, we've definitely got it in the bag!"

Miles remembered the strange, uneasy feeling he'd gotten when staring down that woman in court. How her eyes burned with a disgust and hatred Miles couldn't hope to decipher. How her cold composure had dissolved into furious outbursts and frantic bluffs in an effort to save face as Miles took her case apart. How angry, humiliated tears had pricked at the corners of her eyes, and she'd clung anxiously to her right side like she was preventing a wound from bleeding out.

"I'd be worried about her punching you, My," Maya had said to him, "but I think she might just break her hand trying."

How the scrawny brunette managed to be so imposing, Miles had no idea. Everything about her made his stomach twist, like something was inherently incorrect about her. He almost felt sorry for her, having to be raised by a man like Manfred von Karma, but she had been molded into his likeness - a ruthless prosecutor who sought no less than a perfect win record - which made her his enemy.

Some part of him wondered if they could have been friends in another life - a life where they'd crossed paths earlier.

But Miles had far more important things to worry about than that.

#roleswap au #turnabout transition #ace attorney #long post #collab writes #miles edgeworth #maya fey #dick gumshoe #wendy oldbag #misgendering #misgendering tw #I don't think the word existed in 2016 but the comedic potential of Maya calling Gumshoe a himbo is too good to pass up

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miracul0us-multishipper · 4 years

Text

You (Part 2)

Now you see me, now you don’t!

Part 1 | AO3

Felix Graham De Vanily was, in his own humble opinion, special.

He was smart.

He was composed.

He knew exactly what to say and when, and he could make people see exactly what he wanted them to see.

He wasn’t his cousin, after all, almost identical looks aside. Adrien never knew when to speak up, or when it was better to stay quiet. Never knew how to hide his thoughts and keep his - utterly unrealistic, when it came to his father - hopes in check. And he might be smarter than Felix gave him credit for, but all that intelligence left him as soon as his friends were concerned.

That was what all his flaws boiled down to, really.

Adrien made the fatal, unforgiving mistake of caring too much. Always had.

(It was what Felix liked about him, deep down. Adrien was genuine, in everything he felt. Felix envied him for the ease with which he made friends.)

But.

Felix wasn’t like Adrien at all. He was too smart to care for people - his mother aside - any more than he had to. Mundane distractions. Friends, crushes - all things that would only deter him from his path in life: high above the crowd, always the center of attention, yet unreachable. Playing everyone, but gone before anybody noticed.

It was a glorious but lonely road. No, scratch that. It was a lonely but glorious road. Much better.

He didn’t need anything or anyone.

He was the sole and solemn genius of the family.

He was a magician, who didn’t need any fancy jewelry to work miracles - just the right distraction and disguise.

He was-

“Ow!”

Groaning Felix looked at the little bite marks on his finger.

“Were you even listening?! Or did you just wait for an opportunity to stab me in the back?”

The black and white bundle of fur and betrayal on his lap meowed and swiped at his hand, now out of reach.

“I knew you couldn’t be trusted.”, he grumbled and shoved the traitor off of his legs, but couldn’t help but smile when he smugly licked his nose - as if to say: I'd do it again. “I raised you too well. Now, where was I?”

He sighed.

“Ah, yes. I don’t care for anyone - please stop scratching that ear, honey, it’s not healed yet - because I'm just too smart for that. So it’s utterly impossible that I, Felix Graham de Vanily, am in love with Dupain-Cheng. Got it?”

His cat, the little bastard, answered by knocking his pencil box over and started to chew on a pen. Felix narrowed his eyes.

“Oh? You dare doubt my word?”

With quick fingers he stole his cat's spoils and placed it out of his reach.

“Quite bold for a creature without opposable thumbs, hm?”

Insulted, the poor, thumbless pet retreated to his laptop and laid down on the keyboard - causing the screensaver to give way to the last opened tab. Which was Marinette's Instagram page.

“Wah!”

Hurried to hide the proof of his interest - as if she might somehow appear in his room if he looked at her picture for too long - he shooed his pet away and closed the tab. Said pet meowed smugly and, upset about being chased away from two spots already, sat down on his pillow. Great.

“You did that on purpose!”, he accused his cat. “But that tab proves nothing. It was merely a passing interest in her admittedly wearable work. It has nothing to do with any confessions - faked confessions, or that she can apparently recognize me in disguise, or the very neutral fact that she is cute, by some people's - not my own! - standards.”

His cat blinked. And sneezed onto his pillow.

“Bless you. Now move, or I’ll use you instead of a bunny for that hat trick I’m working on.”

Sighing, Felix let himself fall backwards onto his bed, grabbing the fleeing cat and burying his face in the fluffy fur.

“Oh, to be a cat!”, he wailed into his involuntary comfort pillow. “With no troubles except how to best annoy his owner.”

The poor animal hissed and escaped his grasp, saving himself from the bitter fate of a comfort pillow.

“Run, you uncaring monster.”, Felix sighed, “Leave me to my worries. Which don’t include Marinette at all, by the way.”

He sat up and watched as the little traitor turned to sulk on his dresser.

“Stop looking at me like that. Even if I had a short bout of interest - possibly even infatuation! It’s already all but cured.”

He nodded to himself, ignoring that the disinterested cat had begun cleaning his leg instead of listening.

