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supernaturallyobsessedchic · 3 years

Text

You’re It

[gif credit to @ehghtyseven]

Square: Mechanic!AU ( @supernatural-jackles tell me a story bingo)

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: Her life is falling apart around her. So she heads to her hometown to start fresh. But is she ready to take on what awaits her in Lawrence Kansas.

Warnings: Angst, abusive relationships, domestic assault, break ups, Lisa being a bitch, Death of a character, tears, strong language, smut ( 18+, unprotected sex (wrap it up boys), p in v, pwp (I think anyway)) things moving unrealistically fast but it’s a fiction so, screw realism.

Word Count: 5,400 ish

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A/N: This is a long one, I hope you enjoy it. :3

Tears streaming down her face as she drove down the long dark road on the rainy night.

All her belongings in the backseat and trunk of her car.

How she gave him so many chances was beyond her, but he is all out of chances. Out of chances to hurt her again.

An innocent dinner, and one accident brought out the beast in her, now ex-boyfriend.

She’s sure she’s still sporting the red hand mark on her face, a black eye and even a bruise on her shoulder.

But she was heading back to where it all started, her hometown of Lawrence Kansas.

She just reached the outskirts of the city when her car started to act up on her, making a scary noise that sounded expensive.

She saw a sign that caught her eye, made her think of her high school days.

Winchester Garage and Scrap.

Winchester. She knew a Dean Winchester. He was a grade higher than her; she was a junior and he was a senior when they met.

He was always so sweet to her. She even fell for Dean at one point, but it all shattered when she saw him kiss another girl at their prom. Ran home in tears.

She had no choice, her car was about to either die or explode, she had to pull in towards the parking lot.

She saw him.

He hasn’t changed at all, like he doesn’t age.

He came running out, signaling to her to shut her car off. She does as told without hesitation. The sound was scaring her this point.

Clearing her eyes of any tears, dry her face as she got out.

“That don’t sound good, lets get it looked at…” He says. “Wait, do I know you from somewhere?”

“I’m Y/N Y/L/N,”

“Your junior prom and my senior prom, damn it’s been a while.” She could tell he’s just making small talk, ignoring the elephant between them.

She nods in agreement.

“You okay? Did…did someone hit you?” he saw it. She knew he saw it. Either the slap mark or the black eye. Either way, he saw it.

“It doesn’t matter Dean; can you please fix my car and I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Doesn’t matter? Someone hurt you Y/N. Come inside, I still have hot coffee going, lets get you out of this rain.”

She nodded following him inside.

In the waiting room she heard Dean typing away getting her car checked into his system, getting her paperwork started for her, leaving a few other spaces for her to fill in but other than that, he helped her get the ball rolling.

Walking back in the waiting room he saw how small she was making herself become in the room. Something big happened to her, and she wasn’t up for sharing it with him.

He walked up to her, seeing her look up at him with her big eyes, almost puppy like. He handed her the clipboard.

“I filled out what I could for you, I just need your personal info, address, phone number, that sort of thing.”

“Okay.” She says, setting down the coffee and taking the clipboard and pen.

He only saw her write down her phone number.

“You don’t live in town anymore?” he asked curiously.

“No I didn’t, but I’m moving back now.”

“Look, I know something big and bad went down between you and someone. I just…it pisses me off that someone hurt you.”

“You still care about me, why is that?”

“You were my girl; I still consider you my girl. I don’t know what I did that pissed you off, you never wanted to hear from my side.”

“You were kissing another girl on prom night, I saw you.”

“A girl, oh, you mean Abaddon, she’s had a huge crush on me and forced herself on me.”

Her heart was pounding hard against her.

“She…did she did more?”

“No, I pushed her off. And I went to look for you, and when I couldn’t find you, I knew what her plan was.”

“She did that on purpose, in hopes I’d see it and break up with you. So you’d be up for grabs for her…that bitch!”

“Y/N, that was almost ten years ago now, she married Michael, and they been married for about three years now…let it go.”

She hid her face in embarrassment, forcing the tears back.

“I was with Lucifer,”

“Michael’s brother, why he’s such a dick?”

“He comforted me after what I saw. And after I graduated, I followed him to LA. We tried to be together but he just…kept hurting me.”

She saw his jaw clench tight. A vein popping from the side of his neck. He was pissed, beyond pissed if there ever was such thing.

“First was he hit me when I didn’t want to have sex with him, I told him it was too fast. He broke my nose in the process. I left him for a few days, and he came crawling back, apologizing. I gave him a second chance. Second, he hits me when I was trying to talk to him…about something, I don’t remember. I woke up in the hospital with a concussion. The story was I fell down the stairs. He apologizes to me and I told him he has one last chance…”

“Y/N, why were you giving him so many chances?”

“I thought he loved me. But after tonight, I guess he never really loved me.”

“Does he know where you went?”

“I never told him, he stormed out of the house to a bar most likely. I packed up everything and just left. I may have sped rather…fast, I just wanted to get away from him.”

“Well, you’re safe here sweetheart.”

Her lips twitched upward in a small smile.

“What about you Dean? Did you find someone?”

“Not really, nothing but break ups. Lisa and I had a bad break up just recently. Told me how weak I was for not trying.”

“What, trying what?”

“Just being with her. I was always at work, away at college, going to classes. Working my old job with my Uncle, and then opening this bad boy. She thought I wasn’t trying. But really I was making this all for her, and the family she wanted. But I guess that wasn’t good enough for her.”

“No Dean, she wasn’t good enough. She was being a bitch.” She encourages.

“I guess, but now I’m just wanting to be single for a bit. Maybe the right girl will show up.” he smirks.

“Dean…we both have been hurt, let’s just go slow. Lets try to be friends again first.”

“I can live with that.” He says. “Lets get your car in here.”

He managed to push her car in, having her steer it in the garage.

“I’ll work on it first thing in the morning.” He mentions. “Now, since you just got into town, you probably don’t have a place to stay, do you?”

“Well, my dad is still here. I’m gonna stay with him.”

“Didn’t you hear what happened though?”

“I know, he’s been down hill since mom died from Cancer. He practically gave up. I hope I can help lift his spirits now that I’m home.”

“Well that, but there’s something else. Yesterday, did he tell you?”

She shook her head.

“He was diagnosed with prostate cancer. It had already spread, it’s too advanced for treatment. My dad told me.”

Her heart sank. “He didn’t mention that to me. But he did sound different when I spoke to him.”

“Do you want me to go with you? Get you settled in?”

“Please.” Her eyes glistened with more tears. “I don’t want to go alone; I don’t know what I’m in for when I see him.”

“It’s okay sweetheart, let’s get your things in my truck and we’ll get going.”

“Do you still have her? The impala?”

“I do, she’s tucked away at my house in the garage. I take her out once in a while. Maybe tomorrow I can give you a ride in her. Take your mind off things.”

“I’d love that Dean, thank you.”

Giving her a kind smile, he began moving her things from her car to his truck. Pulling the tarp cover over the bed to protect whatever he got in the bed of the truck.

Driving through the streets of Lawrence she looked out her window, seeing all that has changed.

“So, what do you do since High school?”

“I’m a writer.”

“Oh nice, got any books out yet?”

“I have a few out there. All romantics.”

“Working on anything new?”

“No, been kind of in a rough spot lately.”

“Oh, with…I gotchyou now. Well, don’t worry, I’m sure once things calm down it’ll come to you.”

“I hope so.”

He pulled down the familiar street. The same street she grew up on. Pulling into the familiar driveway seeing the familiar family house.

“He’s still here, after all these years.”

“Yeah, my guess is he misses your mom, you, your brothers.”

She nods, getting out.

She walks up the path to the front door, Dean behind her carrying some of her bags.

She see’s one of her brothers stepping out of the house.

“Hey shortie.”

“Hey big bro.” she says. Getting a big hug from him.

“You want us to hunt this fucker down?”

“No, he’s not worth it.” she says pulling away.

“Hey Dean,”

“What’s up Peirce.”

“Nothing new. Oh, Becky and I are expecting, she wants to invite you to the baby shower.”

“That soon?” Y/N asks.

“You remember Becky?”

“Oh that Becky, okay, I get why she’s doing it this early.” She giggles. “She should wait, what if it’s a girl and you got all boy stuff? Or a boy and all girl stuff?”

“I don’t know, I’m sure she has a plan for it.” He says. “Here, come in guys.”

“How’s dad?” Y/N asks entering into the foyer.

“Not good. His nurse is here. She thinks, with him knowing his family is here he might be heading out soon.”

She nods. “I haven’t even seen him yet.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll see him tomorrow. Because I’m sure he wants to see you.”

She felt a hand on her shoulder, looking up at Dean he gives her a sweet smile.

“She has her stuff in my truck if you want to help me move her in?” Dean asks.

“Sure thing.”

Her brother and Dean begin making trips from his truck to the house. While she wonders the house. Seeing everything as she left it. Finding a picture of her mom with her, her dad, and her two brothers. A tear finding it’s way to the surface, a tight feeling building tighter in her chest.

So much has happened so far, and she is making a big change in her life.

Hearing the door close takes her out of her haze.

“Alright that’s the last of them, Y/N, I’m gonna head. I’ll pick you up around eight, Fridays are my short days.” Dean says coming up behind her.

“Okay, I’ll see you then.”

Dean nods with a smile, offering a hug. She doesn’t hesitate. She needed a hug.

He takes her in close and tight to his chest.

“You’re okay now, you’re safe. Everything is going to be okay sweetheart.” He whispers.

She nods against his chest. Holding back the tears.

He pulls away, giving her one final smile before kissing the top of her head.

“See you tomorrow.” He says. She nods again as he walks out the door, heading home.

“Sis?”

“I’m not okay.” She chokes out before a sob wracks through her.

Her brother doesn’t hesitate in hugging her quickly as she broke down.

“It’s okay baby sis, I’ve got you. No one is going to hurt you again. Like Dean said, your safe.”

She nods as she cries against her big brother.

The next morning she woke up, still heavy with memories of last night but the light for a hopeful future tried to beat down the heaviness she felt.

She got up to take a quick morning shower.

Once she got out and cleaned up she saw her nurse in the kitchen getting what looked like a water mug.

“You my dad’s nurse?” she asked sweetly.

“I am honey, he’s doing okay right now, but his body is getting tired.”

“I know, my mom was the same with her cancer.”

“It can take a big toll on the body. If you want to see him he’s up.”

She nods. Not thinking twice she heads up to his room. Seeing her dad lying in bed, peacefully dozing off.

“Hi daddy.”

“Hey buttercup.” He says groggily with a smile.

He saw the remaining evidence of last night.

“Do I need to send my boys after that son of a bitch?”

“No dad, he’s not worth it. He doesn’t even know I’m here.”

“Good. You know you always have a home here.”

She smiles, taking a seat on his bed. Taking his hand in hers. Her dad rubbing a thumb atop her knuckles.

“I know this sucks sweetie, you getting back after all this time and I’m dying.”

She shakes her head. “Don’t worry about me dad. I got Peirce and Zane, and Dean too.”

“You and that boy back together?”

“We’re just trying for friends right now dad. We both have been through really shitty relationships.”

“He made you so happy.”

She nods. “I know dad, he still does. He’s taking me out for a ride in his car when he gets off at the garage.”

“That’s nice of him.”

She nods.

“Sweetheart, there’s something I need to tell you as well.”

“What is it?”

“You’re getting this house, I want you to have a family in this house so you can tell your kids all the good stories, the bad stories. Tell them you grew up in this house.”

“Dad, I don’t know if I can…”

“The boys are moving back, Zane got himself a job with John Winchester on the police force.”

“Zane still a cop, even after all the crap that’s gone down?”

“He’s a strong man now.”

She nods. “That he is.”

“Peirce and his wife, his wife got a job as a news anchor here, and he is gonna work with Dean in the garage.”

“He never mentioned that to me.”

“Yeah, Peirce has a knack for fixing up cars. Then again, Dean did show him all sorts of stuff after you left. He didn’t know what to do.”

“Then again, he and Dean did graduate at the same time.”

“Yes, that too. But the family is going to be here.” Her dad says, bringing a hand up to her cheek, brushing a thumb across her cheekbone. Her hand helping him hold it there.

“It’s going to be okay Buttercup. You won’t be alone here.”

“I know daddy.”

“I love you all so much.”

She fought the sobs so hard, she brought herself down to his chest, hugging him gently.

“I love you too Dad.”

That afternoon, she spent some time walking around the town. Seeing things being the same and different all at once. She saw what used to be Dairy Queen get turned into a Starbucks.

Taking her dad’s car she drove around the town, even finding Dean’s garage not far from the city limits.

Pulling in, she decided to stop by and visit.

Walking in she saw a line of people, one woman growing impatient turning around to leave.

This is a bad time. She thought. Until she saw a certain someone at the desk.

“Dean?”

“Hey Sweetheart,” Dean says, typing away. “I would love to visit but I’m really busy.”

“Can I help?”

“You want to help?”

“Yeah, just show me the desk work, I want to help you out.”

“Okay, come around here.”

Dean showed her how to fill out the information in the computer system, giving the customers their papers to fill out.

Showing her how to process them through the system. Showing what to do when the work is done, and what to do at the end of the day.

He was shocked at how fast she worked on the computer. Typing faster than he could. The line got shrunk down quickly, everyone getting checked in.

“Nice.”

“I am a computer nerd too after all.”

“I forget, you’re like Sammy.”

“Now, get to work so we can catch up.”

He chuckles as he turns around to the garage, getting everyone’s cars in and working on them.

Peirce popping in covered in oil and grease.

“Hey sis, got anymore?”

“One more, You guys are quick.”

“A lot of it is oil changes and tire rotations. Some are break pad changes. So, some simple ones.”

“Last one is a rattling noise in her engine.” She says handing him the file.

“Alright, I’ll get to it.” he says taking the file with the keys attached.

She smiles rolling her eyes, shaking her head. In the back of her mind, she thinks she may have found a good day job. It’s simple, fast paced for sure, but she loved doing it, nonetheless.

The workday was coming to a close, Y/N finishing up the paperwork.

“Y/N, We’re done, Dean’s also almost done with your car.” Peirce says coming in behind her.

“Okay.”

“You drove that thing hard, talk about perfect timing.”

“How bad was it?”

“Well, a cylinder burst, and the belt broke. That thing was about to blow.”

“How was he able to fix the cylinder?”

“Chevy’s are easy to come by. He had the right parts, and he was able to fix that, and get you a new belt.”

“He was in here last night wasn’t he, he didn’t go home.”

Peirce held his hands up. “You have to talk to him about that one.”

She shook her head. “Somethings going on, I know it.” she gets up from the desk and heads into the garage.

Seeing him working under the hood of her car.

“Dean, did you go home at all last night?”

“Why?” he asks, grunting as he tightened parts to her engine.

“Its just, engine work, now I’m no expert but that takes a lot of time to work on. Sure you had the parts but, to be done with my car this fast when any other shop would be done with it in a few days. You got done with it in one.”

He got up, wiping his hands. “What are you trying to say?”

“Is there a reason you’re not wanting to go home? Working at odd hours?”

“You sound just like Lisa.” He grumbled.

“Dean, I’m just worried about you is all. I don’t want you working yourself to death.”

“I’m not working myself to death.”

“Then why were you here last night and not at home resting?”

His jaw clenched, not wanting to talk about it.

“Dean, if you’re wanting to try again, you have to open up a bit. I opened up everything I could to you yesterday.”

He looked down at his hands, wiping his hands out of nervous habit.

“We both might have something in common, we had abusive relationships.”

“She…she didn’t…”

“She’d hit me, punch me. And for a small girl, she can hit. She had no reason. I’d come home late, she’d hit me, hurt me. I get home early, same thing. She wanted more with me, but I didn’t. All the late hours working, was to stay away from her. I moved out after I broke up with her. she knows where I live. One night she tried to…”

“Did you call the police, get a restraining order on her?”

“I did, but it doesn’t matter, apparently when guys go through this it’s no big deal.”

“It is too a big deal Dean.”

They sat in silence for a beat, Y/N trying to think what she could do.

“Can’t you move again?”

“I could but I don’t want to move too far from work, you know.”

The sound of tire screeches outside tore them from their conversation.

Peirce came running in as fast as he could.

“Dean, dude, she’s coming!”

“She, as in?” Y/N asked.

“Yes, Lisa. And dude, she’s pissed.”

“Call your dad, now Dean.” Y/N ordered.

Dean did as told. When another set of tires came tearing in.

“Winchester!”

Y/N saw red. Abusive partners, she was getting really tired of how sick and ugly people would get with people they ‘loved’.

She was in auto pilot. She marched out of the garage and towards Lisa.

“Out of the way bitch.”

“He’s not in there skank.”

“The fuck did you call me?”

“Apparently you’re deaf too, here, let me say it slower for you. Skank.”

“You fuckin’ bitch!” she screams. And begins throwing punches at her, wildly.

Y/N able to dodge most of them, blocking the others that got close.

“Y/N stop, the cops are coming!” Peirce warned.

“I’m not doing anything she is!”

“Fuck off!” Lisa screamed.

Dean came into view from the garage. Tearing Lisa’s attention from Y/N to him.

“There you are, the fuck are you doing?”

“We’re done Lisa, I told you.”

“You don’t get to end shit with me Winchester.”

Peirce got himself between her and him, y/n not far behind.

Lisa landed a strong punch on Peirce.

Y/N’s eye’s bulged in rage. She had grabbed onto Lisa’s shirt from behind, pulling her away from her brother before she could land another punch on him. But pulling her so hard she lost her footing and fell on her rear.

“You don’t touch him, or my brother you hear me bitch!”

“The fuck you care, you left him first!”

“At least I didn’t lay a hand on him.”

Lisa jumped up, ready to throw more punches, when a man in uniform. John Winchester came in behind, pulling Lisa’s arms behind her, cuffing her.

“What the fuck!”

“You’re under arrest for domestic assault and aggravated assault.” He says firmly.

“Bull shit, you got no proof!”

“I have my POV cam on honey, I was sitting not far from you. I saw everything.”

“Fuck off!” she screeched.

“No one hurts my son and gets away with it. Lets go.” He pulls her to his cruiser.

Y/N turned her attention to her brother.

She saw Dean sat next to him, handing him an ice pack.

“You okay Peirce?”

“Damn she can throw a punch.”

“Yeah, she’s bad news.” Dean goes.

“Yeah but ignore that, my sis is super woman, she just fucking tossed her like she was nothing!” Peirce laughed with a proud smile.

“Well, no one hurts my family and gets away with it.”

She saw Dean nod lowly. “And no one hurts my friends and gets away with it.”

Dean looks up at her, a confused furrow on his brow before he smiled sweetly at her comment.

“Now I think someone is safe to go home from work now.” She says.

“Yeah, thank god she’s been caught.”

She drove her dad’s car back home, seeing more cars by her dad’s house.

Getting out, she hurries inside.

The house full of family members she hasn’t seen in years.

Her nurse coming down the stairs.

“He just took a turn; I suggest saying your goodbyes.”

Her eyes filled with thick tears; a sob tore at her throat.

She felt two pairs of hands on her shoulders. Looking to her right she see’s Peirce. And Zane on her left.

The siblings head upstairs to his room. Their dad laid there, his breathing labored and shallow. Clearly suffering.

Zane taking one side of the bed, Y/N and Peirce walking around to the other side. The three holding their dads hand.

“Daddy, we’re here. Everything is okay.” Y/N says.

“Yeah dad, we’ll be okay. We’ll look after Y/N.” Zane says.

“I’ll take good care of the house.” Y/N adds.

“We’ll take care of each other.” Peirce adds after her.

His breathing quickened, pained. They squeezed his hands.

“Daddy it’s okay, you can rest now. We’ll be okay.” Y/N says, holding back the tears.

They felt their dad give a slight squeeze of their hands before his hand going limp.

He let out his last breath, his monitors flatlining.

Y/N let out a pained sob as her hands flew to her mouth to hold back yells of the pain of loss.

Pierce quickly brought his sister in his arms. Zane walking around the bed, hugging his brother and sister as they allowed themselves to cry.

It seemed like forever, they exited the room, slowly descending the stairs.

Y/N see’s Dean by the door. She quickly descended the last few steps and walks over to him.

Dean didn’t hesitate to hold her closely as she cried against him.

“Shh, it’s going to be okay sweetheart. I got you.”

After an hour of hanging with the family, their extended family leave for the night. The brothers staying, Dean as well.

They sat in the family room, Y/N sitting against Dean, Peirce sitting with his wife and Zane sitting on the end of the couch.

“If you want, one of us can stay here with you.” Peirce says.

“But babe, the baby shower.” Becky begs.

“I think it can hold until I feel okay again, please.”

“Okay, that seems fair.” She says. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay baby.” Peirce says, kissing atop Becky’s head.

“I think I’ll be fine,” Y/n says.

“I can stay with her. Besides, I don’t feel safe at my house despite Lisa being arrested and everything.”

“You’re more than welcome Dean.” Zane says.

Peirce nodding in agreement. “Totally.”

“Besides, we probably should go, get some rest and all that.” Peirce says, after seeing Becky yawn.

They all got up from the couch, exchanging hugs with their sister and sister in law.

“Call us if you need anything okay shortie.”

“Will do big bro.” she smiles

That night, she got out of the shower with red puffy eyes. She managed to get totally dried off and dressed for bed.

Heading to her room she finds Dean dressed in his pajamas.

“Hope you don’t mind sharing.”

“I don’t mind really. Because, screw going slow, I need you right now.” She says a sob cracking through the surface.

Dean hurries to her, bring her in his arms.

“I’m right here sweetheart, I’m not going anywhere.” He whispers.

He manages to help her into bed, he climbs in on his side of the bed and quickly wraps his arms around her as she continued to cry her eyes out.

He holds her close, placing a kiss atop her forehead, a silent promise that he’s there.

She woke up the next morning, feeling like she didn’t sleep a wink.

She saw the bed was empty, no sign of Dean but the kitchen smelling of breakfast.

She gets up and heads down to the kitchen. Seeing him dressed and by the stove cooking bacon and eggs.

“Morning beautiful girl.”

“Morning handsome.” She smiles.

“How do you like your bacon?”

“Well not burnt.”

“Come on, crispy bacon is good!” he says playfully.

“Blah!” she fake gags.

Dean rolls his eyes with a chuckle.

“I take it you didn’t sleep good.”

“No, I’m tired.”

“Well, I’m off today. My shop is closed on the weekends. So, we can stay in, clean up the house. Or I can take you on that drive.”

“I want to see baby.”

“A drive it is.”

After a delicious breakfast, she quickly showers off last nights tears. And dresses quickly, eager to see his 67 impala.

She walks out the door to find it parked in her driveway behind her dad’s car.

Dean sitting on her hood.

“She’s still as beautiful as ever.” She says walking up to him.

“Not as beautiful as you.”

“Stop you hopeless romantic.”

He chuckles hopping off the hood.

“I’m only a hopeless romantic for you.”

She giggles.

“There’s that smile, ready for a nice drive?”

“So ready.”

He walks around to the driver side as she gets in the passenger side.

He managed to find a nice spot in an abandoned field, overlooking the city of Lawrence.

“Thank you Dean, I really enjoyed this.”

“Glad you did. I enjoyed having you here.”

She looks up towards him, her lips finding his in a sweet and loving kiss.

She felt his hand come up behind her head, brushing through her hair, as he deepened the kiss.

“Sweetheart, if we keep this up, I’m not gonna last.”

“It’s okay Dean,” she says against his lips. Kissing him hard.

He adjusts himself; she adjusts herself with him as he gently guides her down to her back. His hands exploring her body, her hands feeling his strong arms, shoulders, and chest. Shedding their clothes as everything escalates, their lips not leaving.

She laid their completely bare and naked before him. She can feel his eyes roam her body; she felt the urge to hide herself away.

“So gorgeous.” He whispers.

His lips finding hers again, distracting her from his member hardening against her thigh.

She ground her hips against him, pulling a grunt out of him. He pulls away from her kiss.

“Are you sure?”

“Like I said last night, I don’t care anymore right now, I need you Dean. I’ve missed you so much.”

“I missed you too, you sure?”

“So sure, you are it.”

He smiles proudly, kissing her again as he slowly brought himself into her.

She moaned against his lips as he got himself completely seated within her.

“You good?”

“So good.” She says, grinding her hips, urging him to move.

He begins a steady rhythm, not too hard or rough. Just making her feel good, good enough to forget all that has happened int heir life.

His hands braced against he passenger, the window down giving him a good grip as he drove into her.

“Fuck, faster Dean.” She begs.

His hips begin speeding up in intensity, drawing them closer to their end.

“Fuck sweetheart, you feel so amazing.”

“You too baby,” she pants.

A familiar heated coil builds up in intensity in her belly with every pounding he gave her. He began to speed up, he was close as well.

“Fuck Dean, close…”

“Go for it baby.” He pants.

Her walls clamp hard around him, spurring him into his end as she could feel a rope of thick, sticky come spill out of him. As he came with a guttural groan, her name falling off his lips.

His hips spudder against her as he kept coming, throwing her in a second orgasm, her legs shaking around him as she wrapped them around his waist. His name fall off her lips in a small scream as she came.

His hips thrust slowly to a stop as they came down from their highs, his lips finding hers once again.

“You okay sweetheart?”

“Much better, now that I have you.”

He smiles proudly again before kissing her again. His hips coming to life again.

“You got the stamina of a teenager, you know that.”

“You’re worth making love to for hours baby, you up for round two?”

“Give it to me baby.”

She can’t help but think of all that’s happened in the course of twenty four to forty eight hours.

She left her boyfriend who never truly loved her, returned home to start fresh.

Thankful she found her first love still waiting for her, ready to give her all the love he was about to give her.

As he drove down the long stretch of road back into town, she sat close to his side with his arm around her. Feeling his warmth radiating off of him. She snuggles close to him. Feeling him give her an assuring squeeze as he drove back to her house.

She was ready for what life was about to throw her way with her knight in shining armor for who she knows she can trust with all her heart, and who she knows really loves her.

A/N: What’d you think? Let me know, feedback is always appreciated. :3

Dean Girls:

@pandazombie69, @luci-in-trenchcoats, @supernatural-jackles, @becs-bunker, @jayankles, @mlovesstories, @winchesters-favorite-girl, @flamencodiva, @akshi8278, @megzdoodle, @misfit0118, @anotherspnfanfic, @shawnie74, @lyarr24, @missmemoire09, @racetrackheart, @spnbaby-67

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tundrainafrica · 3 years

Text

Title: Lovebug (9/12)

Summary:

“It might be a bug.”

“A bug?”

“Sometimes the developers of this application make mistakes. This is our first time meeting I’m sure so…Isn’t it a bit weird that we just met for the first time and it rings like this? And for two strangers to coincidentally ring each other’s alarms?“

Levi is the developer of the Love Alarm App and Hange is married to Zeke.

Link to cross-postings: AO3

Other Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

Notes: Sorry for taking my sweet time posting this. We had no wifi for a while, transpo issue and I was dead asleep as soon as I got home two nights in a row lmfao.

Anyway, feedback is very much appreciated :D

Levi might have felt a little guilty about letting loose just that evening but his conservative mind was finding all the ways to justify it.

Maybe the justifications held some weight. After all, taking the midnight train out of the city wasn’t the strangest thing to do. Hange and Levi weren’t the only ones at the ticket gate then they weren’t the only ones waiting on the platform. On the train, Levi could count the number of empty seats more easily than the occupied ones.

He started to relax as soon as he settled on one of the seats. He convinced himself that in the end, he had been overreacting. There was nothing at all odd with rushing to her home then to his, packing two overnight bags and buying two last minute tickets to the northernmost station of their country.

To Pemberley. Levi didn’t have the time to load the book into his reader again. He instead downloaded the pdf file to his phone.

He had willed himself to make sense of the black on the bright white screen before deciding, it was too late at night to read. Instead he propped his elbows on the windowsill and leaned his chin on his hand. He snuck a glance at Hange who sat in front of him, leaning on the window in that same way.

A long day behind them, they were both exhausted. On the bright side, if Levi closed his eyes and let the train rock to whatever rhythm it was most comfortable with, he was sure that in a split second, they would have arrived at their destination.

Sleep could have lasted less than a second. Next thing Levi knew, he was fighting to open his eyes. The sun rose without warning, the only thing between them just an empty glass that did nothing to protect him from the first rays of morning.

Levi quickly adjusted his view, making sure he wasn’t directly staring at the sky like a while ago. He craned his head back, instead focusing on the rolling hills and the countryside.

It wasn’t the British countryside in the book. It didn’t seem at all like a Pemberley or a Rosings Park or Longbourn. Still, he delved into the passing green and foraged for whatever similarities his sleep muddled mind could come up with.

One thing Levi dared to note, despite his limited experience traveling, the view from an interregional highway, or an interregional train, the rolling hills that passed by, the clusters of trees that varied in density and the plains that dotted the view were all the same regardless of location. Despite the variety nature could offer, nature still had unifying characteristics. While at the same time, nature was distinct from everything non-nature.

And when it wasn’t unwillingly tamed, paved over, forced to coexist with concrete, buildings and humans, it was a sight to behold.

It was enough to take his breath away, enough to make him almost regretful that the train was moving too fast for him to stare for just a second longer at a changing landscape or canopies that blurred amongst one another.

