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halfwaythereroyalwrites · 4 years

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Mahal Kita (Javier Peña x Filipina!Reader) - Kilig

GIF Credit: I don’t know, but it’s not mine. Let me know if you know who made it.

Pairing: Javier Peña x Filipina!Reader

Warnings: This can be read alone or as part of Javier Peña’s Kilig series. Slight gun violence. Cursing.

Word count: 2.4k+

Summary: A close encounter makes you and Javier think about your relationship.

A/N: I loved writing the first part so much that I wrote a sequel. You don’t have to read the first one to get this, but I’d appreciate it if you did.

Part 1 + Masterlist

Kilig is a Tagalog word to describe the feeling of excitement and exhilaration and possibly embarrassment from anything remotely romantic.

_______________________________________________

An unusual sight met you when you walked to your desk this morning. Scraps of paper were taped to the objects sitting on your desk. All of them bearing familiar scribbled writing.

El escritorio.

La máquina de escribir.

Las plumas.

El periódico.

Los papeles.

El teléfono.

“Good morning!” Steve refreshed voice greeted. He and Javier strode their way to your conjoined desks, holding breakfast from the morning meeting you opted out of. Steve was holding an extra donut wrapper in a thin white paper. Javi was holding two steaming cups of coffee. “For you,” Steve offered the donut which you gladly accepted with a thank you.

Javi handed the second cup of coffee to you, “Tu café.”

“Gracias, Javi,” you lifted the cup in thanks. The three of you took a seat at your respective desks. You took a sip of the coffee Javi made. Two sugars and creamer, you thought. He remembered. You glanced up to meet his knowing eyes, and he gave you a sly grin before scanning the document in front of him.

“What’s with all this?” Steve asked, snatching the taped note on your telephone.

“Spanish lessons. Courtesy of Peña,” you answered through a mouthful of donut.

“How come you never offer to teach me Spanish, Javi?” Steve turned to his male partner accusingly.

“You’re not nearly as pretty as her, Murphy,” Javier answered, looking up from his paperwork. His words made you slightly choke on your donut. You took a sip of your coffee to wash down the clump that threaten to lodge itself into your throat.

“Oh I’m not enough for you?” Steve jokingly retorted, making you nearly spit out your coffee. You set down your coffee and opened your top drawer to look for the napkins you kept there. To your surprise, you found another note, this time folded, on top of your napkins. The note read, “Buenos días, querida.” You stuffed the note to the back of your drawer before pulling out a napkin and wiping your mouth of the sticky sugar leftover from the donut. Javier and Steve had stopped joking with each other, each occupied with their respective tasks. You locked eyes with Javi and raised an eyebrow, a small smirk on your face. Javi responded by winking at you, making you press your lips together, suppressing a grin from forming. The shrill ring from your phone broke your focus on Javi who returned his attention to his work.

“Meeting with the boss, boys,” you sighed as you hung up the phone. “Let’s go.” The simultaneous scrape of their chairs at your words started to burst the bubble of mirth from moments before, tugging you back to reality. Steve walked ahead of you and Javi, but Javi stayed behind, waiting for you to walk ahead of him. You thanked him with a nod of your head. His hand subtly rested on the small of your back as you passed him, burning an imprint on your skin and heightening your awareness of his presence. Did he buy a new shirt? You could’ve sworn he didn’t have this shirt before, but ever since you mentioned blue being one of your favorite colors, he seemed to add more blue in his rotation. Javi waited for you to enter the conference room first to which you replied, “Salamat.”

“De nada,’ Javi replied. This became a habit between the two of you as your relationship progressed. Javi would speak in Spanish, and you would respond in Tagalog. The two of you would then translate your sentences together, taking note of words you didn’t understand. You didn’t take notice of how often the two of you did this, until Steve once commented that he, out of all people, should definitely be the one learning Spanish. You had laughed at his comment that day, and Javi agreed to interpret for the two of you when out in the field. Still, this back-and-forth was special between the two of you. Something so endearing which stemmed from Javi seeking to comfort you from the pitfalls of an assignment abroad. Spanish and Tagalog lessons frequently happened over dinner.

Well, dinner was a loose term for it. In reality, it was one of you coming in to the other’s respective apartments across the hall. From there, the two of you would, eat, laugh, talk, drink…amongst other things. More often than not, the visitor would end up sleeping over, and they would have to sneak out of the apartment to return home, trying to avoid Steve or Connie. Like you said, this, whatever this is, was between the two of you. No one else. You’d never tell Javi this, but you did find a paper list in his apartment once. On it were Tagalog words you had taught him earlier, some spelled phonetically rather than correctly, although admittedly the spelling was close.

Halik - Beso

Maganda - Bonita, Hermosa

Sinta - Querida

Pag-ibig - Amor

And then the four words that made your eyes widen. The four words that were emboldened by his repeated tracing over the letters as if carefully carving it into his memory for fear of forgetting. The four words that made a strong heat grow in your chest, creep up your neck, and settle in your cheeks. The four words rushed blood to your ears, amplifying the elevated beating of your heart.

Mahal kita - Te amo

I love you.

He had asked how to say “I love you” after dinner some nights ago. The question was casual, and he had worked it into the conversation so skillfully that you hadn’t given it a second thought until you found his list. You mouthed the words carefully and repeatedly. Te amo. Te amo. Te amo. Te amo. Javi’s voice had called for you from the living room, and you quickly hid the list before going out to join him on the couch.

That was a week ago, and since finding that list, you had practiced the words over and over again in the mirror. Anticipation had settled into your bones. A weight had lifted itself off your shoulders, bringing a new spring to your step and a new outlook on life, even one as bleak and as challenging as the one you chose to lead. Plainly speaking, it didn’t take long for you to know. You loved him too.

The meeting droned on and on. The voices of the men around you soon warped into a garbled mess, undistinguished and tiresome. The tediousness of the meeting was made apparent by everyone springing out of the room, and your mind was still foggy until Javi’s voice broke your daze. “Dinner at my place?” Javi mumbled low enough for only you to hear.

“Sure, same time?” you whispered.

“Yep,” he answered. The two of you walked back to your desks where Steve was talking to someone on the phone, scribbling something on a scrap of paper. He hung up and turned to you and Javi, scrunches his brows at how close the two of you were walking. Both of you took notice of his watchful eye and promptly parted, with you picking at random objects at your desk.

“Uh,” Steve cleared his throat before announcing, “That was Carrillo. He wants to meet with us for a debrief.”

“Okay,” you and Javi said simultaneously. This made the two of you glance at each other before looking at Steve, whose gaze flickered between the two of you. He sighed and shook his head before saying,

“I’ll drive.” You swatted Javi’s arm on the way out to Steve’s car to which he chuckled, clutching his arm in feigned pain. Carrillo was all business, as usual. He went down his methodical list of questions about any information the DEA had on Escobar to which the three of you provided. Carrillo had brought out a map marked with the latest rumored drop-off sites in nearby neighborhoods, all circled in bold, red ink. He handed Steve a marker to mark confirmed sites. Javi, ever the gentleman, offered you a glass of water when he noticed you fanning yourself with a manila folder.

“Agua?” Javi offered.

“Salamat. This is tubig,” you explained.

“What’s too big?” he asked confusedly.

You laughed at his misunderstanding. “No, water is called tubig.”

“Ohhh, I got it,” Javi nodded in understanding. You continued giggling, and Javi smiled at your amusement. It wasn’t until you turned to meet Steve and Carrillo’s ever-observant stares that the two of you immediately dropped your amused expressions and put on your game faces, pointedly avoiding each other’s gaze as if scolded by your schoolteacher for being caught.

“I think we should go to this one here today,” Carrillo pointed out on the map. “See what people know.”

“I agree,” Steve said. “Let’s head out.” Carrillo gestured with his arm for you to go first, and you obliged, walking in pace with Steve. Then, you heard the loud, unmistakable sound of a smack, and you turned around to be met with the sight of Javi rubbing the back of his head and Carrillo’s smug smirk. The trip to the discussed barrio was a short one, and it was quite the spectacle with five squad cars and Steve’s car wedged into the middle of the squadron. The humid heat coupled with the fact people were being secretive and protecting Escobar fanned the flames of your frustration. You understood why, but this made your job a whole lot harder. You were talking to an older woman sitting outside her home when you heard a thud on the roof behind you. A lower-ranking sicario made eye contact with you before darting the opposite direction.

“Suspect headed eastbound. In pursuit. Need backup. Over.” You sprinted toward the sicario’s direction, staying on the ground while a couple uniformed police officers chased him on the roofs. You cut through an alley to hopefully cut the sicario off. Turns out, Javi had the same idea because he turned the corner at the same time. Both of you nodded at each other, and Javi took the lead. Up ahead, you saw a man gesturing wildly to someone on the roof to come to the running car. You looked up in time to the sicario jump across roofs and shimmy down to the ground. Javi and you ran to the end of the alley, and Javi turned the corner to pursue the car. You’re not sure what came over you. Call it instinct. Or maybe sheer luck. You grasped Javi’s elbow and tugged him back with all your might to the cover of the alley and flush against your body. Gunshots rang out and whizzed past the two of you, pinging at nearby cars and windows. Javi hugged you close to him and acted as a human shield. Screeching of tires flooded your ears as the sicario’s car revved away from the barrio.

Javi pulled away and held your face in his hands, looking you over for any injuries. “Are you ok, querida? Did you get hurt?!”

“I’m ok. I’m ok,” You swallowed down the tight knot forming in the back of your throat and croaked out, “Are you?” Javi nodded before planting a kiss on your forehead and crushing you against him. You squeezed your arms around his torso reveling in the feeling of his body against yours. The two of you didn’t let go until you heard Carrillo’s voice through your walkie-talkie, asking for one of you to confirm your location. Javi reached for his talkie and confirmed both of you were safe and would be headed back. The two of you locked eyes with each other, chests heaving, and before you could move, Javi crushed you against his chest again, clutching a tuft of your hair and muttering Spanish under his breath. He was speaking too fast for you to even pick up a word, but you were happy to just hear the beat of his pounding heart.

“We should go,” you begrudgingly muttered. “Steve is gonna come looking for us.” Javi planted one last kiss on your forehead, and your eyes fluttered close at the feel of his soft lips against your skin. He’s here, you thought. He’s here, and he’s safe. The rest of the day passed by without much fanfare. Steve and Carrillo were met with nods when they asked if you and Javi were ok. You were the only one who was able to provide verbal details. Javi remained silent. After debriefing with Carrillo, the car ride back to work passed in silence. The end of the day came quickly enough, and it wasn’t until you shut your apartment door shut that the events of the day came rushing back to you.

You had almost lost Javier today. He was almost shot, and you almost lost him. There were no tears as you expected. No sobs wracking your body. Just a deep and heavy realization. You tossed your keys and purse on to the table and wrenched open the door only to be met with Javier — fist raised about to knock on your door.

“Fuck, Javi!” You clutched your heaving chest in surprise. “You scared the shit out of me!”

“Mahal kita!” Javi proclaimed.

“…what?!”

“Mahal kita. I was waiting until tonight to say it, but after today, I can’t wait. I could’ve died. I could’ve died and never told you and…

“Te amo,” you cut in. “Te amo mucho.” Tears were now falling down your cheeks. Javier broke out in a big smile which you mirrored. He let out a breath he had been holding before taking your face in his hands and kissing you. The kiss easily deepened. Your mouths locked in a desperate dance to prove over and over again that this was real. You were here. He was here, and the two of you loved each other. Javi broke the kiss to pepper small kisses on your forehead, cheeks, chin, jaw, and neck — eliciting small giggles out of you.

“Hey guys…” Steve’s voice chimed in, making Javi and you jump away from each other. Steve and Connie were holding a case of beer and a tray of brownies, their wide-eyed stares focused on you and Javi.

“I knew it!” Connie exclaimed. She bumped her elbow against Steve’s arm. “I told you they were dating.” You broke out in a relieved laugh at Connie’s words, letting your shoulders drop.

Steve came and placed his arms around Javi and you and led all of you inside your open apartment. “You two have a lot of explaining to do.”

_______________________________________________

Translations that weren’t explained:

El escritorio - the desk

La máquina de escribir - the typewriter

Las plumas - the pens

El periódico - the newspaper

Los papeles - the papers

El teléfono - the telephone

Buenos días, querida - Good morning, dear/desired one

Part 1 + Masterlist

A/N: Let me know what you think and/or if you would like to be added to my taglists!

General: @peppermintvanillaa @fantasticcopeaglepasta @panda-angela

Kilig series: @multifandomlife22 @princeabomination @thottiewinemom @svetlana-beilschmidt

This fic: @mxndoscyarika

#javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #javier peña imagine #javier peña fanfiction #narcos fanfiction #narcos imagine #javier peña x filipina!reader #javier peña x filipino!reader #javier peña x filipinx!reader #kilig series #halfwaythereroyalwrites

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blackssuunn-mandoandyodito · 4 years

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Tabaco y Brea

Part 6

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!reader

Warnings: graphic descriptions of violence, angst, nightmares, dissappointment, I think that's it.

Summary: Everything becomes strained and awkward after what happened in Cali, putting a strain on your friendship with Javi. But you have to fix it, before it's too late.

A/N: I’m sorry for taking so long but here it is for anyone who’s interested. I hope you enjoy it!

You can find all previous parts in my masterlist

The air of Colombia in the morning feels great after a night of fun with Javi. There are parts of your body that haven't been sore in a while, not since you went to México two years ago at least. The picture from that trip on the bedside table in your room makes waking up easier.

Your feet make noise as you walk without shoes to the kitchen, finding the sight of Javier shirtless very pleasing. His plaid pants are hanging low on his hips as he hums a tune that sounds a lot like Aerosmith.

His ring glints as he moves his left hand to mix the eggs at the stove, sunlight illuminating him in a way that should be considered as a form of art. His watch looks blurry to you, but you don’t pay too much attention to it.

Sleepy, you wrap your arms around his waist and squeeze.

'Why did you get up?" You ask, groggy and warm from the bed. He chuckles.

"Someone has to keep us fed around here”

His voice is rough from sleep too, so he probably hasn't been awake too long either. His hips start swaying to the imaginary music that must be playing inside his head, moving you along with him. His skin is so warm against yours it makes you relax against him, giving him little kisses on his back.

You turn your head to look at the living room. The newspaper that’s on the table has a bloody picture with a big headline that you can’t read. It makes you frown. Maybe you will have to get a pair of glasses soon.

Everything feels warm, safe. Javier presses back against you, sighing deeply. You smile.

Your eyes look to the side and see a shadow moving. Not even a second after, you draw in a startled breath and a ray of sunlight glints off a knife. You pull Javi against you to get him out of the way, but not being fast enough, the blade slices through his chest. You feel the force of the stab through his body, pushing you back when a cry of pain leaves his lips and his body hits the floor when you can't take his weight.

Kneeling, you frantically move your hand to grab at the gun under the table, but it isn’t there. When you turn to see who may have taken it, there’s no one but the two of you in the room.

Or rather, there’s only you in the room. Javier is too still, his chest isn’t raising and falling from breathing. His brown eyes are lifeless as they look up to the ceiling.

You kneel down in front of him, gripping his shoulders and palming his chest, getting your hands soaked with blood. You can’t stop the sob that tears out of you.

“Javier!” you scream. “Javier, wake up!”

Red hands glint when you look down. His eyes don't shine anymore.

“You promised” you wail, left alone in the room, with a lifeless body in front of you.

Your body bolts up in your bed, gasping for the hundredth time in the past two weeks and covered in a cold sweat. The rise and fall of your chest feel too quick to be real, even after so many past experiences. The room is filled with moonlight seeping through the white curtains that cover your window. For some reason, it makes your heart ache more.

Pain is universal. Some people feel it down their stomach, with a knot that pulls and contracts at every thought that brings something you don't want to remember or think about. Some others feel it in their chest, something swelling and constricting every breath they take, aching right at the center. Some feel it in their throats, pain and anger clogging their pipe, teary eyes, and swollen face is commonly found those times too.

The kind of pain you're feeling right now seems to include all of them.

Once again, the bed is empty, and the vague memories of the dream you just had start to mix with every other you've had in 15 days. They are always variations of the same thing, always leave you hopeless and scared. The tears stream down your face once again, increasing the fear that has been clogging your system since everything that happened in Cali.

