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sunkisseddaffodils · 3 years

Text

reunion- pt 2 (final)

Pairing: sherlock x fem!reader

Request: 'hi! can i pls request a sherlock x fem!reader fic in which reader is kinda john's childhood bestfriend, but they were separated when reader with her parents moved somewhere (to united states, for instance). so now when she is in britain again, she sort of struggles with finding a not very fancy place to stay. fortunately, she meets our johnny boi and he immediately proposes for her to stay in 221c, baker-street. so reader moves there, meets sherly and they sorta starting to fall in luv with each other'

Summary: Sherlock accidentally drags up some old unwanted memories for the reader

Genre: reader insert, angst

A/n: this is the final part of the above request. Sorry, I didn't exactly follow the request but I mostly tried to. Thanks to anon for requesting though! Enjoy!

Read pt 1 here.

The following day, after a restless night’s sleep, Y/N sat nervously in Mrs’s Hudson cosy kitchenette. Mrs Hudson had switched on the kettle and was preparing to make both of them a cup of tea. From what John had told her, she was perfectly lovely but she couldn’t help but be anxious. It was in her nature; she worried about everything. She made sure to bring papers to prove to her that she had a monthly income. But what if that wasn’t enough and Mrs Hudson had already decided that she wasn’t good enough to stay in her upstairs flat? The sound of china cups being placed on the table brought her back from the depths of her mind.

‘What brings you to London? John tells me you moved all the way from the States?’

John was right, Mrs Hudson was delightful. Y/N felt more relaxed at the sound of her comforting voice.

‘I’m starting my training next week to be a dentist in Harley Street ’

Mrs Hudson’s eyes genuinely glistened with interest.

‘Oh? John told me you already completed dental school in Seattle? Aren’t you already qualified?’

‘Yeah in the States. To work here, I have to do an extra year before I’m qualified. I don’t mind though, I wanted a fresh start in the UK.’

A door closing behind them interrupted their conversation. Both Y/N and Mrs H turned to where the noise came from but couldn’t see who or what made it. The latter called out.

‘Sherlock? John? Is that you?’

With no response, they returned to their conversation.

‘Y/N, you seem like a lovely young woman with a bright future. Of course, you can stay in the upstairs flat!’

She smiled widely, uttering a thousand ‘thank yous’. Y/N grabbed her important documents and handed them to Mrs Hudson.

‘Thank you. I’ll take a look at these later.’

Tomorrow, Mrs Hudson gave Y/N a tour of 221c. She fell speechless as she looked around. It was the same layout as Sherlock’s but had recently been renovated to have a more modern look. The apartment was already furnished so all she had to do was move her belonging's in from storage. She couldn’t believe that she was able to afford this apartment! Especially, as it was in central London. Promptly, she strolled over to where her new landlady was waiting by the front door.

‘So I get all this for this price? That’s insanely cheap for London.’

Y/N commented while pointing to the tenancy agreement Mrs Hudson was holding.

Simply, she just chuckled.

‘I do special rates for Sherlock and John. If you’re a friend of John’s then you’re a friend of mine. I’ll do the same for you.’

She continued.

'I met Sherlock in Florida when my husband was sentenced to death. He was able to help out so I owed him a favour. ’

Her face was completely serious yet it sounded so implausible. How could a lovely little lady like Mrs Hudson have such an impossible past like that? Adding to that, Y/N wondered that Sherlock really must be a genius if he can stop someone from being executed.

‘Wait, are you saying that Sherlock stopped your husband from being executed?’

‘Oh no, he ensured it.’

And with that bombshell of a statement, Mrs Hudson disappeared downstairs leaving Y/N utterly astonished in her new apartment. She made a note to herself to remind her to ask John about Mrs Hudson’s past. There was so much she wanted to know about her life.

A few days passed and the time finally arrived for Y/N to move into 221c. She was standing outside the cafe with Mrs Hudson, waiting for the moving company to arrive along with her possessions. She glanced at her watch, anxiously. The moving people were already five minutes late. Meanwhile, Sherlock and John were upstairs having carried three boxes between them that Y/N had brought herself. John was busying himself, tidying up the flat, waiting for a text from Y/N so he and Sherlock could help her move in and set up the place. He had told Sherlock to make himself useful but looking over his way, he hadn’t. Sherlock was staring intensely at the three boxes they had placed on the dining table by the windows. John marched over there to tell him off.

‘Sherlock! What are you doing? If you’re not going to make yourself useful up here, then can you at least go downstairs to check what’s taking the mover’s so long?’

Sherlock completely disregarded everything he just said.

‘Look at these three boxes, John. What do they tell you?’

He just groaned.

‘Nothing, they’re just boxes.’

‘Fine, if you’re not going to play ball then I will just tell you.Y/N has made sure she took these boxes here herself. Why? That suggests they’re private and she doesn’t want strangers, i.e the movers, to touch them. The first two boxes are labelled: electronics and toiletries. Makes sense then for why she would want to move them herself: one’s valuable and the others personal.’

He pointed towards the last cardboard box.

‘But why hasn’t she labelled this one? I’m sure I’m right to assume that she would have labelled every single box from what I’ve seen from these two. So what’s in this box that separates it from the rest?’

John stepped away from the dining table and started fluffing some pillows on the couch.

‘Sherlock, I really couldn’t care less. There’s nothing weird going on. She’s not part of some underground crime syndicate. Just leave it alone. You can’t know everything.’

However, the crinkling of tape being peeled off from the box told John that Sherlock, was in fact, not going to leave it alone.

John raced back over to the table and seized the box from Sherlock. Soon, a tug of war for the box began between them.

‘You are not going through Y/N’s private things!’

He yanked the box harder.

‘But John, I have to know what’s in there.’

John glared at him, pulling the box back towards him.

‘Tough luck. Once again let me spell this out: you cannot go through other people’s belongings. It’s rude.’

Sherlock’s grip remained firm, however.

‘Don’t you want to know more about why she’s moved back here? The answer could be in this box. It’s strange that she just packed up and left her life back in Seattle. She obviously doesn’t have any family here. Otherwise, why would she come to you for help? And there’s also the fact I heard her tell Mrs Hudson that she has to do extra training to be a qualified dentist in the UK. Why go to all that effort when she’s already qualified back in the US? Aren’t you in the least bit curious?’

John once again dragged the box back to him.

‘Oh so now you’re not only going through her stuff, you’re also eavesdropping on her?’

Sherlock was offended even though there was a hint of truth to what John was saying.

‘It wasn’t eavesdropping! I just happened to overhear her.’

What Sherlock was saying did make John curious, but still, Y/N deserved her privacy. It was up to her if she wanted to them the real reason she moved back to the UK. John was about to tell Sherlock this when the door burst open.

‘Hey, guys! The movers are here now if you wanna come down.’

Y/N’s voice staggered when she saw the scene before her.

In a moment of alarm, both Sherlock and John had dropped the box. Its content spilt out onto the floor. An off-white ornate picture frame smashed onto the hard wooden floor, glass spraying everywhere. The picture in the frame was of Y/N and a man in front of the Seattle Great Wheel. Y/N stood in surprise as the said man was knelt down holding a rose gold diamond-encrusted ring. The picture frame was custom engraved and it read ‘For my love.’

Oh.

It all made sense now to Sherlock.

However, there was no time to think more about the picture. Sherlock and John stood like a deer in headlights

‘It was Sherlock!’

John pointed accusingly towards Sherlock.

Y/N didn’t say anything, simply walked over to where the box had fallen, glass crunching under converse trainers. She knelt down to pick up the photograph. She remained there for a moment, an expression of profound anguish on her face.

John tried to help her up, but she refused. She practically ran out of the flat, trying to conceal her pain. John didn’t even have time to tell her that she had cut her knees on the glass from the floor. He grabbed a broom from the kitchen and started cleaning up the mess on the floor. He looked at Sherlock who was still in the same place. He had a look of regret on his face.

‘Sherlock there’s no point making that face now! You’re cleaning this mess up too. We’re going to make it up to her by making this apartment look really nice before she comes back.’

As he shifted the box back onto the table, he thought of his own way to make it up to Y/N.

Y/N was falling asleep at her desk, she was now four hours into writing her essay on dental hygiene. She placed her head in her hands, thinking she would just have a quick nap. Her phone ringing ended that plan though. She saw that it was Sherlock and hesitated. She still hadn’t forgiven him for trying to go through her things and bringing back unpleasant memories. It had been a week into ignoring him and giving him the cold shoulder. She let it ring out. Sherlock still didn’t get the hint and texted her.

‘Y/N meet me here. I wanna make it up to you. S.H’

That text was accompanied by a GPS location.

Y/N couldn’t think of any possible reason why Sherlock had asked to meet her here. Her uber ride had stopped outside of a manor house just on the outskirts of London. She quickly checked with the driver to make sure she was at the right place. To her bewilderment, he answered yes. Hesitantly, she strolled up to the door. She didn’t even have to knock when Sherlock opened the door. He motioned for her to follow him.

‘Sherlock, what the actual fuck? Do you live here?’

Sherlock led her through a ton of rooms. Y/N swear she could have counted there were at least five formal living rooms.

‘Nope.’

He opened a set of French doors and led her out into the back garden of the estate. Not that you could call it a garden. It was massive. In the distance, she saw stables as they walked through a formal botanical garden. Sherlock was more like running though, but Y/N didn’t know what was so urgent.

‘So if you don’t live here. Then who does?’

An undesirable thought entered her mind.

‘Don’t tell me you broke in here?’

Sherlock turned around just outside of the exit to the formal gardens, jangling keys in front of her face, a childish grin on his face.

‘It’s not breaking in if you have a set of keys.’

They had finally reached their final destination. Y/N saw that someone had set up a bonfire in the middle of a field. A can of petrol and a box lay adjacent to it. That box seemed really familiar. Sherlock picked it up and brought it over. It was hers!

‘Sherlock, you’re going through my things again. You know what, I’m done here!’

She began jogging back towards the house. Sherlock grabbed her arm.

‘Wait! Y/N. Let me explain.’

She gazed back at him intensely, waiting for an explanation.

He placed the box down.

‘I know you haven’t told me about what happened. But unfortunately, I am good at deducing things. Those things in that box came from a bad past relationship. I’m pretty sure I can guess what happened.’

He started to stammer, not sure of how to word what he wanted to say next.

Y/N wasn’t sure where he was going with this but could see he was trying.

‘John will be the first to let you know that I’m no expert on love or on relationships. But I can see you haven’t moved on. I thought it might help if you chucked all of the old stuff from the relationship on that bonfire and set it alight.’

She looked down, knowing that Sherlock was right. He had guessed everything perfectly. He had read her like a book.

‘You’re right. But I took running away from your problems to the extremest.’

She sat down on the grass, wrapping her arms around her knees. Sherlock shortly joined her.

‘He was my world. Or I thought he was until one night I returned home to see him shagging my best friend on the sofa.’

There was a moment of silence before she continued.

‘I just felt so foolish. I had to get away from Seattle. The place was full of memories of my time with him. I couldn’t stand it any longer.’

Sherlock got up and picked up the box.

‘And that’s why you should burn this stuff. He doesn’t deserve to have this much hold on you when he never cared about you in the slightest. We don’t have to do it if you don’t want to. But please just think about it.’

Y/N stood up with determination. Sherlock was right. She had to burn all of this stuff to finally move on. Together they placed the contents of the box around the bonfire.

Y/N stood back as Sherlock poured the can of petrol over the bonfire. He asked.

‘One more thing. Do you have that picture with you?’

She grabbed it out of her bag as an answer and showed it to him.

‘I thought you would', he stated.

She placed the picture in the centre of the bonfire.

They walked back a safer distance from it and Sherlock got a box of matches from his pocket. He lit one up and handed it to Y/N. He could see that she was having trouble actually lighting the bonfire. He reached out and held her hand to comfort her. Y/N greatly appreciated that. She took the final step and with her other hand, threw the match into the bonfire.

The bonfire went up in ablaze. It was oddly beautiful watching the embers rise up into the sky. Standing there in hand in hand with Sherlock, she felt the weight that had been on her shoulders for months slowly lift off. The whole experience was cathartic.

Out of the blue, they heard the distant sound of alarms ringing from back at the house. Y/N looked to Sherlock for answers. He just told her to:

‘RUN!’

They sprinted, holding onto each other, seemingly heading towards a gate at the end of a stone wall surrounding the estate.

‘Sherlock! What’s going on?’

Sherlock tried his best to explain as they were running.

‘Technically I did break into this house. But it’s my brother's so it should be fine. There should be a cab waiting just outside this gate.’

‘Oh my god!’, she exclaimed worrying about the consequences to come for their actions.

When they had reached the road outside the gate, they stopped to catch their breath. Then they looked at each other and burst into laughter.

She hadn’t laughed that like in months. And it was all thanks to Sherlock.

#sherlock x you #sherlock x y/n #sherlock x reader #sherlock fanfic #sherlock fic #sherlock holmes #sherlock imagine #sherlock fanfiction #sherlock imagines #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes x you #sherlock au #sherlock x john #bbc sherlock #sherlock bbc #sherlock #john watson #john watson x reader #sherlock and john

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queerdraws · 3 years

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Cleaning Out the Rooms - a Harry Du Bois playlist Alcoholism, getting better?, memory loss, being a superstar, The Final Dream, forming political opinions, bad breakups, past transgressions, being a strange and inconsistent being, and persisting despite it all 26 songs (r-slur warning for Turnin’ on the Screw - QotSA)

including: David Bazan, They Might be Giants, The Mountain Goats, British Sea Power (of course), Queens of the Stone Age, and more. Full track listing and lyric excerpts under the cut

---- Turnin' on the Screw - Queens of the Stone Age (This is the opening track on Era Vulgaris, seemed like an appropriate opening song / introduction to Harry's general essence) ----

... They say those who can't just instruct others And act like victims or jilted lovers You can't lose it if you never had it Disappear, man, do some magic

Want a reason? How's about because You ain't a has been if you never was

I sound like this

Scared to say what is your passion So slag it all, bitter's in fashion Fear of failure's all you've started The jury is in, verdict: r******d

I'm so tired, and I'm wired too I'm a mess; I guess I'm turning on the screw

---- Bless this Mess - David Bazan (Harry being a drunk and a general mess, things going in cycles) ----

God bless the man who stumbles God bless the man who falls God bless the man who yields to temptation God bless the woman who suffers God bless the woman who weeps God bless the children trying her patience Trouble getting over it Is what you're in for So pour yourself another 'Cause it'll take a steady pair of hands Holy or unholy ghost Well now I can't tell, but either way you cut it You should get some distance if you plan to take a stand God bless the house divided God bless the weeds in the wheat God bless the lamp hid under a bushel I discovered hell to be the poison in the well So I tried to warn the others of the curse But then my body turned on me I dreamt that for eternity My family would burn Then I awoke with a wicked thirst

---- Don’t Sit Down Cause I’ve Moved Your Chair - Arctic Monkeys (general Harry vibe. off-kilter) ----

Break a mirror, roll the dice

...

Find a well-known hard man and start a fight Wear your shell suit on bonfire night Fill in a circular hole with a peg that's square

But just don't sit down 'cause I've moved your chair

...

Bite the lightning and tell me how it tastes Kung fu fighting on your roller skates Do the Macarena in the devil's lair

But just don't sit down 'cause I've moved your chair

---- I've Been Seeing Things - They Might be Giants (feels very Harry's detecting style, surreal happenstance) ----

I've been seeing things I've been seeing things Don't have answers but I've got lots of questions

Carpool's up, someone gets out Hand someone else a violin case I'm trying not to let them see me looking at them But I'm pretty sure there was a dollar sign

Keep your eyes peeled and you'll see stuff Which at first seems like unimportant irrelevant things

Can't just ask some perfect stranger "What are you hiding in your violin case?" Shadow them at a distance instead Try to get inside their head

Where'd they go now (Where'd they go now) I got distracted (I got distracted) Begging me to stay (Begging me to stay) Wearing a disguise (Wearing a disguise) That lady (That lady) Must have ditched the kid (Must have ditched the kid) Hidge the down (Hidge the down) [???] What's she up to now? (What's she up to now?) Trembling cold by the airport road Watching them stack containers in rows Seagulls, helicopter, windblown trash Something doesn't add up

I've been seeing things I've been seeing things No one asks but I'm packing all kinds of attention

Later I'm watching a news report Camera pans across a crime scene Unremarked upon detail Empty violin case Okay maybe not the same case Different material, different color Still you have to wonder Am I the only one who knows

I've been seeing things

---- Music is the Victim - Scissor Sisters (breakup Harry. drug-addled disco Harry) ----

I left my heart in San Fransisco It's at some motherfucking disco The people there where dancin' on it And that's including Ms. Matronic

Hell if music is the victim then so am I Of lovin' and a cheatin' the snake gon' bite I beg and I scream and I cuss and I cry If music is the victim then so am I

Of your bad fun Money's all gone but you need some Lover's on the phone but they got none Daddy ain't home from the dog run And you're riding through the city with a shotgun

I left my bag in Pasadena Where all them girls was doin' Tina Them bitches sure were crunked up on it I said I'd rather smoke some chronic

Hell if music is the victim then so am I Of lovin' and a cheatin' the snake gon' bite I beg and I scream and I cuss and I cry If music is the victim then so am I

---- Down to Your Soul - Right Away, Great Captain! (about the Final Dream and pre-game Harry) ----

And I see things I actually don't see. I knew it wasn't actually you a few feet from my reach. I looked into your eyes and I began to lose my teeth, And I felt you were dreaming the same thing.

And I know you don't know what I'm capable of But if you give me just one more minute I'm sure That you would be shaking right down to your soul And I'd hope that the fear of the lord brings me home. I'm a man in a body of water so tall Could swallow you whole and forget where he's going But I carved a map in the back of my arm Don't worry I'm coming home I said don't worry cause I'm coming home

---- No Surprises - Radiohead (suicidal harry, pre-game. Maybe immediately before the game. A little Big Communism Builder) ----

A heart that's full up like a landfill A job that slowly kills you Bruises that won't heal You look so tired, unhappy Bring down the government They don't, they don't speak for us I'll take a quiet life A handshake of carbon monoxide

And no alarms and no surprises

…

This is my final fit My final bellyache

…

No alarms and no surprises, please (get me out of here)

---- Cleaning Out the Rooms - British Sea Power (The instrumental part seems to have been used / referenced for a background music track. And also the name of that one thought project. as expected, it fits beautifully. Wake up in a new life, down by the seaside. Cleaning out the rooms. She’ll be coming soon.) ----

Where life is good in a way Swept away upon our hearts, in cold coal ceremonial On a rainy day, hang it up Get the vacuum and suck it in Cleaning out the rooms, I'll clean it up Dark cloud, drifting out of view I'll never know, she'll be coming soon, that is all I'll wake up in a new life, ship shape and shoe shine Cleaning out the rooms, I'll clean it up She'll be coming soon Drifting into view, way in the west, white cloud If everybody knew, I never knew, she'll be coming soon I'll wake up in a new life, down by the seaside In a new life, down by the seaside Cleaning out the room, I'll clean it up Dark clouds, she'll be coming soon Down the chimney, out the window, that is all

---- In the Morning of the Magicians - The Flaming Lips (waking up with no memory, but bad vibes) ----

In the morning I awake

And I couldn't remember What is love and what is hate

The calculations error

Oh, what is love and what is hate? And why does it matter? Is to love just a waste? And how can it matter?

Oh...

As the dawn began to break I had to surrender The universe will have its way Too powerful to master

---- Once in a Lifetime - Talking Heads (Huh?? What's happening?? same as it ever was, same as it ever was) ----

And you may ask yourself, "How do I work this?" And you may ask yourself, "Where is that large automobile?" And you may tell yourself, "This is not my beautiful house" And you may tell yourself, "This is not my beautiful wife"

...

Same as it ever was, same as it ever was Same as it ever was, same as it ever was

...

And you may ask yourself, "What is that beautiful house?" And you may ask yourself, "Where does that highway go to?" And you may ask yourself, "Am I right? Am I wrong?" And you may say to yourself, "My God! What have I done?"

---- Don't Change - David Bazan (alcoholism, cycles of wanting to get better, depression, slipping in to old coping mechanisms, plus a little bit in here about dreams. This is a song for if Harry continues partying after the memory wipe, I suppose) ----

He seems nice You met him once or twice But you wonder what he's like When he's sober

Then again You hear he has no friends Just people that he spins To do him favors

When he wakes up in the morning he tells himself Today I'll make a change But falling into his bed at night he thinks Man it was a beautiful day to stay the same

I'm so deep That only in my sleep Do the secrets that I keep Float to the surface

So I hold them down Till they don't make a sound Like they accidentally drowned Except on purpose

And when I wake up in the morning I tell myself Today I'll make a change But falling into my bed at night I think Man it was a beautiful day to stay the same

---- Airbag - Radiohead (born again, back to save the universe) ----

In the next world war In a jackknifed juggernaut I am born again In the neon sign scrolling up and down I am born again

In an interstellar burst I am back to save the universe

In a deep, deep sleep of the innocent I am born again In a fast German car I'm amazed that I survived An airbag saved my life

In an interstellar burst I am back to save the universe

---- A Comet Appears - The Shins (puppeting a man-body around pretending to be a living thing. drinking, depression) ----

One hand on this wily comet Take a drink just to give me some weight Some uber-man I'd make I'm barely a vapor

They shone a chlorine light on A host of individual sins Let's carve my aging face off Fetch us a knife Start with my eyes Down so the lines Form a grimacing smile

Close your eyes to corral a virtue Is this fooling anyone else? Never worked so long and hard To cement a failure

---- The Communists Have the Music - They Might be Giants (Big Communism Builder, but especially Harry's shallow understanding of Communism. Party-boy communist) ----

I got handed an Ayn Rand sandwich Straight from the can, it tasted so bland I asked a lass to pass me a glass Of Engels' Conditions of the Working Class

Right away they dragged me to the committee To explain my un-American activity They're gonna see they made a mistake If they'd only let me play my mixtape

I'm not partial to the martial Or the plutocrats, in their beaver hats And the fascists have the outfits But I don't care for the outfits What I care about is music And the communists have the music

---- Harlem Roulette - The Mountain Goats (Harry thinking about Guillame le Million? Generally: that vibe of secret, maybe supranatural machinations happening just outside your field of view. A kinda lonely, pensive vibe, sprinkled with past drug use, driving...memory) ----

Unknown engines underneath the city Steam pushing up in billows through the grates Frankie Lymon's tracking "Seabreeze" in a studio in Harlem Its 1968. Just a pair of tunes to hammer out. Everybody's off the clock by 10:00. The loneliest people in the whole wide world are the ones you're never going to see again. Feels so free when I hit the avenue. Nothing like a New York summer night. Every dream's a good dream, Even awful dreams are good dreams, If you're doing it right. Remember soaring higher than a cloud. Get pretty sentimental now and then. The loneliest people in the whole wide world are the ones you're never going to see again. And four hours north of Portland, a radio flips on. And some no one from the future remembers that you're gone. Armies massing in the dusky distance. Ghosted in the ribbon microphone. Leave a little mark on something, maybe, Take the secret circuit home. Nothing in the shadows but the shadow hands. Reaching out to sad, young, frightened men. The loneliest people in the whole wide world are the ones you're never going to see again.