“School's closed, after all!”, he hummed, scrolling through the news on his phone. “And social contacts are to be reduced to the bare minimum. So I’m not going to see her again before this passing interest has... well, passed.”

As if in response to his words, his laptop started to ring and the monitor lit up with the picture of blue, blue eyes and a smile that could melt the stars off of the sky. Not that he paid attention to such things.

“Oh no, no, no!”, he panted as he fell out of his bed and stumbled towards the computer. “Incoming Skype call?! Oh, come on!”

The ringtone repeated itself and Felix jumped.

“What am I gonna do? What am I gonna do?”

Panicking, he looked at his pet.

“What the fuck am I supposed to do?!”

The addressed party blinked. And went back to licking his nuts.

“Argh! I am surrounded by incompetence!”

Taking a deep breath, Felix straightened his vest and cravat - just because he was staying at home for the foreseeable future didn’t mean that he would dress any less professionally.

“Who needs your advice anyway. I can do this.”

He straightened his back and sat down on the chair in front of his desk.

“I am Felix Graham de Vanily, the best actor in all of France and the United Kingdom, not in love with Marinette Dupain-Cheng, and I can totally answer a Skype call.”

Before he could think again, he pressed the green button.

“Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng!”, he greeted overly enthusiastic. “We meet again.”

“If you can call it that.”, Marinette laughed with the voice of a goddamn angel. She was wearing a white, polka-dotted pajama top, was illuminated by early-noon sunlight falling through some sort of window in the ceiling, and her hair – was – down.

If this was some sort of cosmic test, it wasn’t fair.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your virtual company?”, he said quickly, trying not to think too much about how her hair looked even softer than the fur of a certain cat. Then, for good measure, he added: “Miss me already?”

Marinette disappeared for a moment, before returning with a sizable stack of papers.

“As much as I could do without my favorite pain in the neck, we have a school assignment to do. You know, since school is closed?”

She leaned in and he held his breath.

“Did you even notice? I haven’t seen you last Friday.”

What was he supposed to answer to that? Oh, I noticed alright! It kept me from embarrassing myself by avoiding you, because my brain got all mushy ever since you fake-confessed to me pretending to be my cousin?

Ha! Fat chance.

“Aw, worried for me?”, he improvised, as usual, by being sarcastic. “Let me soothe your concern for your favorite pain in the neck: I merely got tired of cosplaying Adrien. I'm a very busy man, you see?”

She rolled her eyes and somehow managed to make it look cute.

“Of course you are. Well, hopefully not too busy for a presentation on marine biology, due next week.”

He blinked.

“Excuse me?”

“You know, the one Adrien and I are supposed to do?”

Felix Had Questions. For example:

“How was I supposed to know that?”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t hack into Adriens E-mail account. I saw you present homework that you couldn’t have known about if Madame Mendeleiev hadn’t emailed you, as Adrien.”

She raised an eyebrow, in a way that could almost be described as playful.

“Plus, you seem the type to do that.”

He scoffed and crossed his arms, as if it would hide his racing heartbeat.

“First of all: No, I am not breaking into my cousins account. I may like to prank him - or rather everyone, really - but that goes a little far. Secondly, that Lila girl was only too eager to do homework with Adrien-Me, so I could keep up with every assignment once I could get her hands off of me.”

“I thought a magician never revealed his tricks?”

True. But he had wanted to see if she would get jealous. Which she didn’t. Which was expected and totally fine by him. He didn’t care anyways.

Lucky for him, Marinette wanted to tease him more than an answer.

“Well, I hope your work ethic is better when it comes to presentations. I'll send you the materials!”

A click later, his laptop alerted him of One New Email, containing no less than twenty-two pages of material. He raised his eyebrows.

“Not to crush your little illusion of me as a hard-working student, but that looks like awfully tedious work. What makes you think I would voluntarily do homework meant for Prince Charming?”

The sassy little smirk she'd shown him during their battles of wit last week returned.

“You mean, aside from the fact that, once school is open again and Adrien is back, your little trick with pretending to be him will be revealed? And that I’m your best chance not to be chased out of town by a very angry Chloé Bourgeois? Not to start with Alya, Rose and Juleka, who still haven’t forgiven you for that stunt you pulled the last time you were here.”

Sound argument, he had to give her that.

“Pah!”, he said, just for the sake of irritating her. “So what? It’s not like it was my idea to move to Paris anyway!”

That was at least partially true. His mother had insisted to come back to France, mostly because she wanted to keep an eye on Gabriel. But he hadn’t been against it either.

It wasn’t like he had friends in London anyway, and in Paris it at least didn’t get boring, with all these butterflies and superheroes. Plus, he wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he had missed Adrien. That boy could use a little family - once Felix was done pretending to be him.

Marinette hummed and tapped her chin impatiently.

“Well, then see it as the prize you promised me after our little insult-match at the Trocadero.”

“Wait, wait, wait!”, he held up his hands. “I already settled that score, didn’t I? You confessed to me, remember?”

“I practiced confessing to Adrien with you, you mean.”, she reminded him with a raised eyebrow – Ouch, by the way – before leaning back in her pink chair. “And that was because you talked me into it. I never told you what I wanted, did I?”

Well, fuck. Not that the prospect of working with Marinette was that unpleasant, but in his current state of emotional confusion, it would only be detrimental. He needed an out, an excuse!