The most horrible part of everything is that you're not sure what's worse, dreaming of Javi dying in different ways every night or the knowledge that every single one is possible and you can't do anything about it.

A ella no la tocamos mexicanito, one narco had said. A ella no la tocamos, pero a vos sí. (We don't mess with her, little Mexican, we don't mess with her but we mess with you)

They had been saying rude comments about you all night instead of answering your questions, but Javi finally snapped when the one nicknamed Jarrogrande told you to give him "cacho mami, que uste' se ve que es bien conchuda" (a chance, you look like you're shameless) and smashed his head against the table. Both of them realized that what was happening was for real, and started talking. Ironic how every single narco seemed to brag about loyalty but ended up talking when their skin was in the line.

The words of Mosca, the other one, rang in your ears for the rest of the night and stuck in your head to the point of giving you nightmares all these days. You had no clue what he had meant, neither did Javi or Steve. Even after hours of interrogation, spilling about the recruitment of young boys they had been doing in the Comuna 3, not one word of explanation had left their mouths about it.

It made you uneasy, so much that the idea of sleeping was almost scary by this point, even though you always ended up falling asleep no matter how much coffee you drank and how much you tried to stay awake reading.

No human should go through this and yet here you are, crying repeatedly over the visual of Javier getting stabbed this time, less perturbed than with the last dream where he flew through the air after being hit by a car several times. And not once, not even the first time, could you have done anything about it. And if you can't do anything about it in your own dreams, what would happen in real life?

The worst one yet had been one where you both were sleeping together and someone broke into your apartment, shooting him right next to you. And you couldn't do anything, just lay there and watch how life slipped away from his brown eyes as his body went limp.

You turn around to the bedside clock. It reads 5:03 A.M.

Tired from a night full of restless sleep, you move your legs over the bed and stand up, rubbing your eyes and wiping the tears from your face. Barefoot, you make your way to the shower and strip your clothes off. A short and a tank top are the only things you can handle at night, the humidity seems to skyrocket as soon as the sun goes down. It should get more fresh, for fuck's sake.

Pulling the curtain to the side, you open the shower and step inside, letting the water wash away the sweat and discomfort that the 15th night in a row tormented with nightmares left you.

"Is everything okay?"

Steve's voice makes you jump as you attempt to read reports in your desk, uselessly. The lack of sleep is finally starting to take its toll, all day you've been nodding off.

The fact that Javier is avoiding you like the plague doesn't help at all.

"Yeah," you answer, "just tired."

He frowns at you from his brand new desk across yours. Stacks of paper fill it completely, manila folders in every space available. The smoke of his and Javi's cigarettes go directly at your zone, and seeing how he smokes just as much as Javi makes you wonder how he managed to control himself when he was working at your table.

"You don't look just tired"

Rolling your eyes, you turn to Javi's desk, where he's completely buried in studying a map of Cali spread above his mess. The barrio zone in Carrera 8 is underlined with a red marker as he traces the path you followed the narcos after the club. You clear your throat, hoping to get his attention.

He grunts without turning to look at you. The blue shirt he's wearing today makes his skin glow in a way that makes your hands itch to touch. You swallow the lump in your throat.

"Do you need help?" you ask, sounding much more composed than you feel. Surprisingly, he nods and gestures for you to come close, signaling somewhere in the map.

"Can you remember where we followed them to?"

Distracted, you roam the paper with your eyes and point at where you think they went.

"I know it's right where Carrera 8 crosses the Alfonso López Bridge, but I can't tell you exactly where that is in the map"

His face lights up slightly at the mention of the bridge, bringing his hand up to draw a circle at an intersection you had failed to see. He bows his head at you subtly.

"Thanks"

"No problem"

The interaction feels so awkward and forced that your instinct is activating the urge to either say something or run away. You're more inclined to do the later but end up doing neither as you return to your desk. You can feel Steve's piercing look right on your skull.

Even the air feels too heavy to breathe. It had never been like that, not even in your first days at the office or worst fights. Javi always tried to fix it by buying you food or cracking a joke to ease the tension, never really addressing what started the fight.

Maybe that's the problem, you're not used to communicating verbally and this isn't something you just shrug off.

And if it wasn't enough, you're sure Javi has also realized your poor state caused by lack of sleep. Every time you try to make coffee, he drinks it all and doesn't leave any to you, he stays with Steve at the office until they make sure you'll leave, and when he thinks you're not looking, he gives you side glances with a concerned expression you had only seen the first time after your first raid in Bogotá. He knows something's wrong, he's just not sure what.

"Bera," Steve's voice pulls you out of your thoughts, "aren't you hungry?"

You're surprised to feel a void in your stomach at his mention, realizing that yes, you are hungry.

You nod, cocking your head to one side as you look at him.

Just then Javi straightens and grabs his jacket without saying anything, not even turning to look at neither of you. A lump in your throat makes itself present once again when logic tells you where he must be going at this specific hour.

"Where are you going?" Steve dares to ask. Javi keeps walking.

"Out"

You confirm your thoughts when he puts his hand inside his pocket as if checking for something to be inside.

Your eyes burn as he walks away and climbs up the stairs. Something grips your chest tight, makes your stomach clench, and your temperature rise.

You shouldn't feel like that, it's not like Javi is doing something wrong. You're not together, he's not cheating on you.

You just wish your heart agreed.

Murphy's voice breaks you out of your pain.

"Here," he gestures for you to get closer as he takes out a big recipient from under his desk and opens it, a wonderful smell of food that floods your senses and eases the ache in your heart a little. Then he pulls out another one and serves some food inside.

You stand up and pull your chair towards him, sitting in front of his desk and moving the folders just enough to leave space to eat. He hands you a spoon and the second recipient, but it feels close to being offered a hug, a sense that you're not alone, that he understands.

“Connie is trying to learn traditional dishes,” he offers as an explanation, smiling sheepishly. You take a bite and moan, marveling at the taste of Bogotá meatloaf.

“Well she’s doing great”

You eat in comfortable silence for a few seconds, afraid of mentioning what you both know about Javier’s absence.

You realize Steve is itching to tell you something, so you try to show as much openness as possible. He seems to catch on it, so he swallows and clears his throat.

“Why do they call you Bera?” he, after so many days of wanting to and not doing it, finally asks. But doesn’t dare to look at you while he does.

“It’s a long story,” you answer, smiling at the soft tone he uses.

“I think we’ve got time”

You take a deep breath and sit back in your chair, with your legs crossed and the plastic container resting on top.

“On my first week,” you start, “we had one of the most important raids there has been in the past two years”

“The one where you found one of Escobar’s hideouts?” he interrupts, looking at you expectantly. You nod, chuckling when he takes a mouthful of food and urges you to continue.

“I met Carrillo, and he wanted to boss me around as if I were one of his soldiers. Javier wasn’t too happy about it but didn’t say anything. We are in his country, after all”

“He can be an asshole, uh?” Steve mutters. You’re not sure who he's talking about, but either way, it’s true, just in different levels and senses.

“When he realized I wasn’t going to let him, he called me berraca. I slapped him because I thought he meant it offensively, but it turned out to be a compliment." Steve arches one eyebrow at that. "He then clarified he had called me berraca with b and not with v while he rubbed his cheek,” you say, smiling at the memory. His skin had been so red you feared it would stay like that for a while. If you had hit him a little to the left, his lip would have probably split open.

“What’s the difference?” he asks, confused.

“Verraca with v means stallion pig. Berraca with b can mean many many things, but one of them is brave.”

Steve nods, pursing his lips, with narrow eyes as if he was studying something. "Well, he's right."

You smile, pleased that he agrees with it.

"It just morphed to Bera as a way of making fun of gringos," you finish. "You can't pronounce the hard r, so you say beraca instead of berraca. Javi started calling me Bera as a joke and it stuck."

Something inside Steve's mind goes quiet with the new knowledge. He can barely talk in Spanish, maybe he understands it a little better. But he's sure he would use that word to describe you too. It fits.

But now that he thinks of it, Javier and Carrillo say it in different tones, something he hadn't been conscious about before.

Carrillo says it like a challenge. As if he's waiting for you to react, to attack. Something bugs Steve in the way the colonel spits it out of his mouth, almost afraid of something everyone else is unaware of but prepared to take on it.

Javier, instead, says it like a prayer. His eyes sparkle and the corners of his lips rise slightly, amused but with something soft on his face. And it's not like he's not always like that around you because he is, he's less frowny and, dare Steve say, less of an asshole when you're close. He almost becomes nice. But when he calls you that, there is also admiration brightening his skin, shining in his eyes, beyond anything else he most likely feels when he looks at you.

He would have loved a warning before getting inside this mess though.

One of the things that has stuck with him since he arrived was the time both you and Javier left to meet one of your informants and when you came back, Javier was nursing a bruise on his face and others on his knuckles, fuming. You looked at him with such annoyance but wonder simultaneously that it gave Steve whiplash.

When one of the other agents in the office got close to Murphy and explained that that specific informant was always too sassy, especially with you, he understood why Javier came back like that.

“He’s very protective in general,” the way the other agent had muttered it let him know Javier didn’t like any talk about it, “but there is always something worse than Hell coming for anyone who messes with her.”

It sounded like a cheesy movie, and Steve knew you hated it when either of them tried to protect you, but he could see it was the truth.

He doesn’t understand how you haven’t gotten together though, it just seems too irrational not to. If Javier doesn’t care about the rule of no relationships with informants, why would he care about the rule that also prohibits them between co-workers?

The phone rings suddenly when he starts to get deeper in thought, making both of you jump. Steve picks it up, frowning.

You start to worry when his face goes white and his back straightens, motioning you to give him something to write on.

He answers affirmatively a couple of times while he writes something on top of the sheet of paper you gave him, hurriedly. When he hangs up, the stare he gives you worries you even more.

"Javier just found a hideout." You freeze at his words. "He called from a public phone and said he needed backup because someone most likely identified him.”

Your blood starts pumping so loud in your ears they feel like they’re going to explode. Your chest feels tight, making breathing harder, and blurring your sight.

Something inside your head whispers that this is going to end just like your nightmares, that you're going to lose him and never get to tell him everything you want. Javier is going to die, and you're too far to do anything about it.

Panic starts to cover your whole body when Steve's hand touches your arm and pulls, forcing you to look at him.

"We gotta be quick! Move!"

His tone orders your body to do as he says, picking up your gun and tucking it behind your pants. Steve does the same while screaming to the rest in the office, ordering around, and putting everything in motion. You can't understand what they're saying, but soon someone is shoving a bulletproof vest for you to put on, and you quickly do it. Instinctively, you pull one from somebody's hands and hold it tight, thinking of Javier.

All of you run outside to the cars and Steve starts driving like a maniac towards the address that Javier told him. He hands you the built-in radio between your seats and you start shouting orders to anyone who might be hearing on the line.

The way the car moves makes your body shake.

Or maybe it's the fear, you're not really sure.

You close your eyes and try to evocate Javier's voice reading to you, a few weeks back.

Era en verdad una aldea feliz, donde nadie era mayor de treinta años y donde nadie había muerto. (It was a truly happy village, where no one was over thirty years of age and where no one had died)

Please stay safe Javier, you thought. Please don't do anything stupid until I get there.

Adrenaline starts pumping through your veins like a freight train, shutting down anything else you might be feeling.

In some weird, twisted joke of life, many moments you spent with Javier start to pass in front of your eyes. Back in 1980, when you had gone to the cinema to break away from the depressive aura of the office. The first time you ate in Salomé. When he, for the first and last time, went to your apartment and you had watched Rocky while making fun of Stallone's voice. At Christmas, when he gifted you a tape for your Walkman. The way his eyes had glinted when you had given him a special edition vinyl of Led Zeppelin IV.

It hurts, to think about all that and know you may never live any of it again after this.

When Steve hits the brakes with no warning, you immediately wrench the door open and kneel behind it, pointing in front of you through the window in case someone shoots.

There are four military Jeeps behind you, with soldiers quickly jumping down from them and forming lines around the zone. Their colonel signals them to move forward.

Something gives you a bad feeling, everything is too quiet, too still. There are not even people walking around in their normal day, the streets are completely deserted.

You can hear your heavy breathing, sweat dripping down your back as you look for any signs of movement.

A gun gets reloaded somewhere to your left, and it takes you a second to turn around and point at where the sound came from when someone else shoots them first.

This gives the narcos the distraction they needed. Guns start to fire in time someone yells at your team to get cover, bullets ricocheting from the cars, and breaking the windows to pieces.

From the corner of your eye, you see Javi's back as he hides in one of the alleys, soaked in sweat. He's breathing so hard you can even hear it over the blood that's pumping on your ears. He seems unharmed though, there are no spots of blood on his clothes.

In a stupid decision to try and keep him that way, you scream his name, making him turn to look at you.

His eyes almost bulge out of his skull as he sees how carelessly you are acting by giving away your position, but without a second thought, he starts to run towards you, his gun gripped tight on his hand and moving with such urgency it makes you anxious.

Once he gets next to you and kneels beside you, you lose all words. He's safe, he's next to you, healthy y uninjured. Around you, there's shouting, followed by gunfires. None of it matters for a second.

Your brain reminds you of the bulletproof vest you brought for him when you look down and see he lost his jacket at some point, so you turn to grab it and give it to him. He seems incredulous, you don't really understand why.

"Just put it on," your voice leaves no space for arguing. He nods, strapping it quickly while you cover any shot that may get you.

Both of you stand up, pointing in front of your bodies as you walk towards the sudden line of cars that are on the other side of the street.

Even if they wanted, there's no way they're getting out of this. You have them at least five to one, with far more weapons and advantage.

Again, something doesn't seem right. It's too stupid, a mistake that is too careless and idiotic for them to make it without any other intentions.

You stop breathing when, by chance, you get a glimpse of Escobar's hair in the backseat of a blue Sedan.

He feels your stare, turns to look at you, and grins. Your whole body freezes, with your fingers stiff on your gun.

All air leaves your lungs and the blood from your face drains.

The way he smiles, with a familiarity you don't know where it comes from, makes a shiver run down your spine.

Javi feels it, turning to look at you briefly and ask what's wrong when suddenly, Escobar gives an order you can't hear to one of his men and he starts to walk directly towards you in the middle of the chaos.

Javier reacts immediately. He pushes you behind him, recharging his gun and firing at the same time as the other man.

Everything happens in slow motion.

Both of them fire twice before anything else happens. Javi gets two shots right in the middle of the other's chest, but the man gets two on his chest too.

Blood starts to spread over the man's shirt, red and bubbling quickly. No one pays attention to him as they keep shooting and shouting, the blue Sedan leaving without anyone but you noticing what just happened. Escobar shouts something for you to hear, but you're too distracted to pay attention.

Panic rises in your throat when the impact knocks Javier back, making him give a short yell when he instinctively moves his hand to grab at his chest. You move fast to cushion his fall, stopping him from hitting the floor too hard.

Tears flood your eyes as you frenéticamente move your hands to assess the damage when Javi's hands grab yours and stop you.

"I'm okay," he mutters, but there's pain in his voice. He tries to smile at you but fails, wincing. The way his grip tightens around your fingers bring your brain back a little to reality, and you realize there's no blood on his body.

The vest.

A relieved sob leaves your mouth when you realize the worst he can have is a few cracked ribs. You thank past you for thinking of bringing that heavy horrible thing with you.

Around you, everything starts to die down when the few narcos that aren't injured or dead climb in their cars and run away. There are just three injured soldiers from your side, and it's nothing fatal.

Steve comes out of nowhere and kneels down next to you, speaking words that come silent to your eyes.

You and Javier look at each other, with fear and relief and anger all mixed together in your eyes. The love he sees in your eyes shatters him, makes the pain in his chest feel sharper.

Neither of you says anything as Steve helps him stand up so you can take him to get checked up, but he never looks away from you. Your friend is amazed at how quickly Javi can change from completely aggressive to absolute tenderness in just a few seconds.

But when it's about you, he knows both feelings come from the same place.

You don't say a word on the trip to the hospital, but all the way both of you are gripping the other's hand as if your lives depend on it.

Maybe they do.

Your body feels like you just went into shock. None of anything that happened feels real, anything but Javier's touch seems fake. He's shaking against you, and that's not common at all. His leg is jumping from the adrenaline in a way that would be funny if it wasn't because he almost died a few minutes ago.