---- Suture up Your Future - Queens of the Stone Age (Harry's gonna fix his mess) ----

I'm gon' suture up my future I ain't jaded, I just hate it See, I been down too long It's kinda hard to explain Burned and buried, all I carried

...

Tried explaining unexplained Got caught in the plan All this talking at once I've been giving my love away To the things that tear it apart I'm gonna suture up my future

---- Lampshades on Fire - Modest Mouse (Harry trashing his body / having already trashed his body, just kinda a Harry-vibe song) ----

...

Well, the lampshade's on fire when the lights go out This is what I really call a party now Well, fear makes us really, really run around A-this one's done so where to now? Our eyes light up, we have no shame at all Well, you all know what I'm talking about The room lights up, but we're still dancing around We're having fun, having some fun now

Pack up again, head to the next place Where we'll make the same mistakes Open one up and let it fall to the ground Pile out the door when it all runs out

...

As our feelings are getting hurt Oh, we want you to do the work Our ass looks great inside these jeans Well, we want just our water clean

Well, this is how it's always been And this is how it's going to be So you just move on

---- Seven Nation Army - The White Stripes (Harry "can-opener" du Bois. Talking to the skills, solving things, detecting, generally being a terrifying force of nature / the pale) ----

I'm gonna fight 'em all A seven nation army couldn't hold me back They're gonna rip it off Taking their time right behind my back

And I'm talking to myself at night Because I can't forget Back and forth through my mind Behind a cigarette

And the message coming from my eyes Says, "Leave it alone"

Don't wanna hear about it Every single one's got a story to tell Everyone knows about it From the Queen of England to the Hounds of Hell

And if I catch it coming back my way I'm gonna serve it to you And that ain't what you want to hear But that's what I'll do

And the feeling coming from my bones Says, "Find a home"

---- Body of Years - Mother Mother (Harry's past that follows him, Harry's half-decomposed body that marks the years of abuse it's been through) ----

All the remains of a cadaver of days I keep hidden away, keep them there just in case I wanna visit that place Blow the dust from the bones Off a body of years that I leave all alone Just a body of years

See the skin disappears And the blood turns to stone In a body of years now a pile of bones Like a sheet of veneer Each a piece of my soul It's a body of years that I leave all alone

It's Just a body of years, now a pile of bones You know Old soul who falls down Can't stop trippin' on these Old roads I go down Get back up and get my foot in the door And my face on the page Make my mark in the world With a bat and a blade It's a body of work that you can't ever change Like a body of years that you take to your grave It's just a body of years that I leave all alone It's just a body of years, now a pile of bones Like a sheet of veneer Each a piece of my soul

---- The Cap-m - They Might be Giants (just a Harry vibe song) ----

When I talk you keep looking away from me 'Cause you probably think that I'm high on pot But I'm not, I'm not

Look me over, I'm the Cap'm You say it's such a joke But I don't see you laughing

People seem to think you can't be called the Cap'm Unless you drive a boat Well, I don't I don't

Look me over, I'm the Cap'm Go ahead and mess with me You'll find out what will happ'm

...

Did you say what I think you just said My hat looks good on me? I agree, I agree

Look me over, I'm the Cap'm You act like it's a joke But I don't see you laughing

---- Broke - Modest Mouse (oops! all mistakes. Broke it all. Want to forget it but can't) ----

Broke account, so I broke a sweat I've bought some things that I sort of regret about now Broke my pace and ran out of time Sometimes I'm so full of shit that it should be a crime

Broke a promise 'cause my car broke down Such a classic excuse it should be bronze by now Broke your glasses, but it broke the ice You said that I was an asshole and I paid the price

Broken hearts want broken necks I've done some things that I'd love to forget, but I can't

Broke up, and I'm relieved somehow It's the end of the discussions that just go 'round and 'round And 'round, and 'round, and 'round ... It was like everything was evidence of broken time

You're living on fancy wine You'll drink that turpentine You're starting conversations You don't even know the topic

---- Spent Gladiator 2 - The Mountain Goats (Defiantly alive) ----

Like a spent gladiator, Crawling in the coliseum dust. Who can count on his remaining limbs, All the people he can trust. Like the one who stands behind him, Cheering him on. Ecstatic when he stands defiant, Wild with abandon when he's gone. Just stay alive. Keep your eyes on the pay line. Like a village on the step, About to get collectivized. When the men emerge with rifles from the haystack, Everybody looks surprised. Like the mice in the forgotten grain, Way up on the top shelf. Like someone who's found a small town to escape to, Keeps one eye on his abandoned, former self. Stay in the game. Just try to play through the pain. Like a fighter who's been told its finally time for him to quit. Show up in shining colors, And then stand there and get hit. Like the clock that ticks in Dresden, When the whole town's been destroyed. Like the nagging flash of insight, You're always desperate to avoid. Like the bloody-knuckled gunman, Still stationed at the breach. Like that board game with the sliders, And the children on the beach. Stay alive. Maybe spit some blood at the camera. Just stay alive. Stay forever alive.

---- You Only Live Once - The Strokes (just general Harry, talking about the skills, choices you can make, what kind of cop you can be) ----

Twenty-nine different attributes Only seven that you like, oh-oh Twenty ways to see the world, oh And twenty ways to start a fight, oh

...

And countless odd religions too It doesn't matter which you choose, oh, no One stubborn way to turn your back, oh This I've tried and now refuse, oh

Oh don't, don't, don't get up I can't see the sunshine Oh, I'll be waiting for you, baby 'Cause I'm through Sit me down Shut me up I'll calm down And I'll get along with you

---- Pork and Beans - Weezer (Superstar Cop) ----

They say I need some rogaine to put in my hair Work it out at the gym to fit my underwear Oakley makes the shades to transform a tool You'd hate for the kids to think that you've lost your cool

I'ma do the things that I wanna do I ain't got a thing to prove to you I'll eat my candy with the pork and beans Excuse my manners if I make a scene I ain't gonna wear the clothes that you like I'm fine and dandy with the me inside One look in the mirror and I'm tickled pink I don't give a hoot about what you think

Everyone likes to dance to a happy song With a catchy chorus and beat so they can sing along Timbaland knows the way to reach the top of the charts Maybe if I work with him I can perfect the art

No, I don't care I don't care

---- Freaks - Surf Curse (head filled with skills, The Final Dream) ----

Don't kill me just help me run away From everyone I need a place to stay Where I can cover up my face Don't cry, I am just a freak

I am just a freak(x3)

My head is filled with parasites Black holes cover up my eyes I dream of you almost every night Hopefully I won't wake up this time

I won't wake up this time(x3)

---- The Smallest Church in Sussex - British Sea Power (oh yeah this is mandatory) ----

#disco elysium #harry du bois #harrier du bois #hdb #disco elysium playlist #generally wanted to keep this playlist fun to listen to despite the subject matter to there are still a lot of songs w good beats #communists have the music gets stuck in my head all the time #also sorry to repost this #i forgot to tag anything and if you edit something to add tags it doesn't seem to show up in search

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blackcherrykiss · 3 years

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BLOOD BOUNDARIES - Enhypen OT7 Fanfic (ch.7)

[CH.1] [CH.2] [CH.3] [CH.4] [CH.5] [CH.6] previous chapters

[CH.8.] next chapter (unavailable, check back or follow for updates!)

You fell into a distrustful panic that night now that knew the screams of the woods were also where Jungwon and his friends lived. You weren't sure if you should be scared for those group of boys or be scared of them. You'd be lying to yourself if you tried to believe it was only a coincidence the boys had a place in the forest of violent cries.

You questioned your sanity, were they murderers? Was that their dirty secret?

Your conclusions were endlessly dark, repeating themselves countlessly. You had never wanted to sleep away your thoughts more than ever. Eventually, you got exhausted from your thoughts. It was mentally draining to try and tear apart the possibilities of the situation, you didn't have enough evidence to be so sure. You lay in a cold sweat as you drifted off into a deep but horrible sleep.

You dreamt in full awareness. The boys with blood spilling down their hands and onto their swan white clothes. A red mess everywhere on the cream walls of an orphanage that overflowed with rays of a full moon. Although you were scared of what you were witnessing, you could not wake up even if your life depended on it. It seemed as if the dream had sped up your sleep as you woke in what felt like a few seconds. Calmly, you awoke in the misty autumn morning in a crushed up pile of blankets. You sit up to peel your wispy curtains away from the window to get a good look at the dark forest that steamed with a muddy blue fog. All of the memories of Jungwon yelling at you for just being near the woods flooded your brain as you stared. This time you were determined to search deep into that forest and get to the bottom of its mysteries as it called out to you.

"Y/N I think you're going to be late for your first class." Nana knocked before bursting into your room in full uniform, not a wrinkle on her shirt.

"Y-you're already ready? What time is it?!" You glanced back and forth between your pyjamas and uniform that draped over a random stool as you were too lazy to fold nicely the night before.

"We didn't want to wake you... So we went ahead thinking you'd come down eventually." She yanked you out of bed, gripping your forearms tightly before backing out the door, "Don't be late! We promised we'd keep out of detention this year!"

Within a blink of an eye, you slip into your uniform, slinking your arms through the holes of your blouse and adjusting your legs to be cover by your ashy plaid skirt. With your bag and binder in hand, you sprinted across your campus to the gymnasium where you found yourself arriving, everyone already in the proper athletic attire.

"You're late." Your health teacher grit her teeth in visible disappointment. Your teacher knew how unlike you it was to be late as your classmate's eyes followed your every movement.

"P-pardon me." You clawed your fingers through your bedhead, speeding to the change room, nervous she'd assign you detention.

You let out the deep breath you were holding in as you got into the empty locker room, frustrated at yourself for waking up so late. You can't help but feel upset that you let your thoughts get the best of you and ruin your perfect attendance. Truly you were ashamed but began to see no point in continuing to rush the pace at which your day was running.

The locker room door opens and you see Kyungeun peep herself inside, "Y/N? You alright?"

You pull your boxy shirt flat down, zipping and tying every spot on your tracksuit jacket, "Yeah, sorry rough morning..."

"No worries, I just said that I had to go to the bathroom but I really just wanted to check on you." She had a motherly sound to her voice which comforted your bad start to the day. Perhaps she was in a good enough mood for you to ask her briefly about her relationship with Sunghoon.

"Kyungeun, I think I need to just clear the air... I saw you with Sunghoon in the library." You tilted your head in regret as to whether or not you were starting off the conversation in the right direction.

"Y-you saw us???" Her face drained to an unrealistic hue, "Lord... Sunghoon will kill me if he finds out you know."

"Stop! What do you mean? He'll kill you? Is it because I know that you two are dating?"

"NO! Nevermind then!" She cut you off right after the question mark in your voice. She looked rather relieved at your response which could only mean their relationship was much different than you had presumed. "I just can't tell you about our relationship I'm s-sorry it's between just us two."

"So then it's okay for him to flirt with my roommate?"

"No? Are you serious right now ?!" Kyungeun panicked.

"So you are dating?" You gave a smug smile.

"It's not that..." She was visibly frustrated not being able to describe herself in words, "I'll tell you this, I'm bound to him..." She ran her index finger along the reddened gash on her neck He's blackmailing me."

"So you're like his pet?" You held in your laughter, you knew you should be more serious but you had no other way of trying to help Kyungeun express the gist of her relationship.

"I'll tell you another day... Let's just go before the teacher gets mad at you for taking so long to change."

...

After your class full of advanced leg exercises and mediocrely fun games, you got halted by your gym teacher, "Y/N can we speak about how tardy you were today?"

You got fearful of her sentencing you detention, freezing up from your heel upwards, "I'm so sorry, I just had a lot going on last night..."

"Sweetie, I know this is your first late in my class but unfortunately the school does not tolerate tardiness in the way I believe it should be." She tapped her chin a few times, "I have no other choice but to send you to detention but it'll just be a half-hour at lunch." You felt better that it wasn't for a full hour or two after school but you were still dreading the idea.

"Can't you just let me off the hook? I promise it'll never happen again" You pleaded desperately.

"I'm afraid I cannot... If the other teachers or students knew you didn't get sent to detention I could get into trouble for giving you 'special treatment'. I know you didn't mean to love but I cannot afford to lose my job so I'll see you then." She patted one of your shoulders, giving it a little squeeze to cheer you up.

"I understand..." You nod with your head that already hung low.

"It's in the English room down the hall, there is usually only a few students there. Some familiar faces."

...

That rest of your morning would only pull through faster as you got some weird anxiety over walking into the detention room. You could not concentrate at all in the class you had before lunch. You felt as if you were too good for the detention group of kids, but here you were about to join those you criticized. Karma.

"Make sure to answer the questions 8-16 on page 300, you have the rest of the class to do so. Any questions?" Your physics teacher stood with his hands balled up behind his back.

Realizing you had no physics book in your bag after triple checking, you shot your arm up in distress, "ME! I forgot my textbook today... I was in a rush this morning." You faked a polite laugh with the expectation your teacher would have a spare.

"I'm afraid I don't have an extra, anyone willing to share?" The teacher lifted his head to scan the class.

"I could share." Jaeyun winked making your face recoil

"Perfect! You'll probably have to move your stuff to his seat then." Your teacher suggested.

With a thick coat of disappointment, you pulled a chair up to Jaeyun's desk to which he kneed you annoyingly.

Within just a few seconds of settling down, you complained "How the hell am I supposed to write? There is no space... Desks are made for ONE person."

"Okay then don't use my textbook and fall behind" He sneered.

"Wait wait, I just had the greatest idea Jaeyun." He gave you puppy eyes when you said his name, "What if you look for half the answers I do the other half then exchange?" You whispered so the teacher could hear.

"I can't trust you make good answers though..." He jokingly sighed.

"HEY! Okay or work together for every question to get it done twice as fast? Oh wait but then I'll be the one carrying the team... Bummer..." You stretched the corners of your mouth until your lips disappeared.

"I honestly don't feel like doing work so lose-lose." He pouted and rolled his eyes.

"Same... I can't even focus, I'm having a rough morning..." You openly admitted, "I got sent to detention for being late in my first class."

"Detention? Didn't think you were the type." Jaeyun had an unexpectedly sweet giggle which contrasted with his lower tone voice, "Heeseung and Sunghoon get sent often, surprised they aren't kicked out of the school."

"They get sent often?!" Your voice rose to which you quickly quieted down to avoid trouble, "Will I see them there?"

"Why? Looking forward to going now?" Jaeyun whispered with a grin, causing you to scoff.

"As if..." A sudden idea coming to mind, "Say Jaeyun... About the party... Heard you guys have a place in the woods...?" You became aware that you could pry some information out of him that would help you when searching the woods that night.

"Yeah, we do... We don't normally tell people about it." He said casually yet still with some sort of caution.

"So why tell us then?"

"Haven't had any visitors in a while..." Jaeyun toyed with his mechanical pencil, using the plastic part to trace around his lips, "Awfully interested aren't you?" He seemed to have caught on to your intentions, shifting the mood of the conversation around in a full 180.

Suddenly the dream you had earlier slipped into mind, causing you to sit in growing discomfort, "What do you want from my friends and I?"

"Nothing sweetheart... We're more interested in you than your dormmates. You look like someone we know." He laughed like a psycho and it creeped you out how the two of you were just poking lighthearted jokes to something much darker and mysterious, "I know you're afraid of us, you know far more than most girls." His voice dropped to a whisper as he watched the teacher behind you to make sure he didn't see the both of you slacking.

"Kyungeun knows your secrets too she said she'll tell me."

"She's acting like we don't know her secrets." Jaeyun closed his textbook, "Y/N just remember this, Kyungeun is half as bad as we are and half as pure as you are."

"Alright class, that's it for today's class. This textbook assignment won't be due until Friday have a good lunch." The teacher interrupted, causing your conversation with Jaeyun to end on a hanging note.

"Good luck with detention."Jaeyun hushed in your ear.

_______________

p.s, i changed the cover lol don’t make fun of my photoshop skills!

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boxboysandotherwhump · 4 years

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Chapter 5 Paxton and Amal Series

Hey you guys.

Here is the next chapter of the Paxton and Amal series, in a written format this time.

@albino-whumpee amazing drawing had just inspired me so much that I couldn’t stop myself from starting the Chapter last night and finishing it up today.

So here we are. I hope you guys enjoy it nonetheless.

Tag list: @albino-whumpee @orchidscript @finder-of-rings please let me know if I forgot someone

CW: boxboy universe typical stuff, modern slavery, one character fainting and vomiting in the bathroom, mentioned past abuse, character talking negatively about their body, whumpee is forced to become caretaker, one very brief abelist comment coming up in a memory,

Night had found its way inside the small flat, where old floor boards creaked whisper silent around the curled up, young man on the orange sofa, as the old house settled unable to sleep just like him.

Paxton lay incredibly still, careful not to rustle the blankets and bother his masters, simultaneously overflowing with an all-enveloping warmth. Wrapped in softness he’d never known bevor and basking in the soft glow of the little night light his Master had plugged into one of the living room sockets. Its golden shimmer illuminated parts of the coffee colored walls, the self-build cat tree next to the door frame with the missing door, which had relieved Paxton tremendously, and fell on the plush striped carpet he would have been grateful to sleep on.

But bevor he could even have dared ask for such a privilege, his master had thrown a heap of blankets and pillows on the couch, a nearly apologetic look on his face.

“They’re not washed and probably smell a bit like me. I hope you don’t mind. If I had known that you- well- I would have definitely washed them. And bought a proper comforter. If those fleece blankets are not enough I can make you a warm water bottle. Just tell me if- ah- forget it.”

Paxton had just looked at him, as he had rushed into the small hallway and vanished into his room, leaving him confused and not daring to sit on the couch. It hadn’t felt like a trick, but his feet had stayed rooted to the spot on the ticklish soft carpet nonetheless.

Paxton still remembers the goosebumps that had spread over his entire body at the sound of boiling water from the kitchen and how he had forced himself to remain still. Spine straight and breathing as even as he could manage. He also remembers the little delighted sound that had escaped him as his master had shoved a warm pillow like thing into his hands, with warming cheeks. A warm water bottle as he had called it, with such genuine bafflement about Paxtons lack of knowledge that he couldn’t help but feel stupid.

That, however, hardly mattered now as he lay there, on a soft couch, soft blankets draped over him, his nose filled with the sweet smell of his new master, of Amal he tried to remember, (heat prickling in his cheeks at the intimacy of using masters name), and curling around the warm water bottle as if he’d die the moment he would let go of it.

Wishing, desperately, for this moment to never end Paxton fought against the ever growing heaviness of his eyes, creeping down his limbs and nestling warm under his ribs.

The sudden scrape of a door lets his eyes fly open.

When had he closed them?

Soft footfalls stumbled through the hallway, approaching the living room from the left.

It must be his master, then.

What could he want in the middle of the night?!

Paxton pulled the blankets up over his nose, cringing at their soft rustle, wide eyes fixed on the doorless doorframe.

The only reason for his old master to seek him out at night had been - A shiver wrecked his body accompanied by memories of merciless hands around his throat and canes breaking skin.

The scars on Paxtons hands began to itch as he pressed them closer to his trembling body, hiding them between the warm water bottle and his turning stomach. Knowing full well he would give them to his master, letting him do as he pleased. Would give his everything to him, at the first command.

He had to be good for him.

Would be good for him!

No matter how painful or scary it might be.

Ready to slip from the Couch onto the floor and kneel by master’s side, Paxtons eyes grew ever wider as Amal just staggered past the living room entrance, not even sparing him a glance.

If he craned his neck a bit, Paxton could see master fumbling with the bathroom door handle, finally prying it open and slipping inside.

Was it just him or had his master really swayed a little?

Face scrunched up in a frown?

No. It must have been the low shimmer of the night lamp playing tricks on him.

His master just needed to use the bathroom.

He wasn’t swaying. He wasn’t drunk and angry. He wouldn’t stop at Paxtons bed tonight and- No. Everything was fine. He was fine. His new master surely wouldn’t punish him without a reason. Surely. Hopefully. Please. Please don’t. Please just go to bed again. Please, please, please.

A loud thud, stopped his spiraling panic dead in its tracks.

He lifted his head gingerly from the pillow, straining his ears, trying to listen over his thundering heartbeat.

Barely audible shuffling sounded through the flats silence, followed by a heaving that turned Paxtons stomach in sympathy and fear alike as he bolted upright, feet hitting the carpet running.

He stopped short at the bathroom door, unsure how to proceed until a little whimper followed by more gurgling pushed him to knock. A nervous tap tap tap of scarred knuckles against white wood.

“M- Master? Are, are you alright?”

“Pax…? He- help-“

Cold raced up his arms at his master’s whine and he had the door wrenched open bevor he could think better of it. Wondering faintly, how a master’s voice could even sound so small, quivering miserably.

The sight of his master let his heart drop, heavy like a stone, forcing air out of his lungs in a shuddering exhale.

His master lay doubled over on the bathroom floor, underwear hastily pulled back up over his butt in a futile attempt to preserve at least a sliver of modesty and covered in vomit. Dry-heaving at Paxtons feet, hazy eyes fixed on the bile that had splattered the wall.

“Amal!”

Paxton held a water filled toothbrush cup to his masters trembling lips, faster than any of them could comprehend, cupping Amal’s head gently with his palm. Green unruly hair tickled Paxtons fingertips as Amal shuddered, pale face pressed against his chest.

It was then that Paxton realized, just how small his master was.

“Your legs. They’re… uhm… they’re getting all… all dirty.” Amal rasped out.

“I don’t mind.” a soft smile tugged at Paxtons lips, “I kneeled in my own vomit so often, I’m used to it.”

Amal’s lips twitched, at that, brows crumpling together and Paxton feared he would be sick again but shaking hands pushed him away instead and Amal propped himself up against the toilet seat.

“Thanks Pax. I-“, he swallowed around his burning throat. “I can handle the rest myself.”

Paxton wanted to protest at that, barely able to bite the words back that threatened to spill out but the last time he dared talk back to his master was forever etched into his face, an aching reminder to never ever do such a thing again.

So he just watched, wide eyed, as Amal pulled himself up, hands gripping the bathroom sink for dear life. Amal’s cheeks turned blotchy red as his legs shock eyes screwed shut bevor he took a tentative step and promptly slipped on the bile covered floor.

Paxton was up in an instant, catching him with a strength that surprised himself and sitting him down on the toilette seat.

“Kasi, stop fussing over me. I’m fine.” Grey irritated eyes stared up at him. Fever red face drawn into a pout.

Pain burst behind Paxtons eyes but he pushed it aside as best he could, focusing on his master instead. On the bashful smile curving master’s lips.

“That was close.”