Eventually, regret at not appreciating nature had him exhausted. He turned in front of him to see Hange’s eyes were fixed at whatever passing objects caught her eye outside the window. Her head bobbed, her eyes darted from left to right and her mouth was half open and she didn’t seem at all in a hurry to close them.

“I’m sure this isn’t your first time seeing this much nature,” Levi said, a humble start to light conversation.

Hange seemed comfortable going along with it. “It isn’t. We had the country club,” she said. There was a nonchalant look on her face as if she saw the ‘country club’ as more of a consolation.

Levi couldn’t help but agree. Golf courses were all green, the mini forests that lined the paths from the golf courses, to the beaches to the summer houses were all nature. Yet they were of a type of nature, trained not to bite any unsuspecting visitors.

When Levi leaned back on his chair, turning his head out of the window, he appreciated the raw green for a second longer. Then he concluded, there was novelty in seeing nature at its most candid form.

Hange spoke up. “You know, I haven’t been able to leave the city since we left the country club. And not traveling in months... This feels new.”

“But you’ve travelled before,” Levi responded.

“Of course I have,” Hange said. “Zeke would always take me out to the best gardens, the best parks, the best hiking trails… He knows I like nature.”

“So he took you to ‘Pemberley?’ Then to ‘Rosing Park then Longborn?” Most were likely fictional places but at that point, Hange may have had her own idea of what fictional was.

“No, not to my Pemberley,” Hange said, like it was the most unimportant thing in the world. “Never.”

“So this was supposed to be your first time going together?” Levi asked. He noted that they never did get to sit down and map the route to Hange’s dream destinations. Hell, he didn’t even know where they were.

He opened his phone, then the map of the northernmost region.

The capital of the northern region had city buses, a small subway system, nothing like what they had back home. Levi traced the blue and the green, pondering for himself which had the most rolling hills, the most ‘gardens.’ Obviously, over a very zoomed out map and a few hundred mile radius, it would be difficult to tell so he consulted Hange. “We could take an unlimited bus ticket… or a two day all you can ride train---”

“No. We rent a car,” Hange said.

“Wait, but if we don’t know the land--.” There were too many excuses he could have brought up. The excuse he was most hesitant to even fathom seemed most pressing then. Levi didn’t know how to drive.

Hange probably saw through it. “I’ll drive.” The cheeky grin on her face was enough of a hint, she was more than ready for adventure.

Levi closed the maps application and pocketed his phone. “So I’m assuming you’ll be doing the navigation.”

Hange only nodded, her smug smile getting wider by the second.

***

Hange surprisingly knew how to navigate the complexities of building an itinerary. What the hell she was doing, how the hell she was doing it and what the hell her plan was, Levi couldn’t be too sure.

Thirty minutes into arriving at the regional train station, they had rented a car and secured a pocket wifi. Thirty five minutes into it, Hange was pulling out of the station in a rented sedan.

The train station was situated in the middle of the city and in the car, Levi had to subdue the panic which came with going out of the city then seeing the scenery slowly shift from five story buildings to two story houses then finally to the peaceful green offered by the city outskirts. He wondered why they had even taken a train station to town if they were going back into countryside landscapes anyway.

“Do you know where we’re going?” Levi asked. Levi knew that Hange had been there once before. Just the idea that someone could actually easily navigate expressways and exits without a phone on the dock and a guide seemed almost unnerving.

“Ish,” Hange said, her eyes fixed straight ahead.

“We have wifi, we could use a maps application to navigate?” Levi never drove, he wouldn’t know but, it couldn’t hurt to be just a little more careful.

“Maybe later. I’ve been here more than enough times,” Hange said. They rode in silence for a minute or so more before she turned to him. “We’re gonna be on the road for a while and driving on the freeway gets boring.”

Levi glanced up at her questioningly.

Hange caught his eye “Tell me a story.”

“About what?”

“How was your date with Petra?” The question came out of nowhere and Hange had said it too casually and too abruptly and that had Levi choking on his own saliva.

He recovered quickly, clearing his throat. “Excuse me?”

“Your date with Petra? Didn’t you tell me you would be going on one?”

“I did,” Levi admitted. “Because you asked me to,” he added, a second later.

“I suggested it.” Hange clarified. “And how did it feel?”

“Good.” His response was automatic.

One hand on the steering wheel, Hange pulled her phone from her lap, unlocked it and turned on her modified emotions alarm. “Turn yours on.”

Levi only saw one reason why she’d do all that. “Why? You don’t trust me?”

“Well, you went through all the trouble of making the gift right? Let’s make use of it.”

Levi could have fought. He only needed five seconds to see reason in her order. Besides, if she turned hers on, it would turn out to be a fair trade. He turned on his phone scrolled through the home screens and opened the application.

“So how did it feel?” Hange asked. She set her phone on the stand and hovered one finger over the activate button.

“It felt good,” Levi willed himself to say it with the same conviction as a second ago, firm and straightforward but just a little shaky underneath.

Still too shaky to deceive his own application. A yellow spot just under the words ‘happy’ would have been nice. After all, ‘good’ was a word that generally implied that something was good, something made me happy. The alarm flashed with green and Levi had half the mind to fling his phone over the backseat of the car.

“Happy sad? Or sad happy?” Hange asked, there was a laugh in her voice.

Was she mocking me? It felt like a much better argument to quote her, mock her maybe. He glared at her. You told me love is a choice right? By some allusion, Levi attempted to put it all together. “I’m making the choice to say it was a good and productive date. We tried to pick out a good present for you.”

“And in the end, you decided to make an application,” Hange said. “Did Petra suggest anything?”

“Tea, a wallet, a pencil case…”

“I would have enjoyed those,” Hange said.

“It didn’t seem like that to me,” Levi admitted. He studied her features as he spoke.

Hange’s face was unchanging, her eyes still looking straight ahead. Levi was almost amazed she managed to keep some of her focus in conversation. Hange turned the car, swerving towards one exit.

Levi winced at the white that flashed in front of him for a split second. “How do you feel?” He asked.

“About what?”

“About the date?” He answered. Levi gave Hange a good once over, ending with her hand on the clutch. Her hand wasn’t shaking, but she held it like she was going to pull it out of its place any second now.

Hange paused. She had hovered her hand over the alarm but she never did activate it.

Levi subtly turned towards the phone then back at her. “Happy?” At that point, maybe a mischievous side of him had taken over. He wanted to provoke her.

Hange poked the active button on her phone, much harder than necessary, hard enough for Levi to wonder if it had reduced the phone’s lifespan by even just a year or so.

Her phone flashed once again with a purple dot.

Levi noticed her eyes widen for a second then a flash of pink flowered on her cheeks before she looked away. “Angry sad or sad angry?” He asked, deliberately mimicking Hange’s old tone of a while ago. It came out more of a growl than whatever naturally sing songy voice Hange managed everyday. Either way it had been a satisfying set of motions.

“Angry sad… Or maybe sad angry?” Hange murmured. Then she hummed for a second longer, the car slowed down with it and she turned back to him. “I feel...purple,” she said.

Purple isn’t a feeling. Levi glanced accusingly at her. Hange though wasn’t looking back at him. If she saw anything through her peripherals, she didn’t make it obvious.

With her own series of gestures, Hange had given one message. She didn’t want to be bothered.

Yet, she had asked him about Petra for a reason.

Levi couldn’t tell how much he saw was a trick of the light or a clear hint. Hange’s jaw had tightened, her eyes narrowed ahead. She didn’t talk much after the word ‘purple’ that softened to a whisper mid word.

For the first time, she wasn’t being completely transparent

Levi then felt less obligated to open up. “If you’re feeling purple, then I’m feeling green,” he said.

They didn’t talk for a while after that.

The car exited the main road to a road half its size. Although the car always rattled, it was particularly more obvious then and as Levi looked out the window and back at her, he realized that maybe it was because she was slowing down.

Slowing down, or maybe vacillating the best course of action.

“You okay?” he asked.

“I’m fine. Just trying to remember the way around here,” Hange said. She looked behind her, then forward again.

“What are we doing here?”

“I’m gonna use this birthday weekend of mine to take a trip down memory lane, reflect on stuff.”

“If that’s how you want to celebrate your birthday…” Levi checked his phone once more before pocketing it.

“Thanks for coming with me,” Hange said, her tone more serious. “Going on these types of treks, they really help. More than you probably think they do.”

Levi could at least try to understand it, if he just focused on how far apart the houses were, the notable manicured green of his surroundings and every single tree, flower, root and bush that just seemed to have a place. All acting prim and proper as if they were doing the gardens a favor.

There must be some appeal at least. “It’s quiet,” Levi noted as the car slowed to a stop to the side of the road.

“Most of the houses here aren’t occupied,” Hange answered. “Who actually wants to live in the middle of nowhere all year round.”

Levi turned around once, scanning his surroundings for a second longer. The houses were too far apart, he counted five just by doing a 360 but he knew if he squinted and took in the other shapes far past the downhill slope he could count more. “From the looks of the houses here, rich people,” Levi said.

“During the summer maybe or during the winter vacation. Every other time of the year most people will stay out in the city so they’re nearer to work,” Hange said. “Zeke owns this house.” She didn't have to point far, Hange only had to casually brush her thumb over to her side for Levi to follow her gaze.

Of course Zeke would own one. When Levi looked behind him again, then looked to the far left and the far right, he had to admit Zeke had one of the grandest ones, a wide two story mansion situated at the top of a hill.

“This is my Rosings Park,” Hange said. She walked towards the small pedestrian gate, pulled a key from her pocket and with a quick flick of movements--- as if she had done it so many times before--- she unlocked then pushed the metal gate open with a creak.

The view behind the black bars was only more beautiful. They climbed the hill and slowly but surely, Levi was getting a much better view of the house on top. He noted that the house gleamed with a type of beauty that could take one’s breath away. He had been a little self conscious though and he found himself willing his mouth shut, letting his breaths come out with a more rehearsed rhythm.

“Did you ever continue the book?” Hange asked, her eyes fixed ahead.

It was easy to tell which book she had been talking about. “Since you spoiled me? No,” he admitted.

“Then I don’t think you’ve read far enough into the book if you still think Elizabeth ended up with Mr. Wickham,” Hange said. “You probably won’t appreciate Rosings park then.”

“You still remember…” Levi could have sworn it had been months since he told her about the book.

“The book means a lot to me,” Hange said. Her words were a bit more careful that time, but she was starting to climb the hill, a little faster as if whatever scenes were running through her head then had injected in her, enough energy for adventure.

Levi brushed away a rush of guilt and he followed behind her. “Go spoil,” he said. I’m sorry about being angry. He didn’t say those last two words, awe, exhaustion or maybe a combination of both had him opting to stay quiet. Maybe he chose to reflect and as he followed behind, he started to wonder why he had been angry about her spoiling in the first place.

Hange seemed surprisingly eager to spoil him. The first words out of her mouth came out unimpeded. “Rosings Park is where Mr. Darcy first proposed to Elizabeth.”

First proposed. “So she rejected him?” Levi asked.

Hange turned back to him and nodded, a strange smile on her face. “And why do you think Elizabeth would reject Mr. Darcy?”

“He was an asshole right?”

“According to Elizabeth that is…” Hange looked at him expectantly but Levi for the life of him couldn’t tell what she wanted. She didn’t give him time to answer. She ran straight ahead towards the side of the house.

Levi was left with no choice but to follow. After all, the grounds were much larger than Levi had expected. From his view at the bottom of the hill, the house had seemed small, only composed of the front porch. As Hange went behind the house, disappearing in the corner, Levi started to suspect that the summer house was larger.

Consequently, Levi was occupying himself over the wealth of Zeke.

Again. The view didn’t do anything to help. The corner opened up to manicured gardens, clean cut hedges and flowers that could have been arranged by some invisible hand. Or maybe they were arranged artificially. It probably wasn’t beyond Zeke and his money to find ways to grow flowers so they were evenly spaced, further accentuating the fiery orange and bright red on the simple green.

Hange followed the stone path that lined the large house, slowly balancing on the pebbled line that cut between the cobbled stone path like it was a tightrope. She had the balance, maybe the eagerness to look straight ahead, and Levi couldn't really follow her gaze or be certain of where she was staring.

She didn’t look particularly entranced at anything as if she had seen it so many times before.

“This is one of Jaeger summer houses,” Hange said. She stopped by the fork of the path, one side circled the house, the other went straight into the garden. “He has others all over the country, others abroad. Too many to count and I don’t even think I’ve been to all of them.”

“Okay.” Levi had felt pressured to say something. As the awkward silence dragged on, Levi realized that might have not been the best thing to say.

What else was there to say though?

Wow the garden is so nice. It seemed like an appropriate thing to say but it didn’t feel like something he would have liked to admit to Hange.

Wow your husband is so rich. What else would that do but reiterate what Levi already knew?

Wow, I wish I was your husband. That last one felt like a mind fart. Something that had seemed natural to think but as Levi pondered it for a second longer, he realized just thinking that exact phrase seemed all the more inappropriate.

“Does it seem artificial?” Hange asked.

“Yes, it does.” That answer came out easier definitely, especially when it wasn’t a begrudging compliment. Especially when in the back of his mind, he could remind himself, those weren’t his words, those were Hange’s.

Hange continued to indulge him. “Gaudy?”

“Very tacky, incredibly tacky.” Maybe those words had seemed more for him than for anyone else. A hint of guilt settled at his chest but then he remembered, the Jaeger family had more than enough money. He could spare a few unkind words. He looked at Hange, trying his best, to keep his eyes away from the garden in front of him, before he started to doubt the reliability of his own words.

Despite the ‘gaudiness,’ Hange walked ahead, following the stony path and Levi followed behind. Beyond the shiny manicured hedges were benches, a gazebo and Hange sat one of the ones closest to the top, just before the steep incline fell. It was a good vantage point for a comprehensive view of the garden.

At the highest point, the green expanded in all directions. He could pick out how the sun kissed the lawn, the trees and how they shone with something seemingly unnatural. The more Levi stared, the more easily it became to pick out what gaudiness Hange had been talking about.

With his eyes looking out for the right glimmers, he soon figured for himself, they shone like plastic. It soon became apparent to Levi, there was something artificial and tacky about manicured lawns, well trimmed hedges and carefully positioned flowers. The guilt assuaged and Levi felt all the more confident to look back at Hange. “Why do you like it here then?”

“It’s still Rosings park to me,” Hange said matter-of-factly.

“And what’s so special about Mr. Darcy’s first proposal?”

“Read the book,” Hange said as if that were the easiest thing to do then.

The book was loaded into his phone. It was just a few clicks away, reading was an entirely different process and Levi found it tempting to overlook that order---or that friendly suggestion altogether.

“Just spoil me. You spoiled me already before,” Levi said.

“Mr. Darcy first proposed here.”

You said that already. “And? What’s so special about that?”

Hange didn't reply to him immediately. For a long few seconds, she stared at nothing in particular then turned to him, a defiant look on her face. “You know, you remind me of Mister Darcy.” A backhanded insult maybe, enough to have Levi looking away as blood rushed to his face.

Anger, it was definitely anger. “How do I remind you of Mister Darcy?” Levi challenged.

“Read---”

“Don’t.” Levi looked away.. “Tell me to read the book.”

“And there you are again.” Hange waved one hand at him, as if making a point.

A point Levi could only grip weakly. “You think I’m an asshole?” One realization dawned on him, maybe he had been pressing a little too much at her points.

“Not an asshole. A well intentioned man with a very abrasive manner of speaking.”

“Abrasive?” Levi asked. When he realized he put a little too much lip into the ‘br’ and too much throat into that last last syllable that Hange might have just been right, but only just. “What makes you think I’m abrasive?” He added, a second later, just making his manner of saying the word ‘abrasive,’ softer and tamer.

Hange looked pointedly at him. She stood up, right in front of the gazebo. And she stood there for a second longer, as if she expected him to follow.

It was awkward to sit alone on a bench, in a garden he wasn’t familiar with, especially when the partner of the owner was standing seemingly uncomfortable by the gazebo. He stood up and walked towards her.

“Was I at least tolerable?” Hange asked with a very distinct tone, a hint of a mock accent in her voice.

Tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me. For some reason, those words had stuck with him. “Why the hell are you citing the book?”

“Oh, so you noticed. I wanna play a bit,” Hange said.

“Play what?”

“Just play a bit with the man who reminds me so much of Mister Darcy,” Hange said. The insult still poked at Levi at his most irritable and he was tempted to walk away.

Hange put one hand out and the most natural movement was to look back. “What do you want?” Levi asked. Two parts of him were grappling for control, one with the intention to walk away and one tempted to take her hand. “Why are you putting your hand out?”

She’s married. She’s married. She’s married.

“May I have this dance?” Hange asked.

No, you cannot dance with a married person. People go to balls because they’re single. His conscience wasn’t screaming but it had grumbled it with utmost authority.

Holding hands was off limits. Holding hands with a married person in one of the summer houses of her billionaire husband was very much off limits. What the hell was Hange thinking? His head started to spin, there was a hitch of breath and Levi didn’t even think confusion could have sent a prickle in his eyes.

The hand quickly disappeared from in front of him. Levi looked up to see Hange had pulled that hand back and it fell to her side. Still, Hange was moving it, as if it was still very much fair game. “See, you’re a softie at heart,” she said.

“What are you trying to prove?” Levi asked.

“That you’re like Mr. Darcy?” Hange was getting more and more smug. “Mr. Darcy didn’t wanna dance either.”

“We’re not in a ball,” Levi said, blood rushing to his cheeks. Suddenly everything seemed like an insult. Darcy was an asshole yet a big softie. Two descriptions on two different ends of the spectrum. Levi started to reflect. Which description was more insulting?

Hange leaned back on the gazebo. ”Let me enjoy this, I met a guy who reminds me of mister Darcy. Then when we first met, I thought you hated me, if not hated me, I thought you just hated the world,” she said.

"How can you assume that from our first meeting?" Levi asked.

Hange sighed. "You sat too far away from me, you acted like my being there was an inconvenience and you weren't too happy to be answering all my questions."

"I was being professional."

"I have met sales people nicer than that."

Levi wasn’t a salesman. That much, he could admit. "And just because I was a little abrasive, you'll assume I hate you?"

"What can I say, that's my prejudice," Hange said. She didn't look like she would have bothered to hear much about his explanation.

"And what are you going to say now? My own abrasiveness is pride?" Levi challenged. Really, he was in no mood for a challenge then, a challenge he didn’t himself understand. He sighed and turned back to the bench. From the mischievous glint in Hange’s eyes, it was obvious there were way more things he still didn’t understand. “Give me time to finish the book,” he said.

He stretched his legs out, unlocked his phone and opened the ebook file.

He didn't remember the last words where he stopped but he did remember one particular passage that seemed a little bolder, the ink darker particularly on the bright white of his phone screen.

You could not make me happy, and I am convinced that I am the last woman in the world who could make you so.

Then comprehension came quickly after that. Levi scanned through the next page, until reaching a point where he knew there was new information.

Back to that asshole Darcy. At that point, Levi was in less of a mood to reflect. Hange had called him Darcy, he still considered that one character to be a total asshole and he found himself torn between denying and accepting his sad fate.

Hange continued to move, a flicker at his peripherals. He felt it clearly, she sat beside him again. He heard the click as she unlocked her phone. Then the all too familiar sound as the love alarm activated. Love alarm or Emotion alarm?

Levi cursed himself for reusing that damn sound. He glanced quickly, just to search for some flash in the color. He couldn't really tell the contents of her phone from his angle. And when he had gathered up the courage to look, Hange had already pocketed it.

“Peaceful isn’t it?” Hange started.

“How do you feel today?” Levi asked. He kept his voice disconnected, not looking at all at Hange.

“Happy,” she said.

Levi had turned on his own application almost surreptitiously, making the conscious effort to silence it just a second ago.

The alarm flashed before him again. A very familiar yellow, with the words happy on top.

“Good for you then,” Levi finally responded.

He made another conscious effort, a quick sanity check, just to make sure the smile wasn’t apparent in his tone.

The house wasn't empty.

As Levi soon found out as they made their way back out to the gate, there were housekeepers, gardeners. And they seemed fond of Hange, fond enough to even remember her birthday. Some had even been friendly enough to ask who the man with her was.

Friendly. Or suspicious. For a while longer, Levi was self conscious.

But there was nothing to hide. He and Hange after all had just gotten friendly over the months.

“This is Levi, he’s a developer helping me work on my PhD,” Hange explained it like it was just the truth.. “And I thought I’d show him around the estate. If you don’t mind…” And it was the stone cold truth and as she spoke, Levi couldn’t help but be fascinated at how feelings of sadness, guilt and relief mixed so easily together inside him.

The housekeeper shook her head. “No, we don’t mind at all. Do you two need lodging? We could prepare---”

Hange put her hands up in front of her. “No, that would be too much. We’re only here for the night and I think I wanna go further up north.”

“Just like last time?” Worry flashed across the housekeeper’s face for just a second. “You know it gets dangerous nearer to the mountains…”

“We’ll only be there for a while, just long enough to see it again. And we’ll be careful about it.” Hange looked like she was saying too much. But she always talked so it shouldn’t have been such an odd thing to think. Maybe because Hange spoke with a little more tension, her words came out of her much faster, sometimes stilted and Levi found himself staring, then avoided her gaze as he realized he couldn’t even control what he was feeling.

The quick exchange eventually ended and he was following Hange out of the house. Her strides were much harder to keep up with.

“Sorry about that,” Hange said. “I get nervous when I visit the Jaeger estate alone.”

“You’re married to Zeke, you have every right to be there.”

“I married Zeke, not his money. I don’t wanna play the partner that just suddenly enjoys all the richest and powers of my husband. That’s why I didn’t even take his name. I’m not a gold digger. I’m not a Jaeger, we just so happened to get married.” She got into the car and closed the door with a louder slam than usual.” I’d feel much better staying over if Zeke was with me.”

“You didn’t have to take me here either if you were uncomfortable.”

“I wanted to show you my Rosing Park,” Hange said. She placed her hand on the clutch and started the car. “And next, we go to ‘Pemberley.’ It’s a few hours away from here so buckle up.”

The car pulled out from the driveway and soon they were out on the road again.

A few minutes of silence later, Levi started to get a little restless. “This book really means a lot to you huh?” He asked.

Hange nodded then she was quiet for a while longer and Levi thought it proper to just let her navigate her way through. The car continued to whirr and if Levi looked closely, he even noticed his body was shaking with it. If he read for a while longer, he could end up with his head spinning and his eyes crossing. He increased the font size and willed himself to read again.

“You know,” Hange’s voice was ringing in the silence and it pulled him out of his semi concentrated state.

Levi looked up at her, and just behind her, he saw they arrived back in the free way.

Hange continued. “One thing about Pride and Prejudice, the author doesn’t spend too much time talking about how the landscapes look like. The appearance of the houses and gardens are up for interpretation.”

Levi recalled, Hange was a very inquisitive person. Enough to hyperfixate on landscape? He was doubting. “Then why did you imagine Zeke’s manor as Rosings?” He asked.

Hange shrugged. “If you read the book, you’d see, it was the home of Lady Catherine, an incredibly tacky place and if you remember the gardens behind the house, they’re very green but they seem…. Artificial? Rehearsed?” She gave a pained look.

“Then why do you care enough to look at them if you hate the gardens that much?”

Hange shook her head. “I don’t hate them but the novel, it made me reflect on a lot of things and sometimes, when I allow myself to look at the landscapes, I’m able to think about what happened in the book, and about love and---”

“So Mr. Darcy proposed to Elizabeth,” Levi interrupted. “Then what happened?”

“She turned him down,” Hange said.

“Why?”

“To put it simply, because she thought Darcy was an asshole.”

“It’s only natural that people wouldn’t want to marry an asshole right?” Levi asked. “Books should be teaching those types of things.”

Hange spared him a long glare. “Well, here’s the thing. Mr. Darcy isn’t an asshole. He’s misunderstood.”

“And what do romance novels do but romanticize every single ‘misunderstood’ man.”

Hange hummed and stared back again at the front. The car continued to move at a steady pace. A long pause followed. Then she spoke up again. “What if I told you Pride and Prejudice is not really a romance?”

“When it follows a couple and the development of a relationship, I think it counts.”

Hange patted the steering wheel. “Well sure, the novel tackles love and marriage but the approach is… cold, calculating. If you notice, they spend more time discussing money, properties, duty. It takes into account money, status, upbringing… so it seems more like a social commentary to me. ”

You could not make me happy, and I am convinced that I am the last woman in the world who could make you so.

“Then how did this book shape your idea of love?” Levi asked.

Hange put her finger to her chin. She had a far off look. “I like the idea of approaching love as something to calculate and to think about. Like Elizabeth and Darcy, they explored it, they thought long and hard about it..”

“Oh?” Levi asked, one eyebrow raised. “Is this where your ‘love is a choice’ schtick comes from?”

Hange bit her lip. “Not just that definitely. There’s a lot to learn about being hasty, about having to think long and deep about love and marriage. They didn’t fall in love at first, they were prideful. They had their prejudices but they made it work… And I thought to myself, maybe these are what love and marriage are? Maybe they're calculating like a science, maybe we should consider everything from reputation, money, family and convenience when we deal with something like love and marriage and it’s okay to approach life that way.”

For some reason, that tirade only made Levi heavier and heavier the more he continued. "The main character… she turned down Mr. Collins proposal and that was because she didn't love him right? Emotions play a part too," Levi said.

"I'm not denying it," Hange said. "But ask yourself, how much of a part are emotions supposed to play?"

That question, Levi couldn't answer. Somehow, that should have been something someone a little more experienced like Hange should have answered for him. Instead, she kept quiet, her eyes looking straight ahead, but she blinked a little faster the next few times as if she was struggling with something he couldn't see.

It could have been uncharacteristic. It was an odd set of emotions to play with but Levi was suddenly more and more compelled to break the silence himself. With nothing much else to say, he let his emotions speak for him. "If I were a little cold before, I didn't mean that."

"No offense taken," Hange grinned at him knowingly. "You seem tense." She was studying him for that glimmer of a second before she started to fiddle with her phone with her free hand. "I have the audiobook for Pride and Prejudice. You wanna listen?"

***

"They gradually ascended for half a mile, and then found themselves at the top of a considerable eminence, where the wood ceased, and the eye was instantly caught by Pemberley House, situated on the opposite side of a valley, into which the road with some abruptness wound.

"This is supposed to be my Pemberley," Hange said. She had been hyping it up since a while ago that it seemed almost anticlimactic then. With the tone Hange was giving, he was sure she had been a little disappointed too. "Believe me, it looks nicer on good days," she added.

It had been a good day until a while ago. He could have sworn the sky had been blue for at least half the trip. Grey clouds were a strange things, part of the clouds were grey from afar but never looked too menacing until they was looming directly above them. Only when it was nearer did it have the tendency to just blanket everything in a very dull and unbearable grey.

Any color would look grey with the right level of dimness. He wondered for a while longer why Hange was still continuing the trek. The longer they walked, the farther they got from the car.

Levi’s worry, his nervousness only increased threefold, fourfold then he lost count. After all, they had stopped on what could have been the middle of nowhere. He couldn't tell where they were. Any inkling of sense laid out in front of them was in the form of a dirt road, just stretched out from the freeway with no buildings for miles, no pit stops.

And if it actually started to rain? Levi imagined it for a second before shaking his head. He tried to focus on other things like the ease of walking, his manageable energy levels.

The meagre late lunch of a drive-through burger meal was more than enough for a quick hike. Levi found himself pondering whether energy should have even been expended for something so grey.

The color grey just didn't seem worth the hike to see. "Why are we here?" Levi asked.

"Let's just stay long enough to climb the hill." Hange seemed persistent. Her back was on him and he couldn't tell the face she was making then. “It might look better on the other side.”

They were near enough at least that Levi had to crane his neck to see the top and he consoled himself. Maybe it was worth the hike. Maybe Hange was more privy to weather patterns and she at least calculated the quick hike and the awe that it would be worth.

Then Levi reminded himself, it was her birthday. Whether it did leave him as in awe as she was was irrelevant. That was a consolation Hange afforded herself. He was merely a companion. There should be things to get out of the conversation at least. “Tell me about your Pemberley,” Levi said.

“You’re gonna continue reading right? Do you really want to know?” Hange asked, seeming suddenly careful with her words.

After spoiling me the rest of the way? Levi would have wanted to ask.

“You seemed invested,” Hange said. It was a sufficient answer to his silent question. “I’d rather you read it on your own. Especially the part about Pemberley and the scene in Rosing’s.”

“Why? After spoiling me this much?” His abrasiveness, the irritation had made his legs lighten under him and he moved a little faster catching up to Hange.

Hange seemed concentrated, looking ahead, not hesitating even as the incline presented itself right in front of them. It was getting steeper and Levi felt it as an ache in his legs as he climbed but Hange, admirably or begrudgingly, seemed unfazed

Levi was a few inches shorter and maybe he was at a disadvantage. He didn’t have the same investment either but he stepped forward, going at the steeper incline with wider strides while maintaining speed. He looked to Hange who was right next to him. She continued to look ahead, she craned her head back, her hastily tied hair fell behind her and she was whispering something.

If Hange hadn’t seemed hypnotized yet disturbed, if the fat cold droplets didn’t settle on his arms, getting stronger and more numerous by the second, maybe he would have let her climb and climb. He would have obediently followed behind.