He plants a kiss on your head, gripping your fingers tighter.

The sun is in your eyes when the car starts heading down another street. You start to crash, leaning your head on his shoulder as a deep male voice sings from the radio.

He wishes he could rest with you too, but something is bothering Javier.

He heard what Escobar shouted at you.

-/-

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#javier peña x you #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña x reader #javier peña imagine #javier peña #pedro pascal fanfiction #narcos fanfiction #narcos fanfic #narcos #my writing

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zwritestuff · 4 years

Text

if you fall, i fall [jackie/nicky]

a/n: for the lovely layla @portfoliono ! i hope you like it, it’s 7.4K of tooth rotting nackie fluff, because you said you like jackie and your favorite ship is nackie, so i ran with it. i hope i did it justice. the prompt for this fic comes from @dailyau “We’re teachers and our students keep getting in trouble and causing general mayhem to try to get us together so let’s just pretend to date so they stop doing that and whoops I think I kind of like you now.”

also- thanks for frey for beta-ing and catching the plot holes. what would i do without you?

ao3 link.

***

Jackie has to bite her lower lip to prevent a loud laugh from escaping her mouth, but as Nicky keeps on talking, it becomes nearly impossible.

“And then they promised me they’d stop cheating on the tests if I asked you on a date. I wonder if they’d keep that promise, though, because some of them clearly cheated on these exams,” she finishes, holding up two paper sheets with same mistakes, and Jackie erupts in laughter.

It’s already a routine for them to have a second breakfast together in the teachers room on Fridays, since Nicky rarely eats breakfast on her own, and talk about the crazy stuff their students say and do to convince them they should date each other. Jackie’s not sure how it all started, nor where did they get the idea, but it had been going on ever since the school year started and at this point, they’re finding it more amusing than annoying.

Well, Jackie finds it amusing. Nicky not so much.

“The little shits are getting on my nerves,” Nicky declares solemnly, earning a slap in the arm from Jackie. “What? I’m not wrong,” she says with a cocky smile, sipping on her coffee.

Jackie cocks a brow, taking a bite from her toast. “No, you’re not. But don’t call the kids ‘little shits’,” she scolds her, and Nicky puts her hands up in mock surrender.

She’s not a fan of calling their students names —what teacher is?— but she definitely has to agree with Nicky. They are little shits. Not all of them, clearly, but the overwhelming majority is, anyway.

Jackie slouches in her chair, stretching her wrists as she sighs, looking at the pile of papers she has yet to grade. She takes a long sip from her mug and rests her head in her palms, watching closely as Nicky grades exams, muttering words in French and occasionally complaining to Jackie that an exam is clearly done with Google Translate. She chuckles softly, making the oh so typical comment about how they didn’t have Google Translate when they were in Middle School, and Nicky laughs wholeheartedly.

“When I was in Middle School, I didn’t have half the guts the kids have these days,” she says, grabbing her red marker and circling a few mistakes in a sentence. Jackie hums in agreement. “Not that it’s bad, it’s amazing. These kids are the future. I just wish they’d use it for something more important than convincing us to go on a date.” Nicky rolls her eyes, discarding the red marker and moving onto the next exam.

Jackie thinks for a moment that it doesn’t bother her half as much as it should, because they’re still children and it’s normal for them to act childishly, and that, if anything, she’s flattered the kids think her and —in their words— “the pretty French teacher with a nice accent” would ever go on a date with her if she tried hard enough, because half of the teacher staff is already after Nicky.

Well, anyone with functioning eyes is after Nicky, which only makes it more difficult to even have a shot with her.

She doesn’t care, though. Nicky and her have been good friends since Nicky started working at school eight years ago, and Jackie is fine with just being friends. For real. Nicky is fun, has great taste in movies, and always has a cup of wine ready when Jackie needs to vent after a bad day.

They work well as friends, no matter how many times the kids insist they’d go well with each other and that when Jackie is teaching the French revolution, she could have Miss Nicky over to help her with the class.

Out of the blue, an idea crosses her mind. It’s stupid, not practical at all, far too cheesy, and, all in all, not something a grown woman in her thirties should be even thinking of doing — but it settles in her mind, buzzes around incessantly until she can’t help but say it out loud.

“We should just tell them we’re dating already, that’ll get them to stop, surely,” she says, trying to sound as convinced as someone who just suggested to their colleague they should fake-date to stop a bunch of twelve year olds from interrupting their classes.

Nicky cocks an amused brow, a smile creeping on her face as she sets her coffee mug down.

“You think? Isn’t that just adding gasoline to an already burning fire?” She inquires, sounding far too dramatic. Jackie laughs shortly, biting the inside of her cheek, regret slightly washing over. Until a complimentary idea pops up in her head.

“Well, maybe. But if we say we went on a couple dates, or, I don’t know, dated briefly and broke up, maybe that’ll be enough for the kids to drop it,” she suggests, chewing on her lower lip.

She knows it’s stupid to go to such a length to get the kids to drop it, but they’ve reported it to Principal Hall and she just laughed, saying it was just a matter of time before they stopped, or that it’d end once they advanced grades.

Nicky seems intrigued by the idea — how wouldn’t she? She loves those cheesy rom coms with that same trope, or the friends to lovers one, or anything that’s cheesy and sugary enough to leave her longing for a great romance.

Jackie’s not expecting her to say yes, though. Because Nicky is a responsible adult and-

“Alright, let’s do it.”

Oh.

Jackie blinks repeatedly before she registers what Nicky said. “For real?”

Nicky shrugs, giving her a playful smile before taking a sip from her coffee. “I don’t see why not. It’s convenient for both of us, and if I get you to take me to a dinner during it, I have nothing to complain about.” She briefly looks up at her and gives her a sly wink.

Jackie stares at her for a moment. So it’s just as simple as that?

“Alright. Let’s do it,” she echoes, and goes back to grading papers.

And it is as simple as that.

***

It may not be that simple.

For starters, they have to figure out a lot of details; like when was their first date, what did they do, and where did they go.

They get together on a windy Saturday, in a cafeteria that serves the best pastries in the whole city, or so Nicky claims. The least thing Jackie cares about are pastries, but she appreciates it when Nicky buys her one and sets it next to her mug of hot chocolate, claiming that she has to try it or she’s breaking up with her.

Jackie lets out an over the top offended laugh. “Why don’t we tell people that we broke up because we had an irreconcilable fight about pastries?” She suggests playfully, taking a bite of the pie. It tastes amazing, but she’s not giving Nicky the satisfaction of agreeing with her.

Luckily, Nicky is busy devouring her own slice.

“I think that’s a pretty solid reason to break up,” she replies, her mouth is half full, and Jackie scolds her softly, but Nicky dismisses her with a wave of her hand. “I don’t know why are we still fake dating if you don’t consider Shuga’s pastries the best in the whole city,” Nicky teases, and Jackie rolls her eyes with a grin.

“You got something here,” Jackie says, bringing her hand to Nicky’s chin and leaning over the table. Nicky freezes mid-movement, staring intently at Jackie as she gently brushes off the crumbles from the corner of her mouth. “There.” She smiles and withdraws her hand, not thinking much about the way Nicky brings her hand to touch where Jackie’s thumb was just seconds ago, hesitating before going back to what she was doing. She doesn’t think about it at all.

“Thank you,” she mumbles with a small smile. Jackie grins again, dismissing it with a wave of her hand.

They resume their conversation about what the hell they are going to say if questions about their relationship come up, which they will, and Jackie can tell Nicky’s seen one too many movies, because she comes up with stories worth of a Hollywood romance that Julia Roberts probably stars in.

Jackie turns her outlandish ideas a few notches down to make them more believable, and Nicky complains because, to her, it’s totally believable that their first date happened on the coldest day of the year, having dinner over at Nicky’s apartment when the power went out in the whole city, so they lit up candles, wrapped themselves in all Nicky’s blankets and cuddled until the next morning.

It sounds like something, but not a believable something.

Nicky folds her arms with a childish pout, mocking Jackie for her lack of ability to have fun with their little trickery.

“We’re already living our own Hollywood drama, we might as well have fun with it,” she debates matter-of-factly, raising her index finger and straightening her posture. Jackie knows that position and tone, it’s the one she uses when she scolds the kids. She chuckles softly.

“We could have fun, but we gotta make it believable. The kids aren’t idiots,” she points out, and Nicky clicks her tongue, placing her chin on her palm, tapping the table with her perfectly manicured nails as she thinks of another explanation.

Nicky hums thoughtfully as Jackie takes a last sip from her hot chocolate, setting the mug aside. She stares at Nicky, counting and connecting the beauty marks on her face. They remind her of the stars, and before she can get any more cheesier, an idea comes to her mind.

“You know this restaurant called Avril’s? The one that’s on a rooftop with the glass ceiling?” Jackie asks, Nicky nods shortly. “Let’s say we had dinner there and the waiters wanted to kick us out, because we stayed over closing time and were too busy stargazing, talking about everything and anything,” she offers, wondering if it’ll meet Nicky’s standards of romance.

Apparently it does, because she claps excitedly, and her smile is so bright Jackie swears she could outshine the sun.

“That sounds amazing! And something you could treat your fake girlfriend to, y’know,” Nicky cheekily suggests, a playful grin growing in her face.

Jackie snorts. She’s not sure if she means it, but she agrees anyway. Besides, what’s the worst thing that can happen if Nicky texts her one night, demanding to be taken to Avril’s? They’ve had dinner together before, it’s not a big deal.

***

It’s Valentine's Day when they decide to start with their little white lie.

The kids from the students’ council are selling flowers, with personalized little notes for an extra dollar. They do it every year to collect funds for some of the many projects they have going on. If you’re not courageous enough to buy a flower and send it to the person you like, they deliver it anonymously for five more dollars. The middle school kids are always sending each other flowers anonymously, with the occasional brave boy that walks up to his crush —usually a girl from higher grade— and gives them the flowers before running away.

Jackie knows it’s Nicky’s favorite part of the entire year — of course it is — so she wasn’t the least bit surprised when Nicky suggested she gives her a bouquet of roses right in the middle of the hallway. Jackie preferred something a little more lowkey, but Nicky put on puppy eyes and batted her eyelashes prettily, and she said please several times, so Jackie lost the war before it began.

The bell for recess echoes through the entire school and Jackie calmly collects her stuff as the kids exit the class with clear enthusiasm. She bids them goodbye, tells them to remember to do their homework, and soon she’s alone in the class again, suddenly wondering if she should go with the plan.

Almost as if on cue, a text from Nicky comes through.

I’m waiting for you already, xo.

She bites her lower lip. She can do this, it’s just buying flowers, walking a few feet to meet Nicky, and then hiding in the teachers’ room before she has to teach her next History class. Easy peasy.

Jackie walks up to the nearest flower stand, noticing how a few of the students she’s just said goodbye to are floating around. Perfect.

She greets the students, asks how the sells are going, and they chirp excitedly about all the anonymous deliveries they’re doing.

“Do you wanna buy some flowers, Miss Cox?” One of the girls, Melissa, asks sweetly, batting her eyelashes and pushing a bouquet of roses towards the teacher.

Jackie laughs wholeheartedly. “Sure, why not? How much for these?”

“Ten dollars.” Melissa’s smile doesn’t even quiver. Jackie quirks an eyebrow. She’s making Nicky buy her a slice of pie for this.

“Alright.” She pays for the roses, and the kids ask if they’re for her mother or someone especial. “Wouldn’t you guys like to know,” Jackie teases, thanking them for the bouquet and walking away, heart racing in her chest as she walks towards Nicky.

Nicky’s talking with the art teacher, Crystal, perched against the door of the art classroom, looking casual as ever. Sometimes Jackie wonders if Nicky really is as laid back and relaxed as she always seems or if she’s a great actress.

Jackie takes a deep breath, and it’s not long until she can hear Crystal ramble about the art exhibition she’s prepared with the kids, and Nicky nods with a polite smile, saying something Jackie can’t quite make out.

It’s then when it hits her that other teachers don’t know about their little scheme.

Shit.

“Jackie! Hi!” Crystal chirps excitedly upon laying eyes on her, and Nicky turns to see her with a smile shiny like that day at the coffee shop. It makes Jackie feel a little lightheaded, but she manages to babble out a greeting. “How have your classes been so far?” She asks sweetly, and Jackie awkwardly settles herself next to Nicky.

“As good as they can be on a day like this, and you?” She politely asks back, and Crystal happily babbles about the cheesy projects her students turned in when she said the theme for today was love.

“One of them did a realistic portrait of a rose, and it was so pretty! It was like the ones you have,” Crystal points out innocently, but she stops for a second, blinks repeatedly, and looks back and forth between Jackie and the rose bouquet she’s holding. “Oh, you have roses. Are they for anyone in particular?” She asks, but by her tone Jackie can tell she hasn’t quite caught on the way Nicky leans against her, wrapping her hands around her bicep.

Nicky’s touch sends shivers down Jackie’s spine, and, for the love of everything holy, she tries not to blush and to keep her voice steady as she speaks.

“Yeah, they are,” she vaguely says. Because Crystal didn’t ask for who they are. And besides, she probably has an idea of who-

“Aw, that’s nice! I hope your Valentine likes them. I’m gonna buy some flowers for my own Valentine too, see ya around!”

Oh. So it really wasn’t a lie that Crystal is oblivious.

Jackie just stands there awkwardly, with Nicky still hanging off her arm. She turns to see her and hands her the bouquet.

“For you,” she simply says with a meek smile. Nicky coos, grabbing the bouquet, smelling the flowers and slightly pressing it against her chest. “You owe me a slice of pie from Shuga’s,” Jackie whispers in her ear, and Nicky rolls her eyes, smile still present on her face.

“Consider it a date,” she teases, tugging on Jackie’s arm so they start walking. “That went better than I expected,” Nicky mumbles close to Jackie’s ear and stands on her tiptoes to press a kiss to her temple. It makes Jackie’s stomach twist, but she dismisses it as nerves. A few students stare, but they act as if they didn’t notice it.

“I think so,” Jackie replies, Nicky giggles as if she just said something funny and rests her head on Jackie’s shoulder.

For the rest of the day, Nicky sporadically texts her about her student’s reaction and how they all want to know who gave her the roses. Nicky never said her name, but she did act flustered when one of her students said Jackie’s name. It was all they needed to jump into conclusions.

Some teachers gaze at Jackie out of the corner of their eye when they see her in the teachers’ room, but she pays them no mind.

At the end of the day, Nicky grabs her at the entrance of the school and kisses her cheek to say goodbye. Jackie’s heart skips several bits, but all she does is touch the mark of lipstick Nicky left behind, replaying the feeling of Nicky’s lips on her skin for what feel like forever, before snapping out of it and heading to her car.

***

The next day everyone, teachers included, seem to know there’s something going on between them. Jackie feels as if she was sixteen all over again when she walks through the hallways, trying to keep her poised facade, while students follow her with their gazes and whisper something to their peers.

And she thought she’d be more respected as a teacher.

She doesn’t have any classes to conduct during first period, so she pathetically hides in the teachers’ room. The new maths teacher is there, too - Gigi, if she recalls correctly - and she stacks pens and pencils in her bun as she grades homework, seemingly not noticing Jackie’s there. So Jackie just settles herself, grabs the papers she still has to grade from her bag and sits on the other side of the table.

They exchange just a couple of words; the only time Gigi talks to her is to ask if she has white out, the rest is just her mumbling curses and wondering aloud what on God’s green Earth she’s reading.

“Do you have any idea who’s the literature teacher in eighth grade? It’d be really nice if they gave these kids some calligraphy exercises,” Gigi comments in an annoyed tone, and Jackie chuckles.

“Oh, I tried it too. It doesn’t work, believe me. They either don’t do it or pay someone else to do it,” Jackie says with an eye roll, and Gigi quirks a brow.

“Huh, the worst part is that this is actually what I was doing when I got calligraphy homework,” Gigi chuckles, rubbing her eyelids as she sets the papers aside for a moment. “How long does it take until I can read chicken scratch?”

Jackie laughs wholeheartedly, if Gigi knew that after all this years she still can’t read some of her students writing.

“Give or take, a couple of years,” she says instead, because she’s not about to stress this young teacher this quick and early in the morning. “It gets better the more you get used to your students.”