“Please.” Paxtons voice was barely more than a shaky whisper. “Please would, would you let me help you, Sir?”

That’s what I’m for, after all.

Amal’s eyes lingered on him and Paxton shrunk under his master gaze, heart nearly bursting out of his chest.

“I- I know you told me to- that you would ha- handle this. I- I’m sorry I misspoke. It won’t happen again I promise I- “

“Hey no. It’s fine.” Amal sat up a bit straighter, face slowly returning to a healthier color. “Thank you for being there.”

Paxtons throat began to close up at Amal’s gentle smile.

“Could you get me some iced coffee from the fridge? It helps kick my circulation back into gear, when my stupid heart decides to act up. Again.” He huffed.

“Hey don’t worry? It’s looking worse than it is. Really.”

Eyeing the soiled floor warily Paxton hurried out of the room.

Face pressed into his hands and trying to muffle his groan, Amal allowed himself to wallow in his misery, until soft footfalls announced Paxtons return.

His face burned with humiliation as he gulped the coffee down, dizziness fading with every swig. He watched Paxton kneel on the floor, rug in hand and wiping up the mess he’d made.

Peeling himself out of his soiled night shirt, under Paxtons watchful eye, was an exercise in misery. Amal was incredibly glad his underwear had remained clean as he climbed into the shower, refusing – refusing - to take it off.

Grey disbelieving eyes wandered over Amals mastectomy scars, wincing in sympathy as he plucked the bath sponge from Paxtons hand and scrubbed over his chest, cleaning himself hastily.

A sudden self-conscious sigh escaped chapped lips. “What a night, hm?”

Paxton stopped whipping down his own leg with the cleaning rug. “What- uhm what had happened? Sir?”

Barking a little laugh, Amal leaned back against the tile wall, letting its cold seep into heated skin.

“Just my body trying to kill me again. Worthless thing.”

“You’re really reselling him, Boss?!” “Yeah my Tattoo artist needs someone to look after her sibling. Some worthless Crip, or something.”

Nails dug in scarred palms.

“Don’t say that.”

The unexpected volume of his own voice made Paxton flinch, letting it drop back into a whisper that didn’t lose any of its urgency. “Please don’t say something like that about yourself. You- you are an amazing person. The greatest master I ever had the privilege of meeting.”

An irritated huff escaped Amal, as he sat there half naked in his shower, washing the last bits of bile out of his hair, where he had landed face down in the testament off his own fragility, barley able to stand Paxtons adoring gaze.

Something stung in his throat, too deep for it to stem solely from vomiting all over the bathroom floor.

He felt the sudden urge to wrap himself in a towel, hide from those earnest eyes, which were trained solely on him.

Instead he turned his head studying a wandering water drop.

“How could you say that? You barley know me.”

For the first time in as long as he could remember Paxton wasn’t scared as he spoke:

“Because I know kindness when I see it.”

#Box Boy #box boys #boxboys #boxboy #box boy universe #box boy whump #box boy multiverse #whump #pet whump #caretaker whump #vomiting tw #sick whump #paxton and amal series #paxton and amal #paxton the box boy #amal and his really not so great night

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p-artsypants · 4 years

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Longest Night (40) Homecoming

This chapter is dedicated to my irl friend Kris, who found this story on his own and then told me he was reading it, which completely freaked my bean.

Re-reading this story, I remembered thinking about having Tom and Sabine be stress bakers. It was more of a comedy point. But now knowing there are flour outages because of so many people stress baking during quarantine, I think it’s very in character.

Ao3 | FF.net

—

“Oh look at that! Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful, Adrien.” Dr. Boucher praised. “I love bloody skin grafts.”

Adrien was on his stomach, but propped up with pillows to keep the weight off of his chest. The bandages on his back were coming off permanently today.

And they would be going home.

Well, to the Agreste mansion at least.

Until things calmed down more, and the new security system was installed at the bakery.

“No sign of infection, no blackening of any skin. This is just what I hoped to see.”

“It still looks awful,” said Gabriel, mercilessly.

“Well, of course it does. And the stitches make it look even worse. But take a look at this!” The doctor pressed a finger against the skin graft for a moment and then pulled away. There was a white spot where he pressed, before it turned pink again. “You see? He’s got a nice blood flow. That means my biggest worries with him are mostly over.”

He took off more bandages lower down, revealing his buttocks and thighs. “However, the graft came from the groin area. The donor site is looking good too, but the skin is still raw and tender. Walking will be painful for a few weeks still.” Carefully, he rolled Adrien’s thigh to reveal the yellowish gauze on the inside of his legs. It just looked like a really bad rug burn underneath.

“Sitting might also be unpleasant, given the stretching to the stitches from your lower back to your calves. If you are able to prop up your legs, that should help.”

Adrien grunted in confirmation.

“Loose underwear and pants. The more breathable the better. You may shower, but nothing is to be submerged in water. If the xeroform gauze gets wet, blot it dry gently, and use a hair dryer at the lowest setting. You might have to do that a few times a day. As the skin heals, the xeroform will pull off. Just trim it off with scissors. It should be about another two weeks before it pulls all the way off. Your arm stays in the sling for two more weeks, but you can use it as need be. Just be careful. Continue to clean your ears with saline until all of the piercings are healed, then you can take out the earrings. Take all medicine as prescribed, when designated. I’ve included all this information in your care packet.”

“Thank you,” said Gabriel.

The doctor smiled and turned to the other side of the room. “And how is Marinette feeling today?”

“She’s a little sleepy today,” provided Tom.

Marinette laid on her side, away from Adrien. She didn’t acknowledge the doctor.

“Not excited about getting to go home in time for Christmas, sweetheart?”

“I’m ecstatic.” She said dully.

“I can tell,” Dr. Boucher chuckled. “Did you hear what I told Adrien?”

“Hmm-mm.”

“Showers are fine, but don’t submerge any wounds. Mr. Agreste said that your shower has been fitted with a bench so won’t risk standing in water.”

“Cool.”

“Take all medicine as prescribed and when designated.”

“Got it.”

“Would you please look me in the eye and say that again?”

Marinette turned to face him, and said calmly. “Yes Dr. Boucher, I will take my medicine exactly as prescribed and at the right times.”

“Excellent.” The man smiled. “I’m not trying to patronize you, I just wanted you to remember.”

“I know.”

“Good. Now, if anything happens after you leave, you trip and fall, some other symptom pops up, etc. call me, and I’ll come right over. No need to tough things out. We want a nice, smooth recovery.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Alright! Let’s get you dressed and checked out!”

—

Tom, Gabriel, and the Gorilla accompanied them down to the lobby. Sabine has stayed back at the mansion, preparing for their return. Marinette and Adrien were both put in wheelchairs, as they were both still too weak to make the trip.

As soon as they got off the elevator, applause began as staff and patients alike lined the hall and cheered them on.

Marinette sunk farther into her chair. “Why are they all here?” She asked her father.

“Because they love you, and they’re happy to see that you’re alright.”

“How could they love me?”

“Darling, you’re Ladybug.”

“That doesn’t make up for what happened. Just one unforgivable deed can ruin the public’s opinion of a person. Why would I get any special treatment?”

Tom sighed. “You’ll understand eventually.”

Eventually, they ended up at check out. Marinette paid little attention to what was being said. They talked billing and insurance, future appointments for suture removal and check ups. Boring stuff.

Adrien was by her side, about a foot away, and he rested his arm out, palm up for her to take.

She pretended not to see it.

Then soon enough, they were moving again, the Gorilla hurrying on ahead to pull up the car.

“Adrien should sit in the front,” said Marinette. “So he has more leg room.”

Adrien whined in protest, but Gabriel ignored him. “I think that’s a good idea.”

Before they even went outside, however, they could already hear the crowd waiting for them.

“Shit,” Gabriel muttered under his breath. “The media has been patrolling the entrance, but it looks like someone found out today was discharge day.”

“Don’t these people have anything better to do? Tomorrow is Christmas Eve for crying out loud.” Grumbled Tom.

Marinette pulled the hood of her sweatshirt up, and pulled the cords taut. Adrien noticed, and mimicked the action. The police stood nearby, ready to keep back the crowds.

The cold December air burst over them in a flurry, blowing right through them, as the voices shouted and cried out for attention. Mostly demanding and questioning, but some with anger.

“Ladybug! Chat Noir!”

“What are you going to do now?”

“Will you ever get back to superhero work?”

“Is it true that you’re both married officially?”

“Will you be passing on the Miraculous?!”

“Adrien, over here!”

“Murderers!”

“Have you heard anything from Hawkmoth?”

“Are you in league with Hawkmoth now?”

“Monsters!”

Marinette kept her head down as her father helped her into the car. She was placed in the middle seat, as Gabriel sat on her left. The Gorilla helped Adrien into the front, and placed the wheelchairs in the trunk.

Like the red sea, the reporters parted from the front of the car, but didn’t relent in their questions.

“How bad are your injuries?”

“Where are the other Miraculous users?”

“How could you betray us!?”

“What are you going to do with the money from the concert?”

The moment everyone was buckled and settled, the Gorilla peeled out of the drive and sped away to the mansion.

“Jesus Christ. I didn’t think it’d be that bad.”

“Must be a slow news day everywhere else.”

Tom pulled Marinette against him. “It’s okay, Marinette. It won’t take long before this all calms down.”

“Yeah, like in a few decades.” She muttered.

The ride was mostly silent, as Tom tried to introduce small talk. But between two people that didn’t talk, and two people not willing to talk, it was more awkward than not.

Soon they reached the mansion, and even more media awaited them.

Marinette covered her ears to ignore it.

The Gorilla pulled right up to the steps, the gate locking the unwanted guests out.

“I want to walk up the steps on my own.” Marinette demanded.

“Alright, I’ll be right there to catch you,” said her father, helping her out.

The Gorilla lifted Adrien out of his seat, and carried him up the stairs.

Each step hurt, despite having shoes and socks on. She leaned on the rail, while her father’s hand steadied her back. It was slow, but she was doing it on her own.

The doors to the mansion opened, and immediately they were warmed. Not just by the heat, but by the lights, the glitter, and bright colors.

Now it felt like Christmas. Garland strung across the banisters, little hints of Christmas scattered over end tables and furniture, and a tree, bare and surrounded by boxes of decorations.

It felt like a home.

Marinette let out a little hum at the sight. Her parents must have run home to collect their own decorations to make it feel like their home.

“Pretty,” she said with a little smile.

“Oh I’m so glad you like it!” Alya stood from where she was checking lights. “I had no idea if you were going to be up for Christmas, but I figured you wouldn’t at least mind the decorations.”

“Looks very nice,” she stated again. “I’ll enjoy it more in a bit. I really just want to take a shower.”

“Fair enough!”

Adrien whined.

“Stay down here,” she demanded, without looking at him. “It doesn’t make any sense for you to wait for me upstairs when I’m coming right back down.”

He whined again, but it sounded more like he was relenting.

The Gorilla deposited him gently on a chair near the tree as Marinette once again, independently climbed the stairs.

Alya rested a hand on Adrien’s knee. “What do you think, Sunshine? Festive enough?”

He shrugged.

“Eh,” Nino winced. “Adrien’s not really...big on Christmas.”

“My wife is obsessed with Christmas,” explained Gabriel. “Since she...disappeared, it’s been hard. A lot of memories.”

Adrien shifted uncomfortably.

“Then we’ll all make some new ones together.” Said Sabine, resting a hand on his head. “Then we’ll honor the ones you have, and it might not sting as much.”

Adrien didn’t look thrilled at the idea, but he was hard to read. He shuffled his feet, and pulled at the legs of his pants.

He didn’t really seem to be listening.

So they let him be, and got back to decorating.

—

When Marinette reached Adrien’s room, she sauntered over to the bed and sat down on the mattress.

“Great job!” Praised Tikki. “That was a lot of stairs! And you did it all by yourself!”

“Stupid thing to be happy about,” she frowned. “I’m strong enough, my feet just hurt.”

“You’ve got to celebrate the little things.” Tikki flitted over to Marinette’s suitcase behind the couch. “Otherwise you’ll get discouraged.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Tikki wasn’t bothered by the reaction, and only picked out some clothes and moved them into the bathroom.

Adrien’s room had also been decorated for Christmas. There was a garland stretched across the railing to the second story. Another undecorated Christmas tree stood in the corner of the room by the windows. The bed was made, with fresh sheets and a festive blanket on the foot of the mattress. By the pillows sat the little Ladybug and Chat Noir plushies.

Marinette grit her teeth as she leaned forward to untie her shoes. It wasn’t enough to pull her stitches on her back, but it did sting.

“Do you need help?” Tikki asked after watching her struggle.

“No.” She finished untying her laces, and then started to pull them off.

The worst of the cuts on her feet were on the ball of her foot, right by her big toe, and it hurt the whole time she slid out of her shoe.

She still had to take her socks off, but she was exhausted.

Tikki seemed to pick up on it and pulled her socks off for her, pulling gently to not catch on the stitches.

“Thank you, Tikki.”

“Of course Marinette. Please don’t feel ashamed to ask for help. I want you to get better.”

Marinette didn’t argue, but she didn’t agree. Slowly, she stood and sauntered her way to the bathroom.

The tile was cool on the irritated skin. She shucked off her sweatpants and sweatshirt, then her shirt and underwear.

Then she sat on the toilet, feeling tired again before she could reach the shower.

“Here’s your hairbrush.” Tikki added, dropping it on the counter.

“Thanks.”

“Would you like me to stay in here? Or wait outside?”

“Wait outside.” Then as an afterthought, she added, “please.”

“I understand. You want your privacy. Well, if you need me, I’ll be out in Adrien’s room.” And she shut the door behind her.

Gathering her strength, Marinette sauntered over to the shower and turned it on. It didn’t take long at all for it to warm up, and she slid onto the bench, sitting sideways in the stream of water.

Words couldn’t describe the comfort clean, warm water gave her as it rushed over her body. She scrubbed the shampoo into her hair and let the suds slide down her skin. The luxurious fragrance of expensive soap filled her nostrils, hiding the stench of infection and body odor. The dirt and grime that had persisted even after the sponge baths, were disappearing down the drain, leaving nothing but smooth, clean skin.

She used a washcloth to scrub at the bloodstains, rubbing her skin raw. Maybe if she rubbed hard enough, she could wash all the bad memories away. Wouldn’t that be wonderful?

After her hair was shampooed and conditioned, and her skin was raw from her frantic scrubbing, she just sat on the bench, letting the water beat on her. Clear her head of thoughts, good and bad.

And just exist.

Like that night in the rain.

She had leaned on Chat’s—Grimalkin’s chest then. He wrapped his arm around her, and kissed her forehead tenderly, like they hadn’t just murdered 14 people.

A moment in the rain with Adrien.

How different things had become.

Before, she loved the rain. It reminded her of falling in love. Of misunderstandings turned to forgiveness, and friendships starting in the most sincere and innocent of ways. But now the rain tasted bitter. It was cold on her skin and made her hair hang flat to her head.

There was no umbrella, no laughter, no fireworks.

And even the boy she shared the moment with became a blur.

When living your last moments, it’s easy to say ‘I love you’. There’s no fear, no considering, no sorting out your feelings. Just the desire for comfort and to lean on someone, and to let your feelings known without regrets.

She loved Adrien, she knew that in her head. And she had moments with Chat Noir where her heart would beat faster and she’d feel at home.

But the twisted version of her boy was so foreign to her. They had both come out of torture as different people, that was obvious. But the month she was separated from him, something changed in his mind. It cracked. Or maybe it was the flogging, or even the akumatization.

Somewhere, the sunshine goofball she treasured was swallowed, and a blank slate was left behind.

Adrien and Chat Noir still never melded together for her. They hadn’t gotten to develop that gap organically. It was just a constant fight for their lives with no development.

It was her and him together, and that’s all it was. All it needed to be.

So what was different now? Why was everything so complicated?

Finally, she turned the water to cold, letting herself be pelted to numbness before she turned it off completely.

She stood, stepping out of the shower to get a towel.

But the marble floor was slick and her feet flew out from under her. She immediately fell on the ground, landing hard on her back and bumping her head on the lip of the shower.

It wasn’t enough to knock her out, but it did send searing pain up through the wounds in her back.

Honestly, it would have hurt even if she didn’t just get out of the hospital.

She didn’t cry out in pain though. She took the impact with as much grace as she could, only a rough grunt coming from her lips.

Now to get up.

She could do that, right? She just needed to sit up.

Sit up.

Sit.

Oh she was exhausted. Her head throbbed as she fought off nausea.

“Tikki?” She called weakly.

“Did you call me, Marinette?” Tikki asked from outside.

“Yeah...I...I fell. And I can’t...I can’t get up.”

Tikki was silent on the other side. Marinette hoped she had rushed to get help, and hadn’t shrugged her off.

Just a few minutes.

Just a few…

—

Tikki swooped into the main room where everyone was still decorating. “Marinette fell!” She cried.

Immediately, everyone abandoned their decorations and raced up the stairs, leaving Adrien alone on the couch.

Tom, Sabine, and Alya burst into the bathroom, while Nino and Gabriel waited just outside, giving her privacy, but also waiting to help where they could.

Marinette looked up at the sudden entrance. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”

“Oh baby...” Sabine cooed, bending over her. “What hurts? Where did you land?”

“I landed on my back, and I bumped my head.”

“I’ll get an ice pack!” Gabriel called before leaving the room.

“Do we need to call the doctor?” Asked Tom.

“No, no don’t. I just...need some help getting up. I’m...weaker than I thought.”

“How’s your spine? Does anything feel wrong?”

“No, just my stitches.”

“Okay, I just didn’t want to move you if you hurt your spine.” Tom took hold of her arm and pulled her up to sit. Then he scooped her up and moved her to sit on the toilet.

Alya draped a towel over her legs.

Sabine scooted behind her, touching her back. “I’m not seeing any bleeding, so I don’t think you tore anything.”

“Girl, talk to us.” Alya demanded. “I see tears. What hurts?”

“It all hurts,” she confessed with a whisper. “But I feel so stupid for falling...”

Sabine took her hairbrush and started to comb out her hair. “Darling, no. You don’t need to worry about that. Accidents happen.”

“Dr. Boucher told me to be careful. But I just wanted to shower on my own...”

“Marinette,” her mother squeezed her hand. “We do not fault you for wanting to be independent or wanting privacy. You deserve it, you have the right to ask for it. This was simply an accident, and it’s not as bad as it could be.”

“I’ll call the doctor,” said Tom. “I don’t think he needs to come, but it would be smart to get his recommendation.”

“Sorry...”

“No apologies necessary, honey.” Tom kissed her temple, and left the room.

“Let’s get you dressed, Hmm?”

“Yeah.”

Only a few minutes later, Marinette emerged from the bathroom, clean and dry, dressed in fresh clothes. Sabine helped her to sit on the bed.

Gabriel handed her a bag of frozen peas for her head, and Nino gave her a glass of water with some ibuprofen.

“Dr. Boucher says he’s not too worried about it since she’s not bleeding or unconscious. He said there might be some extra soreness, but to call again if something feels sprained.”

“I’m sorry...” Marinette looked down to her toes.

“Really girl, stop apologizing.” Alya chastised. “We felt so helpless for so long, please let us help you now.”

Marinette looked up to her shyly, and prepared to answer, but before she could, a low whine came from the door.

Everyone collectively turned to look, only to find Adrien sitting at the door frame.

“Adrien? How did you get up here?” Gabriel asked, dreading the answer.

Adrien leaned forward to his hands and knees and started to shuffle slowly into the room.

“Nope!” Tom rushed to him and lifted him off the floor. He carried him over to the couch and set him down.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” Gabriel reprimanded. “Why didn’t you just stay downstairs?”

Adrien flinched, curling up on himself at the shout.

Tom petted his head. “I’m sorry we left you down there alone. We won’t do it again.”

As soon as Adrien was on the couch, he was twisting to turn around to look at Marinette. He whined again.

Marinette didn’t look at him.

“She’s alright,” Sabine cooed. “Just bumped her head.”

His eyes never left her, as he just stared with an unreadable expression.

“Did you want to take a shower too, dude?” Asked Nino.

But Adrien didn’t answer. It didn’t seem like he had heard him.

“Adrien,” Gabriel stepped right in front of him and caught his eyes. “Do you want to take a shower?”

Adrien tried to look around him, back at Marinette, but she wasn’t looking at him. Not cuing him, not saying anything to him.

He didn’t know what to do.

“Adrien.” Gabriel pressed a little firmer. “Yes or no?”

Why was a simple yes or no so hard? He didn’t know! He didn’t know!

The decision was taken away as Tom scooped him up. “Let’s get you cleaned up. Maybe you’ll feel better afterwards.”

As he was being taken away, he kept twisting to get a peek at Marinette.

She never met his eyes.

Once he was in the bathroom, Sabine helped Marinette over to the couch. “Here dear, just relax. We’ll put a movie on for you both, and we’ll decorate the tree! Won’t that be nice?”

“Hm.” She hummed noncommittally.

“You know, you have a lot of people that want to see you. So for Christmas Eve tomorrow, we’re thinking about having a big dinner. With the Cesaire’s, and Grandma and Grandpa, Chloe, and Jagged Stone and Penny! Won’t that be fun?”

“Yeah.” She said flatly.

“If you’d rather not, they’d completely understand.”

“It’s fine.”

“Are you sure? I can call it off too. No pressure sweetie.”

“Yeah, mom I said it’s fine!” She barked, “If I didn’t want to see them, I would have said no!”

“Okay,” Sabine said patiently. “I just want you to be in control, but I also want you to have fun.”

Marinette sighed. Then she leaned over the back of the couch and looked in her bag. Not finding what she was looking for, she asked, more politely, “maman? Did you pack my favorite blanket? The gray and red plaid one?”

“I packed your bag,” Alya clarified. “And no, I didn’t. Sorry girl. I can go grab it for you, though! Anything else you want me to get?”

“Can you also grab my cat pillow?”

“Sure thing!”

“Wait a second, Alya, have Tom go with you.”

Marinette waited, sitting on the couch and looking out to the city. It was a gray, bleak sky, and even the buildings looked desaturated. While the twinkling of the lights in her peripheral vision showed a warm environment, the landscape in front of her reminded her of just how cold and unforgiving the world was. And how cold it would continue to be in the coming weeks. Perhaps even for the rest of her life.

Alya plopped down on the couch next to her. “So what do you want to watch? Hallmark’s got some really great ones this year. And by great, I mean terrible. We can play your favorite game: car accident or cancer?”

“I don’t want to watch a Hallmark movie. Too fake. Too predictable.”

“Alright, you want a classic one then? Something you’ve seen a hundred times before?”

“Yeah…yeah I think that’s what I want.”

“Okay.” Alya dashed up to Adrien’s movie collection. “God, he’s got like every movie ever made up here! Umm…oh, this will work!” She grabbed the case and rushed down the stairs. “I know you like this one!” And she popped it in the player.

A black and white film. A sleepy scenic town, covered in a layer of fresh snow. The voices of various people called up to prayer.