“Why would you want to work with me anyways? I would have thought you'd jump at the chance to do something with Prince Adrien of Dreamland. Why settle for the pain in the neck?”

Marinette sighed.

“Adrien is still recovering from his flu, and given the current, ah, global situation, I thought it would be better to put his health first. Besides, you're my favorite pain in the neck.”

“I'm flattered, darling”, he said, trying not to sound like it was as true as it was, “but-“

“Oh my gosh!”, Marinette interrupted him with a shout, and suddenly her eyes dominated the entire screen, as if she were mere millimeters away from her own computer. “Felix! What is that?!”

“Huh?”, he made, eloquent as usual. He turned around, just in time to see his traitorous cat jump from the dresser right onto his lap. Apparently, now that Felix had someone else to talk to, the little bastard felt neglected.

“You mean him?”, he asked, turning back to the screen with the cat in his lap. An inhuman squeal came from the other side of the line and Marinette sacked back into her chair, which spun around its axis, like, three times in a single second.

“Felix Graham de Vanily!”, she said with all but glowing eyes. “Show – me – the cat!”

Since her voice made absolutely clear that it had been an order and Felix had always had a strong survival instinct, he obediently held up the little monster. Who let out a plaintive little “Mow”, but otherwise submitted to his fate.

“Oh my gosh!”, Marinette repeated, “He's adorable!”

“You think?”, Felix said dumbly, at a loss for how to react to this sudden change in situation.

“I do! I do! What's his name?”

“Uh...”, Felix thought, debating whether a lie would save his reputation. “Uhm...”

“Don’t tell me you named him Felix Junior!” She turned towards the cat in false exasperation. “Did he name you Felix Junior?!”

The cat that was most certainly not named Felix Junior meowed in his feline confusion.

“No, of course not!”, Felix snapped back, sinking into the chair as if it might have mercy and swallow him.

“Then what's his name? What, for God’s sake, is this pretty little kitty called?!”

What had his life turned into?

“'dini.”, he mumbled, hiding his face behind the cat.

“What? Speak louder!”, Marinette demanded, and so he accepted his fate.

“Houdini!”, he groaned in embarrassment. “I named him Houdini, alright? I was eleven!”

For a moment, the line went quiet. Then, inevitably, Marinette burst out in laughter.

“For real? I can’t believe it!”

Sulking, Felix turned away from the screen, but immediately Marinette stopped.

“No, no, no! Bring Houdini back! I love his name, okay? Give him back!”

“You're not telling anybody of him, got it?”, he hissed, cheeks as red as Ladybug's suit. Marinette snickered.

“Of course, I promise. Houdini will be our little secret, alright? Now bring him back!”

Satisfied, Felix turned the chair back towards the laptop and placed Houdini on the desk. The curious thing didn’t hesitate to lounge onto his keyboard and examined the camera, much to Marinette’s delight.

“Oh lord, he's so cute!”

Felix sighed and leaned back.

“Believe me, he knows.”

“He looks just like you!”

At that, Felix spluttered and jumped up again.

“W-w-what?!”

Internally already setting up the equation: “Marinette thinks Houdini is cute, and Marinette thinks Houdini looks like Felix, then Marinette thinks Felix is cute?” he was about two seconds from fainting.

“He's got a little tie, see?”, Marinette giggled on, ignorant of the thought-spiral she'd sent him into. “Just like you!”

Oh. She meant the patterns of his fur, which admittedly looked a little like he was wearing a tie. Of course.

“Who's the most adorable thing in Paris? You are!”, Marinette continued with her shameless adoration of that undeserving little brat, who currently Mow-ed happily at the screen. Pah!

“Just so you know, he bites people for fun.”, Felix badmouthed his own pet, absolutely not because he was jealous. “You can’t trust him. He'll act sweet, but as soon as you're not looking he's got your fingers between his sharp little fangs!”

“Eh, I can handle it.”, Marinette shrugged and immediately went back to admiring Houdini. “You're a good kitty, aren’t you? The best, the best! Yes, you are!”

“No, he's not!”, Felix insisted through clenched teeth. “He's moody and arrogant! Nobody likes him, that's why I took him in! He thinks it’s fun to hurt people, he holds grudges forever and he's incredibly annoying when he's bored!”

Wait, was he still talking about the cat?

“You just like him because he looks all cute and innocent, but if you knew him, you'd never even want to be in the same room as him.”

Marinette had gone quiet on the other side, and Houdini narrowed his eyes at him in betrayal. Then she shrugged.

“If you don’t want him anymore, I'll take him in.”

“What?!”

She would have to pry the little shit out of his cold, dead hands!

“Did you not listen to a word I said?” he asked, trying not to let on that he didn’t actually dislike Houdini.

Marinette smiled.

“Sure. But I still think he's a good kitty.”

“But why?”

She hummed, pushing her stack of papers aside so she could put her elbows on the desk. Resting her chin on her hand, she looked up in him.

“Most cats are. You just got to give them a chance to come out of their shell.”

“But... But he's mean!”

“Maybe he's just lonely. Maybe he needs some friends, and then he'll learn to be nicer. I can wait.”

He was not blushing!

“Why would you want to? There's lots of better cats, you could just pick one of them right away.”