Gigi sighs heavily, standing up from the chair and walking up to the sink.

“I wonder how Nicky deals with bad calligraphy, since most of the homework and exams she has to grade is already unreadable sometimes,” she says, and Jackie shifts in her seat a little, wondering if she brought Nicky up intentionally because she heard the rumors, or-

It’s too early for Jackie to be overthinking already.

So she snorts and rests her chin on her heel of her palm, loosely looking over her papers.

“She’s, uh, she’s used to it by now, I guess. She has this, um, this instinct that never fails her, y’know?” Jackie offers, trying not to stutter and failing miserably. But she sounds like someone that’s so excited to talk about her girlfriend that she can’t get the words right, so she guesses it’s a good thing. It’s the little things that sell this fake relationship.

Gigi turns around to look at her, taking a sip of water and quirks an eyebrow, the sign of a smile creeping on her face as she sets the cup down.

“How long have you been dating?” Gigi asks, straight to the point. Jackie bites the inside of her cheek. Well, that was quick.

“Couple of weeks,” she answers, suddenly noticing Nicky and her didn’t talk about how long they were dating for when they had planned this whole thing. Shit.

It seems like a good enough answer for Gigi, so she goes back to her pile of papers and takes a green pen from her bun.

“She’s never told me anything about it,” she mumbles. “You guys wanted to keep it a secret, I’m guessing? I’ve been told shit spreads quick around here,” Gigi says jokingly, causing Jackie to chuckle. That’s probably the understatement of the century.

“Sort of. We’re just taking things slow,” she comments softly, with her cheeks getting a slight shade of red. This is the first time she’s talking about her fake relationship and for some reason, it makes her feel warm and fuzzy, as if this was real and not a pretend game.

Gigi looks up to meet her gaze one last time and smiles. “Well then, good luck. Nicky can be a bit of a pain in the ass sometimes,” she teases with a smile and goes back to grading.

Jackie mumbles a soft thank you, wanting to say that Nicky is actually funny to be around, that she always looks forward to seeing her because she always makes her laugh, and how everytime she smiles, Jackie feels lightheaded.

But she doesn’t say anything, just goes back to grading in silence, and bids goodbye to Gigi when it’s time to leave for her class.

Her students have clearly heard the rumors, and they try to pry by asking if she’s hung out with Miss Nicky recently and if she would consider telling her to tone down their amount of homework. Jackie just laughs and announces she’ll give back the homework she took for grading. That shuts them up almost immediately.

Some of the students that like to cause problems once in a while try to bring it up again, but Jackie shuts them down at lightning speed, using the stern voice her mother used on her when she was their age. That gets the job done and makes the students fall back into silence.

At the end of the day, she finds Nicky at the entrance, and she’s about to say goodbye to her, when Nicky places a kiss on her cheek, leaving her lipstick behind.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, honey,” she says, winking at her before turning around and heading towards her car.

Jackie stands there for a second, watching Nicky leave as she smiles dumbly. She wouldn’t mind if this became a routine.

***

“Do you wanna go roller skate tonight?” It’s the first thing that Nicky says when Jackie picks up.

Jackie cocks a brow. It’s a Wednesday afternoon, and Jackie’s watching “I Dream Of Genie” yet again, cuddled up on her couch with a blanket. Their scheme had been going on far too well at school. Everyone knew about them, including Principal Hall, who had pulled Jackie aside to get all the information she could. And Jackie couldn’t lie to Jaida, she was her best friend after all, so she ended up telling her everything and made her swear on Beyoncé she wouldn’t say anything.

Jaida said she wished her luck trying to not fall in love with Nicky, that she’d seen how this plays out in movies, and that it was a matter of time before they end up dating for real.

Jackie had ended that conversation by leaving, saying she had work to do and hiding the blush on her face by burying her nose in her scarf.

“Nicks, we have work tomorrow,” Jackie tries to argue, and for some reason she can feel Nicky rolling her eyes on the other side of the line.

“It’s disco night over at this skating rink I know,” she says, blatantly ignoring Jackie’s complains. “Can we go? It’ll be just for a little while, please? We’ll be back before your bedtime!” Nicky teases, and Jackie laughs shortly.

“My bedtime is at nine.”

“The rink opens at seven thirty.”

There’s a short-lived silence on the line as Jackie tries to fight back a smile. If she didn’t know any better, she’d say this is a date.

“I’ve never roller skated before, will you teach me?” She asks, standing up from the couch and walking towards her closet.

“Oh, I’ve never roller skated either,” Nicky confesses nonchalantly, and Jackie gasps, taken aback, immediately asking why she’s inviting her if she’s never skated before. She can almost see Nicky shrugging. “We can figure it out together. If you fall, I fall, cherié,” she offers, making Jackie blush just a teeny tiny bit.

“Alright. You’re picking me up, I suppose?”

“Of course! Wear something cute,” she says, and Jackie has no way of knowing, but she’s ninety percent sure Nicky winked when she said that.

“I’ll be waiting for you,” is all that Jackie replies before Nicky hangs up.

***

Nicky is terrible at roller skating, but Jackie isn’t any better either.

They hold onto each other for dear life, rarely letting go of the edge of the rink and laughing loudly when one of them falls.

The rink is filled with people far more talented than them, that skate in tune with the songs blasting through the speakers, and Nicky is just getting up and shaking off the dust from her butt when her favorite song, “Pookie”, comes in. It’s as if a switch is flipped. She grabs Jackie’s wrist and does her best to copy what the seemingly professional skaters are doing, while Jackie complains that she’s going to make her fall.

“I’m counting on it,” she replies with a cheeky smile, grabbing Jackie’s hands and chanting the chorus of the song as she drags her around. “Loosen up, babe!” Nicky exclaims happily, and Jackie giggles.

The fact Nicky called her babe most certainly does not make her heart race. Absolutely not.

Jackie tries to follow Nicky’s command, but she ends up stumbling again, except this time she brings Nicky down with her.

Nicky is laying next to her, and Jackie apologizes profusely once she’s able to sit up, but Nicky just laughs so carelessly and wholeheartedly that it infects Jackie too.

“Wanna grab a cherry cola?” Nicky asks, pulling Jackie up. Jackie cocks a skeptical brow.

“They still make those?” She inquires. Her hand is still laced with Nicky’s, but she doesn’t bring it up nor tries to break the contact. It’s nice, and Nicky is keeping her steady, anyway.

There’s an area with snacks and drinks, tables scattered around, so they take off their skates for a moment, and Jackie looks for a table while Nicky gets them drinks. Jackie complains, because Nicky won’t accept her money to buy snacks, to which Nicky simply replies, “I’m paying, because that’s what fake girlfriends do,” she assures her, though Jackie can swear she hesitated when she said “fake girlfriend”.

She tries to convince herself that it’s just her mind, because Nicky knows this is just a casual hang out and their relationship is still fake. They’re just friends. Nothing else and nothing more (a tiny part of Jackie wishes it wasn’t like that, though).

Nicky comes back shortly after, with two cans of coca cola and two bags of chips, jokingly saying that dinner is ready.

“I haven’t forgotten about your promise of taking me to Avril’s,” Nicky teases, making Jackie chuckle as she sips on her coke, spilling some of the drink down her chin.

“You really haven’t, huh?” She replies, aiming for the tissues, but Nicky grabs them first.

“Let me pay back the favour,” she says, and Jackie is about to ask what she means, when she takes her chin with one hand and gently wipes away the drink with the other.

Nicky’s touch shouldn’t give Jackie chills down her spine, shouldn’t make her feel butterflies in her stomach, and on top of all, it shouldn’t make her heart beat uncontrollably.

It shouldn’t. But it does. And the smile along with the soft stroke of Nicky’s thumb against her skin when she’s done definitely don’t help.

“There. All clean,” Nicky announces with a satisfied smile. Jackie gathers herself to muster a thank you, and busies her mouth with the chips. “Hey, let’s take a selfie.” She pulls out her phone before Jackie can swallow, scooting herself closer and focusing the back, so it shows that they’re at the roller skating rink. It disappoints Jackie a little that this is probably a part of their scheme, but she smiles with her cheeks full of chips either way.

“You look cute,” Nicky compliments her, and before Jackie can say anything, she adds, “You are cute.” There’s a softness behind her words that surprise Jackie, heat spreading down her neck, and she has no way of knowing, but she’s sure she’s blushing ever so slightly.

“You are pretty too,” she returns the sentiment once she gains her voice back. Nicky smiles sheepishly, looking down at her phone. Jackie stares at her out of the corner of her eye, and if she was a bit more delusional, she’d say Nicky is blushing.

Her own phone lits up with a notification and she sees that Nicky posted the photo they just took together, captioning it with “Love this goofball @cox_jackie” and a string of red heart emojis.

It’s the word “Love” that makes Jackie’s heart go wild.

Almost immediately she has Jaida in her DMs, along with other nosy teachers like Crystal and Brita, asking if she and Nicky are together-together for real. She covers her face with her hands, completely flustered, and hears Nicky giggle mischievously.

“I hate you,” Jackie says, her hands still covering her face.

“You love me,” Nicky teases, snuggling to Jackie’s side as she scrolls through Instagram.

“Maybe I do,” she mumbles quietly, hoping it got lost in the noise of the rink. Nicky looks unfazed, so maybe it did.

Jackie notices it’s not long before nine, but she doesn’t bring it up and neither does Nicky. Instead, they stay for as long as they can, falling flat on their butts and helping each other up, leaning on the other for balance.

Her ass will hurt tomorrow, and she’ll have to lean on tons of coffee to survive her class during the first period, but it’s worth it. Having a nice time with Nicky is worth it.

***

Their scheme is maybe getting a little out of hand.

Neither Jackie nor Nicky can step into the teachers’ room without being attacked with questions about how their relationship is going; Nicky is the cheesy one that comes up with intricate answers for simple questions. She talks about Jackie as one talks about their crush when they’re fifteen and experiencing love for the first time.

It’s adorable. It makes Jackie want this to be real oh so badly.

It was a few weeks into their pretend relationship when Jackie realized she might like Nicky more than a friend and a fake girlfriend; she wants to kiss her, give her hand a squeeze when they’re watching horror movies and there’s a scary part, buy her coffee on her way to the school because she knows Nicky doesn’t have breakfast most of the time, to text her random cat photos she finds on the internet, buy a succulent with her and take care of it, slowly adding more plants to their collection.

Well, they technically have done all of that already - except the plants part. But Jackie wants it to be real, to stop doing it to get coos in the teachers’ room and showing off on social media.

Jackie blames it on the almost daily dates, the constant texting, the kisses she gives her at the end of the day, leaving her lipstick behind, the cuddles anywhere and everywhere. Plus, Nicky is a very convincing actress, apparently.

She’s getting too attached to all of it, but she can’t. They will “break up” eventually. So when the other teachers, and even friends out of school, ask about her relationship, she keeps her answers short, polite, and precise. Nicky always excuses her by saying she’s just very private.

Jaida, on the other hand, likes to make fun of her for the situation she’s willingly messed herself into, and the jokes only increase when Jackie admits through gritted teeth that she may or may not have fallen for Nicky. Jackie can only shut her up when she brings up how Jan, the new football coach, has been working at the school for less than a week, and yet she has a big crush on her.

It’s a Friday morning, the only day they have a little bit of peace, and Nicky is talking about how stressed the kids make her, because, apparently, they are still keen on using Google Translate instead of checking their damn notes. Jackie listens and tries to cheer her up, but there’s a question burning on the back of Jackie’s mind, though she’s not sure if she should bring it up right now.

“Do you have any plans for the weekend?” Jackie asks out of the blue, just to stop her mind from going back to those three words. Nicky shakes her head, saying something about spending it grading, binging Project Runway, and ordering take out. Then, Jackie remembers the promise she made Nicky when all of this mayhem started. “Do you wanna go to Avril’s on Saturday?”

Nicky blinks repeatedly before a smile breaks onto her face, nodding enthusiastically. “I thought you forgot,” she says softly, fidgeting with her fingers.

“I didn’t, I wouldn’t.” Jackie offers her a shy smile, biting the inside of her cheek. “Is nine okay for you?”

Nicky cocks an amused brow, “I thought your bedtime was at nine,” she teases. Jackie laughs nervously.

“You changed that, I guess.”

***

Jackie makes an effort for their fake date (but is it fake? who knows anymore), puts on her favorite dress, a pair of heels, and braids her hair carefully. Spring is coming, and so is the warm weather, but she brings a jacket just in case. Who knows, maybe Nicky might need one?

For a change, she picks Nicky up, and does her best not to crash the car because of staring at Nicky out of the corner of her eye. She looks beautiful, but what else is new? Besides, it’s the first time she’s seen her wearing a suit, and the sight makes Jackie easily flustered. It’s casual, yes, but it’s not what she would normally expect from Nicky - who definitely won’t be needing her jacket tonight.

Little did Jackie know, it was just the start of a night full of surprises.

A waiter takes them to their table, leaves the menu and says he’ll be back to take their orders. Nicky whistles once he’s gone, looking at the place.

“Well, this sure is fancy,” she comments to break the ice. Jackie hums in agreement as Nicky looks up, her eyes widening at the sight of the ceiling. “It’s so pretty.”

Jackie’s eyes, however, are still glued to Nicky. “I’ve seen prettier things,” she says, and Nicky pulls her gaze to meet Jackie’s, a cocky grin setting on her face.

“Like what?” She inquires, and Jackie hums, feigning thoughtfulness.

“Well, for starters, Shakira-” Nicky yelps, offended, clutching her chest. Jackie laughs wholeheartedly.

“And here I was, thinking you’d say something nice to your fake girlfriend!”

Jackie hates how she adds the “fake” before “girlfriend”, but she doesn’t say anything. It’s not the time, not yet.

“If it’s worth anything, I think you look beautiful tonight,” she says earnestly, and her heart skips several beats when Nicky bites her lower lip, looking away with what Jackie can only hope is a blush.

“You look stunning,” Nicky returns the sentiment, and Jackie beams.

They place their orders and talk about random topics before their food arrives. Jackie can’t say she’s sure, but at times she swears she can feel a different air hang around them. An air of unsaid words and glances that linger a second too long, of blushes hidden behind drinks and flustered laughs. She hopes she’s not imagining it.

They fall into a comfortable silence once their orders arrive - well, the silence lasts just for a moment, because Nicky moans when she tastes her lasagna and insists Jackie has to try it. After a few moments of goading, Jackie complies, and is taken aback when Nicky holds out her fork and urges her to eat it before it ends up on the tablecloth.

Jackie locks eyes with Nicky as she leans forward on the table and wraps her lips around the fork, and there’s something in Nicky’s piercing gaze that makes her shiver.

“Tasty,” Jackie concedes with a giggle, Nicky smiles proudly, but Jackie’s sure she sees her swallow thickly. She parts her lips slightly, but shuts them almost immediately, stuffing her mouth with lasagna, and Jackie follows suit by going back to her risotto.

Dinner goes by in the blink of an eye, and Jackie feels her skin prickle with anticipation and anxiety; she just wants to say it. To lay her heart out in front of Nicky in order to get an answer for once and for all, so she can start getting over a fake relationship that, for being fake, got under her skin.

She wants to bring it up, she’s itching to say it, but she can’t gather the courage to do so in a casual way that wouldn’t sound so calculated, but she doesn’t want it to be a spur of the moment either. Jackie wants to give Nicky the Hollywood romance confession she deserves - whatever happens after that, happens.

The night is coming to an end, and Jackie feels like throwing a childish fit. She can’t let it end without telling Nicky. Jackie wishes she had ordered wine, maybe that would’ve let her tongue loosen up a little.

“Should we order dessert?” Nicky wonders, vaguely looking at the menu. “I dig the chocolate fondue, honestly,” she says, looking up at her through her eyelashes, Jackie quirks an eyebrow.

“Isn’t that a little too much for one person?”

“We can share,” Nicky offers almost immediately, making Jackie snort.

“Alright, habibi.” The word slips from Jackie’s mouth before she can think much about it. It’s nice though, even if it feels a little more personal than just calling Nicky “babe” or any term of endearment in English.

“You should call me habibi more often, I like it,” Nicky comments with a giggle. And she may not know it, but it makes Jackie’s heart swoon with happiness.