It had been everything at once. Maybe confusion at everything had been that one final nail on the coffin. Irritation welled quickly, then anger. Hange hadn’t been speaking in any straightforward manner for a while already so he forced it out of her.

“Why the hell does Pemberley mean so much to you?” Levi raised his voice. Just in case that hadn’t been enough, hell, that had actually been enough, he pulled her from behind.

The rain accumulated on the dirt road quickly and when Hange turned to answer, she fell backward rapidly. Right on top of him.

It was a quick and terrifying sequence or movements, Levi found himself sandwiched, Hange in front of him, his behind buried in mud and dirt, blades of grass were brushing heavily past him. But he didn't stop.

They didn't stop. Gravity had them moving down, naturally quickly and violently down the steep incline and Levi could only be thankful that the grass had been kind, absent of anything that could have snagged at any part them.

A few long seconds later, by some miracle, they were unharmed, still very much alive.

It didn’t change the fact that at the bottom, they were both fucking dirty. And he was a little--- scratch that--- very rattled. And Hange was on top of him, her hair clung close to her, her glasses had fallen to her mouth and she seemed just a little disconcerted.

Hange pushed herself up. “I’m sorry, are you okay?” She put one hand on his cheek, one filthy hand.

Instinctively, Levi pushed it away. She was disgusting. They were both disgusting. He could taste a hint of dirt at his lips and he closed his nose and shut his mouth before he could taste anymore.

It was disgusting. And in that state, he was recalling how pleasant almost drowning seemed when he was covered in mud, the rain only continued to pour. He would rather have been drinking salt water then.

When he noticed that a minute passed under the rain, he started to observe then search for signs on how Hange might have been feeling. They had left their phones in the car. He was thankful they weren’t casualties but he was a little regretful that he couldn’t read her then.

Purple. He made a guess. That was the only reading she had given then. Sad angry? Or angry sad?

But when he looked for sadness, angriness, he saw it in those wide eyes in the red just under her eyes. Or he could have been projecting. It could have also been a placebo affect.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have. I got so fucking worked up over this. Let's go back." Hange's voice was stilted, alarmingly cold.

"You've done this before right?"

The rain wasn't stopping anytime soon. In fact, it came down hard and Levi could have felt like he was drowning again.

The storm had proven to be a worse adversary. The wind was almost as menacing as waves.

He struggled to his feet. Hange had held out her hand, wrapped one arm around his shoulder and standing up became a small feat.

"Hey, are you okay?" Hange asked again, her voice a whisper that brushed at his neck. She was close enough to even overwhelm the pouring rain just outside their small bubble.

He hadn't answered her earlier. He didn't even know how she had been able to get the message to him in spite of the wind blowing at their face, the thunder and the patter of the rain on the dirt road.

When they were close enough, shoulders and arms touching, her lips almost brushing against his ear. He thought it close enough that she would probably hear if he whispered. Maybe it was worth just opening his mouth to speak. Two words or maybe four. Just long enough so she won’t have to speak again the whole trek back to the car.

“Let’s just go back.”

***

Adrenaline, exhaustion and the shaken state eventually gave way to irritation once again.

It was a slow process but Hange was silent. She had been driving much slower and with the peace, the slow rhythm of the whirring of the car, Levi had time and space to contemplate.

Levi was contemplating the expenses of cleaning a rented car. When the mud started to dry and harden, when they caked at his skin, they only aggravated the at first, silent irritation. It was silent but it was irritating altogether. He angrily wiped his hands on the dashboard of the car, and reached for his phone next to the clutch.

“Levi, I can pay for cleaning up the car," Hange said.

Levi kept quiet. For one, he didn’t want to entertain the idea of making her pay for all of it. A part of him though, the stingy part, would have rather she did.

“Levi, are you angry at me?” Hange asked a minute later.

And that phrase always had that magic of making most people angrier than they were already. Levi was no exception.

Still, he did try to be just a little nicer. “You’re driving aimlessly on the road. We’re a mess in the car. We’re both covered in mud, my legs and my arms hurt. Hange, think.”

“Think?”

“Who wouldn’t be at least a little angry?” His tone betrayed his words. Hange had been responding in questions since a while ago and it only served to further aggravate it.

“I told you, I’m sorry.” She did say 'sorry' a while ago but he wasn't in the mood to accept it then. So it slipped his mind.

“Well, finally you’re being more direct but you know, it would have been helpful if you’ve been more open since a while ago.”

“More open about what?”

Levi smacked his hand on the dashboard. “There you are again, you ask questions but you never fucking answer. And if you answer you’re fucking vague, or you fucking digress.”

“Any... question you wanna ask?” Hange asked hesitantly.

“Why does Pemberley mean so much to you? Why does this damn book mean so much to you? You’re a scientist, a researcher. Why are you getting so worked up over a fucking social commentary?”

Hange gave him a wounded look, and she stared for a long time. Levi only noticed then, that that had been the longest stare she had been giving him in a while. The fiasco of a while ago was enough of an evidence that Hange did get worked up over it and Levi held it like a memento, just in case Hange decided to play oblivious.

She didn’t. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I got emotional.” But she still wasn’t answering questions.

“Why does Pemberley mean so much to you?” Levi asked again. He kept this voice hard, stone cold and firm. He enunciated every syllable and every word like they were separate from one another.

Hange avoided his gaze. “Well, I really like the relationship between Elizabeth and Darcy---”

“Why do you like it so much?”

“It’s because I would have wanted the same for myself---”

“Would have?” And Levi caught it, two words that had hovered in the air for a second.

Hange clamped her mouth shut.

“Would have?” Levi repeated again in the silence. And the irritation, the discomfort and the fury from being caked from head to toe with semi dried mud had somehow been released with two words.

“I have the same for myself,” Hange clarified.

“Would?”

“It’s a slip of the tongue,” Hange said. She didn’t look back and it didn’t look like she would be prodding that topic anymore.

So Levi brought up another question. “What about Elizabeth and Darcy’s relationship do you like?”

“It’s... “ Hange was hesitating. “It’s in the small details…” She seemed more concentrated on the road ahead of her.

“Go on.” Levi gripped on the seat cushion underneath him. Somehow, the car was starting to move in time to the patter of the rain.

“You might even think I’m crazy for looking at them…” Hange continued.

“But…” Levi turned to Hange, he looked closely as her lips parted as if she was about to say something.

Then her voice filled the cramped space inside the car for only a split second, before the squeak of tires, the spray of water and the burst of sensations that came with the dizzying experience of his body lurching forward in his seat.

For a second, Levi could have sworn he was dead.

***

They weren’t the only ones who decided to call it a day. It turned out there were numerous people who had been wandering around that side of the country and it looked like that particular motel had been the only one for miles around.

The first warning should have been the fact that it had taken Levi and Hange minutes to navigate a pretty small parking lot, just to find a place to fit the car. The second warning should have been the amount of lit up windows.

At that point, they were both exhausted and Levi had focused too clearly on the ‘open’ sign.

Open 24 hours.

So he didn’t waste any time. Hange didn’t either. It was cold, it was raining and Levi could forget that it was too early in September for him to have been shivering, for white fog to be accompanying his shuddering breath.

It was his first time up north, autumn came much earlier. That didn’t stop him from grumbling silently about why autumn rains had to be so cruel.

It was barely even autumn. Shitting on the weather proved to be an adequate consolation for their very uncomfortable state.

Hange seemed unsure and maybe she had heard his grumbles, maybe she had assumed it was about her. “I’ll check if they have any rooms,” Hange said, an apologetic smile on her face. She looked down towards his elbow. “And I’ll ask for a first aid kit, so we could do something about that.”

His body had been a conglomeration of discomforts since a while ago and the bleeding scrape on his elbow had been a terrible surprise. Not so terrible actually as he looked closer, he barely even felt it.

Before he could stop her, Hange had went ahead to the reception, covered in mud and all. Levi was grateful at least that they both had cleaned their shoes on the way in. The headache would be left to whoever would be cleaning their car.

The man at the counter was apologetic, a little too nice and he spoke to Hange like he was talking to some higher figure. It was a simple back and forth.

They were guests, he worked in hospitality. It was a natural exchange.

Maybe Levi had just been a little perceptive because everyone seemed to approach Hange with some unique form of respect. After a brief back and forth, Hange turned back to Levi, a flash of uncertainty on her face.

Just a flash. Before Levi could perceive more, it disappeared.

Levi still saw that as a cue to follow behind. “What?”

“So there is only one room left, towards the back...” Hange started.

“Apologies about this…” The receptionist bowed his head. “The roads get slippery… And it’s dangerous to go out so many people….” He was babbling at that point and all Levi wanted him to do was get to the point.

Hange let out a sigh then dropped her credit card on the table. “We’ll take it.”

“You managed to get a room, why is he apologizing?” Levi asked, turning to the comparably more coherent Hange Zoe.

“Well, there’s only one room left,” Hange responded.

“And?”

“There’s only one bed.” Hange had said that part with a straight face. She huffed and put one muddy finger up in front of him. “But you know, I really think we can make this work...”

#levihan #levihan fanfiction

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beautifulterriblequeen · 3 years

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B2:S - Chapter 3

Much of this series will be about the differences and additions in the novel version, and how they contribute to my understanding of story canon. But there will be character appreciation, the odd theory and headcanon, and suchlike as well.

Here be Lujanne, Callum, Rayla, Ezran, Bait, and Soren goodness!

Spoilers for Book Two: Sky below.

Lujanne having excellent fitness for all her walking around the Moon Nexus, and she's so energetic that Callum has trouble keeping up with her! She seems like those active grandmas who almost never stop moving, who have a lifelong supply of endless stamina. It makes me wonder if Lujanne will need that level of fitness for some upcoming conflict.

Callum feeling really hungry over not eating grubs and then still deciding he'd rather be hungry. It makes me wonder all over again how Lujanne got to the point where she eats grubs, considering that other Moonshadow elves we know of back in the Silvergrove don't. I still love my hc that the giant leech ate all of Lujanne's moonberry bushes and she's taking her revenge. Whatever's going on there, Callum is definitely not at that point yet.

When Lujanne asks Callum how he knows she's real, he thinks to himself that he'd put up with just about anything from someone who was going to teach him magic. That's a great parallel and foreshadowing for Viren's student/master relationship with Aaravos! And it's telling that neither student gets exactly what they hoped to get. Lujanne doesn't actively teach Callum any spells, because she believes he can't learn Moon magic at all. Aaravos does offer Viren power, but it takes him to some very dark places - literally and figuratively - and the cost is terribly high.

Callum sees a moon shape among the ruins, and Lujanne explains that the Moonhenge layout is an intricate rune that uses the structures themselves as part of its symbols and power. That's apparently a thing even with ordinary Moonshadow villages like Hollow Wood in the east, which is the coolest idea I've seen in a while: city planning as magic runes!

Yes, that's the same shape as the pendants Ethari made for himself and Runaan. Protection? Home? Feelsiness? A sense of safety and belongnig for all cycles and seasons?

Wonder what this Moonhenge rune stands for, then, and how much of this landscape is included in that rune. I bet it's more than we think!

But it makes sense now, how toppling the stone pillars would disable the spell the druids would cast to connect with the Moon Nexus lake. Breaking the infrastructure of the Moonhenge breaks the rune.

There's a physical sensation involved with the visuals that Historia Viventem brings up! When that one ghostly druid walked through Callum, he felt icy cold. Like in ghost stories. I really wonder about what exactly Historia Viventem is doing when it activates. It shows truth, "what really happened here?", so it must have some kind of time-related element, maybe tied to how the moon always repeats the same cycles or something. But it also seems to draw on the spirits of any living people involved in the flashback, because Callum could physically feel that wispy shape passing through him. So very interesting!

Orrr... is that all wrong, and there's something else at work with this spell than time? Maybe the world beyond life and death can act as an imprint of the things that have happened in the living world, and the spell that Lujanne (and later Callum) casts taps into that place, with perfect recall. I'm looking really hard at the sentence that says "dozens of translucent elf ghosts" and "phantom Moonhenge" and "lost in their own world" here.

Lujanne says more here than in the show about the world beyond life and death, being her mysterious Moonshadow-mage self. She says that "beyond" and "between" might both apply to where this other plane of existence is, and she doesn't much care which. With all the relativity swirling around this place, and not much in the way of empiricism, it's sounding like perhaps multiple conflicting ideas might actually coexist in such a place, allowing more ideas to fit there than we might normally believe is possible. Which is a fascinating bit of worldbuilding. Basically, every headcanon anyone has ever had about the Moon Nexus could all be true at the same time, for all we know.

Oh oh oh, Callum coming in soft with a secret wish! He takes one look at the Moonhenge and immediately thinks of finding a way to see his mom again! Poor boy, my heart! I'd say that could be another interesting parallel with Viren, but then, who wouldn't hold that sentiment?

Oh my, is this another breath of life into Ye Olde Ley Lines headcanon? Lujanne mentioning the Nexuses again, so soon after talking about the runic design of the entire Moonhenge, makes me wonder if the six nexuses are in fact giant runes. On Earth, the places where ley lines cross are called nexuses, and there are those who believe those points got marked with ancient structures, like Stonehenge and many many others. If Xadia were crossed with magical lines which naturally formed nexus points where they met, and if powerful magical runes were built across those entire areas, well. That would be cool beans, fams. Can I smack a map of Xadia and release a spell like Luz Noceda does? Because ngl that is my first instinct here.

Lujanne has got to be missing some grandkids to spoil, right? The way she's always whipping out cake and ice cream for Callum, and she's so grandma-ish about it. Headcanon about her being Runaan's mom aside, she is canonically lonely and she's very sweet to Allen and Ellis and I think she's missing whatever family she once had in the past. She may never get to have that family back, so she's finding a new one among the humans who live nearby, and I think that's sweet. Found family isn't just for the young.

But Ellis is straight up gonna be her fave, I bet, because she didn't turn up her nose at Lujanne's illusion food!

Ezran and Bait have a lot more to their relationship than was visible in the show, and I'm so excited by it! Ez can tell by looking at Bait's colors that he's not truly jealous of Zym, even if he's really grumpy about the dragonling taking up his favorite human's time.

And Ez thinking a lot about his dad and the things he's taught him. They're soft leadership material, and I love that so much! "Pick your battles" and the importance of encouragement. Ahh, my heart. Ezran, you're going to be such a good king.

But wait a second: both times that Bait gets extra grumpy in Zym's first training session, Ezran has just mentioned something about flying. Guys, I think Bait wishes he could fly, really badly. And that's his biggest problem with Zym, and with Ezran teaching Zym to fly, instead of Bait who doesn't have wings so. Bait is so old that his secrets have secrets, and I'm really curious how flying fits into them now!

Rayla, Dramatic Assassin: "I need to patrol for dark forces." That's what Lujanne called the source of the purple wisps that found them. I wonder if that's an official term all Moonshadows know, or if Rayla is just taking her cue from a veteran Moon mage. And I wonder how far Rayla is falling into the apparent pattern of "one mage, one assassin", since she does spend a lot of her time patrolling without being asked.

When Callum tells Lujanne that he was bad at prince stuff, and she asks if he didn't give up and got good at those things anyway, it's an opportunity for Callum to embrace subverting his parents' expectations in favor of seeking his own path, which is a primary theme of the show. But Lujanne is a couple generations older than Callum, at the very least, and I have to wonder what her upbringing was like. Is her version of success the one she took? Was she bad at magic once too, but she persisted? She is very soft and doesn't want to kill anyone.

Maybe Lujanne had dreams of doing something else with her life, but she felt she had to pursue the destiny that others handed to her, so she studied magic as hard as she could, and she did get good at it, but using it to defend Xadia from humans is not what she wanted to do with her life. Whether there's a parallel between her and Ethari on that point, there's one between Callum and Ethari, I think. How much of your life are you willing to let others direct for you?

LISTEN I WAS DYING AT THE EAR BREAD SCENE OKAY

This is my new favorite Soren and Claudia moment ever. Soren loves him his bread, okay. Even as earplugs for Claudia's sleep ocarina tune. The fact that it's "super effective" makes me think of a Pokemon defense. The fact that he learned it at camp, where he also learned about Moonshadow Madness, is hilarious. Later on, Corvus doesn't know Soren by name, but I still love the idea of Corvus being a kind of Strider-esque camp instructor, filling the ears of his young charges with all kinds of useful tactics like ear bread for magic spell songs (which actually seemed to work as intended), and warnings about the enemy elves' blood-themed tactics (which may or may not come back around in BH)

I thought they were gonna go in a kind of deep direction when Soren still wanted his ear bread back, but then he just. Eats them. Just noms them. I love this kid. Give Soren all the bread!

#book two: sky spoilers #book two: sky #b2:s #tdp spoilers #ToX spoilers #gloaming glade spoilers #lujanne #callum #rayla #ezran #tdp zym #soren #tdp claudia #tdp bait

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vidalinav · 3 years

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More House of Wind Headcanons: Rooms/Floors Edition

These actually help me a lot writing Queen of Queens, sort of like jotting down notes for your fic. So here goes!

There are four levels; the main (top), the first floor of bedrooms, where Cassian and Azriel stay, the second floor of bedrooms where Nesta stays and where there’s a private library, the third level that has the kitchen, and then the levels that start being the library. (This is canon-taken straight from the beginning of ACOSF)

But there starts being more levels and rooms in between the actual house and the library, and NO ONE knows where they came from. Nesta very much thinks it’s the House; however, EVERYONE else thinks that it’s Nesta who did it unknowingly. Because if she’s not in the house, the rooms do not exist. They start thinking that maybe the House is siphoning magic from Nesta, but it is really just Nesta. Whatever she imagines in the house, exists.

First Floor:

Is just the main floor. Honestly not much of it changes, because of the formality of it being the floor that business is held. The House could change it and change it back, but Nesta thinks that’s a hassle, because then every time someone comes over she’s like do you need this room? And so she doesn’t bother with it. They really stop eating in that dining room anyways, so it becomes a stage house that is sort of the beware all who come here type of entrance. The only time it actually changes is during holidays, but they end up having a terrarium of sorts to the side of the house on the mountain outside so.... starfall eventually gets mostly held in there, because it’s also controlled by the House’s heart, but the only way you access that is through the third floor, so the top floor is again just for show.

Second Floor:

Ends up being Azriel’s floor and the floor for guests. The House/Nesta redecorate and it’s a lot more apartment-ish. One side of the floor is a large apartment for azriel and the other half is a hallway that leads to more rooms for guests. Each room is made up for specific people, just in case they stay over. All of them are soundproof. Nesta made sure of it. There’s like maybe six rooms. Emerie and Gwyn stay quite often, and Gwyn starts staying their way more often when she starts the process of actually leaving the library, but since she technically still lives there, Clotho is like well... if you just want to keep working here you can, which she does. Emerie stays there more often, because her winning the Rite starts making it harder for her to live in Illyria. Also winnowing back and forth for training is like more steps than necessary and she doesn’t like having to rely on anyone... except that Mor happens to winnow her often, which she appreciates. She still does live of course in Illyria, but her friends are in Velaris, so she struggles with if she wants to live there or not. Because that’s her livelihood, but Nesta is like do what you want and let the house know. Eventually she gives her a key, but that will be explained later in this long ass thread.

Third Floor:

This is Nesta and Cassian’s home which is so pretty and Nesta’s whole aesthetic. Again it’s more apartment-ish. Of course, there’s one hallway that you know has the stairs and leads to the terrarium/sunroom place and the small private library, but otherwise most of the rooms get combined to be just Nesta’s and Cassian’s. It really looks like a large house. Besides their room which has the biggest bed you’ve ever seen, there’s of course so many windows on this floor. Some are the balcony's carved out, some are just giant windows. There’s one window in the living room/ private library that opens, but is technically not a balcony, and there’s flowers along the window sill, which Nesta loves and of course she can see all of the city. The whole floor is very bright, cream and blue is the theme. A mixture of seaside and hygge. I feel which I have pictures of on pinterest lol. But there are maybe three empty rooms for when Nesta and Cassian decide to have kids. Nesta caps it at three. But actually one of these rooms gets filled in my fic, but not because of a baby that they have themselves. But I’ll let y’all unpack that one. The private library gets decorated on a regular basis with holidays and when they’re having small family gatherings or have a war meeting, they use this place. It has a large table in the middle for studying, so it’s a good place, and it’s just a way more comfortable, happier setting. There’s also cat fixtures that climb up the walls and cat doors that lead to the most obscure places for Bryaxis when he’s a cat, for those of you who’ve read that fic idea post. Maybe you haven’t.

The Terrarium/sunroom place:

This place has a literal pond in the middle. It is so large, and there are wild plants all to the side of it, even in the middle of winter, because it’s like a greenhouse. All of it is windows. It is tucked away, on the side of the mountain, you can only reach it from Nesta and Cassian’s floor and it is a gift from the House to Nesta and Cassian as a mating present... sort of. It’s mostly to Nesta. It has A LOT of poisonous, carnivorous plants. Which Nesta learns are useful... because she starts dabbling in her witchy magic and she learns how to make poisons. This place starts being like a lab almost. If she learns magic, she does it here, away from the House with actual people in it. But on Starfall, they do start having the celebration here, because it is the perfect view of the stars. It is the closest you can get without being splattered by star guts and the windows of course clean themselves. You can access outside through here, so sometimes they’ll just open up the doors and go outside to the porches that surround it. Elain will come here often, mostly because she does want to hang out with Nesta and Nesta is not keen on going anywhere, so at first she goes because she’s like well I can take care of your plants, and Nesta is like the House takes care of it, but if you want I guess... and she does take care of them, and actually while Nesta excels at all things magic, it’s really Elain who starts exceling at poisons. They kind of bond over it lol.

What floor am I on? Fourth Floor:

Is where the kitchen is. Nesta never goes here. Elain goes here every once in a while, especially when she tries to make Nesta things, but Nesta is very adamant that the House will do it for her, but at some point the House is like let your sister do something for you! So it withholds her desserts. Elain is very happy to oblige and most of the time, it is just Nesta sitting on a stool by the work table, warmed by the heat of the oven, her music playing from the symphonia, and Elain smiling softly as she works, perfectly content, while Nesta reads a book or talks about what she learned in the library this week or that. It is very hard to get Nesta to talk sometimes, so Cassian is actually immensely grateful that Elain gets more pushy about communicating with Nesta and having her talk with her more. Not on a super deep level, but a companionship to have, because Nesta is mostly introverted, except for occasional instances, and if she can, she will avoid personal connection at all costs. It’s just a habit. There are certainly days where Nesta is more subdued that most, and usually he’ll give it a couple days, but if she’s still sort of off by the end of the week, that’s when Elain comes. She actually shows up by herself and Cassian’s always like how did you know and how did you even get here? And she’s like it’s a sister thing. Nesta and her get closer this way.

So, on the Fifth floor:

These are the floors that start being based off of whatever Nesta wants to see, because that’s how she unknowingly does magic.

On this floor, there is a massive ballroom. I’m telling you there are fountains on the walls with cherubs, paintings on the ceilings that both look angelic and looks like clouds are in the sky and they’re moving. It’s bedecked in white and gold and there are crystal chandeliers hanging from the domed ceiling and it is so tall. It’s like a cathedral, and every time music plays which it does as soon as Nesta walks in, it echoes in there. Like loud, moaning sounds. Cassian thinks its creepy af, but Nesta loves that haunting sort of extravagances, and she swears she can see shadows dancing along with her. She starts taking private dance lessons in my fic, and this is where she practices. It has a lot of giant bouquets.

But not only that there are two rolling staircases and when you go up them, that level is a theatre. Reds and velvet, and dim faelights that float in the air as if they’re floating on water. Think Phantom of the Opera. This “room” most of the time goes unused, but Nesta specifically starts being like well... I’m a big fan of the arts and music, so let’s start hosting things here. And it starts becoming a really big thing to be invited to these things. However, it’s mostly because Nesta still doesn’t really want to go out into the city, but she does want to hear a symphony. So it’s actually Cassian’s idea at first, to invite the orchestra to play at their home theatre for a surprise, and it just becomes a thing and citizens are invited, because it’s just a huge theatre to just be 2 people. However the stairs are a big problem, but we get passed that, but I’ll go into detail about that later.

Sixth floor:

Is just one narrow hallway that leads to one door. But that door can lead you anywhere. And Nesta has a really hard time figuring out how to use it. Because one of the powers Nesta has, instead of winnowing, in my fic, is that she can open any door and go anywhere she wants, provided that there is a door, even one she draws. But she doesn’t figure that out until she figures out this door. So, for a while, she keeps opening the door and it leads to the riverfront estate, and Rhys is so freaked out that she just pops out of the closet, and she’s so freaked out too. But she closes the door and when Rhys tries to open it, it’s just a closet, and he’s like all looking through it like wth, knocking on the wood. But when Nesta opens it, it’s not even the house, it’s like a large dark abyss and some monster starts trying to claw it’s way out, so she shuts it really quick and the door keeps pounding and she’s like never again. And she gets very wary about opening anything, except many times the IC will ask her to use this door, so that they can find things. Similarly to scrying, where she knows the locations of things, she can open the door thinking of that specific object and she’ll end up being in that location. Nesta does not like this door, because she thinks it has a mind of its own, even though a lot of it is just her controlling where it goes. But because of this door, she learns that she can make any door a portal, so she ends up “drawing” a door at the base of the mountain outside which becomes an actual door which leads to the theatre. Also, she learns that there are a specific set of keys that the House gifts her, which unlocks and locks these portals she makes attached to the house specifically. Cassian and Emerie of course have one, but she gifts two also to Feyre and Elain on the premise that if they should ever need her and for some reason cannot fly up and obviously don’t want to climb the stairs or if they’re somewhere else entirely, they can visit her and be lead back by just unlocking any door they’re by and it will make a door to the House. Eventually she learns to have the door open to the seaside. And let me tell you, think Japan’s Hitachi Seaside park, with all the nemophilia (blue flowers), but all of it eventually coming to end at a beach or water striking the cliffside, still haven’t decided on that.

I think that’s all the floors, but tbh, there might be more. I’m just super tired and I can’t think anymore or describe things. So for now, that concludes the House of Wind, Rooms and Floors Edition. Let me know if y’all have any headcanons or suggestions that you might want to see! Bye.

#nesta archeron #cassian #nessian #elain archeron #azriel #gwyneth berdara #emerie #morrigan #acosf #rhysand #feysand #acosf spoilers

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batfamscreaming · 3 years

Text

Winter Break in Kansas [80s AU] 1/2

Bruce bade goodbye to Tommy and Harvey without telling them anything of his own plans for the holiday break.

(....both of them looked gaunt. Holidays hadn’t even begun. They didn’t muster much enthusiasm for the goodbye, and Bruce didn’t make them.)

He didn’t put on the hat or scarf until they were a good distance out of the building, where the other two wouldn’t see, and bundled himself up unrecognizably as best he could.

Nodded.

“Let’s go.”

Clark slung his backpack over his shoulder and started down the stairs where they could get a cab to the bus stop.

“Have you ever been to Kansas before?”

Bruce shook his head.

“No,” he said, tugging out a few dollars from his pocket and shoving them towards Clark.

He’d pay.

Clark took them without argument after seeing how that worked during Halloween.

Into the cab they went.

“Don’t blame you. Nothin’ there.” He joked, and away they went.

A cab to the bus station.

Then the bus to Kansas.

It would be a day’s ride.

Bruce had packed books.

...they had agreed, even if silently and grudgingly, that they would just have to give up on their research for the duration of the break.

...on the up side, they would finally have a little time to read what they wanted to, at least.

He tugged out two crime thrillers, passing one to Clark, along with one of the lunches-to-go he’d bought at the cafeteria for the trip.

For the first hour or so, he sat up primly, despite his disguise.

And then, as the bus ride kept going…

He tugged his legs up under himself and curled up in the seat with his book, letting himself lean a little into Clark’s shoulder when the seat was cramped, finally looking content.

Clark let him lean into him as much as he wanted, especially considering the crampedness of the seats.

He read a little and ate some of their packed lunch, and then for a lot of the ride he dozed. Riding in a bus or car had that constant hum that drowned a lot out that was easy to focus on and sleep to. It was better than the erratic noise of the city, that was for sure.

As they went on, the bus taking occasional breaks at rest stops, the hills died down and things became increasingly flat.

And then, early the next morning, they pulled in to their stop.

“Here we are.” Clark mumbled, grabbing their bags from overhead and passing Bruce his as they climbed off.

...it was surreal.

Absolutely surreal.

For someone like Bruce who had grown up with always something blocking the horizon, the sheer flatness of the world around him left him feeling a little… disoriented.

Vulnerable, even.

But he kept the hat and scarf on, holding his bags and exhausted from the bumpy ride, and followed Clark closely as he climbed off the bus.

Clark barely had to even look around before he motioned for Bruce to follow, ducking around the other people climbing off the bus. He went right to an old station wagon with a man stood leaning on the hood, arms crossed to keep in the warmth and an old truckers cap on his head. When he saw them he stood and waved.

“Hey Pa.” Clark smiled, and hugged him as a woman with dirty blonde hair opened the door and stepped out of the passenger side.

“There’s my baby boy.” She cooed, already grabbing Clark and kissing his cheeks while he groaned and protested.

“You must be Bruce?” Jon said, extending a rough hand towards him. “You can call me Jon. Clark’s father.”

His face was sun scorned and wrinkled less from age and more from working outside every day of his life, his hair cut short and dark brown.

He had that feeling again. Like he was floating, somewhere else entirely, only partly aware of what was happening in front of him. Only sort-of involved.