“Yeah, well, I want Houdini. All cats deserve a chance. Even the meaner ones.”

She smiled down at the black and white loaf that purred on his keyboard.

“In my experience, peop- cats only show their best sides if you give them a chance to open up. If you're too quick to brush them aside as hopeless, or mean, you might miss out on the most wonderful personalities underneath. And I think Houdini is one of those.”

And then, because the universe just wanted to see him fall, she winked at him. Jesus Christ!

“Anyway, I'll give you some time to read through the material I sent you. Message me once you’re done, we've got a lot of work ahead. Bye!”

Before he could realize what she had said, the window blanked and closed on him. Disappointed that his fan had vanished, Houdini meowed and returned once again to Felix' lap.

“Bye.”, Felix stammered belatedly. What had just... How could she go around just saying things like that? And then hang up?!

“Ugh, Houdini!”, he lamented. “Look what I have become!”

Reduced to a beetred, stammering, weird-cat-metaphor-using fool!

The cat gave a smug “Mrow” and headbutted him in the chin, but Felix didn’t have it in him to complain.

“Fine,” he sighed in defeat, “you win. So what if I like her?”

Houdini purred.

“You do too, don’t you? Bet you'd bite her anyway.”

He purred on, unperturbed.

“Knew it.”

He sighed once again.

“She's right, though. You are a good kitty. Deep down.”

Houdini meowed and licked his finger, just where he'd bitten him earlier.

“Well, now you're just sucking up to me! Two-faced little demon. Mwah!”

He pressed a small kiss to the top of his furry head, then rolled the chair closer to the desk and opened his emails.

“Alright, then.”, he tried to motivate himself, “let's show Marinette what a good kitty- what a good person we are and do our homework.”

At that, Houdini promptly stood up and jumped onto the bed, leaving him alone with twenty-two pages of reading material.

“Bastard.”

- - -

Bonus:

Ladybug, crashing through Felix' window: Felix Graham de Vanily!

Felix: Ladybug?!

Ladybug: I have it on good authority that you own a good kitty! It is crucial for the safety of Paris that I pet him right this instant!

Felix, remembering her right hook: ... sure?

#miramu writes #felinette fluff #felinette #felix/marinette #canon!felix #marinette dupain cheng #felix graham de vanily #its corona time

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much-brighter-ink · 3 years

Text

Secret Santa Queendom Exchange

Merry Christmas Eve! Enjoy your secret santa gift fic- since you said you were ok with anything, I went for a festive fic because I thought the queens experiencing modern christmas would be amusing (also my entire knowlege of Tudor Christmas tradition comes from a single Lucy Worsley documentary so apologies for any wrong details!)

‘Well that was a complete waste of time-’ Jane dropped her handbag and keys onto the kitchen table, scowling. ‘You would have thought I was asking for the moon from how he reacted!’

Anna hummed sympathetically and got up to put the kettle on to make Jane a soothing post-shopping-trip cup of green tea. ‘No good?’

‘I said, I told him, that I completely understood that he might not actually HAVE one in stock, especially on Christmas Eve, but that we’d all agreed to check just in case and-’ Jane pulled out a chair with slightly more force than was necessary and Anna leant forward.

‘What? What? He didn’t have one?’

‘He just laughed Anna!’ Jane’s annoyance softened into hurt. ‘He didn’t even answer, just laughed and then turned to the next person as if I was joking!’

‘Oh love-’

‘It was REALLy embarrassing AND then a lady stopped me before I could even LEAVE and asked why on earth I’d want to eat something like that…’

Anna put a comforting hand on Jane’s shoulder and put a mug of tea in front of her. ‘Well you shouldn’t be too upset then- the very fact that she had to ask shows she’s obviously got no taste at all.’

Jane chuckled weakly and took a sip of tea. ‘Thanks. It was just horrible- everyone looked at me like I was completely stupid.’

‘Well the others will be back soon, maybe they’ll have had more-’

Anna’s words were cut off by the bang of the front door and the sound of a pair of shoes being angrily kicked off.

‘Kitty? Is that you?’

‘I’m back.’ Kitty trudged into the kitchen and leant into Anna’s side. ‘Don’t ask how it went.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because it was absolutely useless.’ Sinking into a chair, Kitty stared pathetically at Jane’s tea until Anna laughed and passed her a cup of her own. ‘No one could help and I got stuck listening to an hour long lecture about animal cruelty and The Law from some interferring old busybody that was passing!’ Kitty sighed heatedly. ‘Since when was it illegal to try and have some fun at Christmas?’

‘Weren’t you listening Kitty? If your lecture was anything like mine, it’s-’ Jane assumed a mincing tone. ‘-cruel the poor endangered boars. Or bears, in your case.’

Anna rolled her eyes. ‘God. Wiping them out globally is all fine and dandy then in the name of progress but kill one bear in a good old fashioned family bear-baiting to bring the community together and provide everyone with a bit of holiday cheer and you’re a monster…’

‘This century is so joyless.’

Jane nodded. ‘You’re telling me.’

Kitty turned anguished eyes upon her. ‘Don’t tell me you had no luck either!’

‘Sorry-’

‘Argh!’ Kitty let out a frustrated wail and let her head flop down onto her folded arms. ‘No bear baiting AND no boar’s head? It might as well not even BE Christmas…’

The others murmured disconsolate agreement just as Catalina burst through the backdoor wildly.