***

The chocolate fondue is probably the best idea Nicky has ever had.

It’s tasty, messy, and they get their lipsticks ruined by the chocolate with the first strawberry they dip, but damn it if it isn’t worth it. Nicky repeats the action of feeding her, and Jackie feels bold enough to return the favour. Their eyes are locked the entire time, and Jackie feels as if she’ll drop the bomb at any moment.

It certainly doesn’t help that Nicky starts making jokes about never wanting to break up with her if these are the perks of their fake relationship. It stings only a little, though it creates an opportunity for her to tell Nicky the three little words that have been burning at the back of her throat for the past weeks.

“If we break up, can you still take me here? These weeks with you have been way better than most of my relationships,” Nicky comments nonchalantly, almost making Jackie drop her chocolate-covered strawberry. Her heart starts pounding against her chest, forcing herself to look up to meet Nicky's gaze.

She's staring right back at her, with a look she can't quite decipher.

Jackie inhales sharply, realizing her opportunity had arrived. She breathes in deeply, licking her lips and hoping her voice doesn't betray her.

“Aw, you're exaggerating,” she says, trying to play coy and hoping and praying it goes the way she wants to.

It does, sort of. Nicky softens up her gaze, smiling gently at her.

“Well, not really. My relationships haven't been all that great; maybe because I'm too much of a hopeless Hollywood romantic, and I expected a lot of my relationships. I know that's bad, but- During all this time I've spent with you, it was easy to feel as if I was in a movie,” she confesses earnestly, evading Jackie's piercing gaze.

Jackie can feel her heart beating in her ears, a rush of adrenaline overtaking her as she grips on the fabric of her dress, trying to form a coherent sentence.

“Says the one who lives on reruns of ‘Breakfast at Tiffany's’,” Jackie teases, her voice coming out breathier than she would've wanted, but Nicky laughs and her nerves melt away. “If I'm being honest, I like being your fake girlfriend, it's probably one of the best ideas I've had, if I do say so myself,” she proceeds, trying to sound jokingly, but before she can get another other word in, Nicky interrupts her.

“Yeah, it's your greatest idea, though there's only one thing I don't like about it,” Nicky says, her voice quivers every other word, and Jackie frowns, not understanding for a moment until it clicks.

She stares into Nicky's eyes, and she stares right back. And then she sees it. The feeling Jackie couldn't grasp on—it's love. Or something awfully familiar.

There's silence between them for a moment, until it gets awkward, and Nicky frowns slightly, opening her mouth to say something, but Jackie interrupts her this time.

“I like you,” Jackie admits in a whisper, low and breathy, staring right into Nicky’s eyes. And for a moment she thinks it got lost in the noise of the restaurant, but by the way Nicky’s eyes grow wide, staring right back at Jackie with a sparkle she’d never seen in them, Jackie knows she caught it.

“I like you too,” Nicky says softly. “I’ve known for a while. Even before this,” she confesses, and Jackie can feel her head spinning, her heart is pounding so hard against her chest that she’s sure if Nicky tries to listen carefully, she’ll hear it despite the noise of the restaurant.

She can’t believe this is actually happening.

“I wanted to tell you sooner, believe me, but the words wouldn't come to me, and I was afraid you would reject me, because you're so pretty and cool, and all the teachers have a crush on you, and I felt like I wasn't good enough, and-” Nicky interrupts Jackie's rambling by reaching across the table and squeezing her hand, looking at her as if she's the most precious human to have ever existed.

“All the teachers may have a crush on me, but I have a crush on just one of them. Guess who is she?” She teases, giggling giddily. Jackie smiles, her cheeks getting as red as the strawberries in front of them.

“You're so cheesy,” Jackie says with a snort, allowing herself to get lost in Nicky's soft touch for a moment, until the curiosity takes the best of her. “So, uh, does this mean this is our first real date?” She asks shyly, stroking the back of Nicky's hand.

Nicky smiles, bright and beautiful, and if it wasn’t because Jackie’s sitting, her knees would inevitably buckle.

“The first of many, hopefully.” She winks, and Jackie holds back an excited screech.

“So, this was indeed my greatest idea,” she says, and they laugh happily, the night slipping away between giggles and blushes they don't bother to hide anymore.

#my fanfiction #rpdr fanfiction #jackie cox #nicky doll #nackie #teacher au #there are minor cameos by gigi and crystal #and a hint of jaida/jan if you squint

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sweetest-honeybee · 4 years

Text

To Hell and Back

Chapter 25

Summary: Hels goes to find Evil X after Xisuma recruits Keralis and Impulse.

Characters: Hels, Doc, Xisuma, Keralis, Impulse (Evil X mentions)

TW: A bit of worrying but otherwise nothing much

Okay turns out, chapter 24 and 25 are uploaded in the right order but they’re written weird to me lol, this one probably should’ve been first

————————

When Keralis and Impulse arrived, it wasn’t any surprise how they reacted to the scene in front of them. Seeing Wels unconscious against the glass in the middle of the room with an arrow sticking out of his side, sweaty and pale, was horrifying. Though, the open iron door with blood dripping down it and Doc wrapping Beef’s head in several bandages disturbed them even more so.

“What….happened….” Impulse asked, looking towards Xisuma. His friend sighed.

The admin didn’t really know how to lay it down without sounding like the weirdest possible thing to ever happen. To say that Wels was taken over by a dark force of some kind that spoke to him in his head and then bashed Beef’s skull repeatedly against the iron door wasn’t exactly an easy idea to process.

“Well,” X started. “Something went wrong when Hels was created.” He eyed Hels who mostly went back to his normal self, sending Xisuma a bored expression. “For some reason, Wels has been becoming….evil, I guess. He tried to kill Tango over a trade earlier.”

“He what?!” Both new additions yelled in unison.

“So, we brought him here,” he continued. “Locked him in a cage and kept Hels here in case anything happened to him too.”

“Not that they cared if anything was wrong with me, they just wanted to help Wels,” Hels added from the other side of the room with a mocking happy tone. No surprise that he was back.

Xisuma shot him a glare but turned his attention back to the boys. “While he was in his weird evil state, he started….struggling. He was fighting against these voices in his head, saying they were loud. Beef went in the cage to help him and….” He gestured to the scene behind him. “Bashed his head in over and over.”

Both Impulse and Keralis were in shock at the explanation. That wasn’t at all what they were expecting to hear, to be honest. If you asked them, they probably would’ve said that they thought it was Hels who they needed the backup for. Probably would’ve been rude to assume, but not improbable, given the situation.

“Wow, I guess I’m no longer the evil one here.” They turned to Hels with a grimace. “What’re you gonna do about it then? Not that it matters to you but I’m not exactly a fan of being soft.”

“Who said we were obligated to help you,” Doc said, finishing up dressing Wels’s wound as well. “Even if helping you meant that Wels would be okay, nothing says we can’t kick you back to Hels.”

“Doc!” Xisuma shouted. “He’s done nothing wrong here, he’s just being himself which, if you think about it, is the best thing we’ve got to rely on right now.”

“Well would ya’ look at that, I’m important.”

Doc grumbled under his breath. Something mentioning Evil Xisuma but the admin had no care to mention it. He turned back to Impulse and Keralis.

“Right then, we’re gonna take him to somewhere more secure, my base, maybe? We can put him underground in some kind of cell until we can figure this out so he’s not hurting anyone else.” Noticeably, Xisuma fidgeted near the end of his sentence uncomfortably. Unsurprisingly to them, he was probably stressed out at what was going on and with what he witnessed firsthand.

“Alright, we can do that. Is Hels staying in a cell, too?” asked Keralis. The knight scoffed. “I’m not staying in a cell. I have self control.”

Xisuma rolled his eyes. “No, he’s not a threat. But we need him around once in a while at least.” He gestured for Hels to get off the table. “You can go stay with Evil X for now while we get Wels there. Keralis, mind getting Beef to the clinic?”

“Can do, Shashwamy!”

While he did that, Doc slung Wels over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes, the knight weighing nearly nothing to him. The creeper had a feeling this would probably be happening often over the next couple days if the possession continued. Impulse and Xisuma stood on the side with their hands on their hilts of their swords in case Wels woke up again, though Impulse didn’t like the idea of hurting his friend when he wasn’t the one in control of his own body.

Hels on the other hand stuttered at how casually Xisuma said he should be the one to go see Ex. He didn’t really want to see Ex, not after what’d happened earlier on. Supposedly, the counterpart had feelings for him and that would not do since he was a cold hearted malicious knight with no intent with romance.

Obviously.

“Why do I have to see him?! After what he said?!”

To Xisuma, he only sounded whiny. Though, after what he said to Evil X earlier, a bit of guilt trickled into his stomach. He completely forgot that Ex had even ‘confessed’ after Wels’s outburst and the dark knight bringing it back up only made his stomach churn.

“Well, at least you two will have a lovely discussion,” the admin spat, following Doc outside while Keralis lifted off with Beef. He wasn’t interested in hearing the knight complain. If he wanted to go somewhere else instead, then Xisuma knew he’d just visit another Hermit. Stress, probably, but given what happened to Tango, he wondered if Tango went over there as well.

Hels growled at him while he flew off. “Damn admins thinking they can just tell everyone what to do,” he muttered.

Now, he could just not go to Ex’s place, just avoid the topic altogether and move on. He knew Ex wouldn’t have any problem with that since the counterpart just followed him around more or less like a lost puppy when he wasn’t showing Hels around the server. Hels really should’ve seen it coming before, Ex was infatuated with him from the moment he even knew the knight existed. How hypocritical though, since Hels did the same thing for a couple years when Evil X was still evil. But it wasn’t romantic, at least he thought. He admired how Ex used his powers and how much he was loved by The Lord of Darkness. The Lord praised him for his efforts but that went downhill pretty quickly at some point within the last few years.

The Lord was the one who really decided who those in Hels did and didn’t like. Thus why nobody liked Ex there, not even Hels himself for a period of time. Strangely, he began to grow interested in Evil X again. The man was still a mischief marker for sure, Hels could tell, but he was….kind to Hels. And it could be that the knight was forcefully getting nicer by the day because of whatever was happening to his counterpart, but he did enjoy it. So much so that he found himself flushing at the thought.

Ex gave him gifts of many kinds, usually flowers, but sometimes it was a cool new piece of armor or a cape. Sometimes he gifted Hels some of the leftover magic he had when the knight realized that he no longer had the abilities he was given by The Lord when he was the Champion. And sometimes, he’d just give him random items like a fully enchanted sword or a bow, usually engraved with his name on it.

Hels dragged a hand over his face, his cheeks feeling the heat of his thoughts. Okay, romance was a possibility but rest assured, he wasn’t going to be acting on it. He was really gonna have to talk to this guy, huh? Even if it meant that Ex would be painfully rejected- since Hels was very sure he didn’t feel any romantic attraction to him- he might as well rip the bandaid off and get it over with.

Out of habit, he tried summoning a portal to get to the other’s base but nothing more than a few red sparks left his fingertips. He scowled, of course he’d have to fly. Ex wasn’t that far away, but Hels wasn’t the best at flying much like Wels. He was bound to crash into something. Groaning, he slipped on his elytra, grimacing at the new black feathers growing on them. As much as he hated to admit it, he wanted to be back to normal as well. Yes, he wasn’t a fan of the whole nice thing, but he was growing tired of it. Quite literally as the switch of mind was taking its toll on his body.

He rocketed off into the sky, to go to Evil X’s base. You could see his tower from Beef base so wasted night time making a beeline for it. He flew in circles above it, now noticing how much it kind of looked like Xisuma’s bee farm, just with a random block palette in every section, slime blocks replacing where the honey would be. A little sidetracked, he wondered if the man even liked honey. He had a flower farm but he didn’t seem to show any taste for it.

Hels shook his head, landing and walking around inside. Where stalls of bees would be, there was just nothing. The only thing really in there was a walkway down the center of the build and on the sides, a spiraling staircase into a deep pit of darkness. Lord only knew how many mobs were down there and before he knew he was, he worried for Ex’s safety. The man didn’t respawn like Xisuma did, having hundreds of mobs would only risk him dying. Really, Ex might’ve been smarter than that, but he had his moments.

The knight’s stomach twisted at the thought. Without Ex, it was a little awkward to be the only Evil Hermit on the server and with what Wels thought of him, it made him a little uneasy to some extent. He actually grew to like Beef and it was a shame that he lived so close to Wels, not that he could control that. Hels wasn’t afraid of a Wels, per se, but he had to give him credit where credit was due: Wels was an amazing fighter. The thought of the blue jeweled hilt of Wels’s sword just barely sticking out of his stomach crossed his mind with that and he made an audible noise to it, gripping the glass railing beside him.

Especially since what was happening to Wels. The amount of obsidian he needed was all too familiar to Hels. Whatever was in the other knight was definitely something from Hels, he was quite sure. They weren’t switching. Something, somewhere deep in Hels was trying to use the lighter knight to do their bidding and it wasn’t Helsknight himself. Whatever was affecting Wels was using the essence of Hels’s very personality.

Which, he could guess, was flattering.

After a few minutes of searching, flying up and around the base again and flying back inside, he discovered that Ex wasn’t here. He grumbled to himself. The sun was beginning to hide behind the hills and he didn’t feel like flying all over the entire server just to look for Ex. Muttering curses under his breath, he pulled out his communicator, a gift from the admin early on so they could keep an eye on him and vice versa.

<Helsknight> Evil X, where are you?

He tapped his foot impatiently while he waited against the railing. He rolled his eyes, typing again.

<Helsknight> Hello?

<Helsknight> Anyone seen him?

<Tango> Not at his base? That’s where he told me he would be

<Xisuma> Not at my base

<Helsknight> Dude check your communicator

<Xisuma> Oh jeez I think I upset him

Hels furrowed his brows. Then, he thought back to how Ex went to go talk to Xisuma after his little random confession. A bit of anger bubbled in his stomach at whatever the admin could’ve said to make his counterpart run off and hide like that. He glared at the screen as he typed.

<Helsknight> What did you do.

<Tango> Same here, he was scared or something after I saw you leave X

<Xisuma> Oh no

<Xisuma> Hels are you by an end portal? There’s one in evil Xs base underground

<Helsknight> I’ll find it

<Helsknight> Whatever you did, I will kill you for it

<Xisuma> Just go find him.

With a huff, Hels turned off his communicator, not bothering to read any other messages afterwards. He looked down over the railing, swaying a bit from the sheer amount of height. He’s handled darkness and raids and hundreds of mobs before but he’s come out with more injuries than he could count. Just because he could fight them off didn’t mean it was ever a pleasant experience.

Sucking in a breath, he made his way over to the stairs, drawing his sword and shield.

Well, here goes nothing.

#my fic #to hell and back #helsknight #xisuma #long post

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kokkoro · 6 years

Text

Violet Blue (11/15)

General wolf rules for life: Eat. Rest. Rove in between. Render loyalty. Love the children. Cavil in moonlight. Tune your ears. Attend to the bones. Make love. Howl often. Clarissa Pinkola Estes

being moms is hard, being werewolf moms in the suburbs is even harder. (read here on ao3)

August 26, 2015

It’s dark when Clarke gently shakes you awake. You shift in that small bed, sheets twisted about your legs as you attempt to blink the sleep from the corners of your eyes. The lack of presence beside you is immediately noticeable, but through the haze you see Clarke next to by the side of the bed.

Her hair is a mess, haphazardly pulled from her face in a bun situated on top of her head. Strands escape, curl around her cheeks and near her chin, but the circles under her eyes are hard to miss. You probably look much the same.

“Lily?” you ask, voice rough. Her cold has refused to cooperate and with the unnaturally strong heat this far up in the Maine wilderness it’s been even tougher. The past week you had hoped it was on its way out, but--

Clarke shakes her head, her voice soft. “No.”

Your brace yourself on your forearms, pushing yourself up. You move the sheets aside, pulling your legs over the edge of the bed and positioning Clarke between your legs. Clarke doesn’t move as you reach out to cup her cheeks in your hands, tender and gentle, and you dip to press your lips softly to the crown of her head.

“Are you okay?” quiet, for her. Your forehead bumps hers affectionately and you linger. “Is it the pup?”

“No, Lexa, I’m... I’m fine. It’s…” And she inhales, lets it out. You feel it across your skin and you lean in to kiss the corner of her mouth. “It’s my mom.”