It was a familiar one, even if school sometimes lessened it. Sometimes.

He was hoping it would leave if he left Gotham. But here it was. Right away. Watching Clark run to his mother or her run to him, and his dad, and hugging--

He took the father’s hand, shook it, and said, “Bruce Wayne,” in the voice that was bigger than he felt in his head.

“So Clark tells me. Quite the name back out East.” He said, giving Bruce a firm handshake.

When Martha was finished embarrassing her son she walked over to Bruce. “I'm Martha, now let's get you boys where it's warm.” She put an arm around Bruce and gestured for him to get into the back where Clark was already piling in.

Oh.

He felt dizzy. And tight. His jaw tightened the smile onto his face to keep it there, even as his heartbeat rocketed up, until it was pounding in his ears.

(Waking nightmare)

He stumbled forward over his own feet, but followed where the arm took him, same as he did when Alfred started trying to guide him away from paparazzi anytime they glimpsed him. Anytime they got an excuse.

He held his bag tight and piled in beside Clark, regretting every step that took him to this conclusion.

While his parents got back in Clark looked over at Bruce with concern. His heart was like a drum suddenly.

“You okay?” he whispered.

Bruce’s face had fallen into a brutal neutrality once the eyes weren’t on him anymore. Blank and stiff.

But he nodded faintly, lying.

“... Okay.” Clark said, not believing it at all, but not prying further.

“So is it just as cold out there as it is here?” His dad asked.

Typical banter.

Him. It was him. He was being talked to.

Talk.

“Haven’t been here long enough to say,” Bruce said, lost somewhere over the horizon with no buildings to stop him.

“It’s colder in Gotham.” Clark added as they started to move once everyone was buckled up.

“We’re pretty tired from the trip though. Is the guest room ready?”

“Oh yeah it’s all waiting for you. Will you two want breakfast or you gonna collapse into bed?” Martha asked.

“Bed,” Bruce managed, even though he knew he should’ve said more than that.

But in his head he was already at a family breakfast. Staring at them over a meal. Having to talk more before he could think or control his heart or breathe and actually feel it filling his lungs, not just faintly keeping him conscious by a thread.

“Yeah we’re beat.” Clark said, although he wasn’t very tired. This was mostly for Bruce’s sake.

“We’ll just get some rest and then we can have lunch and stuff, okay?”

“Okay, that sounds good. I still need to run out and grab a few things anyway.” Martha said, and with that the conversation would taper off and away from the boys.

Clark did pass a look over to Bruce though, just to check on him.

...gradually, Bruce’s heartbeat started to slow again as the conversation moved away, and he didn’t have to drag himself to pay attention to it. Didn’t live scared of the response he missed. He could just stare blankly forwards and hover for a while.

But that was it, too.

He just… hovered.

The usual awareness wasn’t in his eyes. And he knew it wasn’t there.

And the part of him that wasn’t in front, that wasn’t keeping them in society, breathing, not being kicked out of the car of the only people he knew for miles and miles--

That part of him was screaming. A sound not even Clark could hear.

Wake up. Pay attention. It’ll happen while you’re not paying attention. It’s going to go wrong. If you don’t pay attention everything will go wrong.

But he couldn’t drag himself to the front yet.

He couldn’t do it that fast.

They drive for awhile before turning into a tiny little town that was just starting to wake up, and then they even drove away from that and down long barren roads onto a long dirt driveway, the farmhouse soon coming into view.

“Home sweet home.” Jon said as he pulled up to a stop.

“We’re here, Bruce.” Clark said quietly, trying to get his attention so they could climb out of the car.

It helped. His name. Instruction.

He shuffled out of the car, pulling his backpack back on, and at the very least managed to glance at the small farmhouse and and and

(he counted exits)

Before following Clark inside, looking dazed.

Like he did definitely need the bed.

“I’ll show Bruce to his room, he’s pretty wiped.” Clark said, leading his friend up the steps and… maybe putting an arm around his shoulders to guide him a little better.

“It’s up the steps. C’mon.”

He made a small confirming sound at his name, and

Arm.

Followed the arm. Pressed into it.

(Tommy guided him like this, sometimes. Alfred did. Away from the worst of things. Back to the manor, or their room, or--)

He was lost in three places at once. The farmhouse here, and the manor, and the academy and coming out of the alleyway under a policeman’s coat.

But he could make it up the stairs, and be guided to the guest room, at the very least.

Clark got him up the steps, paused only for a moment to point at the bathroom. “Bathroom is here. And this is the guest room.”

He opened it up to reveal a very old, dated looking bed with an empty dresser and bedside table with a lamp. Floral comforter and frilled pillow cover.

“Sorry it’s… very grandma.” He huffed. “But, uh, you get comfortable. You want something to drink?”

Looked fine. Normal, even.

He shook his head.

“...how long?” he asked.

“... How long what?”

...fuck. The word. Didn’t she say lunch?

“Til lunch,” he said.

How long to recover.

“Oh, like, uh… you still got awhile. It’s only eight right now so four hours? Ish? And if you need to chill in here longer you can.” Clark said, looking at an old clock over the door.

Four hours sounded like both an eternity and no time at all.

Bruce set down his bag and nodded, not sure what to say.

Not sure how to ask to start.

Alone.

Rest.

Privacy.

Please.

“I'm gonna bring you something to drink and then you can sleep or whatever.” Clark said, turning away and heading downstairs.

He came back a moment later with a cup of warm tea.

“Here. Just yell if you need anything.”

And then he would leave Bruce to recover.

“Okay. Thanks,” he said, letting the hot tea sit.

...he held it in his hands.

….the heat helped.

He could smell it.

...once he was alone, he closed his eyes and sat on the floor, holding the cup between his hands and just… breathing it in deeply.

He took a drink. Followed the heat as it traveled down his throat.

….

It was sort of like Alfred’s tea.

Two places, now. Only lost in two. That was manageable.

A little more color came back to him. He finished the tea. The cup cooled and it didn’t help anymore. But he was a little better.

...he didn’t have the energy to do much, though.

So he kicked off his shoes and climbed onto the unfamiliar bed, biting down on his hand as hard as he could, and once all he could think about was his hand, he closed his eyes on the pillow and let go.

And he would go to sleep.

And in four hours, he would be fine again.

In four hours or so, Clark would knock on his door.

“Bruce? You awake? We're gonna have some lunch now.”

There was a jump in heartrate as Bruce jerked awake, but he still understood well enough what had been said to him.

“Y-yeah-- just let me get to the bathroom.”

“Okay, just come down to the kitchen when you're ready.” Clark said, leaving him be. His footsteps could be heard going down the stairs.

...Bruce waited until the footsteps were down the stairs and a little fainter before crawling out of bed.

His clothing was wrinkled from sleeping in it.

He grabbed a new shirt and set of pants, and folded the two he’d been wearing on the bus. Grabbed his comb.

Bathroom.

He washed his face and combed his hair back, the way he always wore it, unless he ended up shoved under a John Deere hat. Made sure his shirt was flat and his clothing straight. Tied his shoes back on.

He hurried down the stairs.

This time, he was Braced for It.

Now that he was more aware of his surroundings he could take in the details.

Worn furniture. Warm. Lived in. Family pictures on the mantle over the TV that was playing The Price Is Right. Noises from the kitchen.

Clark and Martha were there, Clark over a bowl of soup and Martha watching the TV from her position in front of the stove.

“Well don't you look nice.” she grinned. “You hungry?”

Maybe ironically, Bruce wasn’t used to being complimented on his appearance.

Maybe because he grew up with Alfred, and he was wearing the bare minimum to please Alfred.

“Thanks,” he said, voice a little steadier than it had been that morning. “Yes, ma’am.”

“You like chicken corn soup?” She asked.

Clark was eating the same thing that was on the stove in a large pot; a homemade soup with bits of chicken, corn, and other things to make a hearty, white soup.

Without being asked Clark got up and started to get Bruce something to drink.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had it before,” he said honestly, watching Clark out of the corner of his eye.

“Well if you don't like it you don't have to eat it, okay?” Martha said, getting out a bowl and filling it with soup. She set it down in front of him with a spoon.

“We got tea, milk, or OJ.” Clark said, looking over at Bruce.

“Thank you,” he said again, sitting where she set it, and glanced back at Clark. “Tea?”

“...oh. I forgot the cup upstairs--”

“That's okay, just bring it down later.” Martha said.

“This is iced tea, but if you want more hot tea I can make that too.” Clark said, pulling out the jug to show Bruce.

Bruce blinked blankly at him, as if just confronted with something he had no idea about.

“Iced tea?”

The two looked at each other like Bruce was the alien.

Clark poured him a glass of iced tea and set it in front of him.

“Wondered why I didn't see it anywhere at school.”

Bruce looked down at the cup like it was a challenge.

“...”

He kept eye contact with Clark as he sipped it.

It didn't taste anything like hot tea. It was sweet with a tiny hint of lemon.

Clark stared him right back.

“... Well?”

…

Bruce stared down at it.

“...I think I felt one of Alfred’s ancestors disown me just now,” he said, and took another sip.

Clark laughed, “But do you like it?”

Bruce nodded.

“It’s good.”

It was a little like a flat soda, almost?

“Good.” Clark grinned and sat back down to finish eating. Martha looked to be scooping the soup that was left over into freezing containers and labeling them.

“You gonna give Bruce a tour of the farm when you're done?”

Clark looked over at him, “You want one?”

“Sure?” Bruce said, “Whatever the plan is.”

He had no idea if there even was a plan. He’d focused so hard on getting here he wasn’t really sure what to do otherwise.

Even Clark had admitted there wasn’t much to do besides bowling.

So his only plan right now was to run with manners and hope it got him somewhere.

He ate the soup and drank the tea, not finding it quite his taste, but eating and finishing it all the same.

Clark didn't really have a plan either. He had just heard his friend had what sounded like a really lonely holiday and invited him along.

So they finished their soup and set the dishes in the sink before bundling up to take the tour.

“You ever been on a farm?” He asked while walking down the front steps. The third one creaked.

He followed Clark’s lead. Ran upstairs to bring down the cup and wrap his own scarf (thick and dark) around his neck as they headed out.

“Gardens don’t count?” he asked rhetorically. “Then no.”

Clark chuckled, “No. Gardens don’t count.”

A man was pulled up in their driveway in a tractor with a plow hooked to the front talking to his dad, and Clark waved but didn’t go over. Instead he lead Bruce towards the barn.

“All the corn is down now since it’s winter, but we still got the cows I can show ya.”

Bruce nodded, following along behind him.

“Okay?”

He’d never seen a cow before.

...the sight and smell of them stopped him dead.

“...that’s huge.”

“How big did you think cows were, Bruce?” Clark laughed, closing the barn door behind them.

The cows were in their stalls for the winter, some laying down to sleep while others had their heads stuck through the bars to feed from their trough.

It did smell pretty bad, but Clark didn’t seem to mind. He walked over to one and pet between its eyes.

Bruce honestly didn’t know how the cows stood the smell.

...he followed up behind Clark, watching him pet the cow, though his curiosity was focused a bit more on the petter than the pet-ee.

“They’re nice once you know how to act around them.” Clark said, looking at Bruce. “Just, y’know, gotta be aware they can break your foot. Here-” He reached out to take the other boy’s hand and place it gently on the cow’s head where he had been petting it.

The fur was course almost. Rough. Not really soft but not really wiry either.

Bruce was honestly not even really thinking about petting the cows--

...but Clark’s hand was warm, and it startled him into complacency, hand being pulled out of his pocket like that and held, even just for a moment.

…

The fur was coarse. But she was warm. The cow. And even though the fur was coarse, the skin under it was soft as Clark’s hand on top of his.

… “Wow,” he said, knowing he had to say something.

“See? They’re nice.” Clark said, oblivious to what was going on in Bruce’s head right now.

“C’mon.” He said, leading him out of the barn and towards the backyard.

“That’s our own little garden even though it’s just a patch of frozen mud right now. We grow tomatoes, zucchini, strawberries, tons of stuff. Mom makes jam. I’ll have her give you a jar to take back if you want. It’s really good.”

He lead him into a smaller barn after that. It had a four-wheeler and a few tractors inside.

“This is where we keep some of the equipment.”

Bruce followed Clark around the farm, feeling a little dumb and dumbfounded, and not sure what to feel the rest of the time. The farm life was… very different from the world he knew. And he respected it, he was pretty sure--but he didn’t really know much about it.

So he followed politely, looking around.

He pretty readily agreed to the jam.

“Alfred will like it,” he said.

“Cool. Y’know you gotta show me around your mansion or whatever sometime.”

A dog barked and soon a dog with black and white splotches was running up to them.

“Oh, and that’s Daisy.”

She tried to jump up at Bruce in excitement, tag wagging.

“Woah--” Bruce took a step back as Daisy jumped up at him, but--

...it was a dog.

Bruce bent down a moment later and was scratching her behind the ears.

Daisy put on that ‘thats the spot’ face and leaned into it, grumbling happily.

“I don’t think I’ve ever asked, do you have any pets?”

Bruce… made a bit of a face. And shook his head.

“No. Not anymore.”

...he was content to keep scratching the dog behind the ear as long as she’d lean in.

Clark stood and just sort’ve… watched him for a moment.

It was nice to see him content like this. Away from pressure.

“You feeling better than you were earlier?” He asked, as though he somehow knew.

…

“Yeah. ...sorry about that. It won’t happen again.”

He’d bite it back as often as he had to.

“It’s okay, dude.” Clark shrugged. “You don’t have to pretend you’re okay when you’re around me. It happens.”

Bruce just… focused on the dog.

Clicked his fingers at her.

“I am fine, though,” he said, not even fooling himself. “...you didn’t tell me that’s what your mom’s name was.”

… It took him a moment. He looked confused, then his eyes went big.

“Oh. Oh, damn. I’m sorry. I didn’t even think about it.” He looked ashamed and ran a hand through the curls in his hair.

Bruce shook his head, not… looking at him, for that. “It’s fine. You shouldn’t have to.”

He should’ve been able to handle this on his own. It had been years. (six years.) He should be fine.

But his throat was dry, even after draining the whole glass of ice tea, and his fingers were getting cold, even in the warmth of Daisy’s fur.

Why was he still talking?

“Dad didn’t die first,” he said. “He kept calling her name.”

Daisy tried to lick his face, tail wagging.

“... I’m sorry, Bruce.” Clark said quietly. “Must be hard.”

He had never lost someone before.

He didn’t know how it felt.

He’d said it wouldn’t happen again, but he felt that creeping chill on the edge of his consciousness, threatening to drag him out of Smallville again. It wasn’t there yet. It hadn’t yanked him in violently like back at the bus station. But he could feel the prickle of it; the threat.

He sat down crosslegged in the field, and let the dog lick him.

When she stopped he just… shook his head.

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” ‘it must be hard’ wasn’t… something he was used to hearing. “I’ve got money and Alfred to take care of me. I’m fine.”

Clark sat down with him on the cold, frozen dirt.

“Yeah but that’s just money and Alfred ain’t your dad. You might have what you need but not what you want. ‘N money can’t buy that.”

“So, like… are you fine?”

He looked over at him and tried to meet his eyes with his own bright blue gaze that somehow stood out even more than Bruce’s. The sun was high in the sky and there weren’t as many clouds to hide him like their were in Gotham, and you could see how much his skin almost glowed in the sunlight.

That wasn’t what people were supposed to say, and the urge to argue Kent down made a thousand things meant to be kept secret bubble up on his tongue.

But he swallowed them down.

...he seemed much smaller out here, under the big, clear sky. In Gotham, in its narrow streets and foggy skies, he stretched up and could fill a room. Here he was just a small, lost shadow: dark clothes, pale skin.

And when Clark tried to meet his eyes, they were glazed wet, and in the process of being blinked away, even as Bruce’s voice said, steadily, “Yeah. I’m fine.”

…

“When I’m eighteen,” he said, guiding Daisy down to lie in his lap for a belly rub, “I inherit everything they left behind. And I’m going to take it and run away, until not even you’d be able to find me.”

Daisy rolled into him and was very happy for the belly rub.

“... Why?” Clark asked, sounding sad. “Just to get away?”

...at least someone understood.

Bruce nodded.

Clark nodded too.

…

“Where you gonna go?”

Bruce shrugged.

He didn't know. He didn't care much.

“Okay.”

…

“Well-” Clark nudged him a little. “-I’d like it if ya kept in touch at least a little.”

He gave him an award-winning smile.

...Bruce found himself looking at that smile, and… it was hard not to feel some guilt.

“We’ll see,” he compromised.

Clark went quiet and just sat with him then.

…

After a few minutes though he blinked and stood up, looking down at his driveway.

Bruce looked up.

Glanced down the driveway. Saw nothing.

But he looked back up at Clark without any doubt. “What do you see?”

“It’s Pete ‘n Kenny.” Clark said just as you could start to hear the car. He offered a hand down to help Bruce to his feet.

“Friends of mine. Guess mom told ‘em I was coming home.”

Bruce didn't need the help, but he took the hand anyway, pushing Daisy off his lap carefully as he went.

“Yeah…?”

He was a little anxious about meeting Clark’s friends.

He was bad with people. And caring about Clark made things suddenly infinitely more complicated if he failed to make a good impression.

“Yeah. Don’t worry about ‘em, they’re good people.”

Clark lead him over to the car as it slid to a stop, two boys sat in the front.

“You’re back!” The passenger shouted.

“Yeah, for winter break.” Clark said, then gestured to them. “Kenny, Pete. Pete, Kenny, this is Bruce. Friend of mine from school.”

“Yo.” Kenny waved from the driver’s seat, Pete from the passenger’s side.

Bruce waved back with a “nice to meet you,” and hung back, not willing to overstep. He was already looking at Pete and Kenny’s haircuts and their clothes, and starting to get an idea how Clark must've felt, standing out in school.

They dressed a lot like Clark did. Layers. Worn clothes. Mud around the ankles and hand-me-down jackets.

“Get in, both of ya, we’re heading down to the tracks.” Kenny said, pointing to the back seat.

“Uh.” Clark looked at Bruce. “You cool with tagging along?”

He looked hopeful.

Bruce shrugged and--well. He had no reason not to?

“Sure.”

He climbed into the back with Clark.

“Nice.” Pete grinned, and once they were in, Kenny started to back up and turn around to head out.

…

At first they didn’t really talk to Bruce. They just filled Clark in on all the town gossip. Who was boning who, who was getting knocked up, who had fallen out or gotten in trouble.

But soon that did come around as they pulled into a gravel spot by some train tracks. Pete leaned back and looked at Bruce. “He tell ya why he ran off to Gotham?”

Clark might’ve gone a little pale. “Pete.”

“Said he was layin’ low,” Bruce said, picking up Pete’s accent a little bit from being surrounded by it for a little. He crossed his arms on the seat in front of him and leaned forward, asking for more without saying anything.

“I’ll kill you, Pete.” Clark warned.

“Yeah. Layin’ low after blastin’ a guys arms off with his eyes.” Pete grinned.

Clark threatened to climb over the seat and smack him, and Pete just kept laughing.

“Pete you fuckin’ dumbass, you know he can actually kill you, right?” Kenny huffed.

Bruce just… looked sort of confused for a bit at that.

What did that mean? If it was an in-joke would Clark be that upset, but if it was leaning closer to real, what did that even mean?

He knew Clark… was different.

But he didn't realize he hadn't seen half of it yet.

“...what?”

“You didn’t tell him?” Kenny said, a little surprised.

Clark stopped smacking Pete, who was laughing his ass off. “Kenny! What do you think laying low means?!”

“Well I mean, c’mon man, you brought him here. Damn near everyone knows you’re an alien.” Kenny said, unintimidated.

Clark just… slumped back into the seat, as far away from everyone as possible, and shoved his face in his hands.

…

You know what?

Bruce was going to unpack all of this later.

Right now, all he could do was turn, look Clark dead in the eye, and say, “suddenly I understand why you had such a hard time with ‘snitches get stitches’ with friends like these.”

Clark was rubbing his eyes. “God.”

“Ah c’mon Clark. We gotta embarrass our buddy in front of his new friend.” Pete grinned.

Clark glared at him. “You’re honestly lucky I trust Bruce not to say anything. You know how much shit I could get in if everyone in Gotham knew? Area 51??” He gestured wildly to himself.

“If it makes you feel better people are starting to say those three were just tripping on something and imagined the whole thing.” Kenny said.

Bruce was still just… running with this. As it happened.

Unpack later. Survive right now.

(From his position, he could get an arm around Kenny’s neck and choke him as payback for Clark’s trust being violated)

(There was a red mark against Kenny from this, against Pete. Snitches get stitches. Silence was golden. Loose lips sank ships.

Trust no one.)

(‘You’re honestly lucky I trust Bruce not to say anything.’ When-- when had that-- when had he earned that?)

“What did happen?” Bruce asked instead.

He was ten places in his head, and lost in none of them.

They all looked at Clark.

…

Clark sighed and rubbed his head.

“Some assholes shot up the gas station last year. Killed like five people. I knew where he’d gone, I could hear the yelling, so I tracked them down. One guy shot me in the face with a revolver. I tossed him through the front of the house. Next guy shot me in the chest with a shotgun. I ended up burning his arms off. Then Pete came around and ended up clocking the last one with a shovel.”

He said it all so… numbly. Like he had unpacked in awhile ago and could now just… recite it.

“They lived?” he said, deciding not to question the… burning. The being followed. The shotgun.

“... Yeah.” Clark said quietly.

Bruce had gone back to his Gotham accent. His voice had been falling into his harder, more serious tone.

Pete and Kenny called this story embarrassing to Clark.

“But you did it?”

Kenny and Pete were looking at one another, watching this unfold after they had set it into motion.

“... Yeah?” Clark said again. “I can do… a lot of weird shit.”

Maybe the new fragile city kid going hard and cold wasn't what they'd expected when they started talking about small town maiming.

“Yeah, no shit, you beat my mile,” Bruce said. “...but you burnt their arms off.”

…he waited for one more confirmation, looking Clark in the eye just as Clark had done with him half an hour earlier.

But once he got it--even just a flash of a ‘yes’ in a look between them, Bruce said, “Good.”

And Clark did say ‘yes’.

But then he looked confused.

“Good?”

That was the first time anyone had said that.

And Bruce said it again.

Firmer.

“Good.”

Clark blinked and stared at him, like a whole other option had opened up to him.

…

“Damn,” Kenny said. “Hardass Gotham.”

Kenny still had a mark against him, and he wasn't helping himself, so Bruce didn't feel bad when he turned the full weight of a glare on him.

Maybe his eyes couldn't ‘burn off’ anyone’s arms, but that just meant that his blue eyes were cold and hard as ice.

“They shot five people? They deserve what's coming to them.”

… Kenny backed up and put his hands up. “Not sayin’ they didn’t.”

“Yeah, no one is saying that.” Pete added. “I mean, if he hadn’t showed up then they were gonna kill like their whole family.”

Clark still didn’t say anything. He was looking down, like he had never been told that what he had done was good. Not really. Whenever they had mentioned how he had done well it was also interlaced with ‘but what could have happened to you’.

They were going to kill their whole family.

They were going to kill their whole family?

That part hadn't been said. Just: Clark tracked them down. Clark fought them. Clark got shot.

Clark lived.

(They were going to kill a family, and Bruce, already mentally exhausted from the morning, from bracing himself against names, from coping, found himself seeing it happen in an alleyway unlike anything he'd seen in Smallville, and he was so tired of spending the day in that place.)

“Cool. Cool, so… fuck this,” he said, and turned to Clark, seeing him spaced out. “Hey. Kent. Snap out of it. You said you guys got out more than us, right? Time to prove it.”

Find somewhere else to go.

Somewhere to lose this conversation entirely, before they got lost in it.

“Uhhhh fine.” Clark groaned and sat up. “Let’s go.”

Pete put the car in reverse. “Where to?”

“... Bowling?” Clark shrugged and looked at Bruce.

“I'll pay,” Bruce said, fine with that.

“See you throw every single ball down the gutter again.”

“You were last!” Clark pointed out.

“Yeah. I have nothing to prove,” he said, straight faced.

“But I might try harder out of revenge now that I know I wasn't wrong about my mile.”

“I was gonna apologize but I thought that would be saying too much!” Clark pleaded with him.

“They makin’ you take gym, Clark?” Kenny asked as they drove.

“Yes.”

“Oof.”

Bruce-- Bruce wasn't angry at Clark for it, not really. He'd been the one playing mediator at the time. Half of him just… needed something to keep going. To be huffy about--something that didn't matter--so he wouldn't be huffy about things that did.

“Tommy and Harv aren't gonna say anything even if they’ve figured something out,” he said, finally leaning back some and trying to uncoil the tight knot in his shoulders. “I told them not to that day.”

And no matter how loud Tommy was, no matter how much the teachers liked Harvey-- at the end of the day, Bruce was the one in charge. He didn't say much, but when he told them to not pry or talk, neither of the other boys would.

That weight didn't transfer to Kansas well, but after that conversation-- it lingered on him, some, in the back of the car, in his nice dark clothes, and the cold exhaustion in his eyes.

“They've been letting him skip for asthma, but running a four minute mile blew that out of the water some.”

“... Thanks.” Clark said, looking over at him.

“Guess since no one is in on it over there things are kinda hard.” Pete said.

“You have no idea.” Clark mumbled.

…

“This is kinda a relief. You knowing now.”

...he relaxed a little more.

“...I'm gonna be processing this for a while still,” he said. “...but I guess it at least makes sense now why you didn't think I was insane about the Talons being real.”

….somehow, the thought that Clark hadn't just been humoring him the last few months took precedence.

Clark huffed a laugh.

“Talons?” One in the front asked.

“Nah we’re not talking about that shit with you two.” Clark said firmly.

No way.

…

Bruce found himself smiling a little.

Mentioning it had been a kind-of permission, but… he was glad it wasn't taken.

Clark kept their secrets.

“So,” he leaned forward onto the front chair again. “Clark said something about corn demons?”

“What?” Kenny said.

“What?” Clark said too, then paused. “Oh, there's uh, that hell gateway over in Stull I think I mentioned.” Clark said.

“Eh, people just like to bullshit about angry ghosts that come out around Halloween.” Pete said.

“Our murder rate just spikes on Halloween,” Bruce said. “Why’s it a hell gateway?”

Said the Jewish boy.

“I have no idea.” Clark admitted.

“Isn't Gotham like one of the biggest crime places in the US?” Pete asked.

“Recently, yeah,” Bruce said, keeping it steady.

“What's it like there?” Pete asked.

“Ever been stabbed?” Kenny followed.

“Jesus, guys.” Clark sighed.

“I would probably not be walking around so great if I'd been stabbed,” Bruce said flatly, thinking of the caning in school, and the dread Tommy and Harv had of going home, and grisly pictures on the front page.

“You two sound like you watch way too much tv.”

“They do.” Clark said flatly.

They pulled into the bowling alley.

It was… very empty. The inside only had two people in staff with the radio playing and an arcade tucked in the corner.

“Same show that told you we were supposed to be out partying when we just snuck out for ice cream?”

Bruce pulled out a handful of bills and handed them to Clark mostly out of habit.

He could probably actually… buy things here without being recognized, maybe. But habit still won this round.

Clark didn't mind, walking up and paying. “Absolutely.”

“Snuck out for ice cream?”

“Didn't think you could get any lamer, Clark.” Kenny chuckled.

...it did make him think, though. A connection he hadn't been able to make, but that he'd made sure to hold onto the pieces, just in case.

“...what they said earlier doesn't happen to have anything to with how easy scaling the wall was for you, right?”

Clark waited until they were away from other prying ears to answer.

“Um, yeah. I might've been kinda… flying. For that.”

Bruce turned and stared at him again.

“What?” He whispered back.

Clark cleared his throat as if embarrassed. “I can fly.”

Bruce is going to need a long time to work through all this.

But right now, he's compartmentalizing like a pro.

“...what else can you do?”

“Uh,” Clark mumbled as he tied his bowling shoes. “I can see through things. Like x-ray vision? And can hear really far. Like--”

He looked up and his eyes glowed blue. “I can see one of the employees back behind the counter picking his nose. And he's humming that really annoying country song that won't stop playing on the radio.”

There was something in that which nagged Bruce. Being watched without being able to tell. Being heard. But--

But he had something to soothe it, a little bit. And confirm.

“I can hear the humming, too,” he said.

Not as a challenge.

But.

He believed Clark.

This was something most people couldn't hear.

And if he could hear that, Bruce would also believe the sight.

Clark looked a little surprised, happy even.

“Really?” He smiled a little, like he suddenly felt less alone.

“And, uh, I try hard to not listen in on private conversations and stuff if it makes you feel better. I don't want to hear everything. It just happens. I have to focus to pay attention to what close.”

...the apology was fine, but the second part still kept him a little on guard.

“Like the teachers meeting with students after class,” he said, and trying to not think of how close some private discussions had been to Clark. “...how far away?”

Clark made a face as though the answer pained him.

“Miles. Like… three miles? More if I focus.”

...not even Bruce’s razor hearing did that.

He felt the knot in his chest tighten almost imperceptibly.

“...but you don't.”

“No. I try to ground myself and focus on what's next to me.” He got up to get a bowling ball. Picked out the heaviest one and twirled it in his hands idly like it didn't weigh a thing.