And then a sea of stars, where two stars flickered in conversation.

It’s a Wonderful Life.

It wasn’t Christmas without it. She’d seen it a hundred times, her heart hurting until the end.

It was hitting differently this year.

Eventually, Adrien was brought out, fresh and clean. His hair damp and combed back. With Tom holding his hand, he tottered his way to the couch to sit next to Marinette.

“Tom?” Asked Sabine, “Alya was going to run to the bakery to get some stuff for Marinette. Will you go with her?”

“Of course!”

“Would you like to take the car?” Asked Gabriel.

“No, I think a walk will do just fine.”

“Buffalo Gals can't you come out tonight. Can't you come out tonight. Can't you come out tonight. Buffalo Gals can't you come out tonight and dance by the light of the moon.”

Marinette had noticed when Adrien sat next to her. He still sat just out of reach. One scoot and she’d be pressed against him.

But she didn’t move. And neither did he.

“Okay, then, I'll throw a rock at the old Granville house.”

“Oh, no, don't. I love that old house.”

An old house indeed. It was a weather-beaten, old-fashioned two-storied house that once was no doubt resplendent.

“No. You see, you make a wish and then try and break some glass. You got to be a pretty good shot nowadays, too.”

“Oh, no, George, don't. It's full of romance, that old place. I'd like to live in it.”

“In that place?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I wouldn't live in it as a ghost. Now watch...right on the second floor there.” He hurled a stone at the window and broke it. An old man sitting on his porch sat up at attention.

“What'd you wish, George?”

“Well, not just one wish. A whole hatful, Mary. I know what I'm going to do tomorrow and the next day and the next year and the year after that. I'm shaking the dust of this crummy little town off my feet and I'm going to see the world. Italy, Greece, the Parthenon, the Colosseum. Then I'm coming back here and go to college and see what they know...and then I'm going to build things. I'm gonna build air fields. I'm gonna build skyscrapers a hundred stories high. I'm gonna build bridges a mile long…”

As he talked, Mary had been listening intently. She finally stooped down and picked up a rock, weighting it in her hand.

“Are you gonna throw a rock?”

Mary threw her rock, and once more the sound of breaking glass echoed over the empty street.

“Hey, that's pretty good. What'd you wish, Mary?”

She threw him a flirty smile. “Buffalo Gals, can't you come out tonight…”

Alya and Tom returned from their trip, and set the pillow on the bed. Alya dropped the blanket over Marinette and Adrien both, then settled on the couch next to Adrien.

“Scooch!” Nino demanded, as he wiggled into the seat next to Alya. Alya then bumped into Adrien, who slid over to be closer to Marinette.

Their legs pressed together.

She didn’t acknowledge it, or the little whimper Adrien made.

On the screen, George Bailey entered the old, run down house they had broken the windows to. It was run down, water dripping from the ceiling, and the wind was blowing the drapes around as the rain poured outside. But a huge fire burned in the fireplace. Near the fireplace, a collection of packing boxes were heaped together in the shape of a small table and covered with a checkered oilcloth, set for two. A bucket with ice and a champagne bottle sat on the table as well as a bowl of caviar. Two small chickens roasted on a spit over the fire. A phonograph played on a box, a string from the phonograph turning the chickens on the spit. A Hawaiian song played on the record. Mary stood near the fireplace looking as pretty as any bride ever looked. She smiled at George, who had been slowly taking in the whole set-up. Through a door, there was the end of a cheap bed, over the back of which is a pair of pajamas and a nightie.

“Welcome home, Mr. Bailey.”

“Well, I'll be...Mary, Mary, where did you…”

Ernie, the taxi driver, shoved George forward into Mary’s arms.

The record ended, and Bert and Ernie sang from outside.

I love you truly, truly dear,

Life with it's sorrow, life with it's tear,

Fades into dreams when I feel you are near,

For I love you truly,

Truly dear!

Ah, love 'tis something, to feel your kind hand,

Ah yes, 'tis something, by your side to stand,

Gone is the sorrow, gone doubt and fear,

For you love me truly,

Truly dear!

A searing pain overtook Marinette’s hand. The pain of a burn, searing flesh and nerves to a blacked char. She looked down, her clenched fingers unfurling.

Chat Noir.

That was engraved into her palm, the scar still very angry and red. The new skin began to show through, a pale white.

Then, by the power invested in me, I pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.

It was the voice of the officiant echoing in her head, some of his last words before he was shot and killed. The man that had married her to Adrien.

She could feel the paint on her face, the itchy tutu on her legs, and the absolute humiliation of that mockery of a wedding. The drunken singing, the groping, the lifeless eyes of a corpse on the ground.

In that case, let’s get a sailboat. Sail the world. At night, we’ll be just a silhouette surrounded by a myriad of stars. Spend our nights on the glassy water, where you can't tell where the sky begins and ends. Just the two of us, free to go wherever we want.

That was Adrien’s voice, when it still sounded like him. The last time she heard him speak.

When we’re out of here, we’ll have our perfect wedding. And then we’ll go, and never look back.

“Marinette?” Alya asked.

Marinette just shook her head, and covered her face. She brought her legs up and curled up into the corner of the couch as far as she could.

Mary spoke on the screen. “Remember the night we broke the windows in this old house? This is what I wished for.”

—

Day number...who even knew anymore. The dark and the silence made time go on forever.

But the cement was not quite as cold, the ache in her knees not so strong, and she could hear traffic.

This is a dream, she told herself. Just a nightmare.

Just like every night.

The door to her little cage opened, and there stood Ladybug. Her arms were crossed and she looked supremely disappointed.

“Well?” She asked.

“Well what? You’re the one with the powers here.”

Ladybug scoffed, not moving from the doorframe. “Don’t act dumb. I’ve had it with your attitude.”

“You aren’t real,” Said Marinette. “And my attitude? You mean my trauma? My anxiety? My paranoia? You mean the fact that I don’t know who I can trust anymore? You mean the supreme weight of being closed in silence for a month? Is that what you’re sick of, Ladybug? My unheroic disposition? My unladylike mannerisms?”

Ladybug looked at her unflinching. “No. That’s not what I’m talking about at all. And you know it.”

Marinette turned away. “I really wish it was.”

“Because you have an excuse for it?”

“And a logical explanation.”

“I don’t think violent torture is logical.”

“No. No it’s not.” Marinette scoffed. “Look, do you have a reason for bothering me? Or did you just come here to taunt me? O ghost of Christmas past?”

“You know why I’m here.”

“No, I really don’t. This is a dream right? Dreams don’t make sense. They say dreams have hidden meanings, but I really doubt reliving every torment I dealt with in the past month is anything but trauma.”

Ladybug snapped her fingers, and in an instant, they were in Adrien’s room. Marinette was on the couch, where she had elected to sleep, despite the insistence against it from everyone else.

She didn’t look, but she knew Adrien was in his bed.

“You’re acting weird around Adrien again.” Ladybug stated coldly. “Why?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged.

“You don’t know? Really? After all you’ve been through together, now you’re avoiding him?”

“I’m not avoiding him!”

“You haven’t said a word to him since he fought his way to you in the hospital!”

“He can’t speak! It wouldn’t be fair!”

“You won’t even look at him!”

“That’s not true!”

“Look at him right now!”

“I—I can’t!”

“You can’t? Or you won’t?”

Marinette trembled. “I can’t...I can’t bear it...”

“Bear what, Marinette?”

It took awhile for her to have an answer.

“I…I don’t know him.” She confessed.

Ladybug didn’t answer, only looked down at her, waiting.

“I don’t know if I ever knew him. How could I, if Chat and Adrien never felt like the same person? And now…this—“ She cut herself off. “I’m horrible. I’m cruel. And I’m unfair. I’m not the Marinette I used to be, so why would he be different? Shouldn’t I just…love him regardless?”

Ladybug sat daintily next to her. “You know love isn’t easy. People change, and so must your love. But it’s not going to if you don’t communicate with him.”

“He can’t talk.”

“He can listen. And he can see. And he’s aware of every time you push him away. And he has no idea why you are. But, knowing him, he’s probably thinking the worst.”

Marinette turned to look at him. He curled up in his bed, looking far too small for the king sized mattress.

He looked restless and tense.

“You don’t have to have all the answers right now. But don’t push away the person who understands your pain the most. Now wake up!”

Marinette jolted awake, still on the couch. This time for real. She blinked a few times, noticing that it was snowing outside. The lights from the garden shined up to illuminate the flakes.

Then, she noticed the blond head by her elbows. He was sitting on the floor, resting against the couch and watching the snowfall.

“Adrien?” She whispered, ever so gently.

He turned his head, looking at her with wide green eyes, full of panic. He had been caught.

“Can’t sleep?” She asked again, still gently.

He shook his head, no.

She sat up, making room for him. “Would you like to sit up here? It’ll be more comfortable.”

He took her invitation and climbed onto the couch.

Marinette took note of his posture, tense, closed off, unsure as he continued to watch the snow fall.

“I’m sorry.” She breathed.

He glanced at her again, his eyebrows furrowing.

“I…this is going to sound so stupid, but…now that we’re not in mortal peril anymore, I’ve been thinking…”

Tears gathered in his eyes as he started to scoot farther away from her.

“No, wait, Adrien…ugh.” She grimaced and shook her head. “Look, Chat Noir and Adrien were always so different from each other. I told you I loved you, and I do, and I didn’t lie. But…if the reveal had happened naturally, I would have wanted more time.”

He looked less upset now, and more just curious as he cocked his head.

“Time to reconcile the two versions of you into one. But the person you are now is even more different…I’m just confused. And I still feel…really guilty about getting us into this position in the first place.” Tears started to sting at her own eyes before she shut them tight to will them away. “I’m sorry for pushing you away, Kitty.”

A hand fell on her shoulder. Sure, and strong as he gave her a little squeeze.

“Hey, no sweat Marinette.” She could almost hear his voice.

His hand trailed down her arm to take her hand, before he gave it a little squeeze and brought it to his lips to kiss.

“There’s nothing to forgive, my lady.”

When she opened her eyes, she let out a shuddering sigh at the look on his face. One of adoration and trust. That slight smile, and eyes that sparkled with warmth.

Adrien.

The boy she loved. Her partner.

The line was blurred, but not completely gone. But things already felt better.

He let go of her hand and held out his arm, asking for a hug.

She fell into him, letting his warmth seep into her soul. He smelled like Adrien used to smell, and had a quiet purr that Chat always had.

“I love you,” she whispered. “I really love you.”

He squeezed her tighter and kissed her head.

They stayed like that for a while, until Adrien yawned.

��Let’s get back to bed, huh?”

He gestured to his bed.

“Yeah, I’ll join you.”

He beamed.

Slowly, they both shuffled to the bed, and dropped onto it. Marinette spread her blanket over both of them and snuggled down to rest. The bed really was more comfortable than the couch.

Adrien hooked his ankles with hers, and reached out to take her hand.

She just scooted closer and wrapped an arm around his waist. Then she left a peck on his lips. “Needy kitty.”

He nuzzled against her head, lulling her back to sleep with his purrs.

#longest night #miraculous ladybug #ml #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #adrinette #adrienette #ladybug #chat noir #fanfiction

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sign-from-god-complex · 5 years

Text

four and twenty blackbirds

Summary: There were many things that could have caused Roman to be late to his therapy appointment ranging from forgetting his wallet to getting distracted by a dog, however, meeting a very attractive baker was possibly Roman’s new favourite reason.

Pairing: Royality

Warnings: Food mentions.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Roman had walked this route dozens of times before; at this point, it was almost something of an established routine. He was a spontaneous person by nature, so he didn't necessarily like doing the same thing over and over again but it was good to have a little bit of consistency in his life—or so his therapist told him. So, yes, Roman had walked this route many times.

This, however, was definitely new.

It was a small little hole-in-the-wall place, the white paint on the storefront peeling slightly at the edges. The windows were frosted, the door was painted light blue and above that door was a sign that read, in a looping font, "Sweet Treats".

But, most importantly, crouching outside and drawing carefully on a chalkboard sign was one of the cutest boys Roman had ever seen.

He tried his best not to stare but he found it was almost impossible not to. The boy looked like a real-life angel—chubby cheeks and soft, dark curls and freckles, sticking his tongue out as he worked. His apron was covered in a light dusting of powder and Roman noticed a small amount on his face too, just a little bit by the bridge of his nose that Roman longed to reach out and dust off.

Instantly, Roman recognised that he was going to be late. He could not let this boy pass him by; he’s sure his therapist would understand.

"Hi, are you open?" Roman asked, tilting his head to the side slightly.

At the words, the boy looked up from where he was drawing on the sign, eyes wide and lips slightly parted. Clearly, he hadn't noticed Roman standing there—something Roman was incredibly glad for as he had been blatantly checking him out.

The surprise only lasted a moment before the boy was giving Roman a wide smile—delighted and maybe a tiny bit flustered, hooking Roman on the expression in less than a second.

"We absolutely are! Just give me one second..." The boy gestured vaguely towards the door, chalk in hand. "You can head inside if you like! See if there's anything in particular that strikes your fancy."

You, Roman’s brain supplied. Externally, however, Roman just nodded dumbly. He was belatedly realising that he wasn’t exactly sure what kind of store this was, however, he was also realising that it didn’t really matter—he was almost certain he’d buy something no matter what.

Pushing open the door, Roman was met with a burst of warm air and the subtle scent of cinnamon—a welcome change from the chill of wind outside.

As he glanced around, he noticed the store definitely seemed to prioritise comfort over aesthetic. There was a scattering of mismatched furniture—couches, coffee tables, barstools, etc.—and the walls were reminiscent of a kindergarten art project with splashes of colour found in seemingly random places.

Quite honestly, it really should have given Roman a headache and yet he only seemed to find it endearing.

He made his way over towards the counter, distractedly eyeing up the contents of the display cases. It appeared as though this was a bakery, which, upon reflection, is what Roman should have guessed based both on the name and the thin coating of what was probably flour covering the boy outside. Though, in all fairness, Roman had been much too distracted to have any modicum of common sense.

"You can take your coat off if you want! There's a rack just over by the door," a voice chimed out from behind him.

Spinning around, Roman watched as the boy approached the counter—eyes bright and a smile dancing at the corner of his lips. He rubbed his hands on the front of his apron a few times, attempting to remove the chalk dust from his fingertips before pulling the sleeves of his jumper back down and coming to a stop right next to Roman.

Realising he’d been silent for just a moment too long, Roman raised his eyebrows. "Oh! Uh, I would, but I can't stay."

Roman could have sworn he saw a flash of disappointment on the other boy's face, but, no, he was probably just imagining things. The boy slipped behind the counter, pinning Roman in place with a smile reminiscent of diamonds or distant stars—precious and sparkling and beautiful in a way that was almost impossible to describe.

"To take away then! No problem," he replied sweetly, "My name's Patton! What can I get for ya?"

In all honesty, Roman had been far too distracted with thoughts of the boy—Patton, he amended—to actually process any of the pastries he was looking at, so, instead, he decided to opt-out of having to make a decision.

Leaning on the counter in front of him, Roman gave Patton a small smirk, batting his eyelashes as subtly as possible. "I'm not sure; what's good?"

Patton's eyes flickered down to Roman's lips for a half-second and Roman felt his heartbeat pick up ever so slightly.

"Oh, well it's all good, I think! I mean, I hope so!" He chuckled slightly—shy but undeniably adorable. "If you wanted to know my preference, though, I like the apple pie.”

He directed Roman’s gaze to a large apple pie with a few slices cut from it and some pastry hearts sitting on top. It looked delicious. A quick scan of the cabinet revealed that they all looked delicious, which was fairly impressive considering Roman wasn’t really a huge fan of pastries to begin with.

“And in case that doesn't interest you,” Patton continued, “My brother likes the raspberry and white chocolate muffins; they're filled with Crofter’s jam, it's his favourite."

"Oh, that's funny, that's my roommate's favourite too! I'll definitely have to get one for him." Roman grinned; maybe if he bought Logan a muffin with Crofter’s in it, he would be less on his case about being late to therapy. "And I'll take a slice of the apple pie for myself."

Patton pressed a few buttons on the register before saying, "Wonderful! That'll be $7.20. Was that cash or card?"

"Card," Roman replied, and Patton set up the machine before moving to grab out Roman's order.

Roman watched him idly as he pulled open the cabinet, scrunching up his nose in an entirely too adorable manner as he tried to carefully separate a slice of the pie. He was fully aware that every second he stood there was another second closer to the transaction timing out but at the same time, he felt entirely unable to do anything about it.

Patton was just absolutely breathtaking.

Sure there was his physical appearance, of course, but it was more than that. Roman couldn’t explain it—the way the entire world seemed brighter the moment Roman saw him, how Patton’s smile had made something in Roman’s chest warm. He’d never wanted to get to know someone as much as he did this boy right now and so, against his better judgement, Roman spoke up again.

“Oh, Patton?” Roman called out, his face alight with a shy smile, “Actually, there was one more thing I wanted.”

Patton glanced up from where he’d been placing a muffin into a little paper bag, his gaze questioning. “Yeah, kiddo? What was that?”

“Your number.”

Instantly, Patton’s face turned bright red, his eyes widening in surprise.

To ease his conscience—which was loudly insisting that hitting on an employee was an awful thing to do—Roman hurriedly added, “There’s absolutely no pressure, of course. If these pastries taste as good as they look, you’ve earned a new customer either way.”

There was a moment where Patton didn’t reply—his brow furrowed and his lips twisted as he contemplated Roman’s request. Eventually, though, he settled Roman’s order down on the counter in front of him, grabbing a pen out of the pocket of his apron and scrawling something on the bag.

“There,” he said, sliding it across the counter to Roman, “My number.”

Roman’s answering grin was almost blinding as he finally completed the transaction and Patton gifted him a small smile in return, his cheeks still flushed.

With the order completed, Roman knew he had to set out again. His therapist was waiting for him and no matter how much Roman wished he could stay and talk to Patton forever—learn all of his quirks and his favourite things and everything about him—he was distantly aware of both the importance of keeping appointments and the lecture Logan would no doubt give him once he returned to the flat.

He ducked his head slightly in a mock bow, knowing that the glint in his eye betrayed how excited he truly was.

“Goodbye, my dear,” he spoke, voice soft yet earnest, “I’ll ensure to return to you again soon.”

The giggle the words pulled from Patton made something in Roman bubble up and over, like a fizzy drink or one of Logan’s science experiments, brightening Roman’s expression even more. Patton’s laughter was almost ethereal—like windchimes or the morning birdsong—and Roman felt calmer just hearing it.

He picked his order up off the counter, the sweet smell of raspberries lingering in the air around them as he reluctantly turned to leave. And, as he walked, Roman couldn’t help but note the way he hadn’t felt Patton’s gaze leave him until he’d finally slipped out of the door and out of sight.

So, with a smile born of anticipation and affection, Roman continued back down his familiar route, holding the bag of pastries close to his chest and so much potential for love in his heart.

Taglist: @mutechild @super-magical-wizard @shadowsfromthesun @teadays @sandersships @camcam774 @autism-goblin @deadlyhuggles6 @romanthestarstruckqueer @whispers-stuff-in-your-ear @rainboots-are-for-snobs @sanders-and-sides @spirits-in-my-thoughts @kee-and-co @autistic-virgil @stop-it-anxiety @figurative-falsehood @jadedfantasies231 @poisonedapples @sanders-screams @another-sandersidesblog @do-not-just-see-observe @mychemicalpanicattheemo @thomassandersenthusiast @localagendergrape @idosanderssidespromptssometimes .

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #royality #roman sanders #patton sanders #lo can write #or so he claims anyway #fck I'm tired y'all #just like #emotionally #I'm really over it #anyway hope you all have a lovely day cause you deserve that and so much more

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embracethecringeside · 4 years

Text

Not sure if anyone is actually reading this fanfiction but I have an update! Woo!

Okay so chapter two is technically shorter than chapter one but not by a lot, lmao. So this one is a lot more exposition, since chapter one did not explain much and it focuses a lot more on different Mortys. I’m hoping for future reference to just focus on a few at a time rather than a big group so I can really set up each one as an individual rather than just a “Morty”.

Chapter one is here at fanfiction.net and here at ao3 but you really don’t have to read it to understand this chapter.

I also put this chapter, chapter 2 here at fanficiton.net and here at ao3.

This is 4,803 words and I simply titled it The Arrival because I cannot title things to save my life.

The Arrival

When a particularly over friendly Morty had told a bunch of Mortys to meet him at the Creepy Morty during the presidential speech, they had expected more of a party. Like a watch party where they could all watch the stream and support their president. But it didn’t seem like the place was ready for a party, or really any kind of social gathering. No decorations, no streamers, no confetti, not even any balloons. The harsh flickering lights overhead revealed that the room was grimy and unkept and none of the TV screens were even on. The air held a smell, like a refrigerator that hadn’t been cleaned in months. And most importantly none of them could see any food out, so it definitely couldn’t be any kind of party.

Or maybe the biggest indicator that this was no party and they had been tricked was that there were two Ricks there with all of them. One Rick dressed in a police officer uniform stood guard at the entrance, hands behind his back, carefully scanning the room. The other Rick the Mortys recognized as the one that ran the Morty Daycare, and he was leaning up against the back wall, arms crossed, with an impatient look on his face.

It was hard to say what the clue that tipped them off was, but most of them had a gut feeling that they had gotten themselves into some sort of trouble. Some were just confused. But the vibes in the room made them all feel uneasy.

When a portal opened up next to Storage Rick, all he said was, “Alright come on,” and made a casual buzz off motion. As though they were going to just waltz through the portal to who knows where? He was crazy if he thought that would work. Oh well, okay of course he was crazy, all Ricks were but if he thought they were that stupid he had another thing coming. One Morty was about to take the bait but was stopped by another, who sighed and shook his head.

“I-I-I don’t-urp- don’t have all night, come on.”

The one blocking the exit found his voice. “Morty, he’s just messing with you, really it’s okay. We’re taking all of you somewhere safe. I promise. You have to trust me.”

“I don’t have to trust jack!”

A few of them tried to rush the cop and burst out the entrance, but the doors were shut hard and fast, and no amount of pushing, shoving, or slamming his small spaghetti noodle strength against them did any good.

They must have been taking too long, because the portal closed.

“Ugh,” Storage Rick groaned, “This is taking forever. Why can’t it ever be easy with you dingbats? J-j-just walk through the damn portal! That-that’s all we’re asking you to do. Y-y-you’re a real- a real piece of work Morty.”

“O-oh? L-l-like you’re so easy to deal with Rick?” “Y-yeah R-rick you’re no- no picnic either!” “Why would we walk through some portal with you?” “Just look-look what happened last time we did that!”

Another portal opened in place of the last one.

One Morty that was feeling particularly brave, got up on one of the tables and tried to attract attention to himself. “Guys, guys!”

“What?”

“W-w-ell, I-I think we should, go with them.”

“Why?” “W-why should we?” “Are-are you crazy?” “No! No way!”