‘That had better be some ill-judged Protestant humour-’

Anna shook her head. ‘Sorry Catty.’

‘A tomar por culo! This is going to be the worst Christmas ever!’

Jane looked at her oddly. ‘Didn’t you die at Christmas?’

Catalina fixed a cold stare upon her former lady in waiting. ‘But at least I got to have one last Christmas dinner to keep my spirits up Jane!’

‘Fair point…’

‘Thank you Kitty.’

The silence fell on the kitchen, and then Anna suddenly looked up.

‘Where are Anne and Cathy? Shouldn’t they be back by now?’

Catalina looked up. ‘Didn’t they go with Kitty?’

Kitty shook her head. ‘I thought they’d gone with you-’

‘No-’

‘They probably just-’

‘I bet they-’

Their speculation was interrupted by the insistent buzzing of Catalina’s phone, accompanied by a rather tinny but still recognisable refrain-

‘Oh my god you have Anne’s song as your ringtone!’ Despite her earlier misery, Kitty now looked positively gleeful. ‘I can’t believe it, I KNEW you liked it really-’

‘It’s CATCHY-’ Catalina mumbled, as she half turned in her chair to hide her blush. Jane patted her arm sympathetically.

‘Catalina Trastamara de Aragon-’

‘Why does she always answer her phone like that?’

‘Leave her alone, as if Good Morrow, Bitches is any better-’

‘Madrina?’

At her goddaughters voice, Catalina flapped an arm at the others. ‘Shut up! It’s Cathy! -Are you alright querida?’

‘I’m fine.’ Cathy sounded rather hesitant. ‘Just- promise not to panic, ok?’

‘Cathy?’

‘Promise!’

‘Ok-’

‘…..We’re at the police station!’

‘What?!’

‘How!?’

There was a scuffle and Anne’s voice came on the line. ‘Hi! Look, before you get cross, absolutely NOT our fault ok?’

‘What did you do?’

‘We had no idea it’d go like this-’

‘What did you DO?’

‘It’s was Cathy’s idea!’

‘Anne!’

‘We just thought it’d be fun!’ Cathy wailed from the background. ‘We never got to do it back then but it always sounded so exciting-’

‘And Jane SAID we needed to make more of an effort with the neighbours!’

‘What did you DO?’

‘Well….and let me just remind you again that it was CATHY’S idea, seeing as it IS Christmas Eve…’

‘Anne-’

‘Turns out people get REALLY weird when you cover your face and burst into their house in disguise-’

To the queen’s disgust, it turned out that the jolly Tudor practise of Mumming was, in the 21st century, considered to be highly suspicious and also in contravenence of the law.

A quick and grovelling conversation with the neighbour who had called the police (plus a promise of free yard work and snow shovelling for the foreseeable future) saw the two errant queens released and sent home with the stern warning not to try anything like that again.

Jane entered the living room where the five rather dejected queens sat in gloomy silence in the living room. ‘So they’ve agreed they won’t press charges and I THINK they’re going to keep quiet about it so that’s sorted at least.’

‘Thanks Jane-’ Cathy made room for the third queen on the sofa and Jane joined her.

‘What are we watching?’

‘Anna suggested we try a modern Christmas film to try and get into the spirit-’

‘Oh?’

Kitty made a face. ‘It’s about a demon who goes around sneaking into the houses of children before Christmas day…’

‘Oh. Weird.’

‘Yeah not very cheering…’

‘Speaking of which, where IS Anna?’

‘Oh she said she had a surprise to cheer us all up-’

Cathy hugged a cushion to her chest. ‘Honestly, I can’t think of ANYTHING that will make today ANY-’

She was interrupted by Anna- Anna von Kleve, dressed in an oversized red hoody with Trust No Bitch emblazoned on it in gold sequins and bearing what looked to be Jane’s best Le Creuset mixing bowl, filled to the brim with-

‘Is that….what IS that?’

‘Mmmm….vodka….and the gin that was left over…and about a half cup of cooking sherry….’ Anna looked up defensively. ‘What? I know the wassail cup is MEANT to be cider but we didn’t have enough to fill the bowl!’

‘I suppose that’s fair enough-’

Catalina reached for the bowl and took a swig. ‘At least that’s one tradition they can’t take away from us. Even if we’re the only ones to do it anymore…’

‘They can take our boar and our bear and our mummers but they’ll pry our wassail cup out of our cold dead hands!’

‘Yep’ Anne nodded decisely. ‘It can still be a BIT like Christmas IF we can all drink alcohol out of a massive bowl….’

The other queens nodded, looking slightly cheered.

Needless to say, the Boxing Day performance had to be cancelled.

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

Ahhhh @cynicalrainbows thank you so, so much!!! This made my day, I love your writing so much - have a wonderful Christmas Eve! @queendomsecretsanta

#secret santa gift exchange #six the musical #alcohol tw #submission

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lonelypond · 3 years

Text

Parent Trap, Ch. 9

NicoMaki, NozoEli, Love Live, 2.6K 9/?

Summary: Maki is on a mission; Nico is on the job.

Car Culture

Dia was crying. Maki groaned. Why wasn’t Raye...oh, no Raye. With a curse, Maki kicked off her blanket, catapulted out of bed, grabbing a robe to throw on, feet awkwardly groping for slippers. A message blinking on her muted phone. Nico. At 5 a.m.