“I try to keep it to like… a few rooms away sort of hearing. That's the smallest I can get without having to strain myself.”

A few rooms away.

(Kisses don't make sounds, Bruce told himself, but all the same, felt his heart speed up a bit at the memory.)

“A few rooms clearly?” he said, watching how Clark spun the bowling ball as if it were just a basket ball, meant to be tossed around in the air.

He picked up his own ball to wait his turn. It was lighter. But it was still heavy in his lap.

Clark made a face again. Guilty.

“I… I can hear your heartbeat through walls, so. Yeah. Clearly.”

He looked at Bruce, apologetic.

“I'm-- I'm sorry.”

...that.

That was… too much.

He could only hear his own heartbeat in his ears and thundering in his chest, and it was too much for him.

But he couldn't have this conversation here.

He couldn't have it anywhere, maybe.

He couldn't think too hard on that, on his very heartbeat always being listened to, on the illusion of privacy, and the thought of--

He picked up his bowling ball, numb and dead to the world, and with no distractions and a mechanicalness to his movements, he rolled a strike.

They weren't talking about this anymore.

… Clark looked down, not saying a word as Kenny and Pete 'oooed’ over the strike and wrote it down.

They wouldn't bring it up again, talking about random things and trying to nudge Clark back into the conversation. But he didn't say much. He just… rolled his ball a little too fast a little too hard until he got the hang of it again.

And when it was over, no matter who won, they would drive the two back out to the farm.

Bruce kept up what amounted to polite conversation if he was pulled in.

He didn't remember who won.

He didn't remember what they said, or if he shook anyone’s hands as they dropped them off back at the Kent farm.

He wasn't as cold and detached as he'd been that morning, but he knew he was wading further from shore, and that he should pull himself back.

But he didn't want to do that around Clark right now.

Hot tea wouldn't pull back this.

When they pulled back into the farm Clark hung back at the car, if only for a minute.

…

“Thanks assholes, now he hates me.” He hissed and slammed the door a little too hard. It rocked the car and they yelled, but he didn't care.

He walked in behind Bruce and tried to tell his parents yes, they had fun, went bowling, tired now.

Up to his room.

….

Bruce followed.

Up to his room. Guest room. It wasn’t lavish or high quality, but it smelled a little dusty, like the manor, and he could choke on that a little and feel a bit better in the familiar prison of old and carefully preserved items.

‘Granny’ Clark had called it.

(Bruce’s grandparents had died by the time he was born. Parents married late by parents who married late by parents who married late.)

…

He managed to sit on the bed for a full five minutes, hands held carefully in each other and breathing slowly, heart steadying, before he locked it in place.

And he left the room, footsteps quiet as he could make them on the carpet, and went back downstairs.

#aka bruce dissociates in kansas #if i hear a single martha joke i snipe on sight #batman #superman #superbat #80s gay superbat #rp logs #the total visit is like 70 pages lol

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tamorapierce · 4 years

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Tammy's Spring 2020 Reading Recommendations For the Bored

Sooner or later the bookhounds among us are going to start joining my relentless song, from age five on up, of “I don’t have anything to read!!!!”

I am here to help. In this space, as I get to it (knowing, as my readers do, that I have no sense of deadline), I will be posting a constant set of collections of book titles by authors my team and I have read and will recommend in a wild variety of genres and for a wild variety of ages. (And I’ll give a short hint as to the subject of the first book/series—if I did them all I’d never finish this.) This last is for the many of you who are reading teen and adult books in grade and middle school, and those adult readers who are reading teen and kidlit. These people are for those who love books and don’t care who is supposed to be reading them.

Also, you may have to look far and wee, since we will be drawing upon not only recently published books but older ones that we have either read recently or that we read long ago and have re-read or have never forgotten. Don’t say I didn’t warn you when the writing is archaic. If you’re a true nutsy reader like the rest of us, you won’t care.

-Tammy Pierce

* * *

Assume the book came out within the last 2 years unless I put LO next to the title, which means you have to check libraries and bookstores online and paper for copies.

* * *

Diana Wynne Jones LO

A generation or two of fantasy writers, particularly those who love humor, bow to this woman as our goddess. Not only was she out of her mind in a very British and manic way, but with her TOUGH GUIDE TO FANTASYLAND she taught a number of us to ditch some ill-considered tropes of our genre. If you write historic fantasy in particular, move heaven and earth to track this book down. There’s a bonus: some of the entries will make you laugh till you cry.

She is best known for her books for middle grade and teens, but they are enjoyable for all readers. I cannot list them all here because my fingers will break (curse you, arthritis!), but these titles will give you a jumping-off point. And remember, authors change with each book, so you won’t encounter the same author with each title as the author you read in the previous one!

The Chrestomanci books, all in the same universe, in order of story,

not publication

Charmed Life (1977) An innocent lad follows his plotting egotistical sister to live with England’s chief wizard

The Lives of Christopher Chant (1988)

Conrad’s Fate (2005)

Witch Week (1982)

The Magicians of Caprona (1980)

Short stories

The Dalemark Quartet begins with

The Spellcoats (1979)

3 sequels

The Derkholm books are

Dark Lord of (1998)

Year of the Griffin (2000)

The Tough Guide to Fantasyland is standalone, but is a kind of offshoot of the Derkholm books. You don’t have to have read the Derkholm books to get Tough Guide!

There are other books and stories by Jones—I’ll let you find them on your own.

Philip Pullman

To this day I am unable to call him anything but Mr. Pullman—that’s how much in awe of the man I am. We’ve had dinner together, talked on the phone, talked at an event or two, done a conversation on audio with Christopher Paolini—it’s still Mr. Pullman to me. (I was an assistant in a literary agency when I discovered his work, and I never recovered.) He is, in a word, brilliant, and his interests range through all kinds of areas, particularly history and religion. I could have talked with him forever that night we had dinner, but the poor man had jet lag and I let him go to collapse. It was one of the best exchanges of ideals, values, and books I’ve ever had.

Read his work carefully, because what he discusses is never just the story on top. No matter what he writes, he is making strong points about social justice, human nature, religion, and history without preaching. He is one of the few male writers out there who can write female characters as people, not Something Different. And you never know, with his work, where he will go next.

The Ruby in the Smoke,

book 1, the Sally Lockheart mysteries

Victorian mysteries with a female hero and male assistants,

The Book of Dust and sequel,

first 2 books of The Secret Commonwealth

His Dark Materials trilogy

The Golden Compass

2 other titles

THE COLLECTORS

LYRA’S OXFORD

THE WHITE MERCEDES

FAIRY TALES FROM THE BROTHERS GRIMM

I WAS A RAT!

TWO CRAFTY CRIMINALS

COUNT KARLSTEIN

(I will stop here and let you find the rest. Most are available as Nook books.)

Sharon Shinn

I discovered Sharon Shinn with JOVAH’S ANGEL, but a shortage of funds left me unable to pursue my interest (I am an economic disaster with libraries, so I buy rather than borrow) until, with a job and money to spend, I spotted THE SAFE-KEEPER’S SECRET. It is the story of a medieval-ish world and a small village where a baby was left with a childless couple. She is raised as their daughter and discovers, as she grows, that her mother is an important, a Safekeeper, the person to whom a secret can be told, relieving the person who told it of the weight of guilt from it, to be carried by the Safekeeper until the owner either decides to tell or dies. (And if they die without giving permission, the Safekeeper never reveal the secret.) The baby who is adopted by this town’s safekeeper becomes the safekeeper in her turn.

The next book is THE TRUTHTELLER’S TALE, about a girl who acquires the gift (??) of telling the truth, whether the person she tells it to wants to hear it or not. The third book is The Dream-maker’s Magic. The three main characters now learn why they have been brought together over the course of the two earlier books, in what I thought was a satisfying, if unusual, conclusion.

And there’s more! I just did the two I love best!

THE SAFEKEEPER’S SECRET (book 1, two sequels)

ARCHANGEL (4 books)

TWELVE HOUSES (5 books)

ELEMENTAL BLESSINGS (4 books)

SHIFTING CIRCLE (2 books)

UNCOMMON ECHOES

GENERAL WINSTON’S DAUGHTER

GATEWAY

Daniel Jose Older

I was a Daniel Jose Older fan before I was sent DACTYL HILL SQUAD for a blurb (preodactyls in flight! Of all sizes! Confederate spies! Thuggish bigot northerners! The backlash of Gettysburg and the forced recruitment of blacks for the war effort! And strong, smart, fierce kids of various ages, sizes, colors, national heritage, and skills doing their best to help the war against the slaves, keep escaped slaves safe, duck the cruel managers of the homes and jails where they are being kept, find a half-decent meal, free other kids in trouble, learn who’s killing their friends, and help the dactyls! That’s part of it, anyway!

Yeah, I loved it. And there’s at least one new book, and once I’ve mowed though that, there are his older teen books, and his grownup mysteries, with their half-dead taxi driver who doubles as a part-time troubleshooter for the undead powers in his Bone Street Rhumba series. {happy sigh}

Edgar Allen Poe

Yes, some of these are reminders of why we ended up to be the readers we are and to nudge us to corrupt—I mean, “introduce”—new readers to the glories that are our legacies.

THE COMPLETE TALES AND POEMS OF EDGAR ALLEN POE

Here are the greats:

poems like “The Raven,” and “Annabelle Lee”

stories like “The Fall of the House of Usher,” “The Telltale Heart,” and ::shudder:: “The Pit and the Pendulum” (yes, a deep pit and a swinging pendulum topped with a razor-edged blade will be featured in this story).

My dad would read these to us on dark and stormy nights when we lived near the Pacific ocean, when the fog came rolling in, softening every sound, when there were no cars driving by and no other sounds in our house but his deep voice and the crackle of the fire in the fireplace. We would listen, soundless, as he wove the stories and poems around us and the foghorn sounded offshore.

That’s the power of Poe.

N. K. Jemisin

I think I began with Jemisin’s THE HUNDRED THOUSAND KINGDOMS, soon followed by its sequel THE BROKEN KINGDOMS. The series ended with a third book, THE KINGDOM OF THE GODS. She presented a rich and varied world from the aspects of people of different classes, showing the growth of societies and their formation. I have a secret passion for society-building and social interaction, and whether or not a book is difficult to read (as Jemisin’s books are in spots because she refuses to insult a reader by talking down to them) is immaterial. I want the world and I want the characters, and with her far-reaching mind and her respect for her characters she delivers each and every time. I have read almost everything she’s written since that first trilogy: if I’ve missed something, it’s because I was in the middle of a deadline and on the road and somehow didn’t see it. I’ll catch up! This is just a sample:

For readers of all sexes and adult reading skills

The City They Became (pub’d April 2020)

The Inheritance Trilogy:

The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms, 2010

2 book sequels

Novella: The Awakened Kingdom, 2014

Triptych: Shades in Shadow, 2015 (3 short stories)

The Dreamblood Duology:

For readers of all sexes and adult reading skills

The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms, 2010

Two sequels

The Broken Earth series:

The Fifth Season (August 2015)

Two book sequels

And there are plenty of short stories out there. I may even have missed a book or twelve!

For those who prefer to hear my ramble in person, a video!

youtube

#tamora pierce #tortall #book reccs #book recommendations #YA #fantasy #science fiction #diana wynne jones #edgar allen poe #philip pullman #sharon shinn #daniel jose older #nk jemisin

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jesterofwords · 3 years

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@my-mass-hysteria @spellboundleo @miss-lunar-3clipse COME GET YALL FOOD

Vexii's backstory 1

When Vexii woke up, the only thing they knew was anger. Pure, blinding rage and hatred towards an unknown something or someone ingulfed them. As Vexii tried to grasp the fragments of their memories, they faded away, bit by bit. The more they tried to grasp, the more memories faded away. Soon, all that was left was anger at an unknown something, and this lack of knowledge frustrated them. As they felt tears well up, they distracted themself by taking a look at their surroundings.

At first glance, they realized they were in a crater, about 6-7 feet deep and they had to stand up to peek out of the top of the crater. It was late winter, but their armor was hot, maybe from a large impact of some kind? The dirt was freshly churned, and beyond that was thick forest.

Vexii then turned to themself to take inventory on what they had. Their few white wing and tail feathers were spotted with soot, as well as their heavy chain mail armor. Most items they had were simple. A bed roll, 10 gold, rations, rope, clothes, a greatsword, and a shovel, but they did have a few unusual items. A shield with strange markings on the inside, a strange metal tube-like thing that looked like it was bent in half with smaller, pointed cylinders on the inside, an amulet, a whole cooking set, and strangest of all, a small, worn, folded up note, smudged with dirt.

After taking inventory, Vexii pulled themself out of the crater and started walking. It was daytime for now, but they'd like to get closer to a city before the sun set. Being owlfolk, they could find shelter in a tree if need be, but it wasn't pleasant, and it was hard work finding a sturdy branch or a tree split in half. Due to a lack of urgency, they took a leisurely pace, not expecting to get to a city tonight anyway.

They walked from mid-day to almost sunset, stopping after finding a good tree to sleep in. With a strong flap of their wings, they settled into the split in the tree. It took a few minutes to find a good position, but once they did, they were out like a light.

Waking up this time was disorienting, due to them falling out of the tree. Vexii laid there for a moment to get their bearings, then stood back up to walk again. They woke up a few hours after sunrise this time, giving them enough time to find a town and inn before night.

It took longer than they thought, but they managed to find a town after only a few hours walk. The first thing they did was try to find an inn. They got lost a few times and had to ask for directions, but they got there eventually. A room for 1 night ended up costing them 2 silver, which left them with 9 gold and 8 silver. Once their room was booked, Vexii roamed around town aimlessly, trying to figure out what to do next.

The faint sound of a crowd yelling and metal on metal soon caught their attention, Vexii heading towards the sound as soon as they heard it. They came across a classic gladiator arena, where two half-orcs were fighting in the center. One appeared to have the upper hand for the first bit, but quickly started losing after a hard hit to the side. The match ultimately led to his loss.

Vexii felt compelled to talk to the one that lost, for a reason they'll probably never understand. After the gladiators left, both limping, most spectators left to watch the next fight. Because of this, Vexii was able to easily find who they were looking for. Deciding to be upfront, but as polite as possible, Vexii approached him and said, "Hello! You're the gladiator that lost today, right? I'm Vexii, what's your name?"

The gladiator responded with, "Lost? Aha, I'll be back tomorrow and kick their ass," with a proud expression on his face.

Vexii looked as happy as one with an owl-ish face could look and said, "I look forward to it! You'll see me there, guaranteed!"

The next day, Vexii kept their word and showed up, surprised to learn that their new friend was going to be fighting two people this time instead of one. They watched as two soldier-looking men walked into the arena, their new friend walking in on the other side. Surprisingly, the fight was over fairly quick, Vexii's new friend winning this time.

The winner turned to the audience where a rich-looking Tiefling sat. "You see that 'Sir Mavvir'", he yelled out in a mocking tone, "I beat two of your men easily and I could kick your pansy ass any day, you chicken-hearted coward!"

The audience gasped and went silent, making the order of, "Seize him!" ring loud and clear through the stadium. With those two words, the winner started to run out of the stadium, Vexii following shortly behind. Many others were startled into motion, following close behind. Vexii noticed this and tugged the gladiator into an alleyway, standing in front of it and puffing their wings out to block him, acting out of breath. "He went that way!" They cried, pointing forward to another alleyway across the road. The people chasing them ran the other way, and Vexii turned back to the man behind them. "That should buy us some time, what should we do next? WAIT. What is your name?"

That got Vexii a weird look from the gladiator said, "It's Dormir, and we need to head this way, take a right, run straight, then- nevermind, just follow me." He then started running, Vexii following close behind again. They soon found themselves in yet another forest, successfully escaping town. They made their way through the forest, slowing down to a walk when they were sure nobody saw them.

They walked in silence for a while, catching their breath until Vexii broke the silence with, "Hey, I have a gift for you for winning, also because that was a pretty ballsy thing to do." They then pulled out the metal tube out of their bag. "I have no clue what it is, but I'd like you to find out for me."

Dormir was stunned into silence for a second before grabbing the object. "...thanks," he replied, smiling as they continued to walk. Sunset approached quick, and they decided to shelter at a tree. Dormir decided to sleep on the ground while Vexii slept in a tree again, so Vexii temporarily lent Dormir their bedroll. It's no surprise it didn't take long for them to fall asleep, exhausted from the days events.

#Vexii #dnd campaign #dnd #d&d #d&d 5e #dnd stories #d&d story

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charming-2d-boys · 3 years

Note

hi could you do a drabble (idk) about F! reader being choked by chrollo thighs like :"she doesn't want to answer chrollo questions ,she wants to escape since she has poweful nen but chrollo catch her with his thigs, (a little nsfw)that's all 👉👈 thanks💌

Ohoho, anon, we're going this way, huh? 😏

For real, though, I think I forgot how to breathe for a second from suddenly thinking about Chrollo's thighs.

Anyway, thank you for the request and I'll try my best!

Also, I changed this a bit because I really struggled thinking about a... normal situation where someone could possibly be choked by someone’s thighs and how to get there 😂

Warning: long and NSFW-ish.

P.S.: what a way to go... *dreamy sigh*

You’ve Got Another Thing Coming - Chrollo x Reader

You had underestimated Chrollo Lucilfer, that’s for sure. The man appeared tall and skinny in that suit, and with that pretty face and big, grey eyes, he seemed innocent and as if he couldn’t hurt a fly.

Boy, were you wrong.

This man had managed to charm you and pretty much anyone who came into contact with him at this party. You were invited as a plus one since your friend was a famous architect and everyone was talking about their amazing designs for some of the newest and fanciest buildings in the city.

He’d talked in such an alluring way, charisma rolling off him in waves, attracting gazes, both curious and sultry, while his face and voice made you think of him as a being sculpted by the gods themselves. And somehow, amidst all the pompous talking between all those rich people and the alcohol being served to guests, you found yourself talking with him in a little corner of the dimmed room, barely away from prying eyes and ears.

Chrollo was extremely intelligent, cultured and well-read. The way he held himself and spoke were becoming more and more attractive as the night progressed. Literature, history, culture, foreign languages, dreams, passions, you discussed about pretty much anything you could think of and he always seemed to find the perfect ways to make you talk more and more. His eyes were shining in delight whenever you’d say something that he didn’t expect or didn’t know about.

And when he asked you if you’d like to leave and go somewhere more... private, you jumped at the opportunity. His smile spelt trouble, but you had no idea what you were getting yourself into yet.

A short car ride brought the two of you to a 5 star hotel some minutes away from the party’s location, with few words exchanged while the air seemed filled with electricity. As soon as Chrollo parked the car, his hand found itself naturally on the small of your back, gently pushing you through the hotel’s rotating doors and into the large, well-lit and opulently decorated lobby. While you were staring in awe at the impressive decorum and gigantic chandelier seemingly made out of gold and with an abundance of shimmering crystals hanging from its arched arms, Chrollo was asking for his room key card, amused at your look of wonder and excited for what was to come.

You admitted that, when you both got into the pristine elevator that would take you to one of the highest floors, you felt your heart hammer in your chest and the butterflies in your stomach rioting. You were itching to touch Chrollo and the electricity almost seemed palpable as you felt your fingers twitch when the little ding announced your arrival at the desired floor. The two of you got off and Chrollo’s touch once again kept your lower back warm as his fingers pressed lightly into the skin while his other hand opened the door with the key card.

You expected him to pounce on you as soon as the door closed behind the two of you, but he only loosened his tie a bit before taking your hand and leading you into the spacious suite, the large, neatly-done bed with a few rose petals scattered on its plush surface being one of the first things that caught your attention.

“Would you like anything to drink?” Chrollo asked in the same charming voice, as he pointed at the champagne bottle in the ice bucket that sat on a large table against the opposite wall, a white rose next to it. This set-up seemed a bit too well coordinated, too convenient, as if he was expecting something to happen. You guessed with his looks and intelligence, he had every reason to. You snapped yourself out of your thoughts and saw Chrollo looking at you with kind, slightly amused eyes before you nodded your head, your throat feeling too parched for you to utter a word.

His hand and warmth left you as he poured two glasses of champagne before handing you one, both of you clinking them before taking a few sips. Your eyes tried looking everywhere but at the handsome man in front of you, feeling a bit awkward to be in his presence alone. You felt like prey while his eyes studied you as if he was a predator thinking of the best ways to get to you. He put his glass down and did the same to yours before his arms encircled your waist, pressing you flush against his warm body. And as he started pulling you towards the large bed and turned you around at the last moment to push you down onto your back, you noticed the bandage covering his forehead slowly coming undone. Chrollo pulled further on his loosened tie until he pulled it off completely and threw it on the carpeted floor, before the bandage followed, allowing you to see the cross tattoo on the soft skin of his forehead. His dark blue pinstripe blazer was the last piece of clothing to come off before he rolled the sleeves of his black, silk dress shirt to his elbows. God, he really was attractive.

The look his eyes gave off was one of absolute power as his fingers started going over the skin of your calves softly, inching their way under your dress, before his fingers gripped your thighs and pulled you further down the bed until your legs were around his hips.

“When were you planning on telling me?” He asked in a honeyed voice as he came closer to you, pushing you further down as his lips ghosted over the skin of your neck and his hands held your wrists firmly.

“Tell you what?” You batted your eyelashes at him innocently as Chrollo’s fingertips seemed to get colder.

“Don’t play games with me, (Y/N). Why can’t I use my Nen? What did you do?” He asked, his teeth biting gently at your pulse point making you chuckle. His smile was a bit colder and you could see a bit of annoyance make itself known as the corner of his mouth twitched when he heard your chuckle.

“Now, why would you worry about that? What we were about to do didn’t have anything to do with your Nen, did it, Chrollo?” Your tone was amused as his body pressed even more into yours, trying to make you see nothing else but him and his grey eyes. He wanted you to feel trapped. But it apparently didn’t really work.

You gasped dramatically and his eye twitched slightly. “Oh my, were you planning on using your Nen on me? How rude of you! And here I thought you were a gentleman.” You could only sigh in mock sadness as you pouted. Chrollo’s grip on your hands got stronger at this.

“How did you know?”

“Oh? Hmm, who knows~ I just had a feeling about you. You’re not as subtle as you think you are, you know?” You winked. You wouldn’t tell him that you saw the handprint on his book and that his interest in other people’s Nen was a bit too straightforward. Also, the rumours... Few, true, but they all said the same thing: after talking with a young man, somehow, some people’s Nen would disappear. Most couldn’t really remember exactly who the young man was or how he looked like or what they did prior to losing their Nen. But it was enough to ring some bells and you felt... something during the party, before Chrollo approached you. Like something... moving in the air.

Maybe the others were too intoxicated to realise that what they were saying and doing was pretty much their undoing. But apparently, your hesitance to tell Chrollo more about your Nen piqued his interest in you and your power. It was kind of funny, now that you thought about it. Right now, Chrollo’s eyes moved across your face, calculating his next move carefully. There was definitely more to you than meets the eye. And while he could appreciate that and enjoy the chase, he was also vexed because of your stubbornness. He hadn’t dealt with something like this in a while.

“Well then, Chrollo, if you won’t show me a good time, then I’d like to leave and get on with my life.” You knew that your strength was probably way lower than his, but that didn’t stop you from trying to think of a way to get him to let go of your wrists so you could leave already. You weren’t really that scared of him because your Nen was something he needed and with how stubborn you were, not even torture would make you talk. Others had tried before and yet, here you were. Still alive and still having your Nen.

“Oh, really now?” He whispered, his face so close to yours that your noses touched. You only nodded, definitely feeling how excited he had become. How many people usually managed to fool him and also keep him interested? Probably not many.

Your legs locked at the ankles as you only pressed him closer to you, hearing a little hiss leave his lips in response before you kissed him. It wasn’t much, but his grip around your wrists weakened and you brought your hands to his, lacing your fingers together. Chrollo only hummed, grinding over you and squeezing your hands tighter. If he wanted to feel as if he was dominating you and getting somewhere with this whole charade, then so be it.

He almost moaned when you bit his lip gently, before separating yourself from him to breathe and allowing him to move downwards and mark your neck. Just because you wouldn’t allow him to take your Nen didn’t mean you couldn’t indulge yourself in this moment of pleasure and let your body feel his ministrations. Chrollo definitely knew what he was doing. Too bad for him that it wasn’t enough to cloud your mind.

“Hey, Chrollo?”

“Hmm?“ He moved his face to yours again, staring into your eyes. He loved this look on you: dishevelled, with your body underneath his and your breathing ragged because of him.

“I’m sorry.” You said, and before he could comprehend what had happened, he was rolling off you on his side, clutching his head. You didn’t have time to hiss in pain before you were getting up and slightly stumbling to your feet, ready to get the hell out of there. And people called you hard-headed. Sheesh, this guy’s head must’ve been made out of steel then.

Before you could reach the door, you felt a huge pressure on your back before you were sprawled out on your stomach, wheezing. You tried getting up but only felt his foot on your back, keeping you down. He crouched down before pulling on your shoulder, turning you to face him. His smile was gone and the skin where his tattoo was was red, swollen and bleeding a bit. Chrollo crawled over your body, pinning your arms dows as his calves kept them glued to your sides and you felt almost all of his weight settle on your ribcage, making it harder for you to breathe. If this would’ve been a normal situation, you would’ve probably found this position really hot.

Still, even as you were trying to get air back into your lungs, you could only chuckle. Chrollo tilted his head at you, a cold smile on his lips.

“What is so amusing, darling?” He asked, curious about your reason. If you were losing it or were hysterical from fear, maybe you’d talk sooner.

“You.” That’s it. That was your reason. This whole situation. The fact that he would probably go to such lengths just to get you to talk about your Nen so he could have it. Chrollo’s eye twitched as he watched you laugh.

Weird, stubborn, intelligent girl. You weren’t going to give in so easily, huh?

“I know what you’re thinking Chrollo. And believe me when I tell you this: if you think I’ll give you what you want that easily... You’ve got another thing coming.” You stared straight into his grey eyes with a smile on your face. He was smart and stubborn.

But so were you.

#hxh #hunter x hunter #hunter x hunter x reader #hunter x reader #chrollo #chrollo lucilfer #chrollo x reader #chrollo lucilfer x reader #hxh chrollo #hxh writing

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zerooclockimagines · 4 years

Text

Red Wine: Chapter 1

A series with Taehyung as the love interest but all members are in it (with some interesting side stories)

Warnings: mostly fluff so no warnings I guess.

Synopsis: Katie loves writing, her short essay wins an international competition and thus she gets to write the biography of the most famous band in the world; BTS. She has a lot of bagage and obstacles to overcome but along with her charming best friend Tara and seven sweet men she finds the world is not as bad as she thought, especially when she starts falling for one of them.

When I looked at each of their faces I saw their curiosity. They were searching me, searching for signs of what kind of person I was. I did the same. They stood up one by one and introduced themselves to me. Seokjin and Namjoon looked like decent guys, they even made a little smalltalk. Hoseok seemed, enthusiastic was the best word to describe it. He immediately pulled me in for a hug instead of shaking my hand.

Yoongi and Jimin looked like sweet but shy guys. They shook my hand, said their names and hurried back to their places. I guess it would take some time for them to get to know and trust me. I mean I think I would react the same if it was me in their place. There were only two of them that remained seated.

But maybe I should give you some background so you can understand what exactly is happening.

So I'm Catherine, Katie for short. I'm born and raised in a small town somewhere in the north of Belgium. If you don't know it, you probably have never heard of it. It was the kind of village where everyone knew everyone and the one night stand between a daughter of the butcher and the son of the mayor was the biggest news in months.

I was the kind of girl you wouldn't notice often. I liked to stay in the background. I had friends for sure but there wouldn't be any town gossip about me anytime soon.

For the public I grew up in a normal family but behind closed doors things happened the town knew nothing about. The relationship with my parents wasn't all that great. Luckily I lived alone now, well with my boyfriend. His name is Dean. He wasn't exactly my fairytale prince but he liked me, so that's something I guess.

We had been together for two years now. We had gone through really bad weather but there were also good times. I didn't know if I was really in love with him but I thought I was, I wanted to believe I was.

And then there was Tara, my best friend since I was about ten years old. She was nine at the time but she skipped a grade because she was a smart kid. I don't exactly remember how our friendship started. I just remember it being there and that was that.

She's always there for me no matter what. I was so grateful to have her in my life. She's the one who pushed me to enter this writing competition which brought me here.

The international essay writing competition. You had to send in a short story based on information they had sent you, a mini biography so to say. The winner got to go on tour with the biggest K-pop group of the moment to write their biography. I didn't know much about them, BTS I mean, only from what I had researched but they seemed kind though.

Okay so that's enough information for now, let me get back to my story. Where was I? Oh yes:

I believe one of the guys that remained seated was the youngest one, Jungkook, he looked like he was shy or he couldn't be bothered. He took one look at me, said his name and continued playing the game on his phone.

There was one boy who didn't even look up. I could only mark his black curls coming out from behind a thick novel. I couldn't see the title but it had to be a compelling story because he only looked up after the man who had guided me here called his name about five times. "Taehyung would you be as kind to greet our guest please?" He lifted his voice and tapped Taehyung on his shoulder.

Finally he lifted his eyes and looked at me. He was handsome you could give him that.