“B-because th-this sucks! I hate it here, we all hate it here, and-and I don’t think whatever is on the other side of that portal could be any worse than this!” he gestured vaguely in front of him.

“Uh, y-you mean the building?” “Don’t-don’t knock my business.”

He sighed, exasperated with himself. Himselves. “What? No! Like-like everything is terrible! And he,” Morty pointed to the one in uniform,”he said he wants to help us.”

“He’s a Rick” “He’s lying” “He’s a liar”

He hopped down from the table and walked with purpose in every step and brought himself closer and closer until he was bathed in the green light. “Frankly, I-I don’t care! I-I see that portal and I see a chance to leave and I’m taking it!” With that he marched forward right through the portal.

And it wasn’t long before he came back, but with a big smile on his face. “Guys come on, you gotta see what’s through here!”

Linking hands with one Morty led to him grabbing another Morty’s hand until the room was one long hand holding chain of Mortys, and the first one took the initiative to fling himself back into the portal, and the enersa pushed the rest of them with him, falling through one after another like dominos. Once they had clamored off of each other and got up they were surprised to see that they were just in a house.

A normal looking house at that.

The odd part? Was the Rick, that most of them had heard their Ricks refer to as Doofus Rick, stood there with a big smile to greet them.

“Alright, that-that’s it. That’s all of ‘em.” Storage Rick announced as he and Cop Rick walked in as the portal closed.

“Welcome Morty! Or I-I suppose I should say Mortys plural since there are more than one of you,” He fumbled his greeting every time, a mix of excitement and nerves kept him from being confident in what to say. “I’m Rick J-19-Zeta-7, but uh,” he sighed in defeat, “you-you can call me Doof.”

There were a few Mortys that awkwardly waved back at him, but most of them were just looking around, confused by everything.

“W-we all have stupid names, you think I like being known as Storage Rick?”

“If you would like, you can call me Cop.”

“W-w-why? T-theres no nuance or thought to it, it’s just your occupation being used as a name. It doesn’t even roll off the tongue. It’s stupid. Doof, Cop, and Storage, the fucking-’

“Language,”

“The fucking dwarves that didn’t make it into Snow White because their names were so ricdicously stupid.”

Cop crossed his arms and shot Storage a look that politely told him to shut up, then nodded to Doof to indicate that he should keep going.

“S-so the first thing we need to do is just run some diagnostics, update any of the vaccines that you may need, and even though I tend to give them out in the morning I will give you your vitamins as well.”

“L-let’s begin shall we? House could y-”

“Yes, I know what to do.”

When the house spoke, most of them jumped right out of their skin. They weren’t sure how but it was like the walls, the ceiling, the embodiment of the house itself had a voice. It sounded a little familiar and it was unsettling.

“Y-your- uh, your house just-”

“W-w-why does your house talk?”

“I-I knew something was going to- going to be wrong here!”

“Aw geez.”

Storage Rick laughed at their expense.

"I-It gets them every time!"

"Don't worry Morty, it's only the artificial intelligence Doof's installed in his house. It's supposed to talk, it's a lot like non-corporational Alexa or Google Home."

"Y-Yes, exactly, you can ask her anything from anywhere while you're inside. Well, unless, uh, not-not if you're in the bathroom. She can't detect you in there."

They were asked to move down through the hall single file and after being scanned, poked, pricked, and prodded by mechanical arms, Doofus Rick each individual a little cup full of a viscous highlighter orange liquid that smelled like the peel of an orange and tasted like sidewalk chalk. “S-sorry about the impromptu check up, we just need to make sure we keep you all healthy.”

Doof had called for them all to make themselves at home in the living room which was rather spacious, but Morty wasn't so sure it was big enough for all of them. For the most part, it looked rather plain. A couch against the back wall, loveseat along the other, and a recliner across from that, all matching, as though a part of a set. Same for the coffee table and end tables. The walls had built-in shelves filled with books, and a few potted plants. No TV to speak of, but there was a screen in front of the room that didn't appear to be attached to anything with text that was too small to decipher from far away. Plus, all three Ricks were gathered in front, obstructing their view, so there really was no hope of trying to read it anyway.

Some sitting, some standing, all the new Mortys waited for Rick, any of them to start talking. Doofus Rick turned and smiled at them.

“S-so I suppose I-I should start by welcoming you all to your new home! I-I real-really hope you like living here!” Morty didn’t have anything to say apparently, so he continued on. “T-the hard part is over, and now we can talk about the fun stuff, like, designing your bedrooms. And of course choosing what the other Mortys have decided to call their “Public Identities”. M-many of you will be living here, h-however people in my dimension are not aware that the multiverse theory is more than a theory, s-so we have to ask you to make personas you’ll use when you leave the house. But of-of course, I-I think it’s much easier to show you what I mean r-rather than try to explain it.”

“W-wait, what-what do you mean we’ll be living here?”

“Y-yeah, can-can’t you just send us to our dimensions?” “I miss my parents.” “Aw geez, me too.”

“I want to go home.” “I miss Summer.”

Gosh darn, he thought he could avoid having this conversation if he ploughed through everything as fast as possible. “Oh Morty, of-of course I-I understand you’re homesick b-but I-”

“L-look kid, if we could just send you back where you came from and n-never see your neckless mugs again we would.”

“T-that was actually the original plan. This was- my house was meant to be m-more of a waiting station while we prepared to bring you home.”

“It seems as though we’ve hit a snag, and we must ask that you stay here instead.” Cop completed the thought for Doof.

“A snag?”

“He means there- we have a problem.”

Morty sighed in frustration. “I knew what he meant. I just want to know what the problem is.”

Doof ran a hand through his bowl cut, “I-I just, oh gosh, I don’t know how to say it.”

“Y-you don’t have families to go back to M-morty, someone or something is traveling between dimensions and killing them. It-it’s brutal and we don’t know who-”

“W-Why-”

“Or how. But do not fret, we will discover who is responsible and bring them to justice.” Cop had this determination in his voice that was almost convincing.

“S-so,” Doof clapped his hands together, no longer wishing to continue that particular conversation, “Now we can- we will visit some of the Mortys that already live here.”

He had them follow him through the dining room. It was almost as boring as the living room, with a table and chairs as most dining rooms would have, but there was one thing that was eye-catching. Next to the sliding door that doubled as a window there was a display case with a tea set inside, but it didn’t look like any fine china that they had seen before. That wasn’t a bad thing, the kettle, cups, and plates all seemed to be made expertly but each piece was so different and colorful but they all still looked like they were meant to be together.

Glancing over the kitchen, which like the other rooms was big, big enough to have an island, all they saw were things like cupboards, drawers, a fridge, an oven, just normal kitchen stuff, nothing of interest at all. Nothing bright or fun, it all just looked well organized and practical. However, it smelled amazing, reminding them of how hungry they really were.

“H-hey, come-come on, we don’t have all night, chop chop.” Storage snapped, motioning for the boys to follow him and the other two Ricks towards the door to the left of the refrigerator. All that did was bring them to a garage. Or at least that was what they thought, until Doof pressed on one of the bricks on the wall and it opened up like an elevator door, even with a soft little “ding, once the doors were completely open. That was when they realized it wasn’t like an elevator, it was an elevator. A huge elevator.

“I-I think we can all fit!” Doof called, already in the back.

“Squeeze in and make room, or I will make you,” Storage threatened.

Cop waited until he was sure everyone had made it in before stepping inside. “It might be a little tight but you probably won’t all be taking it all at the same time again.” He went ahead and decided they would go down just one floor, all they needed were a few examples. The elevator gave them a smooth ride, but they could feel the pull of gravity as the elevator moved downward.

Since everyone else was being too sheepish to ask, one Morty asked, “W-w-where are we going?”

“S-stop asking so many questions.”

“Storage, Morty can ask as many questions as he wants.”

When the doors opened again, they all shuffled out into a long hallway with twelve doors total, six on each side, and what looked like bathrooms at the end. It looked like a college dorm.

“Since you’ll be living here, I, uh just thought it-it would be- I thought we could show you what your bedrooms could be like. W-we make each floor plan the same, each room is 11’X12’ and of-of course that-that doesn’t include the 5’X5’ closet space. Then each room has a bed, nightstand, a dresser, and a desk for schoolwork. But from there,” a smile spread across his face and there was a sparkle in his eyes, “You get to decide what you want your room to be! And-and,” he was so excited he seemed to be having trouble forming words, “We’ll show you.”

He knocked to the tune of, “Shave and a Haircut” on one door and it swung open almost immediately. But that room didn’t look like the room he had just described. Well, maybe it was the size Doof had mentioned, Morty was never sure how to measure distances, but it had none of the furniture he mentioned and it was filled with art supplies. Shelves and shelves of things like sketch books, art how to guides, art history books, canisters filled with pencils, pens, markers, colored pencils, and paint brushes. One wall was only different types of paint, oil, water color, pastels, acrylic, each with its own rainbow of color to choose from. An artist’s desk sat in the corner with a stack of papers on top, and a stack of blank canvases on the floor, and a pile of painted canvases next to those, and in the center of the room was an easel with the canvas facing toward the best part of the room, the window. The entirety of the back wall of the room was an impressively crystal clear window, overlooking a garden, bringing in beautiful streams of golden light showering the entire room.

“H-hi Artist Morty, is it alright if we show the new Morty’s your room?”

“Oh-oh of course, come in!” The paint splattered boy grabbed Rick’s arm and pulled him in. “I-I need more eyes on my latest project. I’m trying something new, it-it’s rather abstract.”

Doof appreciated art, but he had difficulty understanding or putting his own meaning to it, so he just looked at it objectively and tried to offer compliments that way. This had lots of green swirls in the background, with floating blue triangles and yellow orbs in it’s mist. “I like the contrasting colors, it’s visually compelling.”

A Morty in a purple shirt walked up behind them “I-I know this feeling, this-this is that feeling you get when you walk through a portal.”

Artist Morty was very excited someone understood his art, even if it was, well, himself.

“H-hey, are-aren’t you worried about getting paint everywhere?” Morty asked, realizing there was nothing covering the floor to protect it.

“Nope! N-nothing stains, not-not even my clothes!”

“Oh yes, I-I was very careful to make everything stain resistant for you guys.”

One Morty who was always a little cold couldn’t help but feel drawn to the window, enjoying the warmth he could feel radiating from the sun. Something about it was off, but he couldn’t quite place what it was.

Suddenly they heard music, generic electro dance pop to be exact, crashed in like a wave, drawing Doof and the new Mortys back into the hall. Storage Rick was standing next to the door that was the source of the music, which was a dark room, illuminated by rave lights, and a floor divided into big square tiles, that each lit up a different color as the Morty in cut off jean shorts moved across them. He had been so caught up in his own enjoyment that he hadn’t realized he had gathered an audience.

“Yeah! Fuck it up Good Time Morty!” Storage Rick shouted, but it was hard to tell if it was in earnest or in jest. The Morty inside didn’t seem to mind either way, continuing to dance his cares away even after seeing the crowd gathered in the doorway.

After Storage shut the door, they noticed they couldn’t hear any noise at all, even though they knew his music was overwhelmingly loud. “T-the best part, all of these rooms? Completely soundproof.”

“W-woah I-I liked his room, it looked like fun,” the Morty still dressed in 2018 New Years garb spoke up.

“Oh gee, I-I don’t know, it-it was a little overwhelming.”

Cop thought for a second, and he knew which Morty’s room would be nice and calm, and a good demonstration of what they could really do with a room. He knocked three times and a Morty with long, shoulder length locks and a tie-dyed shirt opened up the door.

“Rick, what's up man?”

“Hippie Morty, would it be alright if we showed the new Mortys your room?”

“Of course, come on in, it-its not my room, no one can own a room. Ownership means nothing man, that-thats how they get you. How the man keeps you down.”

When he opened the door and let them in, the Mortys weren’t so sure if it was a room at all because, well, as far as they could tell they were outside. Long lush green grass covering the ground, trees and flowers in the distance, and a big endless sky without a cloud in sight. Stars shined down through the deep rich navy night and a crescent moon beamed down. However, the glow of the fire he had going was the brightest thing in the, uh, space. A slight breeze brushed past all of them.

“H-howdy sheriff.” A Morty dawning a ten gallon hat was sitting on the ground behind the fire and leaned over so he could get a peak at Rick and the new Morty.

“Good evening Cowboy Morty, I almost didn’t see you there.” he went ahead and took a seat next to him.

Quick to notice the watch still on Hippie Morty’s arm Doofus Rick prompted, “D-do you think you could show your “Public Identity” to the new guys if you aren’t too busy?”

“Sure man, h-hold on.” After twisting the face of the watch he was wearing left, right, left again, he suddenly shapeshifted, which almost looked frightening in the firelight. He became taller, lankier, his hair changed to a sandy blonde, he had some scraggly facial hair on his chin, an actual neck, wore baggy jeans and an oversized tie-dyed hoodie. “S-see?” he spoke, but the voice was no longer one of a Morty. “Like, I made mine an extension of my very essence.” With that he twisted the watch and switched himself back.

Storage said, “W-we made the watches based on the one from that m-movie Megamind. D-does that scan? Y-you guys know that movie?”

Most of them nodded.

“We did make a few changes, however, we made it so the voice changed with the disguise, and made it so you could lock it in so it couldn’t be bumped and changed by accident.” Cop explained.

“W-what are you two up to, are-are we interrupting?” Doof asked, being the last one to move his way in, being sure to close up the door again so the ambiance wasn’t ruined by the fluorescent light of the hall.

“No, no, don’t worry we’re just vibing.”

“Reminiscin’.”

Storage Rick shook his head and sat down. “Just-just sitting around the fire? R-really? I’ll tell you what were going to do, w-were going to take advantage of this creepy ass atmosphere, and I’m going to retell a famous horror story.”

“Y-you’re going to tell us a story?”

“T-this isn’t a nice story M-morty. And I’m not telling it verbatim, I-I’m only summing it up for you. Now shut up, sit on the fake grass, and listen. It-it’s called The Veldt.”

“By Ray Bradbury? Oh that-that’s a good one.” Doof smiled as he settled in next to the Mortys.

Cop squinted at him and furrowed his brow in suspicion. “Huh, how relevant.”

“Quiet. This family had a house that could do anything. It-it did everything for them and the parents became lazy, useless, wastes of space, while the children turned into s-spoiled little monsters. The nursery was built so it could show anything they could possibly ask for with screens making up all the surfaces of the room. A lot like the room we’re in right now.”

“Wait, Rick, are-are you saying all of this, these-these are just screens?”

Storage threw up his hands. “O-of course they are, did-did you think that we just magically ended up outside?”

“I-I think the story describes it as crystals installed in the walls,” Doof interjected.

“A-anyway,” Choosing to ignore the correction, he continued. “One day the parents discovered the children had been f-focusing on Africa a little too much. Watching lions eat their prey. S-since that-that’s pretty fucked up, they asked a psychologist what it meant, who told them they sucked at being parents. The house provided for the children and was replacing them as the caretaker. Which meant their kids were going absolutely batshit insane l-losing touch with reality, with their humanity. Something was off about that nursery too, n-not only did the African veldt look and feel too realistic for comfort, b-but the father found a wallet of his all chewed up and covered in saliva.” The fire crackled as he took a pause for dramatic effect.

“W-When the parents threatened to turn off the house so they could all live like normal people, tie their own shoes, cook their own eggs, the children were pissed. They never had to lift a finger the way things were, and they were way too attached to the house. S-So you know what those rotten kids did?”

He scanned the room, but the Mortys only shook their heads.

“T-they locked their parents in the nursery!”

He was met by a bunch of blank stares.

“And?’

“What-what do you mean?”

“W-well, what happened to their parents?”

“T-the lions fucking ate them Morty. T-that’s it. That-that’s the story.”

“B-but the lions weren’t real, were they?”

Cop spoke up. “The lions weren’t supposed to be real, but the room was malfunctioning and the lions came to life.”

“O-or it was working too well.” Storage retorted.

“A-are you saying that could happen t-to us?” Glancing around the all too realistic outdoor setting.

Doof placed a hand on Morty’s head. “Oh no Morty, of course not! It’s only a story, these rooms are very safe, I-I promise.”

Hippie Morty, feeling somewhat nervous now, stood up and pressed a panel on the wall, and slowly the once robust landscape faded away and in its place was an ordinary bedroom. Except for the overly bright paint job, with harsh yellow, neon pink, and lime green in a spiral, matching the dye job on his shirt, the shag carpet was green, but no longer a beautiful grass green, but a pea green. His nightstand and desk both had a rough aesthetic and still had a fresh scent. The bedspread was just as bright as the walls but with a rainbow tie-dye job rather than just a few colors. One thing the Mortys were shocked to see still there was the fire.

“W-wait, you just-just have a fire going in here?” It seemed like the exact opposite of safe.

“No need to panic-” Cop couldn’t finish before Storage kicked over the shallow pan they had been utilizing as a fire pit, only for nothing to happen. The fire went out rather than spread. “Everything is fire retardant, just in case.”

Before they knew it, they were all being ushered back into the elevator and down even further. However, this time when they stopped, Cop asked for twelve of them to follow him, while the other eleven went down another level with Doof and Storage.

Cop Rick cleared his throat and stood tall and firm with his hands behind his back as he spoke. “This will be the floor you all live on, each room is fully furnished and we have provided clothing as well. Right now all of them are the same so it does not matter which one you choose, it will matter once you have finalized the design you would like, feel free to visit other Mortys and take your time deciding. Right now, we would like all of you to shower and change into clean clothes and meet us back upstairs afterwards. Any questions, comments, or scathing inditements?” Morty did not know what that last word meant, but he decided it was best to just go ahead and shower and change like he had been asked.

Who knew being clean could feel so good? Showering, actually showering with warm water and soap was so much better than being sprayed with icy water from a hose. He had forgotten what it was like. Same with wearing clean clothes. The yellow pajama top and bottoms he found laid out for him on his bed smelled fresh and were so soft. If Doof hadn’t told him there would be food waiting for him upstairs when he was ready, he could have fallen asleep right then.

Thank goodness he didn’t. He was starving, they all were. Salad, soup, dinner rolls, mashed potatoes, something called green bean casserole, an apple, and meatloaf as the entree, he ate it all with vigor. Morty wasn’t even sure he tasted any of it, he just faded in and out of consciousness as he gorged himself, only coming back to life to put more on his plate. Each of him ate that same way until every single edible thing Rick had placed on the table disappeared. Finally Doofus Rick gave them each a slice of chocolate cake. It was so rich in taste but light and airy in texture, maybe it was just that he couldn’t remember the last time he had dessert but it was possibly the best cake he had ever eaten.

“Rick- uh, Doof, did you make this cake yourself?”

“N-not just the cake Morty, I-I made everything myself.” He cheerfully answered. “I love cooking a-and baking.”

“Hey, m-me too! Y-you think I could help sometime?”

“Oh gosh sure if you want to Morty, tomorrow morning I’ll be up early making cinnamon rolls.”

“Holy shit-”

“Watch your profanity-” Cop started, but he caught himself, raising his unibrow and turning to Doof, “Wait did you say cinnamon rolls?”

“Y-yes, I figure it’s a special occasion, s-so I thought I-I should make my homemade cinnamon rolls.”

“Those are very good.”

“Oh man, y-you lucky bastards-”

“D-don’t feel left outI will make enough for everyone,” Doof couldn’t help but giggle at how excited they got over baked goods. “N-ow M-mortys, I do think it is time for you to go to bed, it is already late and you had a big day. We can- we could come down with you and tuck you in if you would like.”

All the Mortys were exhausted, and he could see it, especially now that they were clean and fed, all they wanted was to crawl into those full sized beds and pass out.

“N-no that-that’s okay.” “W-we got it.” “Thanks anyway.”

“I-” he yawned, “I can put myself to bed.”

“O-okay, well, goodnight, sleep tight. See you in the morning!”

#doofus rick #cop rick #storage rick #morty smith #rick and morty #rick and morty fanfiction #chapter 2!#pocket mortys #fanfiction

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bapyess1r · 4 years

Text

I Like You A Lot

WARNINGS: cursing

Pairings: OC x OC, Sam Drake x OC

Tags: @desertvvitch , @courtenbae

Chapter 4

A week later...

Sunny’s POV

Things moved very quickly for the next week. Between Sam, Erik, and myself, we managed to pack up all my stuff and move into our new apartment. Most of the stuff in there was mine but over time, I knew Sam would go out and buy things of his own. We got two separate rooms, one on each end of the apartment with the communal space and kitchen in the middle. We weren’t a couple but we damn sure tended to act like one. And even though we were sleeping together, I completely understood that he didn’t want to be tied down. I did as well so it didn’t bother me. He almost always would end up sleeping in my room. We’d stay up late, studying Hoysala culture and end up falling asleep where we were. We worked tirelessly. Erik had to bring me food because I would forget to eat with my head buried in books and articles online. Sometimes Sam would forget to eat as well and I would end up sharing my food.

Today, after a much needed haircut, while Sam was out, Erik had come over to help me unpack our living room. He knocked on my door rhythmically and repeatedly until I literally put hands on the door. I swung it open and narrowed my eyes at his ridiculous expression. “You suck.”

“You love me.” He replied rather quickly, kissing my cheek as he brushed by me. I admired his look of the month. He had changed his hair once again. He’d gone from dark hair to this platinum blonde with micro bangs. He wore a pink hoodie with matching pink shorts and a nice pair of white FILAs. He was always changing his appearance every other month so I didn’t think much of it. He looked around the room and a wave of relaxation washed over his face. “Where’s Samuel? He’s not lurkin’ about today?” He asked with fake concern. I shook my head with a smile and scratched my head as I closed the door.

“He’s out renting a car… a vehicle. Probably a motorcycle. I’m not sure.” I shrugged, sitting on the floral couch. I really wasn’t sure what he’d come home with. But I specifically told him he needed a car. I was almost ninety nine percent positive he wouldn’t listen though. Erik sat on the couch next to me and laid his head on my shoulder.

“So what are we sorting out today?” He asked.

“I wanna get this living room done. I’m tired of having a colossal fuck of books all over my bedroom floor. I mean granted Sam and I have a convenient place to crash right away but-”

“He sleeps with you?” He asked. The look on his face was one I’d seen many times throughout the week. Hurt. I sighed. He was doing it again. Ever since he met Sam, he’s been acting as if a bully had taken his new toy. And I knew why. It was my own fault…

“Erik listen-” I began but he cut me off.

“You haven’t told him have you? About us, I mean.” He asked, his voice growing soft. His arched brows met in the middle as his gaze focused on me. I parted my lips to speak but I wasn’t sure what to say. Erik and I had been in a complicated friendship for many years. Sometimes when the moment took us, we’d fool around. And it was nice for a while. It worked for me because I didn’t want a relationship. However, when I got back from Libertalia, I slept with him again... and again… until I realized things just weren’t the same. He didn’t feel the same. It just wasn’t right. I didn’t know why until a certain Drake came back into my life. After that first morning, everything began to make sense. He wasn’t Sam. I was catching feelings for a man for the first time in a very long time.