N: Hope you and Dia have a good day. Nico’s going to be so busy ε= ٩(●❛ö❛)۶

N: But Maki will be so impressed when Nico’s video’s done.

No kiss emoji, no hearts, no...Nico-ness...a wail from Dia. Maki had no time to mope. Or make up. She had a growing, growling, grumpy daughter demanding all her attention.

###

“Maki, calm down.” Rin leaned back against the arm of her couch, sending her calmest mood at Maki.

“It’s been two and a half days, Rin. Dia doesn’t want to eat anything, keeps asking for Nico, who’s too busy to answer her damn phone, and I CAN’T TAKE ANY MORE LILO AND STITCH.”

Rin could see Maki pacing, kicking the rug that was at the center of the cabin’s main room. Dia was probably napping, like Tora. Maki needed to nap more. “Calm down, Maki. I’ll drive up there. Why are you in Wisconsin anyway? Where’s Raye?”

“Can you watch Dia?” Maki had no volume control. Rin grimaced, rubbing her ear.

“Is that Maki?” Hanayo stuck her head in, “Can you ask her what Nico’s new…”

Rin made a slashing gesture to head off Hanayo’s question. Hanayo pouted. Rin walked to the door, gently pushed Hanayo one step away, and closed the door.

“Maki, are you all right to drive?”

“Of course, I’m all right to drive.”

“But you sound so angry.”

“You’ve known me for more than a decade, Rin. When has anger interfered with anything?”

Rin could check off a huge list of times. But that would not calm Maki down. “So you’re going to see Nico?”

“Yeah, there’s this huge party we got invited to. ” Maki was now moderating her volume.

But Maki’s declaration had kicked Rin into red zone worried mode. “You’re going to a huge party. Because of Nico. Do you know anyone else who’ll be there?”

“Honoka will be there.”

Rin blinked. Maki and Honoka parties were a legendary recipe for disaster. Honoka’s impulsiveness brought out Maki’s idgaf core principle. Mix in alcohol and...

“I just want to talk to someone taller than my knee, Rin.” Maki sounded desperate.

“We’re talking. I’m taller than your knee.” Rin fell back on the couch. This was bad.

Maki’s voice softened. “Please, just watch Dia for me for a couple of days. She really misses Tora.”

“So you’re meeting Nico there?” That wouldn’t be so bad.

“Probably, sure, I don’t know the exact details yet.”

“I’m worried about you, Maki, you sound really upset. And you and Honoka and parties...”

Maki didn’t let Rin go drag out her history. “Rin, just please…”

“What?”

“Take care of my daughter.” Maki was tapping on something, probably unconsciously, Rin could hear the vibrations. “Nico’s upset because my parents sent me to Wisconsin, Nico likes parties, I REALLY miss Nico and…” Maki sounded nervous, Rin knew how reluctant her friend was to discuss anything related to dating and sex, “that disconnect is starting to happen.”

“So meet Nico somewhere and…”

“Rin, I am driving to Chicago, I am changing into a sexy dress, I am going to a party, I am going to down a couple of shots of something, and I am going home with my girlfriend.”

Rin sighed, “We’ll talk when you get here. Just please drive carefully. For me. And Dia.”

“Of course, I will.” Maki exhaled, “Thanks, Rin.”

“I’m your bestie, Maki.”

Maki laughed, “See you soon.”

Rin hoped five hours driving would wear Maki out enough to be reasoned with.

###

Nico couldn’t slump yet. Fourteen hours on the set, the crew were getting ready for the big stunt, Cocoro was confirming the details of something with the director, and Umi was handing Nico a bottle of electrolyte solution, a bright enough green to wake Nico up.

“Start with that.” Umi frowned, “You don’t want to get sick.”

“Thanks, Umi.”

“When does your tour start?”

“Too soon,” Nico swallowed a cough.

“It is essential to allow yourself a chance to recover physically from the kind of exertion you are experiencing.”

“You’re not my doctor.”

“I’m sure Maki would say the same.”

“She’s not my doctor either. She doesn’t know anything about this kind of day.” Nico chugged the entire bottle.

Umi seemed genuinely puzzled. “If you don’t talk about your work, what do you talk about?”

“Nico doesn’t remember, it’s just kind of a tired sexy blur. Maki’s surprisingly....”

Umi didn’t have to frown. Her entire posture screamed displeasure at Nico’s cavalier comment.

“Sorry. Nico just misses Maki.” Nico tossed the bottle into the recycling barrel, “We’ve been talking about our pasts. Talking about the present gets us to Dia and…”

Nico’s phone pinged. Maki’s ringtone. “Hang on a sec.” Nico switched to full charm mode, Umi didn’t know where she found the energy. “Hey, sexy.”

“Nico, you have to come here, now.” A shrill, panicky voice.

“Who is this? Where’s Maki?”

“In the shower.”

“Who is this?”

Umi was surprised by the anger in Nico’s voice.

“It’s Rin, you know, Maki’s bestie.”

Nico could feel her forehead clench. “Is Maki okay? Is something wrong with Dia? Why are you on her phone.”

“Cause I don’t have your number on mine, duh. You have to come here. Now.”