"Oh, hi sorry, this novel is rather compelling." He explained. He smiled, what a gorgeous smile that was. "I'm Taehyung." He said. "Catherine." I told him in return. "Nice to meet you Catherine." I gave him a polite nod and he went back to his novel. I had to say I applaud him for getting into the story so deep. I knew how it could be to get sucked into a novel and forget everything around you. That was probably what he was trying to achieve so I should let him be.

"Shall I take you to your room miss?" The older man, I had already forgotten his name, said. I nodded. "Of course." I turned around and followed him. I could feel eyes staring at me but I didn't let them know I knew.

The man brought me to a large room with a small balcony, honestly you could fit an entire family in here. The bed was king-sized and curtains draped around it. It could've come straight out of an middle aged TV-show or something.

The rest of the room was even more impressive. There was a desk in front of a large window with an incredible view of the city and a sofa on the opposite site. The fabric on the sofa looked so soft I wanted to dive in immediately but I restrained to do that in front of somebody.

"And over here is your bathroom." The man told me. He held open a door opposite to the large bed.

The bathroom was even more impressive than the room itself. There was a enormous walk-in shower and a bathtub. Well it was more a hot tub judging by the size of it. "We're staying here for another week but you should be packed by next friday, then we leave for Barcelona." I nodded. I loved Barcelona, it would be amazing to go there again. I hoped that next to my work I would be able to see some sights again. It had been such a long time since I had seen the Sagrada Familia or even parc Guell.

The man, whose name I still couldn't remember, had left and I started to set up my workspace. I took out my laptop and charger and placed it outside on the table instead of the desk. It was such beautiful weather, it would be a shame to stay inside. I also took out my notebook and favourite coffee mug and placed the them on the table.

After I got some coffee and biscuits I sat down and stared at the view.

Rome stretched out in front of me. It was such a beautiful city. You could feel like living in a story here. The buildings were probably centuries old and the squares dated back to the middle ages. I could see the markets that were held there long ago.

Now the squares were filled with people, mostly tourists.

"Enjoying the view?" A deep voice said behind me.

My coffee almost spilled all over me but I was just in time to set it on the table. "You scared me." I sputtered. "I'm sorry that was not my intention." He sat down beside me, his novel still in his hands. "I'm sorry I didn't greet you properly just now." He pointed to the direction of the other room. "It's just that when I get caught up in a novel I tend-"

"To forget the world." I put in. "I know the feeling." He smiled and stared into the city. "It is beautiful view, isn't it?" I looked at Rome again. "Yes it is." He turned his head back to me. "Sorry about my friends. They are just a little bit reserved but they'll warm up to you once they get to know you." I chuckled. "What about you?"

"I took a head start." He winked. "You're writing a book about our lives, it's better to be friends with you is it not?" He grinned and I let out a soft laugh. "I suppose it is."

"Great, I needed a friend anyway." He put down his book on the table. "Well besides those pigs." He joked. I laughed along with him.

"Maybe we should get us some drinks." He proposed. "Do you drink wine?"

"Yes, I love wine, especially red."

"You read my mind." Taehyung stood up and left.

He came back a few minutes later with a bottle of red wine and two glasses.

"Well this is one thing I can scrap of my bucket list." I said while he opened the bottle and poured the wine. "Meeting us?" He teased. "No, it's rather silly."

"Come on I don't bite." He sat down and took a sip of his wine. "To drink wine on a balcony in Italy. I know it's silly." I took a big sip from my glass. The wooden aromas of the wine filled my mouth. "It's not silly. What other things are on that list?" He wondered. I saw the chimmer in his eyes and the soft smile on his lips, he really wanted to know. he wasn't mocking me.

And for some reason I felt like I could tell him anything. "Fine, just a few though." I took another sip from my wine before speaking. "I want to see the northern lights." He nodded. "See that's not silly at all, I would also love to see the northern lights one day." The corners of his lips rose. I continued: "To see the the niagara falls." I paused for a minute. "To dance with someone on the pont d'alexandre in Paris." Out of the corner of my eye I could see him looking at me. There was something in his stare I couldn't quite make out. Admiration maybe?

"To follow route 66 along America, to sing in the rain in London." I finished. There were another hundred things on my list but he didn't need to know every one of them, we just met. "In other words, you want to see the world." He pointed out. "I do."

"Well then you chose the right job." He smirked. I chuckled. "I guess I did." We looked at the view again and drank the rest of our glasses. "So what about you?" I asked him. "Why do you do what you do?" He took a minute to think about his answer. "I just love it. I love singing, I love dancing and I love to make other people happy by doing it." He sighted. "Isn't that why all artist do it? To bring a little happiness into the world?" I lifted my shoulders. "I don't know but that was a great answer." He laughed and that showed his full smile.

It was a weird smile in the shape of a rectangle. A sort of boxy-ish smile. I kind of adored it though. It made his face light up like he was the happiest man to be alive. "Okay so I have a question for you before I decide I can be friends with you." Taehyung winked. "How do you feel about dogs?" I chuckled.

"I love dogs." I replied. "I used to have one." I could see the hint of a smile on his face telling me I had chosen the right answer. "What kind?" He asked. "A golden retriever, Olly. I still miss him sometimes." I sighted. "I just miss having a loyal best friend around." I continued. "Then why not get one?"

"Because my boyfriend doesn't really like dogs that much." He almost choked on his wine. "I'm sorry?" He said next. "What kind of monster are you dating?" I laughed. "The things one does for love." He shook his head but didn't say anything else. I was kind of relieved about that, I wasn't really ready to discuss the details of my love life with someone who was a stranger to me four hours ago.

We ended up just talking for hours about our lives. It felt as if I'd known him for years even though we'd just known each other half a day.

#bts series #taehyung series #kim taehyung #bts fanfction #kim taehyung fanfiction #btstae #kpop series #bts v fanfic #btsv #fanfiction #kim taehyung series #bts fluff #Bangtan imagines #bangtan boys #bangtan series #bangtan fluff #taehyung fluff #v fluff #kim taehyung fluff

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tirednotflirting · 4 years

Text

french press on the kitchen counter - a.i.

i recognize the severity of all that is going on in the world and i encourage all of you to please stay home and away from the humans you don’t already interact with on a day to day basis. my late night wine-tipsy fluff should not in any way encourage you to seek out additional company during these quarantined times.

I wrote most of this on sunday/monday and actually posted for about five min mon night and then ash put out that video and we were all concerned and i felt eh about putting out content then but now that we have a video of him dancing with a puppy in his lap i feel better so-

tagging @aspiringwildfire bc i actually started this before falling asleep after we talked fic and yelled about the guys for a bit the other night. thnx for the late night writing party <3

stay healthy and happy. xx

wc: ~ 1.4k

as she let her eyes blink open from sleep, she found herself asking a silent question that had become a standard to most mornings: was that the sound of rain pattering against the wall of windows in the living room or drum sticks against a practice pad once again left on the coffee table?

she closed her eyes and focused on the noise. while it mostly sounded like the white noise of a spring rain, there was something distinctly rhythmic behind it that led her to believe it might be a rare morning when she got both. she sat up slowly against her pillows in the room darkened by black out curtains, the ones she had begged ashton to buy for the guest room since she had been finding herself often falling asleep at the drummer’s house after parties and nights out since they had met some several months earlier.

their friendship had been an easy one. a friend of a friend had invited her to a house party just a few weeks after she had moved to the city, insisting this was the best crew in la to spend time with. upon meeting the hazel-eyed host of the party, the two of them found miles of common ground and spent the whole night chatting about her new master’s program and their shared adoration for the city she had recently moved from. she was added to all of the group texts before the night was over and as the weeks went on, she often found herself on ashton’s living room floor, leaning against the couch with a beer in hand, teaching her favorite party games to this glittery, talented crew of artists that had adopted her into their circle.

given the near ever-present place they had in each other’s lives during the first few months of 2020, it wasn’t all that surprising to her when she received a call from ashton inviting her to quarantine in his home rather than all on her own after hearing that her on-campus studies were to be put on hold for the rest of the semester. they spent enough time around one another that it made sense and the thought of spending at least the next month or so alone in her studio apartment did sound pretty lonely. so she sent him a confirmation text, packed up a bag, and soon found herself sitting shotgun in frankie cruising down the interstate to her new-ish best friend’s quiet home.

that was 8 days ago. since then they had been working their way through dozens of movies and books, taking turns on who cooked and who queued up music on Spotify while sipping on topo chico (sometimes spiked with tito’s and lime). there were nightly facetimes with the band, the two of them squeezing together into the frame to see what everyone else had been up to during the days stuck inside. when he got antsy, she would leave whatever book she was annotating for class to help him rig up a camera to record another drum cover. it was a fine way of living, she supposed, with all of the pain going on in the world beyond his four walls.

she was reflecting on the state of the world (and reminding herself to do her daily news check on her New York Times app) as she padded out to the living room to check if her ears had proved her right today. she turned the corner to find ashton beating away at a dark red practice pad as he faced away from her and towards the windows that were being beat with raindrops by the angry storm clouds above their sunshine city. so she was right.

she didn’t want to scare the man yielding the fast moving sticks so she moved around the far end of the long couch to take a seat beside him. when his eyes landed on her as she rounded the back of the black sofa, noting to himself how small and homey she looked in a tshirt of his she must have stolen to sleep in, he finished the lick he was on and moved the pad from where it had rested on his lap to the coffee table in front of them.

a lazy grin stretched across his scruffy face as he watched her pick up the coffee mug he had filled for her only about ten minutes earlier. after 8 days in the same house, they were starting to learn each other’s routines. setting down his sticks, he lifted the French press he had brought out from the kitchen to top off his own mug before bringing it to his lips and lifted his other arm to allow her to rest comfortably against his chest.

“hope i didn’t wake you, love,” he mumbled, his first words out loud of the day coming out groggier than he anticipated.

he felt her hum against his chest after she took another sip of the hot, pleasantly bitter brew. “nah, my body could feel the rain and knew it was time to see the world.”

“not much to see beyond my backyard, unfortunately,” he replied, his head falling to rest against the top of her own.

he felt her smile against his chest through the fabric of the old, worn tshirt he had thrown on after rising that morning. “ah, well,” she mused, “who needs anything beyond that anyway.”

they both remained quiet for a few moments, not quite sure where to go from there. his calloused fingers drew shapes against the skin on her arm that his fingers could reach as he sipped from his mug. she sat up some and his arm fell from around her shoulders to her waist as she tossed her sock clad feet over his lap. “tell me about paris today?”

this had become another regular activity in their days shacked up together. she would think of a big, beautiful city she had always dreamed of traveling to and, after remembering that he had gone on a few world tours and had probably been to most of them, she would get him to tune into his nostalgic side to tell her stories of his travels with his brothers.

he squeezed her hip before moving to stand. he grabbed the French press and both of their (now cool and nearly empty) mugs. “paris will need more coffee,” he nodded his head toward the kitchen. “come on.”

in the kitchen she jumped up onto the island and let her legs swing back and forth as she watched him refill the kettle and exchange the old coffee grounds for new as he started his stories. he told her about andy convincing all of them to take cheesy pictures with roses in front of the eiffel tower in the night time and about what he tried at the different bakeries and cafes he had discovered in their few trips there. he recalled on a fashion show they had all attended at one point and smiled with his eyes as he spoke fondly of their first trip to the louvre.

she wiped tears of laughter from her eyes after he finished the story of how they all tricked luke into eating snails during their first trip to the city of love as he stepped between her legs to hand her a fresh mug of coffee. neither thought anything of it as he stayed at that spot and gently set his own mug beside her bare thigh on the counter to wrap his arms lazily around her waist. the counter has leveled the playing field on their height difference so after taking a big sip from the mug, she mirrored his actions except letting her arms lay across his shoulders. “once this is all over and done with, we should take a trip,” she hummed, her fingers playing with the soft hair at the back of his neck.

“to paris?” he teased.

she pouted at him, her eyes rolling some. “no, silly, just somewhere.”

“why do you wanna go somewhere with me?” he was fishing, he knew that. but as he allowed himself to wrap his arms more fully around his still somewhat new friend’s waist, he couldn’t help but wonder if all of this time together had her feeling the same way that he did.

she looked into his hazel eyes with a content look to her own. “you tell the best stories,” she responded easily. “best people to go through life with are ones that know how to tell you a good story.”

and as a smile spread slowly across the drummer’s face, he couldn’t help but look forward to all the stories he would get to write with her.

#ashton irwin #ashton irwin one shot #ashton irwin fic #ashton irwin fanfic #ashton irwin blurb #ashton irwin blurbs #5sos #5sos fic #5sos fanfic #5sos blurb #5 seconds of summer #will i ever learn how to use tags for their intended purpose?#also sorry i suck at titles i swear it'll get better one day

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personne-reblogs · 4 years

Note

Hello! Idk if you still accepting ficlet prompt or not, but if you do, would you mind if I request a combination of 2 fluff prompts between 52. “i’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.” and 18. “are you that desperate?” “for you, yes.”, for OPM ship Batarou? Thank you very much 🙏💖

Whoopsie, I went a little wild with this one... well, you didn’t give me any word count and I was very inspired by the shameless flirt so I included prompts 55, 61, 62 and 63 as well. Thanks Anon, I had so much fun!! Hope y’all will like it!

Fandom: One Punch Man Ship: Batarou Word count: 4k Summary: Lately, Badd has been haunted by a ghost. Kinda. It looks like a guy with white spiky hair, but Badd's the only one to see it. It's following him everywhere, and it's able to help him fight monsters, and it Won't. Stop. Flirting.

Read under the cut or read on AO3!

A Ghost Story

***

There have been better days, Badd sighs to himself. The rain that ruined his carefully stylished hair this morning, the Hero Association meeting that took his entire afternoon, the busy traffic that almost made him late for his ice cream appointment with Zenko, the empty fridge that has him walking to the nearest nightshop at this late hour.

“You look amazing tonight,” a predatory voice purrs behind him.

Ah, yes. And the ghost that has been following him for days and won’t shut the fuck up.

“You’re still here, huh?” Badd asks without thinking, and immediately regrets it.

“Not like I’ve got anywhere else to be, dumbass,” the ghost replies, and Badd suddenly feels tired. He’s heard this shit, like, a thousand times already, and it’s been less than a week. “You should have registered by now. Nobody’s that stupid.”

“Hey, watch it, asshole,” Badd grunts defensively. “‘s been a long day, okay?”

“Oh yeah? How come I didn’t see any of that?”

There’s a smirk in the ghost’s tone, and Badd doesn’t even need to turn around to know there’s a teasing look printed on its face.

“Not every hard day is about fighting, y’know. Regular human stuff is exhausting too.”

“Right,” the ghost says, and there’s a pout in that.

Badd walks through the night shop's door and automatically goes for the drink aisle. He knows the ghost comes in too, but it mercifully keeps quiet.

It first appeared after Badd killed a random tiger-level monster on his way back from Zenko’s school. It has the form of a dude with strange white, spiky hair. A dude who looks like he practises a lot of sport - something contact-ish, martial arts, maybe. At first Badd thought it really was a random guy that had arrived after the monster was dead, but then the thing had followed him everywhere, claiming it was stuck with him, and Badd had realized he was the only one to see it. Creepy.

Now the ghost - that’s all Badd can think of to describe it - is part of his life, whether he likes it or not. It usually appears at night, when it’s dark outside, maybe cuz it doesn’t like daylight or some shit. Except it also appears each time Badd is in a fight. Even in plain day. Hell if he knows why.

“Keep the change,” he tells the cashier before heading back home with a fresh bottle of coke. He’s addicted to it these days. Can’t sleep early, so he might as well treat himself with something sweet while he endures endless conversations with the thing.

“I’ve always wanted to try it,” the ghost says conversationally as soon as they’re out in the street, because of course it won’t keep quiet any longer. God, Badd feels so tired.

“I’d gladly share it with you, but, you know,” he replies as mockingly as he can, turning around and slightly shaking the bottle before opening it and taking a long sip. He makes a show of savouring it just because he can and the thing can’t. It can’t touch anything real, actually, and isn’t that a fucking ghost thing?

Except it does manage to hit monsters in fights. It has happened before. Weird.

The ghost narrows its eyes at him and crosses its arms, but a twisted smile stretches its lips.

“Yeah, but you offered anyways. See? You’re cute when you’re half asleep.”

It really Won’t. Stop. Teasing.

Will it?

***

It’s two in the afternoon when he gets a call from the Hero Association. There’s a demon level threat across town, he’s the closest S-class hero around. He immediately goes to the location they sent him - he was bored anyway.

He’s surprised by the looks of the monster once he’s there. For its level, it happens to be… small, actually. Not even the size of a human being. It jumps in and out of sight, hides behind public bins, and destroys buildings as if they were nothing.

Shit. That one’s gonna be a pain in the ass.

“Fucking finally,” an unexpected, hungry voice hisses behind him, and he realizes he almost forgot about The Thing.

It’s been two entire weeks and he almost bloody forgot.

“Stay outta my way,” Badd orders, his grip tightening on his bat, his eyes searching the place to find the monster back. It’s gonna be complicated enough without the ghost distracting him.

“Yeah, right,” the voice laughs next to him.

“Dude, I really have no time for yer -”

He stops mid-sentence because there is suddenly a building collapsing beside him, and he doesn’t even have time to swear before he gets a glimpse of the monster across the street. It seems like it is avoiding contact, staying out of reach -

And then, in a blur, the ghost rushes past him to throw itself on the monster.

Literally.

He can’t make out what happens after that, not amongst the dust from the demolition, so he runs after them.

When he finds them back, the monster lies motionless on the floor. The ghost is casually sitting on a rubble, an arm thrown around its knee, a ferocious smile spreading wide on its face.

“Gosh, I’ve missed this,” it says as if it were talking about going for a walk in the sun.

It looks that refreshed, at least. Neat.

“What the shit?!” Badd barks, because even though he’s impressed, he doesn’t like losing control of the situation.

“Not the first time I give you a hand, you know. No big deal.”

“I would’ve handled this perfectly well on my own, thank you very much.”

“Yeah, and you would’ve destroyed the entire fucking city, so, you’re welcome.”

“Ghost, I swear -”

“Oh, honey, I thought we were past that,” the ghost says with an exaggerated hurt look.

“Past what?” Badd asks confusedly.

“I have a name, you know.”

“No, I don’t.”

“What?”

The ghost looks genuinely surprised, and it shouldn’t, but it makes Badd feel extremely satisfied.

“You never mentioned it. Your name.”

“I - really?”

The ghost shakes its head with an incredulous chuckle. It gets up from the rubble, comes a few steps closer, and presents Badd its hand.

“Call me Garou.”

Badd shouldn’t try to shake that hand. It doesn’t exist. His own hand would pass through it and he’d look like a fucking moron.

But he’s curious, so he does it anyway.

And it turns out it feels exactly like a regular handshake.

“Hi. I’m Badd.”

***

He his a martial art type of guy.

Badd has seen him in enough fights to know for sure now. It’s not just the vibe and the looks - whenever they’re in a fight, the ghost Garou uses sharp, precise techniques Badd could only dream of.

Not that he’s interested in martial arts, but he has to admit it’s quite effective.

Especially when Garou single-handedly brings strong ass opponents down like that.

Hot.

“Pfff, no fun,” Garou sighs, disappointed, before coming back to Badd. He always does. Something to do with him being physically unable to wander too far away from his human host, or some shit.

“It isn’t supposed to be fun, but whatever,” Badd points out while poking at his own enemy with his bat, just to check. It’s dead alright.

“You say that because you’re not strong enough to have a good time.”

“Right,” Badd says. He has given up on reacting to Garou’s teasing. It’s no use.

“Maybe you’d be more useful in fights if you weren’t so busy staring at me,” Garou goes on.

Badd only raises a very unamused eyebrow at him.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice,” his ghost insists with that stupid, smug expression of his. He even - wait, was that a bloody wink?

“Urgh, I’m gonna be sick,” Badd tiredly mumbles as he turns around to leave the scene. Now that the fight is over, Garou will soon disappear for the rest of the day. Meanwhile, there’s a piano recital Badd needs to attend.

To be honest, he’s getting used to this whole ghost thing. Garou can handle himself in a fight. Hell, he can even be of some real use, Badd has to give him that.

Such a shame he’s that much of a big mouth. It’s been almost a month now, and his lame pickup lines still exhaust him.

***

When the evening is quiet and the weather is soft, Badd loves to just sit on the wooden stairs behind his house and chill. Zenko often joins him, and they chat, or she just reads a book until it’s time for her to get to bed.

That time was half an hour ago. Now Badd is alone with Tama, purring loudly in his lap as he pets her, and he simply enjoys doing nothing.

He doesn’t really notice the nightfall.

“It’s late,” a familiar voice says in a sugar-coated tone. “Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

Badd tilts his head to find his ghost in his usual sitting position, one elbow casually resting on his knee, a few steps higher.

He recognizes the question for what it actually is: an attempt at starting some small talk. He’s not in the mood, so he shrugs, and suppresses a grimace when the gesture makes his bandaged shoulders sting a bit. Then he shifts to find a more comfortable position and resumes petting Tama without answering.

Garou doesn’t insist. Nice.

They spend a moment like that, in silence, and with the light breeze brushing his washed hair, Badd thinks he could fall asleep right there. The adrenaline of the fight he’s had this afternoon has finally worn off, and he feels tired, but in a good way - it’s a physical weariness, not the nervous tension he’s been used to lately.

After a while, his ghost is talking again, and it would annoy Badd if not for the genuine curiosity in his voice.

“Just wanted to ask, about earlier… How did you do that?”

“What d’ya mean?”

“I saw that monster beat the shit out of you,” Garou says, and he sounds suspicious. “You were out, man. How the fuck did you get up and win after that?”

“Not thanks to you, asshole,” Badd groans, but there isn’t any bite to it. He’s actually smirking a little.

“That kind of brute? Not my style,” his ghost snorts with a disgusted expression. “Besides, I wanted to see how you’d manage without me, and… shit, I still don’t know what I’ve seen.”

Badd doesn’t know what he’s done to make an impression on fucking Killing Machine Garou, but hell if he doesn’t secretly feel very pleased.

“Just some good old fighting spirit,” he replies in a carefully neutral tone.

“Come again?”

“Y’know. When you get all angry at stuff. Makes you go wild.”

“You… were angry,” Garou repeats incredulously.

“Well, duh! Wasn’t gonna let that jackass waste any more of my time,” Badd explains blandly, and he doesn’t get what’s so hard to understand.

He turns to watch Garou, and catches him staring right back, eyes wide in a shocked expression. Then the ghost bursts out laughing, and it startles Badd, because it isn’t one of his damn chuckles: it’s an actual, full-throated laugh.

“What?” he asks, not knowing if he should feel cheerful or offended.

“You’re really something else,” Garou wheezes, theatrically pretending to wipe a tear away. “Man, I wish you’d killed my last host sooner - where were you all this time?!”

“You mean, that tiger level monster back when I met ya?”

“Yep,” Garou nods, sobering up a little. “I’ve been stuck with it for years. Never been so bored in my whole sorry existence. The bastard spent most of its time hiding from humans.”

“Why didn’t you kill it?”

“Because I can’t, obviously. I can touch my hosts, but I’m physically unable to harm them. I thought you’d figured that much out,” Garou explains, and his voice is regaining its teasing tone already.

“So that’s why you still haven’t tried to killed me,” Badd deadpans, feeling a little more up for banter than a moment ago.

“That, and also, who would you talk to if you didn’t have me?”

“Yeah, yeah, let’s pretend I’m not the one who’d kick your ass, why don’t we.”

“SAY WHAT??”

***

Garou doesn’t know exactly where he is during the day, when his host isn’t involved in a fight. Time passes differently, and for the most of it, he isn’t really conscious. It’s like he’s in some kind of stasis. And then, when he’s awake, he’s full of energy in a way humans probably can’t imagine. He wants to talk, to run, to explode and to scream. He wants to exist.

That’s why he likes fighting so much. It makes him feel useful. It makes him feel real. It’s the proof that he can leave his mark on a world he sometimes doubts he’s a part of. He’s had countless years to train, and he’s become strong - strong enough that he’s having a good time whatever the enemy.

But, well, fighting isn’t everything. He’s had dozens of hosts, and he’s never been able to walk too far away from them without slipping into his awkward rest mode again - only to find himself stuck with the same host when he wakes up again. Which always turns up to be incredibly boring. Between humans who mostly sleep at night and monsters who sometimes don’t talk at all, Garou has learnt the hard way that he’s, in fact, a talkative guy. And isn’t that a great thing to be when the only being in the whole universe who can see and hear you is your current host?

Garou has had his fair share of boredom, to say the least.

“Hey, dipshit, you awake?”

That’s why he’s more than happy with his new host.

“When have you seen me sleep before?” Garou replies with a playful smirk, tilting his head towards the voice.

It’s dark, and he’s outside, leaning his shoulder against the external wall of the house, arms crossed onto his chest. Badd is standing a few paces further and is giving him a vaguely annoyed look.

“Haven’t heard what I just said, have ya? We’re goin’ for a walk. Come on.”

“Why, babe, it almost sounds like a date,” Garou teases in his cheesiest tone.

“We’re out of food for Tama,” Badd goes on, unbothered, as if Garou hadn’t spoken at all. Damn, he’s good at ignoring him.

“Guess it can’t be helped,” Garou sighs loudly, trying very hard not to give away how eager he actually is to just… do something. Anything.

“Don’t make that face. We’ll make a lil’ detour by that shitty park - you know the one. Who knows what we might find there, at such an hour?” Badd grins, shifting his grip on his bat, and it seems like he’s eager, too.

Yeah, Garou thinks with an amused expression as he follows Badd into the street, that’s got to be his best host ever. Badd does sleep, of course, but far less than the average human - or, well, much later, so there’s that. He’s a hero, so he’s involved in more battles than Garou can count - and he’s good at fighting, in his own way. Not exactly the fast, calculated fighting Garou is used to, but rather a raw, brutal style, with a strength and a resilience that has forced Garou’s admiration more than once (meaning his host probably won’t die on him anytime soon - not that Garou would let that happen, anyway). Last but not least, Badd is fun to talk to, even if Garou’s constant teasing never seems to pull any reaction out of him - and that’s new, because all his previous hosts had let him get to their nerves so easily, but Badd won’t even acknowledge his little game, which is fun, too.

It’s fun because it allows him to push as far as he wants without risking damaging the balance they have found, and the domesticity of it is making him more relaxed than he’s ever been.

The park is quiet and empty when they get there. Garou tries not to feel frustrated, and fails. He’s glad he can stretch his legs a little, but he really could use some action right now. It’s been days since they last were in a fight.

“Shit, we’ll have to actually buy food for your stupid cat, won’t we,” Garou mutters.

“Don’t call her that,” Badd snaps, looking down at his phone. “But yeah, looks like everything’s fine tonight. Let’s go before the nightshop closes.”

So Badd won’t react to shameless flirting, but he will defend his goddamn cat. Garou smiles as he stores the information for later use, and makes to turn around and leave - except he doesn’t.

He suddenly feels like his whole body is being weighed down. He frowns down at his feet and insists.

He stays perfectly still.

“Well, well,” a smug voice says, “That’s a pretty friend you’ve got here, Metal Bat.”

Garou furrows his brow harder. There’s a man approaching - a random dude, all dressed up in a suit, hands in his pockets. On Garou’s left, Badd moves freely to face the newcomer.

“I dunno what yer talkin’ about,” his host says, sounding only mildly annoyed. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Thomas J. Lambert, at your service,” the guy introduces himself with assurance as he comes to a stop right before Badd. His attitude exhales cockiness and audacity. Garou already hates him.

“Never heard of ya,” Badd casually drops, as unimpressed as he always is. Which seems to suck a little of the fun out of the guy. Oh, he’s really good at this.

“Well, let’s just say that I’m an esper with… very specific abilities,” the douchebag goes on, and he sounds just a tad irritated. “I can feel the aura of your pet from miles away,” he adds, not even bothering to glance in Garou’s direction.

What a prick.

“I can hear you, y’know,” Garou interjects.

“And I can interact with it, too. My power is keeping it paralyzed as we talk,” Thomas Jerk What’s-His-Name goes on, and he still won’t spare a glance at Garou. Badd does, though.

“Ya better hurry up and spit out what ya wanna say already,” he mutters, expression halfway between nonplussed and upset.

“It’s simple, really. I can rid you of this parasite - in exchange for financial compensation, naturally.”

“Oi! I’m right here,” Garou repeats louder, because he is beginning to lose his patience. He tries against his invisible restraints, without success.

His host is silent for long enough that Garou looks back up at him, and he is stunned to see Badd is grinning slightly.

Like he finds this whole situation funny.

The bastard.

“I’d make you a special price, of course,” Mr Jackass is still saying. “It would be my pleasure to help a S-Class hero out. What do you say?”

There’s a short silence.

Then Badd makes the most self-satisfied, shit-eating smile Garou has ever seen.

“How much would that be, exactly?”

“YOU ABSOLUTE ASSHO-”

“OKAY! Okay! Jesus,” Badd laughs, before turning back to the guy. “Sorry, fella, that’s… kind of you, I guess? but I’m not interested.”

“Are you certain, sir? Just think about it,” the son of a bitch insists. “I’m sure a hero like you could use a little peace at night.”

“Nah, I’m fine, thanks. Let him go, we’re moving,” Badd says as he begins to walk towards the exit of the park - only for the guy to block his way, hands lifted in a soothing attitude.

“What about the next host, then? Surely you wouldn’t willfully condemn someone to wear that burden after you.”