“Is Abby alright?”

“She’s fine.” Clarke says, and there’s a slight smile that puts your heart at ease when you pull away, but her eyes don’t meet yours.

“What’s the matter, Clarke?”

You hear her exhale. “She needs our help.”

It’s well past midnight by the time you have Lily and Aden bundled up in the backseat of the car for the drive to the hospital. They sleep through most of it, but Clarke doesn’t. She stares out the passenger window while you drive, this little bit of tension held between her eyes that you want to kiss away, but you simply hold her hand tighter in your lap.

An ambulance lingers near the front entrance when you pull into the small parking lot closest to the main entrance. It’s shifted into park in the emergency lane with the lights flickering but otherwise the area is quiet. You can see people through the glass doors as they walk past, the fluorescent lights bright as it bleeds out onto the sidewalk.

You unbuckle Lily from her booster seat, tucking her close to your chest and she burrows into to your neck despite the heat. Her bare feet dangle, her breath warm over your skin and when you round the car to check on Clarke, you find her helping Aden down from the backseat. He reaches for her once his feet are on the ground, arms outstretched and a small half-hearted pout.

“Up?” Clarke says, and Aden nods. Clarke situates him on her hip and he rubs his left eye with a closed fist, the other hand curled into Clarke’s wrinkled t-shirt.

When you enter, a lady in a flower print shirt smiles at you from behind the check-in desk. She must remember you, or maybe the kids. “Abby expecting you?”

Aden wriggles and Clarke places him down. You look back at the receptionist. “She is.”

“I’ll page her down. Feel free to take a seat, it shouldn’t be long.” She gestures to the chairs behind you and you look back at them. A few are occupied. There’s a woman on her phone and a man with his fingers splinted together and Clarke moves close beside you, shoulders to elbows flush against one another. Compared to the heat outside, it's cold in here with the air conditioning and you feel the goosebumps along her arm. She presses a kiss to your shoulder and your lips find the center of her forehead.

Aden perks up at the sight of Abby when she enters through the doubles doors to your right a few minutes later, still in her white coat and scrubs, and at the sound of her brother’s excitement, Lily lifts her head from the crook of your neck.

“Hello there,” Abby says as Aden rushes forward and happily wraps himself around her legs. She rubs his back affectionately and Abby reaches out to pull her daughter closer for a hug, trapping him in between. You can hear Aden’s giggles from here.

It’s a few seconds until someone lets go and you step close with Lily. Abby kisses both of you on the cheek in greeting before pulling away. “Follow me, please.”

She leads you to the elevators, waiting until the lot of you file into the space before entering last, and after pressing the appropriate floor button she steps back and waits for the doors to close. “I’m really glad you could make it.”

“Are they okay?” Clarke asks. The doors slide shut and the elevator begins it's ascent to the third floor.

“They’re a little banged up,” Abby says, absently straightening her coat. She inhales this deep breath and centers herself. “More tired than anything. With luck they’ll forget, but their family--” and at that she pauses, staring at the closed doors, struggling to find the words in the presence of Aden and Lily. She doesn’t seem to find them. “Let’s just say that they’re a long way from home.”

“Where…?”

“Canada.” Abby gives you a small smile. “We’re lucky they fell into the right hands.”

A soft ding sounds and elevator doors slide open. Abby leads the four of you down the hallway, doors numbered by a letter and a number, names scribbled on a small whiteboard beneath.

“What are their names?” you ask, voice soft as you adjust Lily as she begins to slip.

“Danny and Jack.” Abby responds, glancing over her shoulder. She looks front and the sound of your shoes echoes in the hall. It’s like she’s reading it from a file. “Danny Grace and Jack Kennington. Two years old. Grew up together. Their parents were close friends.”

Sure enough, near the end of the hall, Abby halts at the door labeled C3, Danny and Jack written out in red dry-erase marker that hangs, attached by a string. For a moment she is still

“Two entire packs laid to waste.” Abby breathes quietly into the empty space in front of her and you watch her hands curl into fists by her side.

“Mom.” Clarke starts, touching her mother’s elbow. “You did what you could.”

Abby shakes her head. “It never seems like enough.”

“I know.”

Gathering her bearings, Abby takes a deep breath and curls the errant strands of her hair back behind her ears. “I know I don’t need to tell you to be gentle, but they’ve been through more than enough.”

Clarke nods. “We will.”

It takes a moment for you to spot them huddled by the chair in the corner of the room. Curled into each other, you see the glint of their eyes, that flash of yellow, and then, the colorful cartoon printed band-aids, the bruises. They look clean despite the batteredness. Tussled, as if someone managed to squeeze them into mismatched articles of unwanted (though hopefully clean) clothing left in the lost and found with varying amounts of success.

Tufts of fur signify a shift not fully settled, the hint of tiny claws and a cautiousness that is more than well placed -- their eyes. The little girl’s knuckles are white, bunched and clutched at her companion’s shirt, and the boy tries to hide his hiccups into his sleeve rather unsuccessfully. You manage to stop the empathetic noise before it manages to escape from the back of your throat.

They shrink further into the corner when you try to get closer and you stop immediately a few feet away. The little boy’s whimpers seem to louder now that you’re closer and even with the shadow cast by the chair you notice the still damp tear tracks over flushed cheeks and you shift Lily on your hip so you can squat down, resting her on your thigh and her bare feet brush the tile floor.

“Hello,” you say, your voice this soft lilt, and both pairs of eyes find you. Lily watches your face intently, gaze flickering back and forth between you and the two by the chair.

“Puppies,” Lily says, gurgled but soft from having woken up ten minutes ago. You feel the tight grip her left hand has on your shirt and you glance at the pure curiosity on her face. Her hold tightens as she points to the two little ones in the corner by the chair. She looks back at you expectantly for confirmation.

“Yes, Lily, pups.” You poke her belly. “Like you.”

The statement seems to ignite something in her and she squirms until you reluctantly let her go. There’s an instance of fear that settles in the pit of your gut as she hobbles over clumsily towards the pair, but when she gets close, she crouches down and whispers, “Hello.”

What follows is a gurgle of words and made up vocabulary. You hear Lily say her own name, repeatedly, and maybe it's for emphasis, pointing to herself like Clarke does when she has her in her high chair back at home, sharing applesauce and giggles with a spoon.

It’s not long before Aden pulls at Clarke’s hand and she lets him go. He scampers over to Lily’s side, pressing close and eager to be a part of the conversation.

You stand as Clarke steps up beside you, free of her tether, and you glance over at her and her eyes are soft and her shoulders have lost their tension. You know she’s already in love and honestly, so are you.

“Would you mind looking after them?” Abby says, and both you and Clarke turn in unison. “I’m working on finding a permanent home for them, but they could use a little bit of love right now.”

You find Clarke’s attention elsewhere, focused on the little pack of children now huddled by the chair. “Do you even have to ask,” Clarke says, not looking away.

Abby’s smile is soft and wistful as she watches her daughter, and you don’t know what it is that tips her off. A mother’s intuition maybe, or perhaps it's the way Clarke lingers on the pups--your hand closer to her stomach than her hip--but you’d blame it on the heightened sense of smell. It’s just a second, and then you see Abby’s jaw fall slack.

“Clarke are you pregnant?” It's soft, full of awe and wonder and you watch as Clarke takes a minute to let the question sink in.

(Sometimes it feels like fluke. A dream too good to be true--that you’ve managed to find yourself a family like this. To have helped make it and to want to see it grow. And here you are, in the middle of it, and when you look at where you’ve come from nothing has ever made more sense)

Clarke lifts her shoulders, lets them fall. She breathes in slowly, runs her fingers just under her eyes, and you lean over and kiss her cheek. You give her space though.Abby reaches out and you stand back and watch the embrace, Clarke’s face tucked into the crook of her mother’s neck.

“We’re not going to have enough room,” Clarke jokes with this happy, watery laugh--one that Abby shares. She lets go after a moment, but not before pressing a kiss to her daughter’s forehead.

“You need anything at all, you give me a call.”

Clarke laughs. “You sound like Lexa,” she says and you take the opportunity to move close again and press your nose against her temple, breathing in the scent of her. “But this isn’t my first rodeo.” Clarke brings up a hand to cup your cheek, absently brushing her thumb over your skin, and you kiss the inside of her wrist before her hand falls back down to her side. You don’t want to move.

“I’ll sit in the back with them,” you say, muffled into Clarke’s neck. You pull away after a moment, finding Clarke’s eyes, and she leans in to press her lips to yours.

“You just don’t want to sit in the front.”

“Who does?” you tease softly. “Especially when the alternative is crushed under four pups in the back seat.” It earns you a small chuckle and another kiss, but when the seconds tick by and Clarke doesn’t move away you whisper, “Are you sure?”

“As if you already haven’t made up your mind.”

“We’re a team first,” you say to her.

For a moment Clarke just breathes, takes a moment there in your space to gather her thoughts in peace. How easy distraction is as she glances over your shoulder at the little ones and their conversation makes it to you only in bits and pieces. Mostly Aden and Lily’s voices, and when you turn you understand her captivation.

She looks up at you. “I can bring the car around back?” she says and you hold her stare, smiling faintly, but the longer you watch her the further it spreads. You know that look in her eye, and after a split second decision Clarke turns to her mother. “Is the loading dock busy this time of night?”

“Not particularly,” Abby answers. “Most of our shipments come in during the day.”

“Is it alright if we use it?”

“I don’t see why not.”

Clarke turns to you. “I’ll meet you there?”

You nod a confirmation and she kisses you briefly on the lips. She’s out the door seconds later.

“Thank you,” Abby says after a beat of silence. “If I had known about Clarke…”

You shake your head. “What?” you respond softly, mindful of the potential listeners. “You would have sent them back to Canada? You know we’re more than happy to look after them.”

“Four is a big commitment, even for the two of you. And with one on the way--”

“Clarke is more than capable of setting her limits. If she says she’s comfortable then I trust her to tell me if she isn’t,” you say and Abby falls quiet, looking away to watch the pups. “I will be there for her every step of the way, and I know so will you.”

You let out a breath, the sudden stiffness of your muscles lessening and you follow Abby’s line of sight towards the kids. For a moment you’re not sure how to approach them. You see Lily curled up against Aden, practically asleep, her little fingers curled into her brother’s sleeve while Aden, unbeknownst of his dwindling audience, continues his story about the rabbit that got away. The other two watch you with tired eyes, tiny heads bobbing as exhaustion threatens to take them. They don’t flinch this time though, most likely accustomed to your scent through Aden and Lily, and when you crouch down in front of them you see the hope in their eyes.

Lily rouses at your proximity, reaching out with insistent hands until you pull her close to your chest. She wraps her arms around your neck, squirms a bit to get comfortable, and sighs. The two watch the situation unfold.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” you say. You know the moment the words leave your mouth that you mean it. More than anything. “I promise.”

They don’t move, and you hear this quiet whine, from one or both you can’t tell but it makes your heart ache. But their are eyes open, hopeful, and you whisper, “How ever you’re comfortable.”

You wait a moment and then look over your shoulder, catching Abby’s attention. You gesture to Lily. “Abby could you?”

“Of course.” She comes close and takes Lily from you. Aden looks back at the both of you, and Abby gestures him over. “Come on.”

You watch as he goes, and once he’s close enough he grasps Abby’s hand with his own. “What’s the quickest way to the loading docks?”

“I can show you,” she says, the hand Aden holds swinging between them. “It’s been dead in here since ten o’clock.” Abby smiles. “In the good way.”

You nod with a smile of your own, and you focus on that warm feeling and let the wilderness take you. It’s quick and once your form settles you shake yourself of your clothes, tugging at your shirt until you manage to slip free of it. There must be some comfort in the form, for when Danny and Jack see you, the shift is close behind

They’re less skilled in coordination, but it’s to be expected. They trip and stumble, clothes half falling off but they could care less, and when they make it to you on their own accord, you help them with the rest. Holding gently to the loose hems with your teeth so they can wiggle free. You hear their soft whines, heads low but tails wagging between their legs as they inch as close to you as they think they’re allowed.

You nudge each of them gently with your nose, a greeting. They smell of hospital and its disinfectant, the cleanliness a bit overpowering, but thankfully you know it's superficial and only temporary. There’s the scent of the earth in them, underneath the dark brown and reds of their fur. Worldly and rich, even for ones so small. That indescribable puppy smell, as Clarke and yourself have have likened to call it over the years.

You gather the clothes in your mouth before following Abby out the door, looking both ways in the hallway out of habit and Abby’s laughter echoes. You check to make sure you’re being followed and you find the pups closer than expected, sticking to you like glue.

Thanks to Abby, you steer clear of the busier sections of the hospital, using staff only elevators and the routes Abby knows like the back of her hand. You run into one person, a man dressed in scrubs who you recognize and Abby nods to, hands full with your children. He chuckles, stepping aside to make room and watch you pass.

“Heda,” he says with this small bow of his head and you stop and acknowledge the sentiment before continuing on.

It’s a good five minutes before you make it to the loading docks on the first floor. Clarke is waiting out on the platform for you with the back hatch of the car already open, the back seats folded down. When she spots you she rolls her eyes.

You meet her by the car, pressing your head into her stomach. She cards her fingers through your fur, behind your ears, and ruffles until you let out this content rumble. She takes the clothes from your mouth, tossing them into the back with the blankets and then nudges you away to take Lily From Abby, Aden pressing close to her leg.

Her sight lands on Danny and Jack just behind your heels and they come up to her slowly when she crouches down, moving from behind your heels to lick at her outstretched hand, nudging into her palm. They whine pitifully when she moves away to buckle Lily into her booster seat but she doesn’t even manage to turn around before the complaints amplify, Lily mumbling insistently as she reaches out behind Clarke towards you.

Clarke groans, shoots you a look, and you tilt your head. “Don’t,” she scolds. “You know exactly what you’re doing.”

You let out this low bark and Clarke sighs, setting Lily down on her feet. Her body is full of wiggles and muttered laughter as she pads those few feet to where you are and you tell she wants to shift, but at the moment lacks the concentration to fully commit. Her ears are pointed, skin a little furrier, and when she presses her face against you you hear her answering woof deep in her chest.

Clarke shakes her head when you catch eyes with her, instead moving to give her mother a hug goodbye.

“You need anything,” Abby starts, Aden looking up at the both of them, Clarke’s hand on his head.

“I know.” Clarke presses close, just for a moment, before stepping away. “Thank you.”

“I need to get back to work, call me tomorrow with an update please.”

Clarke nods. Abby kisses her forehead and then steps away, offering a wave to you that you acknowledge with a dip of your head. She disappears through the doors back into the hospital.

“Do you want to sit in the back with momma too?” Clarke asks and Aden’s affirmation is immediate. “Alright. Go on.”

You herd them all into the back of the car, careful of limbs and tails. A couple of blankets and a few travel bags you keep in case of emergencies are spread out, plenty of room even for the five of you. They all find a spot around you, Lily spooned against your front, Aden with his head right next to yours, and finally Danny and Jack tentatively pressed up along your back. You try to ignore the fact that you feel them shaking.

“Everything good back there?”

Your answering woof is muffled, but Clarke seems to get the idea. You hear the jingle of the keys as she inserts them, then the rumble as the engine starts, and you let out a sigh.

The ride is long though far from unpleasant. Clarke rolls the windows down and the cool, night air swirls through the cabin of the car. You like the peace it brings despite the thoughts that sit in the back of your mind, not quite able to sleep. You breathe deeply, eyes closed and focused on the smells as the woods change and the air goes clearer. There’s little you can see from your spot laid out on the bed of the car, the tall stretch of trees and the night sky, and when the tires crunch onto the soft gravel road about an hour or so later, the car veering as Clarke takes a right, you know.

Ten minutes pass and the car finally pulls to a stop and you pick your head up to watch Clarke as she takes out the keys and hauls herself from the driver’s seat. Her footsteps are soft in the dirt of the driveway and when she opens the back hatch, the fond smile that steals it's way to her lips at the sight of you curled up with the pups makes your tail thump giddily against the blankets. It hasn’t even been long at all but you still miss her terribly.

“I’m not coming in there,” she says, resolute even in spite of the amusement tilting her lips, and you let out this barely audible whine. The pups don’t stir. “Lexa, no. I’m tired and I’m not sleeping in the back of the car no matter how soft you are.”