“Why do I need to tell him? He’s not my boyfriend. We’re not together-” Which was true. We weren’t.

“You like him-” he mumbled, picking at his nails on his tattooed fingers.

“I— of course I like him, Erik! I’m not gonna room with someone I don’t like.”

“Uh huh. You know what I meant...” He mumbled.

“I don’t want a relationship. I’m fine with how things are.” It felt like a lie the moment those words left my mouth. It was a truth for me up until now. Suddenly, he crept up to me, his crooked nose brushing against mine as he looked into my eyes with his green ones.

“Then kiss me.” I sighed. I just couldn’t do it. It didn’t feel right to me anymore.

“Erik…. I can’t.”

“Uh huh….” He made a disappointed face and stood to leave but I called after him.

“Don’t do this. Don’t turn this into another Tony situation.” I tried to assure him. I dated a guy years ago and he turned out to be one of the worst people on the planet. Erik tried to tell me but I didn’t listen and ended up getting hurt.

“He’s a dickhead! And he will hurt you, Sunflower! Exactly like Tony!” He raises his voice a notch and I didn’t like that.

“He is nothin’ like Tony.” I snapped, staring at him. I suddenly got very protective of him. He looked at me incredulously.

“After all we’ve been through, honestly love, I can’t believe you still pick these guys no matter how many times I warn you about them.” He sighed, shaking his head. I opened my mouth to chew him out and defend my stance when a loud honk was heard from outside. Both of us brought our gaze to the window and there was a massive white truck in the parking lot, a red motorcycle strapped into the bed. Sitting in the front seat with a wide grin on his face was Sam. I shook my head and grinned, going to stick my head out the window.

“You just couldn’t help yourself, could ya?!” I shouted to him.

“You said get a car!” He shouted over the engine. “I still wanted a bike! I’ll be up in a minute!” He said before pulling into a parking spot. I looked back at Erik with a smile but he stood firmly with his arms folded across his chest. He wasn’t happy with me. I took a deep breath and crossed my arms. I don’t know what result he was hoping to get by telling Sam we banged on the couch a week before he showed up.

“I’m sure it’s bound to come up in conversation. If it does- and he asks about it- I will answer him. Fair?” I asked. He narrowed his eyes and chewed on his lip. Honestly, it was the best I could do. He stared at me a while before sighing. He just nodded. I was relieved. “Yeah? Okay. Just please… try n’ get along with him. In the meantime?” He avoided my gaze and I stomped my foot when he didn’t answer me. “Erik!” I snapped.

“Okay! Jaysis….” He exclaimed. With that he lit himself a cigarette and so did I. I needed to calm down a little. I was feeling a whole lot of emotions at the moment. “I’ll start with the bookshelf?” He mumbled, smoke exiting his nostrils. I just nodded.

“Yes please. If you don’t mind.” I sighed.

Later, Sam had come home, entering the living room as he jingled a ring of keys at me and tossed them on the small dinner table by the window. “2010 white Chevrolet Silverado truck and a bitchin’ red 2016 Ducati Scrambler. And! I bought groceries. Also beer. Good beer. Not that hipster shit they’ve brainwashed you into drinkin’ here.” He said with a grin before kissing my forehead and sitting everything on the table. My stomach flipped at his touch. I wanted to kiss him back but with Erik in the room, things were awkward now. It was like walking on eggshells. I sighed as I turned on some music and began to put the groceries he brought away, starting with putting the beer in the crisper. I was going to need one sooner than I thought.

“Sounds like you had a pretty productive morning.” Erik grumbled, struggling to put the massive dark wood bookshelf together.

“You can say that.” He said, peeling his denim jacket from his body and draping it over the couch. He pushed up the sleeves of his wine colored Henley and adjusted his jeans before looking at me for a moment longer than normal. “You cut your hair. I like it.” He said with a warm smile. I grinned at the fact that he even noticed. “So what all are we doin’ today?” He asked, clapping his hands together.

“My goal is to build the shelf and fill it with books, set up the office corner, and the entertainment system needs to be built up again. Erik has the shelf, do you wanna build the system or set up the office?”

“I’ll build the system.” He said, reaching beneath the sink and pulling out a tool box. Erik looked over and huffed.

“Bollocks. I wish I would’ve known there was a tool box— this would’ve been done quicker!” He said as he watched Sam sit the tools on the coffee table.

“What do you need? I’m sure there’s enough in here for both of us to use.” Sam said. I smiled to myself. He knew what Erik meant to me. He knew he was going to be a part of my life and even though he didn’t like him much, he tolerated him. And I could see he was trying.

“You got a screwdriver in there?” Erik asked.

“What kind? I got phillips head, slotted, torx, frearson—” Sam began listing several types and the look on Erik’s face was as if someone was speaking another language to him.

“Holy shit, man- what?! Is that even English, mate? What the hell- did you just make those up?” Erik exclaimed in confusion and Sam just burst into laughter. Erik was not a handyman by any means but holy shit it was funny to watch him try. I laughed at their interactions and stayed a moment to watch the two of them. It was nice. With that, I went to the room in the corner and began to unpack the office boxes.

We worked for hours, putting things away, hanging things on the wall, breaking down empty boxes. And when we finished it all up, Erik ordered a pizza and we all got very drunk. We sat around the dinner table, beer after beer, playing monopoly (and yes you guessed it, those two assholes played with actual money), and telling stories about our lives and our adventures. Erik wouldn’t stop telling these embarrassing stories of me in middle school and high school. I could tell Sam was enjoying every second of my pain. I cringed as he told him about how I played a dancing fork in the school play and how I had a crush on the spoon and I kept making shitty utensil jokes as pick up lines.

“Honestly, it was horrible! You should’ve been there!” Erik wheezed, sipping his beer.

“I’m sure it was something to behold…” Sam smirked, looking at me. I blushed a little, running my fingers through my hair. In the corner of my eye, I could see Erik’s expression change. He cleared his throat and then directed his attention to Sam.

“So Samuel,” He began. “All those countries you visited, I’m sure there had to be some lovely women around, eh?” I raised my eyebrow at him and he did the same, taking a long sip of his beer as he awaited an answer. Sam looked at me and then to the cigarette between his fingers.

“Yeah I suppose there were a few…” he said carefully. It hurt a little but again, we weren’t a couple and he had no obligations to me. Just like I didn’t with him…

“A man of your stature should catch ‘me easy no problem, right?” Erik seemed to keep his eyes fixed on me as he spoke. I flared my nostrils and practically felt my eyes darting all over his face.

“You overestimate me but I’m flattered.” Sam chuckled. “Most of them were either a ‘hell no’, ‘go to hell’, or thought maybe I was tryin’ to mug them.” I pouted, pushing some hair behind his large ears and giggled.

“Aww, poor baby doesn’t even realize his own size.” I smiled. He rolled his eyes, stifling a grin.

“I’m sure you could do a lot better. Like that one time in Scotland.” He smirked. I knew exactly what he was talking about and I laid my head in my arms with an embarrassed groan. Erik looked between the two of us, interested in what was being said.

“What time in Scotland?” He asked.

“Which person? The old man or the hot nurse?” I chuckled.

“Hot nurse?!” Erik exclaimed. “I need the story, love.” And with that Sam began to tell him about how I set him up and took his girl for the night. I received a high five and a slew of compliments.

The night dragged on and Sam was beginning to get a little handsy under the table. He ran his fingers up and down the inside of my thighs as Erik drunkenly babbled on about god knows what. I was too distracted to hear. His calloused fingertips slipped beneath my skirt and brushed along my clothes slit and I jumped a little. He smirked as Erik let out a long yawn. “You sound tired, bub.” I said to him and he stretched, nodding his head. His dark lashes fluttered on his high cheekbones as he leaned back in his seat. His eyes barely opened. Sam gripped my thigh tightly and I smacked his hand away, giving him a look that told him to behave. I stood up to go grab a pillow and a blanket for him and laid them out on the couch.

“You can crash here tonight. You’re too fucked to drive.” I said, lifting his arms and pulling off his pink hoodie, leaving him in a white tee shirt. “C’mon, drunky.” I told him, grabbing his tattooed hands as he turned in his seat. I pulled him up and led him to the couch where he crashed into it and didn’t even move from his spot. I chuckled, ruffling his hair and throwing the blanket over him. I put his cigarettes on the coffee table next to him. Sometimes he would wake up in the middle of the night to smoke and then pass out again.

“Sunny, you’re a gorgeous gal.” He mumbled drunkenly.

“Thank you, Erik. Now go to sleep.” I said, kissing his forehead.

“You’re the bestest friend I’ve ever had! And I fookin’ love ya!” He called out as I turned to look at Sam. He stifled a laugh as he started throwing away the beer bottles we lined up on the counter.

“Love you, too, Erik. Go to sleep.”

“Okieee….” he mumbled before dozing off into a light snore. I shook my head as I put the pizza in the fridge. Sam leaned against the fridge as I closed the door and winked at me. I laughed.

“And what do you want?” I purred with a Cheshire smile.

“To sleep with you.” He answered, boldly. I smirked and crept up to him, tugging on the bottom of his shirt.

“You do remember that you have your own bed, right?” I asked teasingly. He narrowed his eyes and bent down to whisper in my ear.

“Yeah but... I have a feeling there won’t be much sleepin’ if I stay with you.” He told me, pressing a long warm kiss on my neck. A jolt of excitement ran through my body as his hands engulfed my hips and pulled me towards him. I giggled a little as his hands travelled down my backside. He patted my ass, prompting me to jump into his arms. I wrapped my legs around his waist and he carried me into my room, showering me with kisses and kicked the door closed.

#uncharted #uncharted 4 #sam drake #samuel drake #samuel drake x reader #uncharted x reader #sam drake fanfiction #sam drake x reader smut #uncharted smut #sam drake smut #uncharted lost legacy #chloe frazer #nadine ross #poc ocs #poc oc #poc #sam drake x oc

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etherian-affairs · 5 years

Text

Gorgeous

This one's a more evil/amoral Entrapta. Centered around a dissection. So steer clear if you're not into that stuff.

===========

There really was a lot of yelling and violence when they boarded the Horde starship. Not that Entrapta didn't expect that. It just really is a lot and it made it hard to take notes at first. There was a lot of very fascinating tech aboard the Horde vessel that needed cataloguing. Especially since Hordak confirmed that it was a research vessel of some kind! The most dangerous kind of vessel! Though all of Entrapta's recording and prodding at everything she saw fell by the wayside when Entrapta layed eyes on her her.

The pilot.

Hordak called it a Nero ship. A specific subclass of vessels with a very special kind of control and piloting system. One of Hordak's own species modified and hooked into the ships computers to control it like there own body. Sure enough in a recessed alcove on the bridge the pilot was hooked in.

She was gorgeous.

Tech all across her body. Data cables attached to her head and spine. It made Entrapta giddy. As the Etherian Horde and Princess Alliance forces battled for control she caught Hordak yelling something about being careful not to disconnect the pilot, that doing so would send her into shock and make her useless, but it was too late. Adora had slammed into something and sure enough the pilot was forced out of her link.

And she was enraged.

Entrapta was absolutely giddy.

"Don't worry I'll take care of her!" The Princess of Dryl loudly declares as she launches herself into the fray proper for the first time. Moving quickly to restrain and bind the angry pilot. It is difficult of course, she's very strong. Threatening to tear at Entrapta's hair!

"Hordak!" Entrapta yells as she's swung around. "If I promise to figure out how she works can I stop her permanently?!"

Hordak scowls, likely because the pilot is already lost to them. "You will have to. Be done with her!"

Entrapta barely hears Adora scream at her to stop over the rush of excitement. She does catch the 'Entrapta why?!' after the scalpel is buried into the pilots neck though.

Rather hypocritical of Adora, Entrapta can't help but think. Adora just killed a bunch of Horde Marines with that sword! Entrapta only killed one pilot!

And it's done anyway! Why ask about it? Entrapta just looks at Adora with a smile. "We had to! We need to get her back to a lab so I can examine her!"

Before Adora can interject Hordak speaks. "There will be one aboard the we need to take anyway." He nods.

...

Sure enough the ship had its own lab. Which makes sense since it's a research vessel. But it means Entrapta didn't have to bring the Pilot back down to Etheria so how much sense it makes is secondary to how convenient it is. As Entrapta and Hordak enter the biolab the Princess can only smile as the scientist stationed within tries to charge them without even having any weapons.

Hordak's armor performs wonderfully as he grabs the scientist and crushes her throat. Entrapta finds herself quite proud of the speed and power to weight ratio she's accomplished with her further tweaking! Still there's improvements that could be made. She'll have to take some time to tune it further later. Maybe add a supplemental power supply for even more powerful short bursts of speed and strength?

That's irrelevant. Pilot first.

"Entrapta whatever you're about to do you can't do!" She hears Adora say from the doorway as the traitor warriors walks through it behind Entrapta and Hordak. "Oh... Oh Etheria." she adds as she sees Hordak throw the scientists corpse aside.

"Oh I can though Adora! That's why I'm about to do it! Besides we need to know how this works so we can replicate it and control the ship!" Entrapta smiles back. "Plus you're fine killing the guards on the ship!"

"I- I am not FINE with it! We have to!"

"And we have to do this." Hordak interjects. "Or do you forget the gravity of our situation?" he turns to Adora.

She falters, stammering. Wanting to hold to her silly convictions no doubt. Entrapta just smiles, she'll thank Hordak for shutting Adora down later. "You should probably leave Adora!" Entrapta says with a smile as she pulls the body of the pilot up onto a table. "Taking apart meat can get messy and you wear a lot of white!"

Adora stammers, backing away and shaking her head. Then she turns to march off. Entrapta simply smiles and gets to work.

It is simply invigorating.

That's the best description of the current work for Entrapta. Simply invigorating.

The pilot is layed out on the work bench, belly down. Her bodysuit stripped off of her with cold efficiency. Hordak had taken to securing the lab and sealing it for Entrapta while she preparea, he's so helpful. So supportive of her research whatever form it takes.

It takes the Princess a moment to determine the best course, the most effective place to begin cutting. Along the artificial spine is what she decides. Her scalpel slides in, sharp and polished. It slides through the joining of flesh and metal as if it was cutting through butter.

Entrapta's breath quickens. Feeling her tool scrape against metal makes it catch for a moment. What secrets will this hold for her? What all will she learn? It's all so fascinating. It's all so gorgeous.

Impatience overcomes her and her hair extends out, blades and saws being pulled from both within her pigtails and from her own proper toolbag.

The skin looks to have some sort of tech weave integrated into it. So that should definitely come off for examination as well. Luckily her spinal incisions give her a good place to begin the full skinning process...

cutting and peeling away the skin reveals so much. It was without a doubt a great decision. Also oddly satisfying in a tactile way. The underlying musculature is woven with sensors and what seem to be artificial strands as well.

Cutting away muscle reveals that the spine seems to be completely artificial, going all the way in and fused to the rest of the skeletal structure.

Perhaps the entire nervous system is modified? Or at least being tapped in to. Thoughts like these occupy Entrapta's mind constantly as she works, as time gets away from her and minutes turn to hours.

Hordak likely has some answer but he is busy outside dealing with the Princesses by this point. He often goes to do other things when Entrapta is doing work like this, and keeping the princesses away from her right now is very useful indeed.

"Oooh..." Entrapta catches herself cooing in delight. "Hour six. It appears I will indeed need to cut open the skull in order to fully remove the artificial nervous system. These early stages of exploration continue to confirm my theory that the interface used here and Hordak's own for his armor are not dissimilar..."

So very fascinating. She could likely make numerous upgrades to Hordak by salvaging parts from this pilot! It is no secret that Hordak's own modifications, even with her own upgrades, are rather adhoc.

The saw slices around metal and through bone with relative ease. This specimens skeletal structure is quite tough but it's nothing Entrapta's tools can't handle. She honestly expected this. Though she's gotten to work with Hordak's body numerous times having full reign over this one is a new experience. It lets her gain access to areas she can't risk with Hordak.

The skull is removed, the brain exposed. It's gorgeous. So foreign. Entrapta has worked with Etherians before. The dead from Dryl taken to her lab for study. This is unlike anything on Etheria. It's streamlined in areas, expanded in others. There's an entire secondary sub brain in the back beneath what horde medical data has led her to conclude is the visual cortex. The sub brain appears to have heavy connections to both the visual cortex and audio centers.

Fascinating.

And all throughout it there is the machines. Artificial neural pathways spidering through the pilots brain. Entrapta had to be careful as she cuts. Removing lobes and making sure to leave the machinery as intact as she can.

The implants are a direct integration and bypass of certain other systems. It looks almost like some areas have been previously cut out to make room for tech. Is that required for piloting? She'll have to dig up more information from other sources.

As the sections of brain are carefully set aside the door opens and Hordak steps in.

"How goes your work?"

"Very well!" Entrapta declares happily. "I'm learning so much! And it's so easy when they start dead!"

Hordak walks up behind her, then leans down and around her hair to kiss her on the cheek. "You should take a break."

Entrapta murmurs in surprise and happiness. "But there's still so much to learn!"

"It won't go anywhere." Hordak notes. "All of the unique parts of the Pilot are non perishable, and there are other members of my kind here to study as well." He pauses for a moment. Then tilts Entrapta's mask up, she turns to look at him. "The princesses would surely like to hear about what you have learned, so they can believe you are not simply in here because you enjoy this kind of work."

"I do enjoy this work though." She replies.

"I know, and I find it beautiful." He leans in to kiss her. She kisses back. Then they break and he continues. "They however, do not. It is best to make them more comfortable while we work together."

Entrapta ponders that for a moment before nodding. "Okay! I'll take a break! I should eat something anyway!"

Hordak just smirks and nods as he stands back up to his full height. "A good plan. We should also get some of the blood off of you before you see the princesses. At least some of it."

Entrapta glances down at herself and giggles. "Yeah probably!"

#entrapdak #my writing

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alienduckpond · 4 years

Text

Back in town - ch1 - Good Day

First of the 9 part childhood friend AU between Arlo and the builder I did for @nerdnag‘s birthday.

Slightly wtf-ish in places, but only because I followed canon logic. Also up on AO3 if that’s easier for anyone to follow, as it’ll be updated at the same time

-~-

When Arlo was younger he was friends with a sweet little girl who followed him everywhere, and copied everything he did. But after her Ma died her Pa took her away, and he hasn’t seen her for nearly twelve years. He still remembers her fondly, and wonders what she’s up to sometimes.

Until the day he runs into her at the Commerce Guild.

-~-

Arlo whistled happily as he left Gale's office and turned towards the Commerce Guild. Today was going to be a good day, he could feel it. He wasn't entirely sure why, but there was something about the way the sunlight made the spray from the fountain sparkle, and the fresh smell of Spring swirling around him on the warm breeze, that was making him feel more energetic and positive than usual.

He sidestepped around Higgins, walking down the steps engrossed in a commission with a smug smile on his lips. Which was strange, since Arlo was almost certain he'd seen him take one that morning already. But no matter, he could ask Presley after he'd dropped off this new one from Gale. He jogged up the stairs with a bounce in his step and decided at the top, screw it.

Lifting his foot, he kicked out at that sweet spot where the doors met, bursting them both open so they swung inwards and crashed into the walls. He didn't allow himself to do it too often, but it always felt so good when he did.

“Hey Pres, I’ve got a job for ya!”

He zeroed in on Presley and a young woman standing next to the main desk. Presley was perking up, going from disappointed to considering, and the women…

She wasn't anyone from Portia, and she wasn't dressed like a tourist. Thick mousy brown hair was escaping the ponytail that hung down her back and swung round her hips from where she'd spun around, and a fringe that she was lifting off her face to reveal surprised bright green eyes over a stubby nose that was peeling from a sunburn. A thin white scar along her cheekbone and going back into her hair that stood out against her lightly tanned skin. She wore a long floaty cardigan, the sleeves pushed up to her elbows over a tie dye t-shirt and loose jeans, which were rolled at the bottom to reveal mud splattered boots. And were hitched up with an oversized builders belt.

His eyes went back to the scar on her cheek, focusing on it. It was strangely familiar for some reason.

“Or not,” Presley muttered to the woman. “Gaby, this is the leader of Portia’s Civil Corps, Arlo. Arlo, this is--”

“Alolo!” she suddenly screamed, throwing herself forward at him, her arms lifting up to wrap around his neck. He let out a soft ouph as her face collided with his shoulder, and his hands landed on her waist to hold her steady as she giggled and jumped, her feet leaving the floor as she hung off him.

“Alolo?” he spluttered, his hands on her sides firming to both support her, and push her away, before he froze, gears in his head turning. Alolo, that scar, Gaby… Gabriella?

“Wait, Ella?!”

She pulled back, her hands linking behind his head as she let herself back down, beaming up at him with a now familiar toothy smile, her eyes crinkling up as she made a happy sound.

“Hi there Burny Boy,” she said with a wink, and he started to laugh before his arms wrapped around her tight and he lifted her back off the floor, spinning her round in a circle and making her shriek with surprise.

“Ella!” he shouted in her ear, unable to stop himself. “Oh wow, it’s been forever! What are you doing here, when did you get here and how long are you staying?”

She clutched at the back of his shoulders as he spun her around again, kicking her feet up behind her as she giggled happily.

“Oooh, down now, before I hurl,” she told him when he'd spun them again, and he immediately dropped her to her feet, keeping his arms around her as she wobbled. “Oooooh,” she groaned, lifting one hand to her head and gripping his arm with the other. He tightened his hold on her, helping hold her still as he looked her over again now he knew who she was.

His head filled with memories of her. Playing with her as a baby on his living room carpet while their Ma’s chatted over tea and coffee. Her being sniffly and curling up in his lap with her blanket and a book, wanting him to read her a nap time story. Her arms around his neck as she climbed up his back, demanding he play horsey through giggles. Her sparkling eyes looking up at him from under a messily self cut fringe, covered in dirt as she desperately tried to follow him everywhere, despite the eight years and massive height difference between them.

He lifted his thumb to her cheek, running it over the scar. He remembered the day she got it like it was yesterday. Her stubby three year old legs trying to keep up with him as they walked to the apple trees by the tree farm. He'd let go of her hand for only a second to retie his laces, but it'd been long enough for her to trip over nothing and fall face first into a pile of rocks.

He’d been more upset than she was as he carried her home, trying to soothe her as she demanded they go get her the apples he’d promised. Her Ma had just sighed, and bundled them both up in a blanket while she cleaned Ella's head.

“I got here yesterday, and I guess I’m going to be here a while,” she chirped happily, drawing him from his memories and tilting her head back towards Presley. “Pa left me his workshop, and Presley already gave me my builder tests, and I just got my workshop registered with Mayor Gale like, half an hour ago. So I am officially Portia’s newest builder.”

Her grin stretched even wider as Arlo looked down at her, and a feeling like warm pride filled his chest. His little Ella was all grown up now, and making her way in the world. But he was knocked out of the moment by a chuckle from behind her.