NIco sagged, leaning against a wall, “Okay, Rin, where do you want Nico to go? Wisconsin?”

“Nah, Maki’s at me and Kayo-chin’s house.”

That was news to Nico. When and why had that happened? Nico sighed. She needed more than electrolytes and sugar to deal with this.

Rin continued. “Maki wants to go to this big party, to meet you, but it’s a Honoka party and whenever Maki goes to a Honoka party in this mood, there’s tequila and…”

“How can Maki meet Nico if Nico isn’t going to the party? Nico is working.” Nico flung out a hand as if to show Rin everything and everyone on the set.

“Oh, she won’t like that.” Rin sounded sad.

“Hang on a sec.” Nico put her hand over the mic, “Was Honoka Maki’s college roommate?”

Umi nodded, “Briefly, why?”

“Just learning some more Maki facts…”

Rin’s loud chirp called Nico’s attention back to her phone. “So you’ll take Maki to the party. I’ll tell Maki I ordered her a ride. It’ll be a good surprise.”

Nico wanted to punch the wall. “Nico can’t pick up Maki. Nico has to finish filming a dance, crash a car, rescue a dangerous damsel, and save the world.”

“But what am I gonna do, Nico?” A whine.

“Tell Maki to skip the party and call me later. For pizza or something, Nico knows a place.” And that was as much help as Rin was getting from Nico. Maki was an adult, she could make her own choices. Nico chose to follow through on her responsibilities.

Call ended, Nico slid the mute button over and tossed her phone into her bag. “And now Nico blows everybody away.”

Umi nodded, already going down her mental checklist for Nico’s upcoming stunt. “Make sure the safety harness is tight. I’ll go over all the fastenings.”

“You’re just fas-cinated by Nico Ni.” Nico bounced into her pose.

Umi stared at Nico, then quirked an eyebrow, “That tired, huh?”

Lowering her hands, Nico giggled, which lightened the weight, “Yeah, I guess so.”

###

“Is my ride here yet, Rin? Did Dia get to sleep? I still have to dry my hair.” Maki, a towel slung over her head, dressed in a clinging lilac to near black ombre swing dress. Rin grabbed Maki, forcing her into a seat.

“What the hell, Rin?” Pulling off the towel, Maki glared.

Rin had her hands on her hips, her expression serious, finger wagging at Maki’s nose. “You’re grounded, Maki. No parties.”

Maki stood, looming over Rin, staring down at her oldest friend. “I’ll say it again, Rin, what the hell?”

“Nico’s not going to that party. You’re in a foul mood and you’ll just get in trouble. You know how you get.”

“You got really boring.” Maki pushed Rin back.

Rin shook her head, “No. I’m a mom. In a relationship. And so are you. And Nico’s a real person with feelings and a stunt car crash to do…”

Maki pulled Rin back, lifting the shorter woman off her feet, nose to nose, “What do you mean, stunt car crash?”

“Nico said she had to” Rin concentrated, “Crash a car, rescue a girl, save the world.”

Maki dropped Rin and glanced at the nearest clock, it was after 9 p.m. “She’s still working? She stared at 5 a.m.”

“You work crazy shifts.”

“I’m used to it…” Maki tapped Rin on the shoulder, “How do you know so much about Nico?”

“I called her to tell her to take you to the party. And she said she had to crash a car.’ Rin inhaled, her chartreuse eyes determined.“You need to communicate better with Nico if you want a successful relationship like me and Kayo-chin, Maki.”

Maki sagged into the couch, head in her hands. Rin was practicing her parent of a teenager moves and Maki did not appreciate it. “Where is she?”

RIn shrugged.

Maki grabbed her phone, hitting Nico’s number. No reply. Then she tried Cocoro.

“Cocoro Yazawa. Can I help you?”

“This is Maki. Let me talk to Nico.”

“I’m sorry, Dr. Nishikino, my sister left no instructions about being interrupted.”

“Where are you?” Maki felt her jaw clench.

“I’m sorry, Dr. Nishikino, but the set location is secret.”

“Tell me…”

Cocoro’s curt, professional tones cut off Maki’s snapped demand, “I will let Nico Ni know you called, Dr. Nishikino.”

And a ringtone. Maki wanted to throttle Cocoro. But that wouldn’t be any way to make inroads with Nico. Umi, Nico had hired Umi, Umi would...no, Kotori would, Kotori could be persuaded to share information. Umi’s integrity was unbreachable by anyone not Kotori.

###

“Hey, is Nico coming home tonight?” Nozomi slid next to Eli on the couch, wearing Eli's robe, her hair loose and luxurious.

Eli put down her Atlantic magazine, “I don’t know. Why?”

“I want you to stop pretending you’re mad at me and sleep in my bed.” Nozomi bit at Eli's shoulder.

Eli snorted, “How romantic.”

“I’m not offering romantic.” Nozomi took the magazine out of Eli’s hand, then grabbed Eli’s wrists to pull her closer, green eyes alit with dangerous urges. “You have needs. I have wants. And really really graphic fantasies.” Nozomi’s tongue licked from Eli’s ear to her...

“NOZOMI!”

“Text Nico, tell her to sleep in her own bed. Unless you want her to know that you…”

Eli put both her hands on Nozomi’s face, pulled her beloved, impossible wife in close, and drifted into a slow promise of the deepest of kisses, the only way to stop the avalanche of provocation. Then she grabbed her phone.