“Someone would hafta kill me first, and it ain’t for so soon.” Badd is probably starting to feel pissed, because he’s articulating every word distinctly, voice low and threatening. “I said I’m not interested. Let. Him. Go.”

The brat suddenly seems hesitant, but the pressure around Garou’s body doesn’t lessen. What is he playing at? No one in their right mind would want to get on Badd’s ner-

“I didn’t want it to come to this,” the walnut says, and his voice doesn’t sound human at all anymore.

Three things happen simultaneously. The force blocking Garou slightly diminishes, allowing him to take a single, difficult step forward. Badd falls down on one knee, as if he is now being crushed. And the suit of the esper tears itself apart, revealing a slender figure with what looks like a second pair of arms.

A monster.

“Can’t say I was expecting to run into Metal Bat today,” the monster crackles, and its face doesn’t have anything human left either. “But you happen to be linked to a very powerful creature. I need to kill it to absorb its energy.”

“As if,” Garou snarls, taking another heavy step forward, struggling to regain more control over his body. Come on. Come on!

“I can’t have you protecting that thing,” the monster goes on, as if it doesn’t know how to shut the fuck up anymore. “But I don’t mean you any harm. We don’t have to be enemies. I’ll just keep you still while I take care of it.”

From the corner of his eye, Garou sees Badd brace himself on his bat and start to get up, but the monster points a finger at him, and he’s sent back to his knees.

The pressure on Garou loosens up a little more.

That fucker can’t immobilize us both completely, he realizes.

He tentatively straightens himself up and rolls his shoulders. His muscles feel heavy and slow as they strain against the still-there tension, but they obey him. He smirks. I can work with that.

“Your pet is still too weakened to overcome me, any-”

The monster is interrupted as Garou tackles it to the ground.

The close up fight is messy - a bit too much for Garou’s liking. He has to put all his focus on every move he makes, and even like that, he can feel how uncharacteristically slow and weak his attacks are.

“Shit,” he hisses against his better judgement when the monster hits him square in the shoulder. It doesn’t exactly hurt, but it does make him take a step back, and damn, he should have ducked that one.

He knows he should go for the arms. If he could tear one or two off, he’d have more room to use his usual techniques. But the esper knows better than to let Garou get too close, which is infuriating. It constantly jumps just out of reach, and only hits when Garou’s momentum prevents him from reacting in time.

I could use some fucking fighting spirit right now, Garou thinks, and he almost chuckles at the thought. Badd’s style isn’t always the most refined, but in Garou’s position, he’d probably still have enough raw strength to beat the shit out of that motherfucker.

Shame Badd isn’t in Garou’s position. The esper had said it’d concentrate on keeping the hero out of this, which is why Garou can move at all. Big fucking A.

Garou is pulled out of his thoughts as something punches him hard in the stomach, and the hit sends him flying a few feet away. “Dammit,” he swears as he raises to his feet again, reaching to the trail of blood that leaks from his mouth with trembling fingers.

He’s already getting tired.

And the monster only seems to become faster with each passing moment.

Its attacks still aren’t powerful enough to cause any serious injury, but time isn’t playing in Garou’s favor here.

I need to end this, he thinks. The sooner the better. He takes a deep breath and shifts his weight on his feet. He won’t win by his usual ways. He needs to rely less on the speed he currently doesn’t have, and to focus more on the few hits he can land if he wants to -

Right behind him, the monster emits something that might be a giggle, and Garou realizes it’s must closer than he’d thought.

He startles, turns on his heels, puts his guard up and braces himself -

The monster is hit by a metal bat on its side and violently crushes into the trees nearby, leaving greenish, fuming fluids all over the place.

Badd is standing in its place, and his face is maculated in red.

“You’re bleeding,” his host informs him, slightly out of breath.

Garou can’t believe this guy.

“I’m - ?! Dude, your face! What happened?”

“Hit myself,” Badd shrugs, swinging his now red-and-green bat on his shoulder, keeping an eye on the monster’s form where it landed. “To clear my mind of that jerk’s shit.”

“You -”

Garou trails off, because he needs a while to process this. A few paces away, the monster wiggles sluggishly - it isn’t dead yet, as the slight pressure still weighting Garou down should have let him know, and they should go on and finish it now, but he’s too stunned to get a move on.

So instead, he blinks and lets himself slip into more familiar ground as he cracks a flirtatious smile.

“Really? You hit your own head with your fucking bat just to give me a hand?” he grins cockily. “Man, are you that desperate?”

“For you, yes,” Badd states - he doesn’t whisper it, he doesn’t shy away from it, he states it, loud and plain, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Like it doesn’t make Garou suddenly feel warm all over.

For the first time ever, he doesn’t know what to say.

“Oh, so you’re the biggest bloody flirt there is, but I can’t flirt back?” Badd teases him with an all too knowing grin, before casually walking to the monster and delivering it the final blow.

Garou can feel his invisible restrains vanishing, but he still doesn’t know how to move. Or how to talk, for that matter.

“Come on,” Badd laughs as he shakes his bat to rid it of the monster’s gore. “If we run, we can make it to the nightshop in time to buy Tama’s food.”

“Wait-” Garou yells after him. “Wait, did you actually -”

“Come on!” Badd yells back, tone playful, and he’s already gone.

For a few more seconds, Garou just stands there, arms stupidly hanging at his sides, mind gone completely blank. Then a wide, amused, unbelieving smile spreads on his face, and he chases after Badd.

He’s blushing hard, but he can’t bring himself to care.

Badd cares.

And they have all the time in their intertwined lives to figure things out.

#one punch man #opm #ask #prompt #garou #metal bat #badd #batarou #shameless flirt #ghost story #kinda #ficlet #fic #original content

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katjacksonbooks · 4 years

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Ummm, I started this romance last year at some point and then put it away, as I often do. But now that the world feels super bleak (super SUPER bleak? what’s the scale for everything sucks and I hate it all?) I’ve decided to add this story to my list of things I want to finish soon-ish. (I mean, it’s me tho, so what does soon even mean?)

Anyway, if you want to read a preview of Alien Escape (erotic ffm) and meet Drea, a girl with big dreams and a plan to get as far away from her toxic parents as she can, read on!

CW: allusions to domestic violence and emotional abuse

Also, if you’re wondering if I really have face inspiration for an alien couple, the answer is yes. I do! Y’all should watch Star Trek: Discovery!

Prologue

“Shut up!”

“You shut up! All you do is come in here and whine like a baby until you get your way.”

“When have I ever gotten my damn way in this fucking house? I work my fingers to the bone—”

“Where? When? Doing what?”

“Oh, fuck you! Someone’s gotta keep food on the table in this damn place—”

That’s about when I tune them out. My parents have the same fight every three to four days, like clockwork. It’s not really about anything, or not about anything specific; they just like to fight and really dislike each other. Mom hates living in Ohio, and she’ll never forgive dad for moving us out here. Dad hates living in Ohio too, but he refuses to admit that this was ever his idea. Money’s tight. There’s nothing to do. Neither of them can keep a job. Somehow, this is all my fault.

Different day, same bullshit, and why I don’t bother listening.

We all learn things from our parents, and mine taught me early and often that we all have lots of times in our lives when we can make decisions to not stay with people we barely know and can’t stand. My parents had more roads to escape than most.

My life as I know it might never have happened if their casual fling — without birth control, because dad didn’t believe in it — hadn’t turned into an unexpected, but obviously expected, pregnancy. That could have been a wakeup call, followed by a visit to a Planned Parenthood and an important life lesson learned, except mom was from a hardcore born-again family and didn’t believe in birth control or abortions. She believed in premarital sex, though, so I’m still trying to make sense of that faith system, but the damage was done. The damage being the mess those two made of my childhood because, even though they could have decided to co-parent or something, they apparently felt compelled to stay together. Why? I’ll never know, and I’m convinced they don’t know, either. My earliest self-realization wasn’t “This fucker took my nose!”, it was “My parents see me as a burden.” Can you imagine? Being barely old enough to sit up without wobbling and knowing, somehow, deep in your bones, that the two people who should love you unconditionally, don’t? It’s not a great life, just in case you need to see it in black and white. To my parents, I was just another mouth to feed, the thing that kept them bound to this person they hated more each day. Their entire relationship and my entire existence were just one bad decision after another, and the soundtrack to my entire life has just been this same argument.

They bickered all over New York in the almost-identical shoebox apartments they could just about afford, during our road trip West and ever since we settled in Akron. They don’t even like each other enough to shake up these knock-down, drag-out fights. Maybe a cheating accusation here, or a “Who ate the last piece of chicken?” there, but other than that, nothing.

The most interesting part of my life was that year just before they finally decided to move to Ohio. Dad had tried to feed me and mom some fairytale about how life would be different here — fewer people, better housing, more trees, less pollution and a stronger family unit. I never believed it, because in each of the yarns he spun, I was still with them — both of them — and there’s no happily ever after with them around; not for me, at least. But mom had been swayed, and next thing I knew, we were in a beat-up Ford truck, the entirety of our belongings packed precariously in the bed and heading West. Surprise of all surprises, none of dad’s stories had been true.

Well, okay, let me be fair. There are technically fewer people in Akron than the Bronx, and the house we’ve been renting since we arrived is bigger than those small New York apartments, but besides that, my parents’ dysfunctional relationship and my shitty life are business as usual.

There were more trees when we got here, but I’m not giving dad credit for that since most of them were cut down about a year after we arrived to make room for the new pipeline running right through our backyard. That’s why the rent’s so cheap.

My parents fight about that, too.

The move wasn’t a Band-Aid to their relationship, and it certainly didn’t make my life better — not that anyone was worried about me — and as far as my parents are concerned, every problem in their life is my fault. They fight about it regularly and then circle right back around to being united against me, and that’s why as soon as mom banged the pot of spaghetti on the kitchen table, I scarfed down my portion and excused myself immediately.

Their problems aren’t my fault, I know that, but there’s no reasoning with them. It’s best to just disappear. I headed upstairs to my room with a mumbled “homework” and waited. Once I heard them start sniping at one another, I did what I always do and climbed up to the attic and out onto the roof. This is the only place where I feel safe, emotionally, if not physically. If I’m being honest, I really shouldn’t be up here. It’s slippery, and a bunch of the tiles are a good gust of wind away from falling off, but if my choices are inside my parents’ house and up here, the roof wins every time.

Out here, there’s enough space to escape my parents’ incessant fighting. The late spring air is a marked change from the stifling, probably not-quite-safe gas heat in our house. On a clear night, I can stand on the eastern edge of the roof and see all the way downtown, not that there’s much to see there. I mean, I can see the marquis of the Burger King where I work, but I’m not interested in that, so I usually look in the opposite direction. There’s not much to see there either, just a few farmhouses surrounded by large fields and the pipeline.

But I’m not looking at any of that. I put my earbuds in my ears, turn my music up as loud as it goes and lay back on the roof to stare at the clear, dark blue sky. Sometimes, I haul my sketch book up here to draw, or pull my old astronomy textbook out and try to identify the constellations, but whatever I do, I say a prayer that my singular wish will come true. All I want is to get as far away from my parents as fast as I can.

My classmates are preparing for college, and lots of them want to enlist, but my only real goal post-graduation is to get away. I’ve worked out any number of escape routes up here. Instinctually, I know that I can’t just move to Columbus or Detroit. Those cities aren’t far enough away, and I’ve long been worried that my parents’ obvious co-dependency means that I need to put some serious miles between us if I want to have a chance at real freedom.

I toyed with the idea of leaving the country, but Burger King money doesn’t stretch nearly that far. Right now, I’m making just enough to give my parents one of my checks a month to help with household bills — and keep them off my back — and split the second between my cellphone bill and savings account. After three years, I have enough money saved to absolutely get the fuck out of Akron in exactly six months on my eighteenth birthday, and I plan to do exactly that, but I’m still working out the kinks in my escape route.

I’ve done the math, and I can either buy a decent used car or a plane ticket to California. Every time my dad comes home and tells mom that his paycheck was docked for calling in or mom hides yet another online delivery from dad, I’m tempted to go for the plane ticket, but I usually talk myself down from that impulse because I’m sensible, unlike my parents. Even though the thousands of miles away from here is attractive as fuck, I know that once I get off that plane, I’ll be broke as hell.

On the other hand, the rusty Honda Civic I have my eye on at the used car dealership downtown is sensible. It has less than 100,000 miles, good mileage, and if push came to shove, it could double as a temporary home. It wouldn’t be a six-hour plane ride to California, but I’ve got enough money that I could put some real distance between my parents and myself and have enough to really start the rest of my life.

But when I’m up on the roof, I also have another secret fantasy. It’s not real, but when my parents are really loud, and I worry that the yelling and crashing might turn to the sound of fists hitting skin and bone, I dream of space. Forget California or Tokyo, I wish I could go to the moon or beyond. There’s a tiny, terrified girl inside me that knows in her bones that the only way to really escape my parents is up above me. Sometimes, I lay back on the roof and imagine what it would be like to know that I was far enough away that I’d never have to hear my parents wake me up arguing again. It’ll never happen, but some nights, daydreams of flying up into the sky are the only things that make me feel safe enough to fall asleep. But just like with San Francisco, I bury that deep inside myself and calculate how many shifts I need to work to have the full price of the used Honda. The sky is my fantasy, just like Ohio had been my parents’, but that Honda Civic is the real path to freedom.

The sound of glass breaking hits my ears in the quiet between two songs, and I jump at the shock of it. I tap my cellphone screen to pause my music. I pull the earbud from my left ear and listen, trying to figure out which part of the argument they’re at now.

“Do you feel better?” dad yells at mom.

I roll my eyes, shove my earphone back into my ear and press play on the music again.

Mom likes to break dishes when she’s really frustrated but trying to hold it together; it’s why the few dishes we have don’t match. I suspect she’s gonna drag me to the Goodwill tomorrow to look for a replacement for whatever she’s broken, and I can’t have that. I pick up my phone and tap out a quick text message to my boss, Peter. In a plea that he’s very familiar with, I tell him that I’m available to cover any shifts tomorrow. Peter’s a good guy, and I know that he’ll do what he can to get me a shift, even if it’s just a few hours or closing. I’ll take it, and he knows I will. I’ll also immediately put whatever extra money I get directly into my savings account and readjust my timetable to purchasing the Honda and getting the fuck out of here.

The music builds to a crescendo and mercifully drowns out my parents’ screaming as I look back up at the sky.

On nights like tonight, the moon is so clear and big that I swear it’s close enough to touch. I stretch out my right arm above me, squint one eye closed, tilt my head to the left and pretend to capture the moon between my thumb and forefinger. I smile for the first time in what feels like hours, maybe even days.

And then I see it.

While I’m looking, a small speck in the sky moves across my vision, only visible because it passes the light of the full moon. At first, I think it’s a distant star, or maybe my eyes are playing tricks on me. I blink, and something in the sky moves again. Whatever’s up there, it’s too far away to see clearly, so I sit up, trying to make sense of it all. It’s moving too slow to be a shooting star and too fast to be…well, literally anything else. I pull my earphones from my ears, as if it will sharpen my vision. I stare up at the speck that’s now bigger, closer; close enough for me to realize that the one speck is actually a cluster of distant lights. I’m not looking at a star or a planet but a constellation that’s moving in formation towards me. Toward the Earth.

But that’s not possible. I know that. I aced astronomy.

“What the fuck?” I whisper to myself.

As if in answer to my whispered question, those bright not-stars seem to move faster and get bigger in the large pane of sky above my house as they get closer. The lights seem to fill the sky of this boring ass town with a pipeline running through it dangerously close to the local drinking water; this town my parents hate that I can’t wait to escape.

I shake my head and turn to the right. My eyes land on the pipeline cutting through the fields behind our house. I can barely remember a time when it wasn’t the first thing I saw when I woke up in the morning. I’ve read dozens of articles about what it is and how much time it’s probably shaving off of my life. I guess the environmentalists were right and assume that thing must finally be leaking. It has to be. Because how else do I explain what I think I’m seeing in the sky?

And when I tilt my head back to look up there, I gasp and jump to my feet.

In the handful of seconds when I’d been looking away, those not-stars seem to have come closer. Like real close. Now they’re so close that no one can mistake them for stars because no stars have ever been so damn clear in the sky or moved so fast. I watch as they get closer and closer, and then I shriek in shock as the constellation breaks apart.

If I’m hallucinating this, whatever the pipeline is leaking is grade-A lethal shit.

The lights disperse so fast that I actually miss it. One second, there’s a cluster of lights heading toward me, too many for me to count clearly. The next second, I blink. Then the next second, there are only five lights still above me, but I can see turquoise blue light streaks in the sky heading in thousands of different directions. And then in another second, those five lights begin to slowly move apart, still descending, closer to the Earth’s surface. They’re landing, I realize, and my mouth falls open.

“Fuck,” I breathe as my mouth curves into a smile so wide it hurts.

Now that there are fewer lights and they’re even closer than before, I can just about recognize what’s hovering in the sky above me. They’re ships, and not space shuttles like the ones I’ve seen in my social studies textbooks about the moon landing. These not-stars are huge, bigger than the biggest plane I’ve ever seen in the sky, maybe even bigger than the entire town, and they’re not US-made shuttles or like anything I’ve seen of Russian or Chinese ships. These big, hovering ships look like they’re covered in shimmering jewels, glittering as if reflecting their own sunlight. “Fuck,” I breathe again.

“Drea, are you up there? Girl, get off the fucking roof, we can’t afford no emergency room visit. Do you hear me?”

I hear my dad yelling at me. I do. I just don’t give a shit, because there’s an alien spaceship in the sky almost directly above our house — an actual fucking spaceship — and this is infinitely more interesting than him reaming me out for being on the roof again. Besides, I hear the moment when he sees what I’m seeing and stops caring that I might stumble and fall off the roof. I hear the choked gasp that comes from his lips just before my mom bangs out of the front door, still yelling. I hear her words cut off when she sees the ship too, the final confirmation I need that I’m not having a pipeline hallucination, but still, I don’t care.

Because I’m speechless. I know, deep down in my gut, that this ship is going to change everything about the world I’ve ever known, and I can’t help but feel elated. My body feels light, as if I weigh nothing more than my fantasies. I swear I could float up to one of those ships, and that’s exactly what I want to do. I want to bang on the door of a ship and beg them to let me in, because I can feel the surety along every inch of my skin that this ship is going to be my way out. This ship is going to get me as far away from Akron and my parents and that damn pipeline as possible.

My mother’s scream is a delayed response to seeing the impossible, and it rips into the quiet night. She keeps screaming and screaming, but dad and I are too mesmerized to stop her. Eventually, I hear our neighbors begin to file out of their houses, probably when they realize that mom’s screams are different from their regular weekday fights. I hear them gasp and cry out. Babies are crying, and other people’s screaming joins mom’s. There’s even the sound of the hurricane warning blaring out eventually, but none of those noises seem to touch me; not anymore. It’s like they’re far away because I’m already gone.

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gamerwoo · 5 years

Text

Zuho: Youngblood

Characters: Zuho x female reader (featuring sf9)

Genre/warnings: ghoul au, host club au, angst, a little bit of fluff at the beginning, mentions of violence and cannibalism, blood

Word count: 3,566

Summary: After finding himself in a life threatening situation, normal human Baek Juho wakes up to find himself craving the taste of human flesh and suddenly being ‘adopted’ by a group of ghouls – and a strange human. But he quickly learns that’s the least of his problems when you walk into his life.

a/n: I know this part doesn’t include reader a whole bunch but just bear with me ok

Part Two | Part Three | Welcome to the Host Club Masterlist

“Alright, I should go get ready for the club tonight,” Taeyang sighed as he stood up from his chair at the table in the library.

Juho looked up at him with a frown, “Already? Do you really have to go? It’s just a weird host club.”

Taeyang smiled with a shrug. Juho was at least half right. There was more to the club that made Taeyang stick with it, though. He had a promise he was going to keep, and staying in the host club was what helped him do so.

He slung his backpack on his shoulders, gripping the straps as he looked down at his friend, “I know you think it’s silly, but--”

“I’m not like, making fun of you for it or anything,” Juho quickly clarified. “I just wouldn’t personally ever join a host club. I can’t really picture you in one, either. Isn’t that all kinda fake? You’re too soft to be fake about it.”

“It’s not fake,” Taeyang chuckled. “I genuinely like everybody who comes to see me. Our job is to be nice to them, and I’m genuine about that.”

“And to flirt,” Juho quickly added.

The younger boy just shrugged, “A host is supposed to make all of their clients feel special, okay? They all know this. Anyway, I’ll see you tomorrow -- I don’t wanna be late.”

“See ya,” Juho nodded to Taeyang’s retreating back before he stood and decided to call it quits on studying.

Juho stood up and packed his things into his backpack before heading out of the library and starting his walk home. He gripped his bag in one hand and had his phone in the other, looking at his texts as he walked. That was why he didn’t see the person he was walking right into.

You were distracted by your book, needing to catch up on your homework. So when you bumped into something and stumbled backwards, tripping over your own feet, you let out a gasp. But before you could actually fall back, you felt a hand wrap around your wrist and lightly tug you forward to help you regain your balance. Your eyes glanced up from your book to see a pair of brown eyes looking back at you. You didn’t recognize the boy who had helped you, but he was definitely handsome.

Juho was stunned seeing that it was you he’d run into. As soon as he realized he’d bumped into somebody, he’d let go of his backpack to make sure the person didn’t fall, but when he realized it was your wrist he had his fingers wrapped around, he was frozen in place. He just hoped you didn’t see the shock on his face or hear his heart pounding in his chest. He’d always had the biggest crush on you ever since he first laid eyes on you, and this was the closest he’d ever gotten to you.

“I’m sorry,” you smiled apologetically, assuming you were the one to bump into him. “I should’ve been watching where I was going.”

Your voice snapped him out of his love-struck trance he was in, quickly shaking his head, “No it was my fault. I was on my phone.”

“Then I guess we can both take the blame and call it even,” you laughed softly.

Juho smiled hearing your laugh. How could somebody be so beautiful and also have a laugh that made him feel happy?

Wow, he really had it bad for you.

“I’m _____, by the way,” you told him as he finally released your wrist after realizing he was still holding it -- you didn’t mind it, though. “I haven’t seen you around before.”

Juho shrugged, completely forgetting that he was supposed to introduce himself too, “The campus is pretty big. But I shouldn’t keep you from wherever you were going.”

“Don’t worry,” you waved the concern away, “I was just going to meet my friends. They wanted to visit the host club tonight, and I tag along every once in a while.”

You went to the host club? Huh, maybe he should consider joining then. Taeyang apparently has the right idea.

“One of my friends is in that club,” he chuckled. “Do you know Yoo Taeyang?”

“Of course I do!” you chirped, a grin spreading across your face. “He’s always so nice to everybody -- I mean, they all are, but Taeyang’s… Well, you know how he is, you’re friends with him.”

You let out an awkward, nervous laugh as you looked down at the sidewalk. Why was it so hard to talk normally to him? Sure, he was handsome, but you didn’t even know him.

“Tell him I said hi for me, okay?” Juho smiled before he started to walk passed you. “I’ll see you around maybe?”

You nodded as you turned to wave to him, “Yeah, definitely!”

As the two of you parted ways, Youngbin tapped Taeyang on the shoulder from where he was watching the interaction from the window of the club room.

“What’re you looking at?” Youngbin wondered. “You have to go get ready.”

Taeyang was smiling seeing the two of you talk to each other. He’d known Juho had his giant crush on you, but he knew that you were usually too busy with studying and homework to really notice most people on campus. He’d been trying to figure out a way to get the two of you together for almost a year now, but it seemed like fate had brought the two of you together today of all days.

“Yeah, I’m on it,” Taeyang assured him, letting his eyes linger a little longer before he stepped away from the window.

But fate also had other plans for Juho today.

Everything hurt. Juho felt like his body was in a block of ice -- freezing but burning at the same time. At first, it was just parts his body that hurt, but the white hot pain he was feeling started spreading throughout his body.

“Don’t let him close his eyes,” he heard a male voice warn. “He won’t wake up if he does.”

“Got it,” another voice -- this one closer -- replied.

Juho was vaguely aware of the fact that there were people with him, but he wasn’t sure who they were. There were three of them: a tall one with dark hair and tanned skin that knelt down beside him, one with a slender face that looked over him with piercing, analyzing eyes, and one that stood above both of them with blue-ish black hair with his arms folded over his chest. He wasn’t sure who any of them were, but he knew they weren’t the ones who caused this. In fact, they saved him.

Not wanting to be late getting home after he decided to stop by the bookstore and then grab some food with friends, Juho cut through a part of the city that he shouldn’t have this late at night. He was suddenly yanked down a dark alleyway before a ghoul just started feeding on him, causing the poor boy to cry out and alert the attention of the three that were looking down at him.

But considering how much blood he’d lost and how much pain he was in, Juho was barely even conscious now. He could hardly pay attention to the three boys, but he did his best to concentrate so he could stay awake. Even he knew what would happen if he let himself close his eyes.

“Inseong,” the one standing over the other two spoke up again, “how’s it looking?”

“If the paramedics get here in time, he might have a chance,” the one with the analyzing gaze spoke up, his eyes never leaving Juho. “They’ll have to do some pretty intense surgery to save him, though.”

“It’s creepy that you know that,” the tan one said, giving Inseong a wary look.

Inseong only shrugged.

“I think they’ll be here soon,” the one standing said as he looked up the alley to the street. “We should move him so they can find him better. Then we need to get out of here.”

One of them had made an ‘anonymous’ call so Juho wouldn’t end up dying alone in the alley. They hoped paramedics could save his life -- according to Inseong, they could -- but they knew it would definitely be a slim chance. But Inseong did know one way they could save him, and he knew that was probably how they would save him. But he also knew the consequences of that, and he had already warned his leader when they found him.

“I know,” Youngbin had sighed as Juho lay groaning on the ground, “but he’s Taeyang’s friend. We have to.”

So Rowoon made the call before hanging up the phone.

“Alright, then we should move that body too,” Inseong stated, pointing over to the ghoul that the three of them had ganged up on to save Juho. “He’s barely alive now, so he won’t hurt anybody.”

“Rowoon, pick him up,” the shortest one said before he nodded his head toward the body of the ghoul.

Inseong stood and walked over to help.

As Rowoon carried Juho to the entrance to the alley, Youngbin and Inseong dragged the ghoul’s limp body behind him. Rowoon placed Juho carefully on the ground while Youngbin carelessly dropped the body down a few feet away by a dumpster.

The sirens were getting louder.

“Youngbin, we should stay nearby,” Inseong said. “We need to make sure that--”

“I know, I know,” Youngbin sighed as he nodded to the nearest fire escape. “Get to the roof and we can watch from up there.”

So the three ghouls climbed the fire escape to watch over Juho. They certainly didn’t have to since none of them knew Juho, but they knew he was friends with Taeyang, and Youngbin owed it to the younger boy. So he would watch over Juho the whole time -- even after he had turned into the same monster he was.

When Juho had woken up, he was still sore but not nearly as sore as he should’ve been. When he realized he was in the hospital, he assumed it was probably some sort of drugs they’d given him to ease the pain. However, that wasn’t the only thing he’d realized.

“God, you’re awake!” Taeyang sighed in relief, sitting beside Juho’s bed.

In the room were seven other boys that Juho didn’t recognize -- save for three that he recognized vaguely, as if seeing them in a dream. His mind wandered back to that dream, only to conclude that it was reality. Those were the three who saved him.

“What happened?” he groaned, only remembering little bits and pieces.

“You almost died,” the one he vaguely recalled was named Inseong stated with a smile that would’ve seemed calming had he not smiled after telling him that he almost lost his life.

“You were attacked by a ghoul,” the one who seemed like the leader explained -- he couldn’t remember his name, but he remembered his face and the aura he gave off. “You were lucky I happened to be nearby with Inseong and Rowoon.”

“The doctors were able to save your life!” Taeyang grinned.

But Juho’s eyes were scanning the room of unfamiliar faces. Most of them seemed bored and uninterested, while others were looking at him curiously like they were waiting for something to happen.

“There is just one slight difference…” Inseong trailed off, scrunching up his face.

Juho’s eyes flashed to Inseong, “What is it?”

“No, no,” Taeyang turned to look at the older boy and shook his head, “I should tell him. It’ll probably be a little easier.”

“Tell me what?” Juho asked, his heart racing. He wasn’t sure what they weren’t telling him, and he didn’t like it. It was scaring him.

Taeyang turned back to Juho, taking a deep breath and letting it out, “The doctors had to perform a heart transplant to save your life. But since they needed a heart quickly, they had to use… Inseong, what did you say it was?”

Juho only caught half of what Inseong said, as he was saying a lot of words and sentences that didn’t seem to make any sense to him. But what he caught onto was that the doctors had to use a lot of components from the ghoul that had attacked him to keep him alive -- such as blood, and a few of the ghoul’s organs. The doctors were just unaware to the fact that the ghoul was a ghoul.

“B-but,” Juho began after one of the other boys told Inseong that Juho clearly had no idea what all this medical speak was, “that won’t affect me, right? Like...I’m still...human...right…?”

Taeyang made a face that was somewhere between worried and apologetic, “Well...that’s where it gets complicated…”

Juho’s heart sunk.