“Aaaah, I remember now, you two were close before she left, weren’t you?”

Arlo looked over her head towards Presley, feeling what he knew was a sheepish grin spread across his face.

“Just a bit," he acknowledged before looking back down at her. "But you never wrote to tell me where you were. I always wondered what happened to you.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, sliding her hands forward to squish his cheeks between them. He let his lips pout out, like she'd always found amusing, and was rewarded with a snort of laughter. “Pa dragged me here there and everywhere for a few months, then left me with Aunty Kendra in Barnarock. And then I was so busy being signed up for stuff to make up for all the learning I’d missed, that I never had time to write. And then it felt like it’d been too long, and you wouldn’t even remember or have time for me.”

She trailed off with a sigh, then ducked her head and bit her lip when he looked at her.

“You were stuck to my side practically every day for seven years, and you thought I’d forget you after a few months?"

She shrugged, blowing a questioning raspberry at him, then giggled as he pulled her close again and held her tight. She moved her hands back around his neck and hummed happily into his shoulder as he threw familiar insults at her.

“Numpty. Snaillob slimed and Panbat brained numpty.”

“Yeah yeah Lolo, I missed you too,” she said sweetly as she pulled back, sliding her hands down to his elbows and gently pushing him away.

“You were saying something about a job when you kicked the doors in like a hooligan?” she prompted him, and he made a small noise as he let go of her in turn, looking around and spotting the commission sheet on the floor, dropping down to grab it. He handed it to Presley before eyeing her speculatively.

“The Mayor wants to rebuild the bridge to Amber Island. Thinks it’ll be good for the tourists, with the Haunted Cave and all.”

“I remember your Pa built a few bridges during his time here Gaby, so the diagrams should be in his old Workshop Handbook. The job’s a little bigger than the one I had saved for you, but what do you say, want to give this a shot?”

“I surely do Presley. Sounds like it'll be fun.”

“Wait. Do you not go by Ella anymore?” Arlo asked, starting to frown. She blinked up at him a few times, clearly confused, nose wrinkling and a furrow appearing between her brows. But it quickly smoothed away again to be replaced by her bright smile as she shook her head, moving next to him and grabbing his arm to hug.

“Eh, I didn’t like hearing it from other people. Made me miss you and your Ma too much. So since you’re here, I’m kinda looking forward to hearing it again.”

He huffed a laugh at her wide eyes and stuck out lip, and reached up to pat her on the top of her head, just like he always used to.

“Understood. C’mon, how about I buy you lunch, and we can catch up? And then I should have time to help you go through your Pa’s things and work out what you need for this bridge.”

“I’ll never say no to a free lunch,” she said, perking up and bouncing on her toes. She smiled brightly at Presley as she took the commission sheet he was holding out to her. “Thanks for everything Presley, it was nice to see you again.”

“Always a pleasure Gaby. Let me know if you need any help, anything at all.”

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and led her outside into the sunlight, lifting a hand to shield his eyes. Yes. Today was a very good day indeed.

-~-

2 - Different Feelings

#My Time At Portia #MTAP #mtap arlo #mtap builder #mtap fanfiction

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stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale · 4 years

Text

[you gotta be strong, ace]

Day 19: Helping Hand #twdgdrabblechallenge

Note: Omar backstory? Omar backstory.

AO3

---

The number one rule in making an orange chocolate ganache is to mix in the zest straight from the orange itself rather than orange extract.

Omar doesn’t know why exactly- the orange extract smells delicious to him, but Marcus says that shaving the outer part of the fruit makes the chocolate taste ten times better than adding a tablespoon of the extract. Omar would’ve thought it the other way around given that the aftertaste of bitter orange peel is still lingering on his curious tongue after chewing a slice.

Marcus had tried to stop him, but he had also laughed at the face me made before gagging and spitting it in the sink.

“Told’ja it’s nasty,” Marcus chuckles, his dark eyes crinkling with delight at Omar’s childish pout and crossed arms. “Here, try this. Should make the taste go away.”

Omar perks up at the sight of glossy chocolate dripping down the spoon, snatching and shoving the whole thing in his mouth. It’s heavenly, smooth and rich and sweet but not too much, and the orange flavor seals the deal- this is the best thing Omar as ever eaten in his entire life.

“Well, what’s the verdict, Ace?” Marcus wipes his hands along his apron, eagerly awaiting Omar’s all so important opinion on the chocolate even though he already knows it’s perfect. “Good enough for the bride and groom?”

“Uh-huh!” Omar nods quickly, licking the spoon clean. Marcus’ grin grows as he holds up his hand.

“Alright! We did it!”

The two of them high-five before Omar jumps back up in his chair to watch Marcus work. Their kitchen’s fairly big, but with the freshly frozen cake resting on the table and other baking necessities laying around them, there aren’t many places Omar can go to make sure he’s right there when Marcus needs him.

The mouth-watering scent of orange, vanilla, and chocolate have flooded the kitchen, leaking out through the entire house. Omar knew the moment he woke up with morning that Marcus was baking the cake for the wedding. Still in his pajamas, hair an absolute mess and teeth left unbrushed, Omar ran through the house and burst into the kitchen to find the cake in the oven and Marcus sitting at the table molding flowers out of chocolate.

Mom and Dad hadn’t told him that Marcus would be home last night, and he completely forgot about Sasha and Max’s wedding today, so to wake up to his brother like that was the same as waking up on Christmas and getting to meet Santa. Omar nearly knocked over the table when he leaped into Marcus’ strong, safe arms.

He could’ve cried, as embarrassing as it is, but it’s been a whole week since they saw each other last! A week!

“Ya never told me how schools going,” Marcus says, setting the bowl aside. “Miss Johns treating you good?”

“Yeah, she’s nice,” Omar nods. “She gives out too much homework, but she’s nice.”

“Eh, they always do,” Marcus laughs. “But it’s okay because you’re smart and you blaze right through it, don’t’cha?”

A swell of pride warms his chest at the compliment, replying, “Yeah, it’s easy! We’re doing division in math and I’m a helper!”

“A helper!”

“Yeah, yeah, I go around- I go around and help the other kids because they don’t get it and I do and I help them with- I help them with their problems because they get harder as we go and Miss Johns said I got one-hundred percent on the last test so I can be a helper!”

“Atta boy, Ace!” Marcus high-fives him again, this time also handing him another spoonful of ganache, which Omar happily accepts. “See? I told’ja you could do it! Division ain’t got nothing on you.”

He’s right, and Omar knows it. He knew it when the two of them sat down together last week for a few hours doing his homework.

He’d struggled with it in class, getting nearly every answer wrong until Marcus showed him a different way of doing it. He walked through it with him until Omar could finally do it himself. He brought his homework the next morning and earned himself a piece of taffy for showing his work and getting everything correct.

“Did’ja tell Ma and Dad?”

“Yeah,” Omar shrugs. “They put my test on the fridge.”

Marcus leans back, searching the front of the fridge for the test in question, but only finds a newspaper clipping of Dad holding up a fat fish with the headline LARGEST CATCH OF THE SEASON.

Marcus scoffs.

“You kept it, right?”

“It’s in my folder.”

“Good, I wanna see it when we’re done here.”

“Okay!” Omar grins.

Marcus holds up the bowl of ganache, motioning towards the top pantry.

“It’s ready to pour. Grab the racks for me?”

He’s on it, off his chair and grabbing the correct racks for them to set each layer of the cake on. There’s a pan beneath them to catch the drippings of the chocolate for Omar to eat when they’re done.

Watching Marcus pour the chocolate over the cakes is the most satisfying thing in the world. Omar doesn’t know how he gets it so shiny and perfect enough that he can see his own reflection in it, but he does and that’s proof enough that Marcus is nothing but the best.

The best baker, the best chef, the best artist, and the best brother in the world.

Marcus ruffles his hair before pulling Omar into a side hug, exclaiming, “Isn’t that beautiful!”

“I can’t wait to eat it!”

“You’re coming with me?”

“Ma said I could,” Omar nods. “Is that okay?”

“Of course, Ace. You’re always welcome to tag along. Just make sure you congratulate Sasha and Max before trying to devour the whole cake, m’kay? And you gotta wear a tie.”

Omar frowns, whining, “A tie?”

“Yes, you can’t go to a wedding without a tie.”

That’s a dumb rule, he decides but agrees nonetheless.

Once the ganache has set, Omar helps place them in the fridge to cool for a couple of hours before they leave. Once they’re finished safely transferring the cakes, Marcus rests a hand on his shoulder and guides him back to the table.

“Hey, sit down a minute,” he says. “I made’ja some fresh cookies this morning.”

“Really? You did?” Omar gasps at the sight of a dozen little peanut butter chocolate chip cookies, all placed on a paper plate wrapped in clear plastic. Marcus had them hidden in the cupboards, knowing Omar would’ve swallowed them down the moment he caught a glance of them.

They’re a famous recipe, one that Marcus made up all by himself with a little help from Omar, of course. It was his idea to mix in both regular and white chocolate chips, after all.

Tearing the plastic off, Marcus hands him a stack of the cookies, which begin popping into his mouth.

“Slow down,” Marcus laughs. “You can’t even taste ‘em when you eat that fast.”

A muffled “Yes I can!” comes out of Omar as he stuffs another cookie in his mouth.

Marcus sits with him at the table, snatching a cookie for himself as Omar allows himself to properly swallow, breathing out with such genuine love, “Thanks, Marcus. You’re the best.”

That makes Marcus grin, eyes softening fondly.

“Don’t know about that. I’m not the Ace here.”

Omar beams, munching on another cookie to hide his smile.

Silence comes between them as Marcus shifts, breaking one of the cookies in half without eating either piece.

“Hey, Omar,” he says. “There’s something I wanna talk to you about.”

Finishing the last cookie, Omar peers curiously at him, taking note of Marcus’ tapping fingers, a habit he only does when he’s anxious.

“You think these cookies are good?”

Omar’s taken back by the question, blinking up at him.

“Of course! They’re my favorite!”

“You think they’re good enough to sell?”

“Yes! You could make, like, a billion dollars selling your cookies.”

That sets Marcus off, laughter erupting deep in his chest as he throws his head back.

“Wow! That good, huh?”

“Yes!” Omar laughs with him.

“I’ll have to keep that in mind,” Marcus chuckles, clearing his throat and smiling, “because I got a job.”

“You did?”

Joy fills Omar’s stomach. For months, Marcus has looked for a job at every local bakery to no avail. He even went out of town, willing to travel if the pay was good enough.

“I did,” Marcus nods. “I finally did, and it’s perfect. They love my recipes, they think me and Sam are a great team and a great pair of workers, and they pay good. Maybe not a billion dollars good, but still good.”

“Where is it? Is it that cookie shop over by the fishing place Dad goes to?”

Marcus glances down at the table, his fingers resuming their tapping. “Uh, no, it’s not that place. It’s... well, it’s a little far away.”

“How far?”

“Ireland.”

An anchor drops in Omar’s stomach.

“...What?”

“Sam and I are going to Ireland to work. We’ll be gone for a few months at a time, with breaks to come fly home, though we’re not entirely sure about the holidays, uhm...”

Omar doesn’t say anything.

“I already told Ma and Dad. They’re good with it, but at this point, they’re happy with anything that’ll get me out of this house,” Marcus tries to laugh. “But, uh, I promised I’d write at least once a week, and that goes double for you, Ace.”

The nickname that usually brought him such joy suddenly brings nothing but wet warmth to his eyes.

He’s leaving.

“It’s gonna be... difficult, at first-”

He’s leaving.

“-and a little scary, but this is such a big opportunity for us.”

He’s leaving forever.

“They could’ve picked anyone to bring there and they chose us.”

He’s leaving me forever.

“What do you-”

Marcus stops.

The table is wet with the drips of Omar’s tears falling over his cheeks and down his chin. He rubs his eyes on his sleeve, his chin violently quivering.

“Omar...”

“You’re leaving?” Omar gasps out, attempt to stop the shakiness threatening to consume him. “You’re leaving me?”

“I don’t want to-”

“Then don’t! You don’t gotta go! Tell them no!”

“Omar, I can’t turn this down.”

“Why?”

“C’mon, come here.”

Omar shoves him away, biting his lip as he cries, eyes burning and head and heart pounding painfully. The pushing barely does anything. Marcus is much bigger than he is and is able to pull him into a comforting hug, in which Omar finally breaks down, sobbing into Marcus’ sweater.

“I know, I know...” he coos, pressing a hand against the back of Omar’s head. “I’m so sorry, Omar, if I could, I’d take you with me and we could take over the whole place together but I can’t, just like how I can’t turn this down.”

Omar sobs harder.

“I’m sorry,” Marcus repeats, “but, listen. Listen, Ace, I’m gonna write to you twice a week, and I’ll send you packages full of peanut butter cookies and fudge and candy and anything else I find while I’m there. I’ll take lots of pictures and send ‘em to you.”

“Please,” Omar pleads, pulling back to stare teary-eyed at his brother. “Please don’t go.”

“Omar,” Marcus’ voice is stern, but kind, “you are the strongest, smartest, and coolest boy in the whole universe. I won’t lie to you. This is gonna suck at first, but I’m not gonna be there forever. I’ll be there a year, two at the most.”

“Two years!?”

“At most,” Marcus nods. “Then, I’ll come back here and open up my own shop, and I’m gonna need your help to do that, but you gotta be strong until then. Ma’s gonna need you, Dad, too.”

“No, they’re not, they’re...”

“I know,” Marcus sighs. “I know, but it won’t be that bad. I promise that I’ll talk to you while I’m there, and I hope that you’ll talk back.”

“I don’t know how to write a letter...”

“Then, I better show you after the wedding, huh?”

Omar wipes his nose on his sleeve, sniffling, “I guess... but Dad said sending to stuff to places like that is a lot of money.”

“That doesn’t matter, the money doesn’t matter, Omar.”

“And you promise to send stuff every week?”

“I will, even if it costs a million dollars.”

“You don’t got a million dollars.”

“Well, then I’ll work extra hard and make a million dollars so that I can send you something every single week,” Marcus chuckles, ruffling Omar’s hair. “But, you gotta be strong, Ace, okay?”

As Omar looks to his brother- the one person in the universe who Omar could confidently call his hero- and his kind face, he feels like crying again knowing that soon, he'll be far away... unreachable when things turn sour.

He’s won’t be okay, that’s the truth. Omar will be anything but okay, but Marcus believes in him and he’s right, he needs to be strong. Omar can’t let him down.

“Okay... I’ll try.”

“That’s all I ask,” Marcus pulls him in for a hug. “I’m gonna set up an email, too, so if you ever need me for anything that can’t wait in a letter, you can find me that way."

“Okay.”

"I'm proud of you, Ace,” Marcus grins. “Now, go get your math folder. I wanna see that A-plus.”

#twdgdrabblechallenge #twdg omar #twdg marcus #marcus gets a tag now #because i said so #he's a character within my canon okay #omar is the hardest character to write haha #especially a very young omar

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heyheyitsstillgay · 5 years

Text

Ghost Weed - Unbe-leaf-able

Phandom Phic Phight Entry #3 based on a prompt by @bouhoue - Maddie decides to plant some new flowers in the garden...

#TeamGhost team leader @ibelieveinahappilyeverafter

Previous Entry ; Also available on FFN ; Next Entry

Words: 1,933; Status: Complete

TW: Blood mention, Ectoplasmic gore

Physics, specifically about space? Danny loved it. He wasn't sure any other kid smiles over homework like he is right now but who cares? Sure, his English was due sooner, but he was enjoying himself for once. A rare moment of actual happiness, he was going to savour it.

Ah, that's that ruined, he thinks to himself as a familiar bubbling suddenly presses against the back of his eyes. He gasps as his throat cracks. Grasping shaking hands against his desk, he jumps out of his chair and darts out the door. A viscous liquid drips down his oesophagus as his feet slam against the steps of the staircase. He doubles over as he swings the front door open. Choking against the water in his mouth (Blood? Ectoplasm?), he forces his feet forward and past the threshold of FentonWorks.

Twitching fingers clench around the phone in his pocket as the halfa gasps for air. Stumbling down the street to get further away from the stinging that's encompassing his skin, shaking fingers tap against the buttons of his device.

"What blossoms?" Jazz exclaims, voice laced with concern. A quaint straw hat adorns her head, it's rim is decorated with a sweet floral ribbon. The sun is comfortingly warm on her arms and legs, a light breeze brushes her skin like a soft blanket. It was a beautiful summers day, she'd be happy to be spending it in the garden if her mind wasn't swirling with worry over her little brother.

"Blood Blossoms." Sam replies, reaching down to pick another flower head.

She brushes the petals softly with fingertips that are free of her black lace gloves. The jostle of the plant disturbs the pollen, it shifts upwards in the breeze, seeming to hum and almost glow a soft mesmerising gold.

"They're not harmful to humans at all so you don't need to worry about that. It's just called that because of its deep red colour and the pattern of black droplets near the base." The goth girl raises the black netted veil of her hat so it no longer covers her face, she takes a pinch of petals from the flower and places them into her mouth. Jazz's eyes widen at the sight but she doesn't comment as Sam chews and deposits the rest of the flower into the basket she's holding by her elbow. Swallowing, Sam continues "that and they're known for repelling ghosts. In times of disaster or plague people used to throw Blood Blossoms or their seeds onto the bodies of the dead. It was supposed to deter spirits from coming to the area and making things worse. They grow quite well in corpses," The Fenton girl grimaces while Sams tone continues as though they're simply discussing the weather rather than quite gruesome suffering and the image of death. "Obviously. Like Poppies, blood makes for a good fertiliser, y'know?" "Why are you eating it then?" The ginger interrupts, preferring not to be any more disturbed than she currently is.

"It's the best way to get rid of them." Sam responds, plucking more of the plants from their stems. "They were good in times of famine too, they're fibrous and nutritious and totally vegan. Wanna try?"

Jazz was presented the flower as though it wasn't something her brother described as 'Horrible, makes my blood simmer and expand as a super heated gas while my skin tries to peel away from my body. Like being electrocuted to death. Again.'

"I'm good." She forces a smile and gestures for the offending plant to stay away from her, Sam simply shrugs and places it in the basket with the others. "The pollen's quite pretty." Jazz quietly concedes. Sam smiles with gritted teeth.

"The pollen's the bad part." The goth laughs emptily, "It can phase through a ghost's skin, it reacts with the ectoplasm and gets in the way of their powers and, well, any function actually. It makes them seize up and saps at their energy. It's like ectoplasmic hay-fever but instead of making your nose run it'll destabilise ya." She grasps at the plant stems again, harsher, significantly less care than before.

"Thanks so much for your help guys, I never thought mom would choose to spend a summer's day gardening, but of course, if she did it'd be to bite me in the ass specifically." Danny laughs as he enters the back garden later on. It's perimeter is a state, black stems poking out of the soil. Tucker smirks, just glad that he got to hang out with Danny all day rather than deal with a flower that continues to haunt his nightmares. That says a lot considering he hunts ghosts with his friends on the daily.

"Stand back Ghost Boy." Sam smirks, hoisting two overflowing baskets of plant life into the air and edging her way around the house. "Your parents had planted enough for several months worth of salads, or, enough to eject your soul from your body." She makes finger guns as she backs out of the gate to head back to her house.

"You okay Danny?" Jazz asks, brushing her damp palms against her shorts and keeping her distance from the halfa, just in case.

"Yeah, it's barely noticeable at this point. Currently, the most threatening thing about being here is being found at the scene of a pretty horrendous ghost-plant-crime by our parents." He turned to head into their house, "When they notice, do you think we can convince them it was attacked by a local pro-ghost dog?"

Vines slunk towards him from every angle. The once comforting glow of the ghost zone around him became tinted red. Thorns pierced his ankle as a heavy stench of rot assaulted his nose. Vines pulled against him. Thick air surrounded him, weighing down his limbs. A scream tore from his throat while ectoplasm squirted from him. Breath taken away, Phantom looked down his wispy distorted form to see the curled, spiked, black vine protruding out from hi-

Danny's eyelids snap open. Chest heaving ragged gasps as he moves his hand to hover over his heart and core in an attempt to calm himself. Tongue heavy in his mouth, he shakes off the frost that has crystallised in his dark hair and sits up in his bed.

A nightmare? Not uncommon, and considering the relevant theme he doesn't suspect that one of his enemies is behind it. The ghost boy is still freaked from yesterday, part of him can still feel the itch echoing on his skin.

Wait. Oh, you're kidding. Danny rises from his bed on unsteady legs from the adrenaline dying down. He pads over to his window and raises the blinds. Yeah, not kidding. Anxiety surfaces again and he swears stress is going to kill him before any ghost hunter has the chance. Pushing the heels of his palms into his eyes, he stops when he begins to see stars. Quickly phasing his pyjamas off, Danny throws on underwear, a t-shirt and some jeans. He doesn't bother with socks. Grabbing a backpack he keeps phased into the floor under his bed, he turns invisible and creeps out of his bedroom. The stinging wasn't as bad as last time and it was stupid o'clock in the morning, so the ghost boy focuses more on stealth than speed when he slips out of his home. This time leaving the garden isn't nearly as difficult, the sprouting spectral weeds, for the most part, haven't bloomed yet. His skin itches a slight but it's not incapacitating, either way it's better for him to leave now. Checking his phone and texting his sister to let her know what's going on, Danny decides that 5am is a perfectly reasonable time for a patrol. Sleep is for the weak.

"So, what happened to eating them being the best way to get rid of them?" Jazz asked.

"Well, during our last encounter they weren't planted, they were just kinda scattered. Pass me the stuff?" Tucker reaches his hand towards the canister that the older teen is clutching closely to her abdomen. She hands it over with reluctance clearly written on her face.

"And this is the best plan B that you guys have?" Scepticism is clear in her voice as the Fenton backs away. Tucker responds with a smile like there was nothing out of the ordinary about the situation, he moves towards the flower beds and uncaps the hefty container that Jazz had managed to get a hold of that morning.

"Well, the issue must be with the roots, either that or they're able to reproduce ridiculously quickly," he shakes the liquid onto the flower bed and begins to walk around. Keeping to the edge of the garden, he leaves through the fence on one side, a minute or so passes as he re-emerges at the other side of the house, resuming his dousing of the soil. "We could always try weed killer but, Danny's supposed to be able to live here. Weed killer can take a while and even then you have to top it up sometimes. Your parents might be a bit clueless but surely they're going to get suspicious about why he's never home after one week."

"So you thought about chemicals and after careful consideration decided that this was the best bet?" She wrings her hands together as the boy caps the near empty canister and offers it back to her.

"Yeah, basically." Tucker shifts a small cardboard box out of his pocket, Jazz can't help the hands flying to her face in dismay as the boy removes a small match and attempts to light it.

He succeeds, his smile bursts with pride as he looks back towards his best friend's sister and drops the lit match onto the trail of petrol.

The warm days recently mean the soil is reasonably dry, so the flames catch surprisingly quickly. Wind not strong enough to put out the blaze, ends up carrying it across the plant life as a hazy red smoke begins to plume into the air.