###

Nico winced, her ears still ringing. The boom had blasted through her hearing protection and her head had maybe, maybe contacted the crash foam. She couldn’t exactly remember the sequence of events. The helmet had helped, but pulling it off dramatically had been immediately followed by a wobbly tilt into the car. Nico was now taking a minute, eyes closed, to rest before checking if the world really was spinning.

“NICO!”

The crash must have messed her up, she thought she heard Maki’s voice. Bad enough she’d nearly messed up the timing because she kept wondering if Maki had gone to Tsubasa’s party and how many shots of tequila had she downed. Maybe Nico had been thinking about tequila so much Nico was sympathetic tipsy.

“Nico?”

A hand on Nico’s arm, with a grip that was going to add to Nico’s bruises. Arnica gel, entire tube, maybe Nico could find a sympathetic dancer who had massage skills. Nico opened her eyes. Maki, face flushed, gorgeous eyes weary and worried, a killer ombre shaded dress clinging to curves that made Nico instantly more alert. Maki smiled at Nico, then opened her sling bag and handed Nico a menu.

“Read the prices to me, Nico.”

After a couple of minutes, Nico realized what was odd. “You carry pizza menus around with you?”

“Just read the numbers, Nico.” Maki’s beautiful long fingers traced a pattern on the paper.

Maki had knelt, staring up into Nico’s face. It was all weird. “What kind of a date is this? Quizzes first?”

“It’s a concussion test, Nico. Eye movement is one of the biggest disruptions.”

“You like….” Nico wondered why she’d started that sentence. “Eyes, Nico’s eyes.”

Maki bit her lip, nervous, it was sexy adorable, and Nico would have given up a platinum record to not be feeling nauseous.

Umi appeared next to Maki. “I checked the footage. There was definite head contact. Cocoro’s sending everyone home. I’m glad you’re here, Maki.”

“Nico, can you read me the prices of a couple of appetizers, three pizzas, and a dessert.” Maki’s voice was very calm, but Umi noticed her hands trembling.

“Clever.” Umi whispered.

“Just order whatever you want, Maki.” Nico let the menu drop, “Nico will pay.” Nico leaned back onto the car, Maki and Umi with a quick glance agreed to split and support Nico from either side.

“C’mon Nico, I’m taking you home.” Maki said quietly.

Nico frowned, “Nah, Eli’s right?”

“Are you sure she shouldn’t go to an ER?” Umi pulled her phone out, ready to hit 911.

“I’ll take her if her symptoms worsen.” Maki tapped the car hood, considering. “I want to avoid noise and people.”

“Hey, Sis!” Cocoro raced up, “The director wants to talk to you about tomorrow.”

“Nico won’t be here tomorrow.” Maki snapped.

Cocoro shoved between Maki and Nico, “You have no authority here, Ms. Nishikino. Nico handles everything.”

Maki spoke deliberately. “There is a high likelihood that Nico has a concussion. She will need to recover before she does anything else.”

Nico smiled and hugged her sister, “Hey, Cocoro! Where’s the car?”

“We can still shoot some of the background scenes tomorrow, Cocoro, if I remember the storyboard correctly. I’ll help you figure out who we need.” Umi pulled Cocoro to the side, trusting Maki to support Nico.

“But Tsubasa’s scheduled…”

“Tsubasa…” Nico raspberried, “can go away.”

“Is there a problem with her cameo? Cocoro sounded concerned.

“The problem is your sister has a concussion.” Maki put her arm around Nico’s waist, Nico leaned in to her, “I’m taking her home.”

“To your place?” Cocoro relaxed, “Good. Eli called me, Nico. She said she needed some wife time.”

Nico didn’t appear to be listening.

Maki did not want to deal with her parents. “We’ll just go to her house. I know the address.”

Cocoro frowned, “But there’ll be…”

Umi decided the matter, “That’s a good idea, Maki. Nico gets dropped off sometimes on the block behind and sneaks through her neighbor’s backyard. I suggest that.”

“Okay.” Maki kept careful watch of Nico, “Text me the address.”

“I’ll drive you. They’ll be watching for your car.”

“This one’s got Wisconsin plates. No one’s seen it.” Maki pulled a beanie out of her bag and pulled it over her red hair. She handed another one to Nico, “Let’s be spies.”

Nico stared at the hat, as if unsure what to do with it. Cocoro, after a glance at Maki, stepped forward and pulled it over Nico’s carefully coiffed apocalypse hair. “Dr. Nishikino’s gonna take good care of you, sis.”

“Nico doesn’t need a doctor.” Grumpy, hunched Nico detached from Maki to lean against the car.

“All right, Nico, I won’t be just a doctor.” Maki blinked, feeling tears in the corner of her eyes, “But buy me that pizza. For our date.”

Nico nodded, “Okay.”

“Let’s go pick it up.”

Nico stood, Maki offered her hand, Nico reached for it, missing the first time, “I’ll drive.”

Maki hummed.

A/N: Good and sad things the past week, hope you are well.

#NicoMaki #Nishikino Maki #Yazawa Nico #Yazawa Cocoro #rin hoshizora #llsif #nozoeli #ayase eli #tojo nozomi #sonoda umi #parent trap #head injury #concussion

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