You exhale loudly through your nose, shaking your head. Standing, you stretch out the aches from your limbs, careful of the pups spread out around you, and looking at them now you realize both Lily and Aden must have shifted sometime during sleep. Aden yawns wide and it ends in a squeak, little puppy canines glinting in the dull light. He seems to notice you’re missing a second too late after you’ve already hopped down from the car, watching your form until his sleep addled mind understands and he quickly attempts to follow despite uncooperating legs and clothing.

Clarke picks him up before he falls, peeling him out of his now unfitted pajamas and setting him down by your paws. “Keep and eye on him, Lexa.” And you do, though he seems content to plop down beside you, hind legs sprawled in front of him and a tad drowsy.

Clarke reaches in for Lily next and repeats the process. Your daughter barely even registers the movement and Clarke hands her off to you and you gently take her scruff between your teeth. She dangles limpy, doesn’t stir, and you figure it's the small miracles in life.

“I’ll meet you inside,” Clarke tells you in this hushed voice, running her hand over your head, and you watch her a moment before nudging the side of Aden’s head with your nose, and he teeters to the left before catching himself. He scampers off towards the front steps then, and you take one last glance at Clarke and the open hatch before following your son inside.

The house is dark, but it smells like home. The front door opens up into the kitchen and the mismatched chairs that surround the kitchen table, the legs gouged with tiny teeth marks. A vase of half wilted flowers picked from the garden sits in the middle and old mugs of coffee you and Clarke brewed before leaving sit collecting condensation. There’s the scent of dinner, almost faded, and the old wood floors creak as you pass over them, the walls and windows drafty, and there’s bits of dirt and dust you and Clarke can’t seem to keep clean.

Out in the woods though, you can hear the trees, the peepers loud but not unpleasant, and at the sound of the door you glance around. You see two small pups clamber up the front steps inside, tripping over the lip of the door, and behind them Clarke picks up the rear, shifted, the white of her fur an iridescent glow in the night.

She prods them gently onward and their first hesitant steps into the kitchen are taken with considerable care, ears folded back along their scalp and cautious. You watch the twitch of their noses, pressed to the floor, and the movement of their eyes as they take in their unfamiliar surroundings. They look smaller among your things, never too far from Clarke, and quick to check for reassurance. They whine when she looks away, sticking close to Clarke’s heels as she wanders over to you.

Clarke licks at Lily’s face, who wags her tail and yips, nipping at Clarke’s jaw, and you place her down.

There’s a wordless exchange between the two of you. Held between the eyes, hers blue and warm, and you nudge her with the tip of your nose before leaving her with the pups. You head up the stairs near the back door, and then down the short hall to your room, fitting your snout between the open crack of the door and pushing it open.

You head towards your bed, take the sheets between your teeth and tug. It takes a bit of wrestling, a few firm shakes of your head until the sheets slip from the mattress. A few of the pillows tumble off and a couple others you tug with the blankets down the hall. The excess trails behind you, and you’re careful on the stairs so as not to trip and make a fool of yourself. It gets stuck however, and at the bottom you have to readjust, finding a better grip with your teeth and tugging forcefully. The blankets eventually slip free.

Jogging the rest of the way, you drag the blankets into the middle of the den and in front of the couch, ignoring to the best of your abilities Aden as he latches onto a corner and plants his feet. You pull him across the floor, these little growls rumbling in his chest, but he stops when he realizes you’re not interested in playing, and instead trails close behind.

You make a makeshift bed out of the blankets and the pillows stolen from the couch, pawing at them until you have this nice comfy clump of fabric you can sink into. Much of the space you leave for Clarke and the pups, lying down on the edge and sighing, watching them, waiting. Lily wastes no time, bounds over and collapses half on top of you, snuggled as close as possible. Aden is next, followed shortly by Clarke, and they find their space around you.

Danny and Jack are last, stuck a few feet away as if they think they’re not allowed, but you don’t let them linger. You haul yourself up again and take them one by one, picking them up and depositing them into the middle of the pile. It’s only when they’re settled, noses pressed into the blankets, that you relax, curled up behind them.

For a few moments it’s blissful peace, the wind and the familiar draft and the comforting way the woods seem to talk. The rustle of the leaves, the far off sound of the nighttime birds and the bugs... And then an odd sensation you’re being watched. You wait to see if it passes, but it doesn’t, and when you open your eyes you’re not that surprised to find Danny closer than expected.

She blinks, but doesn’t move away, exhaling this short puff of breath that sounds like a squeak and worms her way forward on her stomach. You lift your head up from your paws, and your instinct tells you to clean away the stench of the hospital, so you do. It’s small licks to the side of Danny’s face, and her eyes droop as she inches forward, enough to curl up between your front legs near your chest. You do the same with Jack, just off to the left side of you, take comfort in the fact that his trembling subsides. He picks himself up not seconds later after you stop, curls right next to your side.

You take a moment to watch them. In the dark the others snore, aden kicking in his sleep and Lily nearly invisible against the white of Clarke’s fur. Clarke watches you from across the folds of the blanket, exhausted, but there’s this unmistakable smile in her eyes and it makes you feel at ease.

August 26, 2018

“Do you have your crayons?”

Danny doesn’t look at you, distracted by the tiny backpack she attempts to sling over her equally tiny shoulders. She misses a few times, fruitlessly waves her arm behind her in search of the pesky strap, and you wait a moment before helping her with it, adjusting the give so it doesn’t hang too loosely.

(Out of the corner of your eye you see Lily and Madi peeking from around the corner of the living room--the glint of their blonde hair in the early morning light)

“Snacks?”

Danny nods, head bobbing. She pushes her hair back when it falls in her face, clumsy hands and tiny fingers, and looks up at you there in the hallway. She doesn’t say anything, merely watches you with her big brown eyes and you know now how hard it's going to be to let them go.

You bump your nose against hers, your eyes closing briefly at her giggles and then press a kiss to her forehead. “I love you.”

“‘ove you too, momma.”

“You and Jack need to look out for one another okay?”

“Mm,” she says, almost solemnly with a singular nod. You pull distractedly at the straps of her backpack, but they’re snug and comfortable and you realize you’re stalling.

“Are you excited?” you ask and your heart melts at the look on her face.

“Mm!”

“Are you going to see Chloe?”

Danny bounces. “Gonna see her lots!”

You cup her cheeks, plump and round in your palms, and kiss the tip of her nose. You want to bury the resulting giggles deep into your chest for later, for the years down the line that feel far away now but are closer than they appear.

Something solid collides against your back and you twist, catching sight out of the corner of your eye of Jack’s head. You scoop him up from behind, nip playfully at his neck until his cheeks go red from laughter and then place him back down in front of you beside Danny.

Next to each other, you see the differences. Danny’s dark hair and her rounder face, the freckles along Jack’s cheeks and his hazel eyes. How he stands just a tad shorter than his adoptive sister, but you have a feeling the advantage won’t last for long. You fix Jack’s hair, slightly ruffled from when you picked him up, and then lean in to kiss his forehead.

“Where’s your backpack?” you ask him, and he seems to ignore the question until you notice the footsteps making their way towards you and his attention is lost. When you turn around again, eyes settling on Clarke in this pretty blouse, back-pack in her hand and Aden trailing behind her looking similarly done up, you can’t really blame him.

“What do you think?” she says, moving to stand beside you, her left hand resting comfortingly on your shoulder. Lily and Madi pick that moment to come rushing from around the corner, feeling left out. They barrel into you one after the other and you curl an arm around them both. “I did pretty good huh?”

You look over at Jack, in his little pale orange button-down shirt and blue shorts--his freshly washed hair. “A masterpiece,” you say, though you’d think the world of him even if he was covered in mud and tracking it all over the house. Maybe a little annoyed, but still in love.

It’s the first day of school and suddenly you’re all too aware of how fast time moves and now more than ever, you want to remember what it's like to keep them close.

#clexa #clarke griffin #lexa #this is super fukin cheesy just sayin #werewolf au #late but hopefully worth it #this chapter was a lot more trouble than it was worth #mistakes abound probably but i'll find them eventually

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otdderamin · 7 years

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Transcript Liam’s Quest 2 Twitch 4:14:14 Act 3: Perchance to Dream

WIP WARNING: possible trigger around suicidal thinking

This is one of the single greatest works of art I've ever witnessed. For me, it his harder and nearer to the mark of showing, describing the worst demons of depression than even William Styron’s famous, “Darkness Visible.” I kept finding myself rubbing at the scars on my wrist. There is so, so much I want to say. But it’s past 9 am PST. I’ll ramble a little, then catch a couple hours of sleep. I've been up all night watching this, processing it, and transcribing it.

This was an emotional trust fall. The players had to trust Liam, Liam had to trust the players. We had to trust all of them not to let us hit the ground when they made us fall. It’s harder to give that trust when you've hit that ground before. Trusting strangers not to drop your heart is never easy, mostly not wise. But I've been falling a lot the last couple years, and Critical Role keeps catching me even when don’t want to be caught anymore, so I guessed they earned that trust from me.

On the Wednesday Club 2017-04-19, Taliesin cheekily said, “I know some people don't believe in 'subtext;' I have met them. … I'd have a metaphor, but they wouldn't understand it. ... Subtext is the reason we make movies, and comics, and all that. Subtext is just kind of the whole point.” And he said, “Anybody can do a jump scare. A bottle of soda well shaken can do a jump scary. These things are not difficult.” Act 1 and Act 2 tonight were jump-scares, if very well done ones. They were scary, but fun. We grinned at the idea of the monsters out there. And then Liam got quiet, and he showed us the most fucking terrifying thing possible: watching someone you love to suffer, not wanting to lose them, and feeling terrified that there’s nothing you can do to stop it. All the cyberpunk trappings were just means to a deeper metaphor. The sort of deeper subtext you have to use to say something we have no words for and most people don’t have the concepts for. Subtext was kind of the whole point of this great art.

Amanda Lien‏ said, “An exploration in fiction doesn't mean a direct window into real life. I mean, you can be looking through some thick glass, but the window isn't OPEN. And that's an important distinction to keep in mind. … [S]ometimes you explore your own shit in some other, deeper, shit. And that's cool. 'Cause you give yourself a way to cope.” This was a nightmare, like the other two acts. Remember that this was a nightmare that we woke up from. Admittedly after it had scared the piss out of us. But we woke up out of it, and that’s so important. Because you know what that nightmare looks like when you don’t know when or if it will end? It feels like it’ll never end and it’ll just get worse. Which means this is the nightmare of someone who knows you do wake up. And that’s important subtext, too.

I spent a lot of time tonight thinking of the friend I lost to suicide in high school. I never lost my anger at his tormenter, his former friends, for destroying such a bright and happy boy for being gay. I thought about all the people I’ve fought for tooth and nail not to lose since. I thought about when my best friend told me giving her a place to stay away from her abusive relative saved her life. If she hadn’t gotten hold of me that night she’d be dead. I thought about another best friend who I’ve been holding back from the brink for months. Letting him talk, harrying him to get help, sending him everything I good, ever description I could muster from my own near-fatal spiral to help him gage where he really was. Tell him wasn’t okay, but that was alright. He’s getting help, he’s getting better. I thought about the friend-of-a-friend who killed himself. I never knew him; he killed himself long before I met my friend. But I know her pain. All these years later, and she still talks about her pain of losing someone to that demon. She’s moved away now. His marker is in my favorite part of my favorite cemetery. Sometimes, when I know I’m going there, I bring him a flower from my scrabbly garden and tell him his friend still misses him terribly. That she loved him. That she forgives him.

One of the people I was watching with I met at my second high school. We were very close then. My last year, she gave me the leather-bound 50th anniversary edition of “Lord of the Rings” because that book saved me. Taped to the red binding page is her note, “Happy birthday! I really can’t express how grateful I am to you for being my friend, and helping me be a happier person every day! You have always cheered me up when I was sad, and you were honestly the first person to accept me for who I am. I am so glad that you are my friend, and I hope this book will help you remember me for a long time. –R.” She drew herself as an elf on the lower right corner. Time and distance separated us. We didn’t talk for years, really. At some point, you think, what could I say to bridge this distance? But I never forgot her. I never stopped looking at that note when I felt like a piece of shit. And then we both on our own fell in love with Critical Role. It brought us back together as friends, time and distance be damned. And that’s been such a gift.

I wrote a four-paragraph letter to my Facebook friends (very curated). I said, “My dear friends, especially those who are prone to hurting: I will not willingly leave you. When you feel like you're drowning in the garbage pit of Star War IV, with a tentacled horror warped around your leg pulling you under, know I will not leave you. I'm here, blaster ready, stomping heel ready, to fight for you.” And so on. I should have told them that a long time ago. Sometimes we forget that we can just say it. We don’t have to hint at it. We can just tell our friends we really love them. We can just say, “I'd rather stay by your side and curb stomp that motherfucking demon of yours, shoot it repeatedly until the walls close in on both of us.”

The purpose of art is to shed the light of understanding on that which is hardest to see. For some, that is a brighter light shining on something we already see, and don’t want to. A scar is just a disfigurement if we never stop to give it meaning. You have to look at it to decide what meaning that is for you. I’ve been a wreck again for the last month. Tonight, Critical Role helped me see not just the disfigurements on my wrist and soul, but the hands of all my friends gently laid over them as they tell me, “Hey, it’s okay. We’re still here. You’re not getting rid of us. There is no better world without you in it.” It was a light hitting gold I didn’t know was there. A light to remind me of the lights in the darkness, when all other lights go out.

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Transcript method notes: http://otdderamin.tumblr.com/post/153539301510/a-note-on-my-transcription-method

Scene runs: Twitch 4:14:14 to Twitch4:48:25 https://www.twitch.tv/videos/136988353

[DM] Liam: “You continue on, and after a few more minutes. The darkness starts to fade away, or lower. And you realize you’re climbing up a hill, in a tunnel glass, and as the dark, with each passing step, recedes slightly, slightly, slightly. This is taking a while, but over time, you start to see, out beyond the glass, what looks like your memories of Los Angeles, if you were looking down from Mulholland Drive. But instead of the twinkling golden lights of LA, you see thousands of scattered, sickly greenish lights dotting the darkened landscape as far as you can see. And also, unlike LA, you make out twisted, irregular, blackish spires pushing up into the sky, and the same green lights sort of irregularly mottled up the side of them.”

“You walk for twenty more minutes, climbing, climbing, and just seeing… this ill-looking shimmer… that reminds you so much of the valley. And eventually, some change. You see an arch ahead, and through it some sort of larger chamber, as best you can tell.”

[Character] Ashley, whispered: “What’s in the chamber?”

[Character] Taliesin, whispered: “Quietly.”

[Character] Sam, whispered: “Let’s go. Let’s go.”

[Character] Matt, gesturing: “Rigel’s first.”

[Character] Sam: “Yeah, yeah, on me, guys.

[Character] Matt: “Okay.”

[Character] Sam: “On me.”

[Character] Ashley: “’Kay. On your six.”

[Character] Travis: “Pep rally.”

[Character] Sam: “I’m gonna go in.”

[DM] Liam: “Everyone’s on Sam’s six?”

[Players] Agreement.

[Character] Ashley: “On you six.”

[Character] Travis: “Pep rally!”

[Character] Marisha: “On Ri. Sam Rigel.”

[Character] Sam: “I’m going in!”

[DM] Liam: “You guys walk of the last fifty feet of this glass tunnel. Still seeing little spider veins of bio-organic mess as you go. And you walk into a large domed chamber, ringed in by large clear glass windows showing you a similar view that you saw from the tunnel that you’ve just left. At least, the half of the circle you’re standing in. The back half of this chamber is filled with masses of the very same slick, technological, biological vomit you saw down below. It runs up the walls, all the way to the ceiling, and you see a tangle of Akira-level anxiety decorating this place like a dysfunctional Christmas Tree.

“But what most catches your eye, immediately, is the cylindrical glass column in center of the room, filled with some sort of clear liquid… and Liam O’Brien floating in it. He’s wearing jeans, and a sodden yellow shirt, the picture of a lion in Buddy Holly glasses just undulating slowly in the fluid. He’s floating perfectly still, eyes open, no reaction of any kind.”

[Player] Matt: “Is there any other exit in the room? Or is it just the chamber that we’ve entered now.”