"See?" The techno-geek backs away from the fire, "I told you it'd be fine."

"Yah-huh, and what's your plan for when our wooden fence catches fire?"

"When what now?" His head snaps back to where he had been stood a moment ago. Sure enough, the previously white fence is developing a black char at the base. "Uhhhh, fancy a barbecue?" He shrugs his shoulders and smiles in a way that looks terribly similar to a grimace.

"Okay, you head inside and find a bucket, I'll double check that the whole plot is definitely alight." Tucker giggles to himself as the blood red smoke rises from around the corner of the house, clearly the fire has successfully spread to the front garden too. "Ha! Lets see them grow back from that!" He crosses his arms before reaching for his phone as Jazz rolls her eyes and heads into her kitchen.

The teen clicks on Danny's contact info to tell him they've sorted the situation for real this time. It rings twice before the halfa answers him.

"Hey Tuck, how's it going?" The voice sounds from over the line. Before the teen can answer, a sudden angry screech comes from behind him.

"What! On! Earth! Has happened! To my garden!?" Tuckers eyes bulge in his head and his speech into his phone comes out like a spluttering cough.

"So the good news is the flowers aren't gonna kill you. The bad news is," He takes in a choked breath, "your mom's about to kill me now instead."

#phic phight #phic phight 19 #phic phight 2019 #own post #owly writes #ficlet #blood mention //#ectoshit //#blood blossoms #danny phantom #danny fenton #jazz fenton #sam manson #tucker foley #sorry if you were expecting ghost nip from the title whoops #i swear next week i wont go into detail about danny having a Bad Time #it'll start with him having a bad time but it'll end up being kinda funny i promise

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tylerseguin · 6 years

Text

tyler seguin imagine

prompt: “Do you think they can hear us through the tent?” requested by: @gottalovehockey & @hockeyisgoals warning: smut word count: 1.6k

note: i’m so sorry it’s taken me forever to upload things again. life has been crazy lately with school ending and stuff but i’m going to try and write more often :) i hope you all still are interested <3 also i’m sorry i’m a little rusty with my writing xD

Tyler loved doing outdoorsy things. He had his own cottage but he also liked going camping with his friends at least once every summer. This was the first time that you were going to be joining them and you were rather nervous. This wasn't your kind of thing. You hadn't gone camping since you were, maybe, 13 years old and had sworn that you would never subject yourself to such torture ever again. However, how could you say no to your boyfriend? Whenever he pouted, you practically melted on the spot and gave into whatever he wanted. So, here you were, in the middle of nowhere with Tyler and his friends. They'd spent a couple hours setting up the campsite and you had awkwardly tried to help but it was rather hopeless. You were kind of worried that he would feel differently about you because you were not good at any of this. You could gladly sit in his boat and fish with him or spend a couple days in a row at his cottage but this was a completely different experience. He didn't see annoyed with you, thankfully, and even mentioned how adorable you were multiple times as you both put up the tent together.

He might have been the one to, ultimately, do all the work but he kissed you and thanked you for trying. That was all he really wanted, he said. He loved seeing that, no matter how unlike you this was, you were doing your best. In a way, this kind of was a huge test for your relationship. It was still rather new and since he'd been so busy during the year, you guys never had the chance to properly get to know each other like this. Things, though, were going amazingly. You were all sitting around the fireplace, talking and drinking beer as people usually did on nights like these. You'd started in your own chair but at some point during the night, Tyler had you sit in his lap and spent his time kissing your neck and cuddling you as the conversation flowed easily. As much as you wanted to be good and actually pay attention to his friends, he was making it absolutely impossible for you to do so. Your eyes were shut and you were gripping his sweater, trying not to moan in front of everyone. He was doing that thing that drove you crazy, sucking and nibbling on the curve of your neck. He knew that it was hard for you to stay quiet. You were subtly squirming in his lap, trying not to full out make out with him here and he knew that.

"Let's go to our tent." He whispered in your ear and you looked at him in shock. God, you desperately wanted that. "Your friends won't be mad?" You replied quietly. "It's still early..." It was, probably, around 9pm so it felt ridiculous to just get up and leave the party now. Instead of answering you, he got you both up and wrapped his arm around you. "We're going to head to bed. It's been a long day." He claimed and started walking away from the campfire and towards your tent. There were laughs from his friends, clearly not believing his words. They knew exactly what was going on. Who would seriously believe them, though? You were not going to live this down tomorrow morning but you know what? You didn't care right now. You were dying to be alone with your boyfriend. As much as you liked his friends, it was a long day of holding back the PDA. And when you had a boyfriend who looked like Tyler Seguin, how could you possibly not want to be all over him all the damn time?

Tyler unzipped the tent and you crawled in first. He'd been teasing you before and so, you wanted to give him a little show too. He could check your ass out and have to behave until the zipped the door back up. However, he did it much faster than you thought he would. "Come here." You barely had time to get settled on your back when he grabbed you by the ankle and pulled you back down closer to him. That, naturally, made you scream and burst out laughing. Your heart was racing so fast and the moment he started kissing you, there was nothing holding you back anymore. "I want you so bad. I've been waiting all day." You panted against his lips. No one could see you, you didn't have to behave anymore. You were alone with your boyfriend and he was already trying to get you out of your clothes. You'd been wearing sweats around the fire so before you knew it, Tyler had pulled them off your legs. Everything seemed frantic but it was necessary. You were both so turned on. As you kissed him, you peeled his hoodie off. Getting undressed was never as easy and simple as they made it seem in movies but you did it as quickly as you could. The clothes needed to come off. Now.

Your full naked bodies were pressed against each other and your kisses were hot and desperate. Your hands were all over his muscled body, feeling him up eagerly. In the moment, you weren't thinking about anyone else. Tyler flipped you both over and suddenly, you were on top of him. He always loved this position because he loved watching you rock yourself on top of him, drowning in pleasure. You knew that's what he wanted now and slowly sat up on top of him. "Is this what you want?" You asked, reaching between the two of you and started stroking his dick. He was already half hard but he twitched so easily in your palm. Tyler's arousal grew so fast, groaning as he looked up at you with such lust in his eyes. "Yes." He said, gripping onto your thighs. "Please-" He begged, his hips squirming under you. You loved driving him crazy, you especially loved that it never took you long to get him going like this. He didn't have to beg you twice, though, because you were just as desperate for him.

Slowly, you held onto his arousal so that you can sink onto it. Your eyes rolled back at the feeling, the both of you moaning together. Your whole body felt electrified, you'd been aching for him all day. Every time he carried logs around or did anything to make his muscled arms flex, you were practically drooling at the sight. You were horny as hell and it was so difficult to keep your hands to yourself. You didn't have to do that now, though. Your hands were directly on his chest, holding yourself up as you rode yourself faster on him. His fingers were digging into your thighs, then moved to squeeze your breasts. He was all over the place but that was okay, so were you. It felt like you had to do everything quickly because you couldn't get enough of him. You just wanted more and more, you were dying for your orgasm. Your moans and groans were just as loud as his and you didn't care. At least, not until you heard some people laughing around the campfire. In half a daze, you realized what that meant. “Do you think they can hear us through the tent?” You asked him, breathlessly. Tyler reached for the back of your neck and pulled your face closer. "I don't care." He said hotly before kissing you hard.

If he didn't care, why should you? He was right. It wasn't like the people out there didn't exactly know why you were heading to the tent so early. You rocked yourself more on top of him, kissing him eagerly but this wasn't enough for you two and Tyler knew that. He quickly flipped you over, pressing your back on the sleeping bag. He always got so riled up when he got on top of you, thrusting with determination as he pinned your hands to the ground. His thrusts hit you in the right spot, your pleasure growing fast. His lips were against yours but neither of you were kissing each other, you were panting hard as your body started to shake. "Let go, baby." He told you, the sound of your skin slapping filling the tent. His hand moved between your bodies and started rubbing your clit to get you there. "Fuck!" You cried, your body squirming in pleasure underneath him. Your toes curled and you grabbed his biceps as your orgasm washed through you. Your vision went white, your pleasure took over every part of you and doubled when you felt him cum moments after you. He always did that, waited for you to let go before he did himself. One day, you wanted to thank him for that by making it all about him but for now, all you could do was lay there and kiss him breathlessly. "I suddenly love camping." You managed to say, your lungs burning. Tyler chuckled and nudged your nose with his.

For a little while, Tyler kissed your slowly. He didn't move away from you, only moving so he could pull out. Apart from that, you were both wrapped around each other. You loved this, you needed this tender moment. You didn't want to go back outside when you could be laying naked, making out with the most handsome man alive. Thankfully, Tyler seemed to feel the same way. He didn't suggest you go back out, you could stay here until morning. Then, you could repeat this camping experiment all over again tomorrow.

#tyler seguin #tyler seguin imagines #tyler seguin imagine #hockey imagines #hockey imagine #dallas stars #nhl #smut #mine:works

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bevioletskies · 6 years

Note

Movieverse Post Avengers 4 Starmora Prompt: Wedding with white dress, veil, vows, rings, the kiss, and the first dance.

mild spoiler warning for avengers: infinity war.ao3 | word count: 2.9k

Peter proposed to Gamora one week to the day after they returned from the “other place”, as everyone was calling it (the Guardians had developed an aversion to the word “soul”, recoiling at what it had cost them). The moment the words left his lips, he instantly regretted it - not about the idea of marrying her, he could never regret the idea of marrying her - but the suddenness of his proposal; it almost felt inappropriate to ask. Everyone was still traumatized, recovering in short-lived bursts, taking one step forward and five steps back. Gamora, unsurprisingly, was experiencing the worst of it, not that she ever let it show. Peter couldn’t imagine she wanted to undergo the stress of a wedding on top of everything else she was dealing with, the weight on her shoulders, the sweat on her brow, the heaviness in her heart. He prepared to take it back, to apologize for, once again, jumping without thought of the consequences.

“Yes,” Gamora said, and that was that.

Now, it was a few months later and the day was here. It wasn’t so much that they had finished planning the wedding that they were finished with planning it. Gamora, for all her usual insistence on precise details and long-term considerations, grew tired of the whole process. She wasn’t inclined toward a splashy affair with flower arrangements the size of her torso and a dress that cost more than the Benatar’s repair bill. Peter just wanted to finally start calling her his wife, and was ready to take the shortest path to get there.

“Will you stop fussing already? You look fine,” Nebula grumbled. Gamora glanced in her reflection, over her shoulder, to see her sister standing in the doorway, arms folded across her chest. She smiled.

“That might be the kindest thing you’ve ever said to me,” Gamora said lightly, turning to fully face her. “Come on, Nebula. You know how much it means to Peter, to get married in his hometown, the place he still holds dear after all this time because of his mother. It would be disrespectful of me to look anything less than perfect, which I guess is…this.”

“A dress, though.” Nebula pursed her lips distastefully, her eyes slowly moving up and down as she took inventory of Gamora’s unusually feminine appearance. “And a veil? You look like the cake you refused to have.”

Gamora turned back to the mirror with a resigned, but agreeable sigh, tugging slightly on the tight waist for what had to be the hundredth time. “You might have a point. It doesn’t suit me, but it’s also no hardship. Need I remind you of the training corsets we wore as children? The buckles, the cold metal, the leather straps? All so we could learn how to breathe while we fight. That kind of burden, that life, it’s all behind us. No more.”

“No more,” Nebula echoed quietly.

Then, a knock on the doorframe. “Quill is pacing incessantly and won’t stop mumbling to himself,” Drax complained, looking immensely uncomfortable in a pressed white shirt and crooked tie. “For all our sakes, I hope you’re ready.” He paused. “You look ridiculous.”

Gamora rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “You flatter me, Drax. And yes…I’m ready.”

Though Peter had gone to church on Sundays with his mother as a child, he’d chosen a different kind of wedding venue entirely. They were in a converted barn on the outskirts of St. Charles, Missouri, the kind romanticized by many but used practically by few, its red paint peeling away on the outside, sunlight streaming in through the cracks of the imperfect rafters. Mantis had wound fairy lights around the support beams and placed tea lights along the makeshift aisle, but aside from that, there were no other decorations to speak of.

Opposite of the entryway, backlit by the partially open barn doors, Gamora’s gaze immediately went to Peter in his off-the-rack tuxedo, chatting quietly with the pastor, a family friend of his grandfather’s (who, to Peter’s dismay, had passed just two years ago). He turned at the sound of her footsteps, his face softening as he took in her appearance for the first time, mouth falling open a little in awe as it was oft to do. Gamora beamed almost shyly in return; after all these years, it was still hard to believe anyone could be so openly fond of her.

The other Guardians (aside from Nebula, who followed her in) were stood by Peter, surprisingly quiet and devoid of snark. There was a small bar-height table by Kraglin at the end of the line with three items arranged carefully on its surface - the yaka arrow, the Zune, and the Awesome Mix Vol. 1 cassette tape, the only thing that remained of Meredith’s Walkman.

Gamora walked carefully down the marked path, unused to the amount of fabric shifting around her ankles. Peter held out his hand for her to take the moment she was within reach, guiding her to a stop right in front of him. She instantly noticed an uncharacteristically nervous tremble in his fingers and his bottom lip. “Guess we should keep this short and sweet,” he chuckled. “Gotta head out in the morning for that job on the other side of the galaxy.”

“You sure do live interesting lives, Mister Quill,” the pastor commented with a laugh on his own. “Shall we start with your vows?”

“Yeah, I, um…yeah.” Peter let go of Gamora to pat the breast pocket of his suit jacket, only to shake his head. “Actually, I’ve read ‘em over enough times, I think I’m just gonna say what I feel.” He grinned his signature lopsided grin, and Gamora was half-charmed, half-worried that he’d indulged in a little drink for the nerves before getting dressed. “Growing up, I never really thought a ton about what I wanted to be when I was older. I mean, I had the usual kid dreams - rockstar, astronaut, pirate - but I was always just a go-with-the-flow kinda guy. Same thing when I was a Ravager, I just went along with what everyone else was doing. But once I left them behind, I really wasn’t sure what my next move was gonna be. If I was gonna float on by myself for the rest of my life like I always did. But part of me didn’t like that. I like being around people, and I missed having someone to talk to. My mom…Yondu. And it’s like someone heard my thoughts, ‘cos the day I left that life behind, you came along.”

“We had a pretty rough start, you and me. Tried to kill each other, landed in prison, the usual,” Peter continued, smirking at the memory. The pastor looked mildly alarmed. “But once we sorted out our differences, you became so incredibly important to me. You’re my best friend, my co-captain…my girl. The person I can talk to about anything, no matter what. The one who helped me figure out what I was gonna do with my life, who I wanted to spend it with. But you also don’t take any of my crap, and you shouldn’t,” he added with a watery laugh. “I say and do some pretty stupid stuff sometimes. You keep my feet on the ground, sometimes literally.”

“Anyways…we’ve been through a lot together. But I’m not too worried about the future. I know that whatever life throws my way, I got someone I can always count on, someone who can always count on me. And maybe to kid-me, the kid that didn’t care about, y’know, the future, or anything, really, it sounds pretty boring, but to adult-me? Sounds like I’ve got the best deal - and the best partner - in the entire universe.”

Gamora had to bite her lip to stop herself from crying, her eyes welling up with emotion. Peter’s eyes were shining with unshed tears as well, nodding for her to begin. “Growing up in the circumstances that I did, with the company that I kept - with one exception - ” her eyes briefly went to Nebula “ - it shouldn’t be surprising that love and acceptance were, in my mind, unattainable. Abstract concepts, for children and for fantasy. Shallow…saccharine. Meant only for people who thought themselves romantics, people who had time to really get to know one another. I was none of those things.”

“Like you, I was trying to escape my life. Unlike you, I thought I knew what was going to happen after. That I was going to survive, but not really live. Maybe die months, weeks, days after running away,” Gamora added with a sad smile. “I’ll admit, I didn’t think much of you when we first met. You were just another adversary to me. It wasn’t until Knowhere that I truly began to understand you…to know you…eventually come to love you. I can’t pinpoint a moment, a memory, in which I knew I did. But with all the cliches in the world, the ones I rejected and wrote off as fiction…I began to understand every single one of them.”

“I’ve been jealous of people who look at you the wrong way, or people who look at you for too long. I’ve fought for you, for us. I’ve done things that surprised me, said things I would have never told anyone else. I’ve let you into my life so we can share it together…a life where it’s about more than just surviving. I see the universe with new eyes, a renewed hope for the future, our future, and I don’t think it would be the same without you.”

By now, Mantis and Kraglin were clinging to each other, watery-eyed, while Drax, Rocket, and Groot were more stoic, but still noticeably moved. Nebula’s expression had been indecipherable ever since Gamora indirectly mentioned her, but she’d never been an easy read in the first place.

“If we have no objections - ” the pastor briefly glanced at the others, who all vehemently shook their heads “ - we’ll move on to the exchanging of the rings.”

Groot crouched briefly to open the small satchel at his feet, digging through its contents. Once he found what he was looking for, his branches snaked out, coming to a stop in front of Peter and Gamora - two small velvet boxes, ready for them to take. Gamora’s hands were comparatively steadier than Peter’s, sliding his ring on first. When she noticed the continual tremble in his arm, she held his wrist in a gentle, but firm grip, guiding him as he put her ring on her finger. He smiled in silent gratitude.

The two of them took a moment to admire their rings side-by-side, rings that had somehow become the most arduous part of the entire planning process. Peter’s ring was far simpler than hers, silver in color and square in shape with a thin groove all the way around, set with two red diamonds between perpendicular ridges that reminded him of his mask. Gamora’s ring was silver as well but less traditional in appearance, a thin sword wrapped around her finger with a matching red diamond embedded in its hilt.

“If you’re ready,” the pastor said softly. They turned back to look at him, eyes wide with anticipation. “By the power vested in me, I pronounce you husband and wife!”

A tinny-sounding version of the wedding march began to play through the Zune-attached speakers, and the Guardians exploded with whoops and cheers of unbridled joy. Peter swept Gamora into his arms, kissing her with everything he had. She wrapped her arms around his middle, pulling his front flush against hers, deepening the kiss, then pulled away before the pastor could protest indecency. Still, Peter brought her back in to kiss the crown of her head, holding her close as they turned on their heels to face the others, matched unabashed grins on their faces.

“So…dunno about you guys, but I’m super hungry,” Peter announced. Gamora was unsurprised to find that being married to Peter did not, in any way, lessen her urge to roll her eyes at him. If anything, she could see it happening with far more frequency in the future…their future.

Dinner was short and sweet, just like the ceremony. Peter ordered takeout from his favorite local diner, a place he was delighted to discover was still around. Though the others were mostly unfamiliar with Terran food, it was a welcome palate compared to their usual of ration packets and whatever was cheap at the latest bar Rocket insisted on visiting between jobs.

After dinner was over, Gamora knew there was one last wedding tradition that Peter would never want to miss. He didn’t care for toasts that rambled on for far too long, or tossing the bouquet (not that Gamora had one to begin with), or silly games that made everyone vaguely uncomfortable with how intimate they could be. No, this was a tradition that was obvious to anyone who knew Peter.

“Ready for our first dance as husband and wife?” He held out his hand, thankfully far steadier than it had been an hour ago.

“I guess the others will have to wait.” She placed her hand in his, allowing him to pull her to her feet.

They walked out to the middle of the barn, the moonlight peeking through the rafters, casting a soft glow on both their faces. Peter nodded at Rocket to start the music. He grinned at Gamora’s mildly surprised expression once the song began. “Song choice okay with you?”

“More than okay,” she laughed, allowing him to lead her in slow, deliberate circles, their faces so close that their noses were nearly touching. With his hands at the small of her back and hers on his waist, they were sturdier, surer of themselves, than they had been all night. “It’s been a while since we’ve listened to this one. Five years, in fact.”

“Figured it couldn’t be anything else,” Peter shrugged. “So…you feel any different? Now that we’re married?”

“Not really,” Gamora admitted. “I always thought it was more symbolic than anything else.”

“Can’t forget those tax benefits,” Peter joked. “And that insurance package you had your eye on ever since the hospital incident on Parthea?”

“If you had just told them we were family - ”

“ - I was so hopped up on meds, I was tryna make out with you in the waiting room, I don’t think they’d buy you were my adoptive sister - ”

“ - you always try to make out with me regardless, Peter, but my point is - ”

“ - hey, we’re starting to sound like an old married couple. I guess we always have, but now we’re halfway there,” he grinned. Gamora huffed, giving him her second most impressive eyeroll of the night. “Just gotta grow old together first.”

She couldn’t help but smile at that, the tension leaving her shoulders. “You’re right. Now we can look forward. And I don’t mean tomorrow’s mission, but…whatever the rest of our lives will be. We got a second chance at life. Let’s not waste it.”

“Did you have something in mind?” he asked.

“Actually…no.” Even Gamora looked surprised at her own answer. “All my life, I’ve either been running or hiding. It took me years to finally break free from his control, only for him to take me back again, use me again. And now, aside from whatever enemies we’ve made along the way…I have no reason to look over my shoulder. To check every corner I turn.” She smiled, her eyes glossy. “I’m not saying we’re never going to struggle again. We still have to live from payment to payment, risk our lives on even the simplest of missions, mostly because Rocket can’t resist a good fight. But for the first time…I’m not worried. I know we can figure it out together. Whatever ‘it’ may be.”

Peter pulled her even closer, wrapping his arms fully around her waist, his nose grazing her hair. “I know what you mean. Well, sorta. After losing Mom, I…I didn’t know if I was ever gonna have a family again. Or if I was just gonna be uncertain about everything for the rest of my life. But having the Guardians, having you…I lost Yondu, and I still think about him all the time. Wondering what it’d be like if he were here with us. But you’re my family. And I’m not worried, either. Just…really lookin’ forward to what’s next.”

Gamora glanced briefly over Peter’s shoulder, her fingers still burrowed beneath his jacket, around his waist, comforted by his familiar stance, his warmth. Rocket and Groot were squabbling over the last piece of apple pie, Mantis was cooing and taking photos of Peter and Gamora’s first dance while Drax watched on with a mildly disgruntled expression, and Kraglin was eyeing Nebula apprehensively, unsure of how much small talk - if any was even possible - was going to result in a knife to his throat.

She turned back to look up at Peter. “I love you,” she said simply.

He smiled. “I love you, too,” he said, and that was that.

Free, on my own is the way I used to be…but since I met you baby, love’s got a hold on me…

Fooled around and fell in love...I fooled around and fell in love, oh yes I did...

a/n: Peter’s tuxedo, Gamora’s dress (but with a floor-length hem), Peter’s ring, Gamora’s ring (but with a red diamond), and I’m sure you’re familiar with their first dance song!

#ask #Anonymous #starmora #starmora fic #myfic #marvel #hope you enjoyed this one lovely!!#i'm really glad i'm already done next week's prompt because i've got a lot going on this month #hopefully i'll be a teensy bit less busy in oct so i can really dig into the new au

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