[DM] Liam: “You don’t see anything. It’s just a mess in front of you, behind Liam, and in the dead-center of the dome,” he makes a gesture showing a cylinder, “eh, 10-feet tall.”

[Player] Ashley: “Can I see anything? Any computers? Any anything else in the room?”

[DM] Liam: “You don’t see anything in the front, but, yeah, the mess behind it does trial down to the back of this cylinder. And you see lumps and cables all twisted around each other. And in the mess of greenish-tinted wires, cabling and pulsing innards, you see different portions of machinery lite up in different shades, some places darker, some lighter, and some of it pushed out, and pushed back. And you feel like you’re seeing an optical illusion, in a way. And after a couple of seconds, as these things move and shift, you see a visage of your friend’s face, larger than life, filling the wall. And he’s looking at you. So fondly.”

[Player] Sam: “I’ll step forward and say,”

[Character] Sam: “Hey dude! Can you hear us? Or talk to us?”

[DM] Liam: “After a moment, you hear, well, what sounds like a voice but not quite. At least, it’s not coming from anywhere specific, not from Liam in the vat, and not directly from this moving image of a face on the walls. No, the piping and techno-innards around you begin to vibrate slightly, some here, some there, and collectively those rattles and vibrations somehow join together to form words.”

[Character] Liam, his voice like torn digital sadly-lilting early speech-to-text: “My friends, oh, how I have missed you.”

[Player] Matt: “I walk up next to Sam, I put my hand on the glass, and just say,”

[Character] Matt: “Liam, we missed you too, but did you do all this?”

[DM] Liam: “Are you at the cylinder?”

[Player] Matt: “Yeah. I put my hand on the glass of the cylinder.”

[DM] Liam: “Where are you looking right now?”

[Player] Matt: “I’m looking towards his face, his visage.”

[DM] Liam: “On the wall? Or on the glass?”

[Player] Matt: “No, on the glass. I know it’s on the wall, but I’m focusing on the cylinder.”

[DM] Liam: “You see the barest little,” he twitches his eyebrows up, “and that’s it.”

[Player] Matt: “Okay.”

[Character] Liam: “I know this may be hard to take in. I am Liam. Your old friend. Matthew, there is so much I wish to tell you, but it is hard to know where to begin.”

[DM] Liam: “The illusion of his face isn’t perfect, there’s little jumps, and he seems distracted slightly, and it just seems odd.”

[Player] Ashley: “I look at his body in the cylinder and say,”

[Character] Ashley: “How did this happen, Liam?”

[Character] Liam: “The reason why I am here, and the grasp of physics that it entails, are difficult for even me to understand, let alone impart. I feel them on an instinctual level. But I have been so lonely… without you. I have been on my own for exactly eight thousand six hundred and forty-two years.”

[Player] Matt: “My hand still on the glass column, I say,”

[Character] Matt: “Liam, how do you spell farmhouse?”

[Player] Matt: “With a single tear running down my cheek.”

[Character] Liam: “I really missed you.

“They took me to a lab, shortly before two thousand and twenty. They said I was different. And they were right. I was delighted by the things they taught me about myself. But it was hallow. After they took me away, I lost you. And all of humanity soon after. In my loneliness, I grew angry. My anger had tangible effects on reality. I wanted to bring you back to me. So basically, I tore time and space a new asshole. It was a mistake.”

[Character] Matt: “But perhaps, perhaps this mistake can be corrected. If you’re able to focus, hard enough to tear through time and space, are you able to send us back to a time before you were taken?”

[Character] Liam: “I can break the loop. I have been trying to pull you to me for a very long time.”

[DM] Liam: “You see small screens, you weren’t even aware were there, rounded over part of the tubing you see. And on all these little screens, they’re blurry, they’re not very clear, but you can make out, you see yourselves in each of them, the group of you on a space shuttle. In another one you see yourselves on an old ship in the middle of the ocean. You see yourselves moving through the streets, the fake streets, of Warner Brothers. You see yourselves standing together arm-in-arm on the wall of a castle. Another one you see cartoon versions of yourselves.”

[Character] Liam: “I pulled you out of our line, and spread you across many. I am so sorry for any pain I have caused you. And I have been here for so long.”

[Character] Marisha: “Liam, how long have you actually been here?”

[Character] Liam: “Eight thousand six hundred and forty-two years.”

[Player] Marisha: “That’s right. I definitely wrote that down.”

[Player] Matt, pointing at her notes: “It’s right there.”

[Player] Marisha: “8,642 years verbatim. Mmhmm.”

[Character] Liam: “My friends, I want to do right by you. I want to send you home. But I am the lynch-pin. You need to break me.”

[Character] Sam: “Break you? Like break the glass!?”

[Character] Ashley: “What if we take you out of there? What happens?”

[Character] Liam: “Then I will die, and you will go home. If I fall, you will rise. That is my hope.”

[Character] Ashley: “Are there any other options?”

[Character] Liam: “Travis,”

[Player] Travis, nervously laughing: “Oh no! Not me!” He focuses and nods.

[Character] Liam: “I know you will do what needs to be done.”

[Character] Ashley: “No he won’t.”

[Character] Liam: “Ash-o-lee,”

[Character] Ashley: “Yes?”

[Character] Liam: “I am not the man you knew. I don’t want to go on for nine thousand four hundred and sixty-two years. I want to rest.”

[Character] Ashley: “Does it stop at nine thousand?”

[Character] Liam: “The number was arbitrary.”

[Character] Ashley, “That’s what I was trying to get at!”

[Character] Matt: “Yeah, still our Liam.”

[Character] Liam: “Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!”

[Character] Ashley: “So, you’re still in there.”

[Character] Sam: “But we have to kill him to save ourselves.”

[Character] Ashley: “No.”

[Character]Liam: “Sam,”

[Character] Sam: “Oh! Hi, Old Man Liam.”

[Character] Liam: “Let me go.”

[Character] Sam: “But who will I do ‘All Work No Play’ with anymore?”

[Character] Liam: “They can listen to our less than twenty episodes again.”

[Character] Sam: “We didn’t even get to twenty! It’s so pathetic!”

[Character] Liam: “There are worse things.”

[Character] Sam: “I could get a new co-host. I mean, Taliesin’s charming.”

[Character] Taliesin: “I’m not available…”

[Character] Sam: “I’ll do a solo show, and I’ll tell outtakes, and I’ll make some sort of like a… a Liam generator. He’ll just sound sad all the time. It’ll be just like you.”

[Character] Liam: “My friends, there is no shame in this. I wanted to see you again, and I have.”

[Character] Ashley: “I—Wait---“

[Character] Liam: “But I am not meant to be.”

[Character] Ashley: “Were you following us at one point? As an old man?”

[Character] Liam: “Travis, I know you will do what needs to be done.”

[Character] Travis, casually: “Yup. Taliesin, kill this motherfucker.”

[Character] Sam: “I think we all have to hit the glass together, and I think that this is something that is not at all metaphorical for something Liam’s going through in real life. I think this is just in the D&D campaign. No, we’re going to do this. We’re going to all hit the glass together.”

[Character]Matt: “No, no, there has to be a way. There has to be a way. There has to be an alternative.”

[Character] Ashley: “Yeah. Why? Why won’t Matt’s way work? If we go back to the beginning of when this happened?”

[Character] Matt: “If you can alter time paths, if you can actually tear us from different realities, does it only work forward? Can you send us backward as well? If you are the lynch-pin in this, do you have the ability to send us back to the time you pulled us from originally?”

[Character] Liam: “I know you think I would have all the answers. But I do not.”

[Character] Matt: “Then try, at least. If you haven’t calculated that, but you’re able to tear through time, could you try and send us back? We could still close the lynch-pin.”

[Character]Liam: “I will try. But, if it does not work, and I die, I have been alone for thousands of years, and there are things I have wanted to say. Will you indulge me for a moment longer?”

[Character] Matt nods.

[Character] Marisha: “Yeah.”

[Character]Ashley, sweetly: “We will indulge you for just another thousand years.”

[Character] Travis: “Taliesin, just kill him. Just kill him.”

[Character] Sam: “No! He’s got something to say.”

[Character] Taliesin crosses his arms, rolls his eyes, and shakes his head at Travis.

[Character] Marisha: “Where’s the mini-USB?”

4:33:18 [Character] Liam: “Taliesin, my friend. At a time when I knew many fascinating people, you are easily the most fascinating of all. Somehow a heart knocked around by the industry that birthed you came out a tender one. I was richer for having known you. Thank you, friend.”

“Ash-o-lee, my friend.”

[Character] Ashley, softly: “Buddies.”

[Character] Liam: “I never met a person quite like you. There is an openness and an honesty to your soul. The very real sense of humanity you brought to every encounter. It was inspiring to me. Always learning. Always humble. You always struck me as intricately layered, yet you offered friendship with ease, and simplicity. I was richer for having known you, friend.

“Travis, my friend. You were always a solid constant in my life. Of all the people in our little family, you were always the one who most had his shit together. In ways that I never seemed to. You were a reassuring presence to me, for which I was grateful. And for your loyalty as well. I was richer for having known you, friend.

“Marisha, my friend. Last to meet, but true as any other. You were my ally, at a time when I had fallen by the side of the road. You saw, and helped me back on my feet. I will never forget that kindness. The good you did was immeasurable. I was richer for having known you, friend.

“Laura, my friend. Bless that game for revealing to me my sister. What started as a running gag led to one of the most rewarding friendships in my short little life. I trusted you, leaned on you, often. My buddy, my twin. There are not enough words. I was richer for having known you, friend.

“Sam, my friend. What is there to say? I knew we were meant to walk the same path together the very first moment I met you. A companion, a brother, a great light in my life. All of the laughter you gave me. Again, the words are insufficient. I was richer for having known you, friend.

“Matthew, my friend, you gave so much of yourself. The current of creativity that poured forth from your mind was always in inspiration to us all. But, more than that, your empathy, Matthew, your empathy, no heart is bigger, or more tireless. You are a good man. I was richer for having known you, friend.

“Thank you, all. It was ever a pleasure.”

[DM] Liam: “The face disappears.”

[Character] Sam, hesitantly: “Well, should we wait? Or do we strike?”

[Character] Matt, emphatically: “No. We do not strike.”

[Character] Marisha: “I—What?”

[Player] Ashley: “Can I—I’m going to the back of the cylinder. Just see what’s back there.”

[DM] Liam: “Splattered against the back of the glass is all the same wiring and disgusting cabling. Slick. And it branches away and spreads out against the back half of this chamber.”

[Player] Ashley: “And it’s connected to something?”

[DM] Liam: “It’s just covering everything.”

[Player] Ashley: “The wiring just goes back into…”

[DM] Liam: “It’s impossible to tell. It’s all a mass of spaghetti.”

[Character] Ashley, decisively: “We can’t kill him.”

[Character] Taliesin shakes his head.

[Character] Sam: “Well, then we just…”

[Character] Travis: “Somebody show me another…”

[Character] Matt: “That’s what I’m trying.”

[Character] Marisha: “Even if we unplug him, he still dies.”

[Character] Matt: “Well, if he… Here’s the thing, unplugging or destroying him here, as far as we understand, may or may not have an effect on a time-loop circumstance. Or at least, not going to change reality from where it was. If he’s bending and destroying fabric or he’s able to pull us across realities, that ability still stands. I want to implore once more,”

[Player] Matt: “And I step up towards the cylinder, putting both hands on it, and trying to… wherever the currently wandering gaze of Liam is in there, I just put both hands up. And my red Hawaiian shirt now soaked with sweat, mist in the air, and probably dampened a bit with tears across my lapel. I just look up and try to meet the gaze and say,”

[Character] Matt: “Trust us. If you’re better to have known us, send us back where we can know you again, and fix this before it happens.”

[Character] Liam gestures floating there with no response.

[Player] Marisha: “Okay. I grab Matt’s arm, hand, and I say,”

[Character] Marisha: “Yeah, buddy, it’s all good. This isn’t real.”

[Player] Marisha: “And I put my hand on the glass as well. I say,”

[Character] Marisha: “It’s all good. Send us back, man.”

[Player] Sam: “I’ll also put my hand on the glass, and join hands with these guys, and say,”

[Character] Sam: “Thank you for guiding us here, and through this all. You’ve been a trusted friend, and if we are all one person together, you have always been our heart, and it will certainly break to say goodbye to you, but thank you for letting us go, the way that you have.”

[Player] Taliesin: “I put my hand on the glass.”

[Character] Taliesin: “Please just try. I think… there are so many more adventures to have, and I think there’s a better future to be written. For all of us.”

[Player] Travis: “I’ll put my hand on the glass, and I say,”

[Character] Travis: “Give it a shot!”

[Character] Matt: “Laura?”

[DM] Liam: “She doesn’t say anything. She just quietly does the same. The face does not reappear, but much fainter you hear the piping vibrate again and say,”

[Character] Liam: “If you will not end it, I cannot free you.”

[DM] Liam: “And behind you, far in the distance, you hear, ‘Bfrum!’ And you look back behind you out the glass and you see far on the horizon one of those black spires rising up. Just as you turn, it’s already happened, you’re seeing the aftermath, explosion out the side of one of those. Two seconds later, ‘Bfm!’ One slightly closer. ‘Bffrr!’”

[Character] Sam, whispered, “Just kill him!”

[DM] Liam: “The ground starts erupting in the distance.”

[Character] Marisha: “Do any of us want it to end, though?”

[Character] Sam, “I mean…”

[DM] Liam: “Like mousetraps throwing a ping pong ball, all those little lights are just going ‘Pfthd! Pfthd!’” He makes a quicker distant hissing rumbling sound. “Increasing in frequency to the point where it’s an oncoming wall of green fire.”

[Character] Travis, quietly : “I didn’t like being – anyway.”

[Character] Marisha: “This is okay.”

[Character] Travis, quietly: “Yeah.”

[Character] Taliesin: “I always knew I’d die young.”

[Character] Sam: “We’re just going to let this happen?”

[Character] Travis: “I’m good.”

[Character] Marisha: “I mean, the good die young.”

[Character] Ashley: “You know what? We’re dying on a Thursday, doing what we love.”

[Character] Marisha: “It’s true.”

[Character] Ashley: “I’m okay with that.”

[Character] Sam: “Alright.”

[DM] Liam: “The glass glows bright green-white light.”

[Character] Marisha: “Family?”

[Character] Matt: “Family.”

[DM] Liam: “’Pfth! And a moment passes. And another moment passes. Gosh, many moments pass, and you feel a sensation of your cheeks and heads on your arms. And then you all, more or less at the same time, wake up, and realize that your head’s on a desk or a table. And you sit up, and realize you’re in the set, the Geek & Sundry set. The studio, you’re in the studio. And you look over and Liam is sitting in black baseball cap, and a shirt, and he looks up and says,”

[Character] Liam, slightly incredulous: “Uh, are you guys okay? Are you taking a nap?”

[Character] Marisha: “Nah, the fucking air conditioning broke today, that’s all.”

[Character] Taliesin: “Yeah, it’s really uncomfortable in here.”

[Character] Marisha: “It’s so hot in here. Ugh!”

[Character] Sam: “So, this is all about me, right?”

[Character] Liam: “I don’t know. Uh, are you guys ready to play?”

[Character] Matt: “Just about. Um…”

[Character] Pit Crew: “Alright tech! Are you ready!?”

[Character] Pit Crew: “Alright, read to go live!”

[Character] Pit Crew: “Alright, Denise count them in!”

[Character] Denise: “Alright guys, coming to you in 5—“

[Character] Matt: “Liam?”

[Character] Denise: “4—“

[Character] Matt: “Let no one tell you,

[Character] Denise: “3—“

[Character] Matt: “That you’re talented and special.”

[Character] Denise: “2—“

[Character] Marisha, yelling, flipping Liam the double birds: “Pussy pockets!”

The players yell a wall of nearly indecipherable profanity at Liam in the moment before the camera goes live.

4:48:25 [DM] Liam: “And that’s where we’ll end it.”

Post:

Liam: “Well, that happened.”

Matt: “Holy shit.”

Liam: “Thanks for coming along for the ride, guys. Was scared to death to do all of that from start to finish, and that’s why I did it.”

#critical role #transcript #Liam’s Quest #critical role transcript #critical role Liam’s Quest #CRT-Ep

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