“Listen,” the leader spoke up before Juho could start panicking -- at least out loud, “we’re here to help you. Every single one of us except Taeyang are--”

“You’re all a--”

Taeyang slapped a hand over Juho’s mouth, not wanting the last word to slip out so loudly, “We’re still in a hospital, and they still have a cover to not blow.”

“And now you do too,” the boy who looked similar to their leader said, an annoyed expression on his face. “So maybe don’t go screaming the ‘g’ word.”

“The point is, Youngbin and us are going to help you,” Taeyang grinned reassuringly as he slowly moved his hand away from Juho’s mouth. “They can help you learn how to live like this.”

“I don’t want to live like this!” Juho shouted, tears forming in his eyes as the reality of the situation sunk in. “I’d rather be dead!”

“He’s yelling,” one of the boys stated quietly, his eyes glancing from Juho who was now having a meltdown in his hospital bed over to Inseong who was striding over to the cabinets.

“Taeyang, could you try to calm him down for a minute?” Inseong requested.

But instead of doing that, one of them panicked and just forcibly covered Juho’s mouth with his hand. When Juho started thrashing around to yell for help, two more of them held down his wrists and feet.

“Here it is!” Inseong smiled to himself as he walked over to Juho like nothing was wrong. He had a little vile of liquid in one hand, and a syringe with a needle on the end in the other. “This should help.”

Juho’s eyes widened as he watched Inseong suck medicine into the syringe. Then Inseong was injecting the liquid into the IV as if he were a doctor.

“I really think you know too much sometimes,” one of the boys commented as Juho’s eyelids started to get heavier and his body started going limp.

“It’s fine,” Youngbin sighed as Juho passed out from whatever it was Inseong gave him -- but he trusted Inseong enough to know he wouldn’t kill him or something, “we’ll just deal with it later. Taeyang--”

“I’ll convince him,” Taeyang nodded, already knowing what Youngbin was going to say.

Youngbin nodded, patting the younger boy’s shoulder, “I’m glad he’s okay.”

“Thanks for saving him,” Taeyang offered a sincere smile. “I know you didn’t have to, but--”

“I did have to,” he insisted.

Juho was Taeyang’s friend, after all. And after everything Youngbin had put the poor kid through, it was the least he could do to repay him.

After Juho was released from the hospital, Taeyang wouldn’t stop visiting him and trying to convince him that being a ghoul was okay. But the longer Juho put off getting help, the more dangerous it was for the human boy to go visit his friend. He desperately needed to eat, but human food just made him throw up. He could drink water, and coffee seemed to make him feel a little better, but that was it. He needed to eat but he refused to eat the thing he knew would satisfy him. He didn’t want to do that. He wanted to believe he was still a human.

So they decided to send Rowoon and Chani.

“What do you want?” Juho grumbled when he answered the door -- though he was a little relieved to see it wasn’t Taeyang because being around him was getting too hard.

“To talk,” Rowoon offered with a soft smile, holding out a togo cup full of coffee.

Juho reluctantly let him in after taking the coffee, gesturing for the two to go to the living room. The two sat down on the couch together with Juho sipping the coffee, and Rowoon and Chani trying to gather their thoughts. They knew why they were the ones sent to talk to Juho, but they also knew their situations were vastly different from his. They’d both been ghouls their whole lives. Plus, Juho was just half-ghoul.

But at least one of them could relate to that.

“So what do you want to talk about?” Juho asked after he’d set his coffee down on the coffee table. “I still don’t want any part of that weird gang of yours. I’m not--”

“We know,” Chani sighed, rolling his eyes, “but you’re gonna die without us, and your situation isn’t even that special.”

Juho was surprised to hear that, “I-it’s not…?”

“You’re afraid to eat people, right?” Rowoon asked with a smile that comforted Juho. “You’re afraid of hurting the ones you care about, like Taeyang. You think everything will be different now. I know eating people is something that’s hard to get over, but with our help, we can teach you how to still be what you consider normal. I’ve been in a relationship for a year with a human girl, and she knows what I am. But we make it work because I know how to survive but still be normal. It’s just a different form of normal.”

Juho was surprised to hear that a ghoul was able to date a human without trying to eat them. Was it really possible to be able to be around humans without wanting to consume all of them? Was it possible to even pretend to be normal?

He just looked at Chani who wasn’t looking at anybody and was staying silent, “So then why are you here?”

The younger boy sighed deeply before glancing over at Juho. He hated admitting this because he still sometimes felt how Juho felt now: like he didn’t belong. Taeyang told him how Juho felt like he wasn’t a human or a ghoul, and it was scary. He didn’t think anybody could relate to that, but they knew Chani could. Just in a different way.

“My mom’s a ghoul, and my dad’s a human,” Chani explained. “I’m half-ghoul, too.”

It seemed like everyday, Juho was learning knew things that seemed to confuse him more and more.

“What?” he asked quietly. “There’s… There are other half-ghouls?”

Chani nodded, “I learned they’re rare, but they exist. Not a lot of humans will even go near ghouls, much less marry them and have kids.”

“Our point is that you’re not alone, and we don’t want you to be alone,” Rowoon continued, the look he gave Juho being warm and inviting. “We want to help you, Juho.”

Juho looked between the two of them, thinking over everything before he let out a sigh.

Youngbin turned when he heard the door to the club room open. Chani was leading the way with his hands stuffed in his pockets as Rowoon was gently pushing Juho inside while the half-ghoul just looked around like he couldn’t believe where he was.

The host club was made up of ghouls?

Youngbin let out an amused laugh, “Surprised?”

“Do you eat the girls?!” Juho asked, his eyes going straight to the leader.

“No,” he scoffed. “That would be dumb of us. Nobody would suspect some nice boys in a host club to be ghouls, though, so…”

He just shrugged, letting his sentence trail off.

When Juho continued to just stand there with a blank expression, blinking as he tried to process everything, Youngbin continued.

“I’m Youngbin. I kinda formed this group to help other ghouls,” he explained. Then he turned and began pointing out the others. “That’s Inseong, Dawon, Hwiyoung, and Jaeyoon. You already know Taeyang, our resident human, and you’ve gotten acquainted with Rowoon and Chani.”

Juho couldn’t believe that the host club Taeyang had been in was all completely made up of ghouls this whole time. And he never even said anything! And the club was popular with girls coming here all the time!

You came here!

“I’m assuming because you let Rowoon and Chani bring you here, that means you’ve decided to join?” Jaeyoon guessed with a dimpled smile.

Juho just silently nodded his head.

“Some of us come up with aliases -- makes us feel safer,” Dawon shrugged. “My real name isn’t even Dawon. But hey, if I ever get into trouble, everybody will be asking for Dawon instead of Sanghyuk!”

“What do you want us to call you?” Youngbin asked.

Juho stared back at Youngbin for a moment. He wasn’t sure the expression he wore, but it almost seemed a little...happy?

“Zuho,” Juho decided.

Youngbin nodded before holding his hand out for Zuho to shake, “Welcome to the host club, Zuho.”

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sailor-cresselia · 5 years

Text

Riders ReUnited: During Zi-O

Hey there! So, Zi-O is ending soon. We’ve only got a few episodes left, and at this point, I have absolutely no idea where the endgame is going, if people are going to get their histories back, or anything of the sort.

I have plans for what I want to do in the Riders ReUnited storyline with regards to adapting Zi-O, since at this point I can’t ignore it like I had intended to.

But with no real way of knowing how it’s going to end, I don’t know if any of the segments I’ve been working on since October are going to still work. I might wind up using them anyway, but it’s up to chance right now.

So, I figured that I ought to put these up somewhere, instead of potentially letting them go to waste.

I’ve repeatedly stated my preference for the riders who ‘forgot’ to have been pretending, and this mostly deals with that.

As such, here are my plans for the events of Zi-O, as they happen to the rest of Phase Two. (Keep in mind, I know next to nothing about Den-O, and half of the ones that involve Decade were written before I had, in fact, seen Decade.)

Hey, so, about the new kid...

It’s a full house at the meetup this month – nearly everyone who was active starting with Double and Accel is present. It’s impressive, really.

The problem starts when the sound of a train carries into the park.

There’s no train station nearby. Or tracks, for that matter. The station’s across the city.

Another train horn sounds, from a slightly different direction.

At this point, both Eiji and Shinnosuke have grown considerably pale.

Takeru looks at them. “Officer Tomari, Eiji, what’s the problem?”

“Remember the first reason I said I hate time travel? Zeronos was stuck in the loop with me.” Shinnosuke gulps.

Eiji’s chanting under his breath. “Please don't be another Shocker timeline please don’t be another Shocker timeline…”

As the trains pull through – slightly distressing everyone who hasn’t seen them before – it’s apparent that something is going on. There’s a large number of imajins with the two riders and…

“We didn’t do it!” Ankh shrieks defensively. “Whatever the hell happened, it wasn’t us!”

The conductor is there.

“I understand your apprehension-”

“I mean it! I’ve only been back a few months! I haven’t done a damned thing wrong and they're all witnesses!” He wildly points at the group.

“We know it wasn’t you, don't worry.”

Zeronos speaks up. “The new guy’s the one causing the problem. Or well, ‘is-slash-will be-slash-has been’ causing the problem. So… older guys, remember Tsukasa?”

“Vividly.” Shotaro darkly answers. “What’s he doing this time?”

“No, no, it's not him – well. Mostly not him. He’s involved. Ish. Actually, we’re all involved.”

“Everyone since Kuuga, actually.” (Den-O) winces. “Apparently, the powers that decide all our fates-”

“I knew someone had to be screwing with us!”

“Meteor, not now. Apparently they’ve decided that just about every ten years is ‘time to have someone go around and screw with all their predecessors’ time. And I’m being really literal here – he’s a time traveler. An annoying one.”

“No. No, no, NO!” Shinnosuke yells. “I’m not doing that again! Ever! You hear?”

“No, so far you don’t seem to have to worry about that…” A distortion appears in the air, Tsukasa walking through, his nose in a book. “Looks like as far as the new kid’s info goes, you don’t meet him… a lot of you don’t, actually, but.” He frowns. “Hey, spooky kid. You can use those forcefields to push things, right?”

“Kind of? Why?”

“Cause you’re going to need to do that. A couple times. It’s pretty impressive to see, actually; I just came from there.” He waves the book. “That’s how I got this. The kid’s stealing my whole gimmick. He’s basically ripping off my ability to copy people, and I just had to give him the ability to copy me copying other people. It’s absurd, and I’m basically stuck playing the bad guy again. But essentially…

“As far as he and his group know, their enemies are turning people into versions of riders that replace the actual riders. But they’re basically monsters, half of them seem to lose their sense of self, certain others go mad with power…” He glances briefly at the doctor group “And basically the powers of the rider they’re copying leave the rider, and go to the monster.”

“Hang on.” Haruto interjects. “If they’re taking our powers, what else…”

“Our memories go with them – but only for the chronological synchronization of when the ‘Another Rider’ exists.” Zeronos shrugs. “Also, our enemies are erased for that period of ‘time’ as well.”

Ankh skips directly from inarticulate protests straight into a flurry of swears. It’s an impressive selection of languages, actually. Japanese, modern German, middle German, a variety of slightly-broken phrases from regions Eiji traveled to in the past handful of years…

Parad lets out a scream of rage. “So, we’re just not going to exist? What the hell?!”

Den-O laughs awkwardly. “Kind of? It’s temporary. You’re temporarily ‘retconned’ out of existence, until the ‘Another Rider’ is defeated. Then everything’s back the way it is supposed to be. Thing is, these guys? The new guys? They think that once they do this, nobody existed. They think that everyone’s past as a rider is completely gone.

“For some reason, they’re convinced we all wind up with amnesia since ‘none of it ever happened’, so just. Just play along, it’ll be over with soon enough.”

“Question!”

“Yes, Hojo?”

“What if they meet us in the past? You’re kind of implying that’s a thing.”

“We’re actively warning the people we have on record having met them. Also, uh, we. Might be gettin g a few people back from the dead because of all this?” Tsukasa shakes his head as he turns a page. “Gonna have to double check some of this information… Some guys going by Kaixa and Baron might be back to stay? It’s unclear.”

“Huh.” Micchy bites at his lip. “Kaito wasn’t too pleased about being brought back when the Megahex invaded.”

“Yeah, he wasn’t that thrilled at that stunt Genm pulled, either.” Kiriya mutters. “Pretty sure he’s gonna ask to go right back to the afterlife.”

---

I KNEW we were forgetting something!

“Look.” Shinnosuke jabs at the table. “I hate time travel. I don’t like this whole ‘we have to fake amnesia’ situation. But as long as this doesn’t land us in yet another Shocker timeline, we can probably make it through this alright.”

Humming uncertainly, Eiji shakes his head. “I dunno. I mean, I trust Den-O-”

“That’s not even the one we met, where was the purple guy?”

“Pretty sure it was the same conductor, though, so we’re not escaping that triple-consecutive lifetime ban anytime soon.”

“Tch.”

“Anyway.” Eiji continues. “I trust Den-O and that team to not get us into a Shocker timeline. Decade, though?” He laughs incredulously. “We are all. Going. To die.”

“Aw, come on.” Gentaro frowns. “He isn’t that bad.”

Shotaro looks over. “Gen. When you met him? That wasn’t the first time he lead a version of Shocker. Or the first time he erased all of the other Riders.”

“Can I ask a question here? For some context?” Embarrassed, Ryuuga raises his hand, Sento snorting in the background. “Hey, shut up! So, I get that this Decade guy is another Rider, and you’re all sick of him for some reason. But who is this ‘Shocker’ you keep mentioning every now and then?”

The assorted conversations around the room rapidly die down.

Kiriya shrugs. “Gotta admit, I was wondering, too.”

“I don’t know what Shocker is, and at this point I was too afraid to ask…” Parad admits, looking away.

“They had… something to do with that Hero Taisen game? I think?” Biting his lip, Emu rubs the back of his neck. “Maybe? I was ‘busy’ for most of that, so…”

“Oh.” Shinnosuke’s face falls. “Did we… did we never actually tell you guys?”

Shoving his chair back, Gou turns and storms out of the room. “Not it. Not reliving that. Count me out. See ya. Bye.”

Holding his head in his hands, Takeru whimpers. “Mister Hongo is going to be so disappointed in me. Again.”

“No, no, nonono, you’re coming at this wrong, man.” Gentarou shakes his head, grinning wildly. “Takeru. Bud. This? This is our time to shine. We just need to get some things together-”

“Please don’t wear the Stronger costume.”

“Aw, come on, Ryuusei! You weren’t even here for my Stronger costume!”

“I’ve seen the Stronger costume, and I’m telling you. Don’t.”

--- ---

Episodes 03&04, Version One

When the time mazines take off, headed back to 2018, Emu has to hide the sigh of relief… and the burgeoning headache.

He brings the father and his son to Seito university hospital, and the boy is admitted. So they were able to fix something, at least.

It’s not until he leaves, sneaking out a back entrance, and makes it to a nearby park, that he can finally sit down, and it’s just barely in time for him to avoid collapsing.

“Emu?”

It’s really hard to look up, but he has to. “…Hey, Hiiro. This is a heck of a plan we’re carrying out, isn’t it?”

Nodding, Hiiro carefully makes his way to sit next to his coworker. His manager, at least at CR. At least, in their own time. “It certainly is. Are you all right?”

After hesitating, Emu shakes his head. “No… not yet. Probably will be once we’re home. Did you get your end of everything done?”

“Yes. A whole slate of those blank watches, hidden amongst everyone’s personal possessions, with none of us the wiser. Getting the two for Kuroto and Parad into the Genm offices was difficult.” He looks at Emu with a critical eye. “You are certain you’ll be back to normal once we’re in 2018, aren’t you?”

Emu makes a noncommittal hand gesture. “Pretty sure. That’s what Team Den-O told us, anyway. I don’t think this is why Shinnosuke and Takeru hate time travel, but it’s a pretty good reason in my book. Though, they haven’t had to deal with having part of themselves unwritten.” He sags, as if he’s having trouble staying upright, before Hiiro carefully pushes at his shoulder to guide him to lean against the back of the bench. “This temporary erasure thing hurts so much… Sento and Ryuuga are on the same ride as us, right? Gonna have to make sure Ryuuga’s okay…”

Hiiro grumbles. “There you go again, worrying about other people more than yourself.”

Emu manages a weak smile as a set of train tracks unfolds in front of them. “I mean, it’s part of the job description.” He receives a sharp glare. “The Rider one, Hiiro. Besides, we couldn’t avoid this for him or myself, so at least they let us get it out of the way.”

“Come on, you two, get a move on!” (choose an imajin here) yells. “We don’t have all day, if ya don’t want ta be spotted!”

“Right, right…” Emu stands up- or, tries to, anyway. His legs almost immediately give way before he can take more than two steps.

“Emu!” Hiiro catches him around the waist.

“Sorry…”

“Come here, let me help you, alright?” Hiiro’s face softens. “I’m sorry you’re dealing with this.”

“It’s fine, really. History fixes itself once we get back, right?” Emu looks up at (the imajin) with concern. “If the bugsters don’t come back, what do we do then?”

“I dunno. Save that existential stuff for my boss, kiddo. Up ya get.” Grabbing him under the shoulders, he hoists the uncharacteristically limp Emu up onto the train. “Geez, what’s with you, anyway? Ya didn’t look this awful when we dropped ya off. Thought you weren’t one of those bug guys.”

“I’m technically not. ‘m kinda part-way, though.” (Imagin) and Hiiro manage to get him to one of the seats. “It’s complicated.”

“Now leaving 2016, now leaving 2016. Next stop, 2017. Next stop, 2017.”

Slowly, he slumps down, so that he’s laying on the bench. “Let me know when we’re back in the present…” He drifts into an exhausted slumber.

---

“Now arriving in 2018, now arriving in 2018. Please watch your step as you disembark the train.”

Emu stirs, cracking his eyes open. “Are we done?”

(Some rider, whichever den-o's here) nods, offering an arm to help Emu get up. “Right, that’s the four of you set. I’m sorry that you two-” he nods to Ryuuga and Emu “-had to take so much of the side effects-”

Ryuuga, a blanket wrapped around him, waves it off. “Eh, not the first time I’ve taken a hit for someone else. Only difference is that I’m taking it for past me.” He shivers. “Freakin’ cold on this train, though.”

“It’s not, actually, you’re just not used to feeling temperatures like the rest of us do.” Sento rubs his partners shoulder.

“The… er, biology issues should start to repair themselves when you’re off the train. The re-written timeline should insert itself into your respective memories then, as well.” (Den-o) winces. “The first one might be kind of painful, though. This isn’t exactly… a normal situation.”

“Been there, done that, forced it back into existence one time by punching a jackass.” Ryuuga shrugs. “I’ll cope.”

“As long as everyone else is okay…” Emu stumbles a little as he gets to his feet. “It’s the real bugsters I’m more worried about.”

As the quartet disembark, there’s a handful of people waiting for them. “Geez, ace, you get into a fight back there?” Kiriya whistles as he helps Emu step down.

“…A small one. My powers fizzled out partway through it, so I got sidelined.”

“How are the four of you faring?” Hiiro steps down.

“Eh.” Kiriya shrugs. “Some static for me ‘n Genm, nothing serious. Stung like a son of a bitch, though. Parad and Poppy came through fine.” He grins at the two sighs of relief. “Poppy got hit a little worse, prolly because she doesn’t have a back-up human.”

Emu squints. “That’s rude. And possibly speciesist.” Flinching, he rubs at his forehead. “I… need to sit back down…” Once on a bench, he buries his face in his hands. “You know, if we hadn’t already done enough tests to prove that my genetics have been altered by the virus, this would be a whole lot more terrifying. Is there anything else we have to do?” He directs the last part towards the train.

“Yeah, seriously.” Ryuuga leans heavily on Sento. “I got experience with this regrowing shit, but it sucks way more this time around.” He glances at Emu. “Had that extra bit of time off the train, so I’m already more caught up, but…”

(Train boi) shakes his head. “Nope, that book Tsukasa nicked/duplicated/duped/copied says that you’re set. Genm’s got a trip coming up, though.” He flips through a copy of the ‘Oma Advent Calendar,’ before biting his lip. “How do he and Hino get along?”

“Eh, Eiji’s not exactly fond, but neither is anyone else, so… Zeronos took them a half hour ago, said something about ‘getting there before the first set of revisions kicked in.’” Kiriya gives him an odd look. “You guys said that Fake Fourze and Faiz were the same guy, is there a fake GENM, too?”

“I wish.”

Hiiro rubs his forehead. “Eiji became OOO in 2010, didn’t he?”

“Yup."

“And, technically speaking, we had business in 2010.” Emu half-whimpers. “Or, well, Kuroto and I did. If you guys are taking a human Kuroto back to then, in a time plane that doesn’t have the bugster virus at all, he’d be in a completely different situation.” He looks up imploringly. “Please tell me that he’s not Another OOO.”

“I mean, I could tell you that, but…”

All three of them groan.

---

(Earlier)

“Hey, Lazer, bad news. Gonna need you to warn Ex-Aid when he gets back.” Yuuto/Zeronos/green-train-boy comes up. “I gotta take the next batch down now, before the repairs for your team come through. Turns out I need Genm for a thing with OOO.”

“Eh?” Kiriya looks up from trying to knead away his headache. “Fine, fine. What’s the warning?”

“Since he’s leaving the time plane for a reason, and one tied to the current situation at that, it’s going to take longer for your group to recover. I’m really sorry, but what’s supposed to happen requires Dan Kuroto to be human, and that means lifting him from a point when that’s possible.”

“Meaning, now?”

“Meaning now.”

“Damn.”

--- ---

I wrote a lot of these out of order

Den-o curses. “Guys, we’re going to have to make a detour.” The four passengers look up – well, three look up. Ryuuga seems to be catching back up to normal, but Emu is a wreck. He’s barely awake, and doesn’t spend the energy to do more than open his eyes.

“Build, Cross-Z, I need to set you guys a few weeks earlier than we left from.”

Sento purses his lips. “We have to meet with them again?”

“Rookie has to get the finished watches at some point. And, uh, sorry, here’s your script-”

Reading it, Sento’s face falls. “…Oh, right… because the so-called ‘past’ us took him to Nascita…”

“Course he’d go looking for us there. Damn.” ryuuga grimaces – partly from the headache, partly from the situation. “Fine, fine, if ya say we have ta, we will. Are…” he bites his lip. “Are Misora and-”

“Nobody else is there. They’re actually closed that day – I guess you’ll be faking the place being open.”

“…Fine. As long as the others aren’t there.” Sento stares at the floor.

Hiiro gives them a stern look. “You know how we all feel about this ‘not allowing them to see you’ thing, right?”

“Yeah, and we’ll all just have to agree ta disagree.” Ryuuga huffs.

---

As Ryuuga and Sento re-disembark, Den-o pulls Hiiro aside. “Hey. I should tell you, and I would tell Hojo, too, but he’s still out. You two are going to be on here a while longer. There’s some shenanigans going on, and someone’s getting dragged back and forth to a bunch of different points, and… well, the ‘game disease’ thing needs to be cut off from existence for longer than we thought.”

Hiiro glances at Emu, who’s looking rather pale, actually, which is concerning. “Since the focal point of the timeline alteration is Ex-Aid, Emu has to stay isolated from said timeline, correct?” Den-o nods. “Damn. Being here is supposed to… if not shield him from, at least take off the worst of the effects from the changes, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but… you said that he’s not just using the powers, he’s technically part of where it originates from. Since the real form of the Another Riders is that of the ‘enemies’ – your bugsters, Build’s smash, OOO’s greeed, etc, that is what is being removed from the timeline. No enemy, no riders. But removing the enemy is done by removing their origin – and the origin for you all is the virus he… well, helped form, I suppose.”

“…Hey…” Den-o and Hiiro both startle at hearing the bleary voice from the bench. “Really sick of people talking about me like I’m not around. At least go to the other side of the car to do it.” Emu rolls his eyes, continuing. “The other riders aren’t gonna have to deal with this type of thing, right? Because that’s just cruel. I can understand it happening on my end… but it wouldn't be fair to them.”

“No, no, they should all be fine.” Den-o looks aside. “Well, I mean, Ghost might have some problems, but I’ve looked ahead, and his might be more flashback related than whatever’s happening to you.”

Hiiro crouches down next to Emu. “Are you doing alright? I can’t imagine this is easy.”

“…” Emu hesitates before answering. “…Don’t want to worry you…”

“Which means you’re not alright.”

“…It hurts. It shouldn’t, I can tell it shouldn’t, but whatever is going on hurts so badly…” He shivers a little before continuing. “It feels like having part of me torn out, and like when my infection flares out of control, and it doesn't make sense!” He chokes off a small cry. “But if it’s this bad for me… I can’t help worry more for Poppy and Parad, because they might- they might not even exist right now, and that’s- that’s awful, it’s too-”

Hiiro places his hand on Emus, cutting him off. “You need to listen to me, okay? You’re getting caught in a spiral, and have to get out of it. Just calm down for me.”

It’s a few moments before Emu can respond. “…Right… thanks… When did you learn to talk to people again?”

Hiiro allows himself a smile. “Well, my manager has repeatedly shown that his methods are more suited to certain situations. I’ve simply learned from the best, that’s all.”

“…Wait… was that a compliment?”

“He has excellent powers of observation, as well,” is the dry reply. “A bit lacking in self-awareness sometimes, however.”

“Okay, see, that’s just rude.”

--- ---

Episodes 01 through 04, Version Two

Gingerly lowering himself to the bench, Emu closes his eyes against the quickly growing headache. It makes sense – the time travel at work is rewriting some aspects of history, after all. …He hopes that in the slightly altered future they’re making, that they save Keisuke.

But this was going to happen, and he went in knowing that full well. The changes can only take effect once their enemies have… vanished, and although the time travelers reassured everyone that they come back after… what, an hour? Two? Well, not long, anyway.

Knowing that they’ll be fine doesn’t make this any easier, though.

Not when part of having the bugsters semi-vanishing means part of him is in flux, too.

It feels like… well, he usually hates to use this analogy, but it’s almost as though he’s been hit by a car. And seeing as he has experience with that, it really means something.

…This might count as worse, actually, because he doesn’t get to be unconscious for this.

“How are you holding up?”

The only reply he gives Hiiro is a groan.

“Hey, I need you to answer me, Emu.”

Yeaaah, true. He doesn’t need to look up to picture the cross expression that must be on Hiiro’s face.

“Can’t let myself think about it. If I think about it, that’ll just make it worse.” Against his will, a pained whimper manages to escape him. “This hurts so much, Hiiro. I need a distraction. Something, anything, right now…”

“What type?” Hiiro’s voice is… gentle, almost. That’s nice. He’s learning how to socialize.

“Just… help me stay awake, and not thinking about this whole thing.” Emu makes a distracted, floaty gesture at himself that he hopes is enough to indicate his infection and the assorted issues it’s bringing up right now. “If I think about it too much, it’ll get more potent, and we can’t afford that right now. If I fall asleep or pass out – which sound really appealing right now – then odds are we’re going to get called in on ourselves, and that’s just a whole mess of trouble that I don’t think we want to get into.”

There’s a sigh, and a shifting of fabric, and then something drops onto Emu’s head. “Wha-”

“I borrowed one of Nico’s hats before we left. I know how you tend to get light-sensitive when your infection acts up.”

“…Oh. Thanks.”

“It’s not a problem.” There’s a pause before Hiiro starts speaking again. “Those two… what were their names, again?”

“Sougo and Geiz.”

“They’re… they’re just children, aren’t they?” There’s a noticeable waver to Hiiro’s voice. “I know, intellectually, that they’re not the youngest to have gotten involved, but…” he trails off.

“I get where you’re going with this. It was one thing when we met Takeru, when he was already done. It was another when we heard about Philip and Gentaro, and how young they were. But seeing people so young coming after us?” Emu frowns. “It doesn’t feel right. I hate that this is all we can do to help them. What’s the point of the group if we’re not allowed to-” he cuts himself off. “New topic. Please. Something else.”

“Our ride’s here.”

Emu huffs. “Good. It’s about time.”

He doesn’t need to look up to see the glare he’s definitely getting from the time joke. Worth it. “Do you think you can walk?”

Emu twitches his legs experimentally. “…I don’t know. Definitely not on my own, maybe not even with help.”

“All right then, hold on.”

Emu opens his eyes a little – enough to see where they’re going, but not enough to let too much light in. Hiiro has him sling one arm over his shoulder, helping support most of Emu’s weight.

It’s not quite enough, though. They make it up to the train before Emu’s knees refuse to hold him up any longer.

“Geez, thought you new riders were made of sterner stuff than this!” A strong, pointy pair of arms hoists Emu up. “A little time distortion never hurt anyone.”

“Shut it, peachy…”

---

“What the hell was that?”

“Look, I panicked, okay?”

“You said you were Katsuragi. Dude.”

“Well! They said that in the ‘altered timeline’ none of us ‘ever became riders,’ so if that were the case, then ‘I’ wouldn’t exist, now would I?” Sento throws his hands in the air, before dropping them back down to cover his face. “Ugh. Let’s just get to the meeting point and get home already.”

“Y-yeah…” Ryuuga stumbles a bit. “Right.”

Freezing, Sento turns back around. “Ryuuga?”

“Just… feelin’ off. That’s all. Prolly the whole ‘time taking out the bad guys’ deal.” He waves Sento off. “Stupid space… Just gotta power through this. I’ll live.”

Sento’s expression goes soft. “Hang on, here…”

“Wha-”

“Here, you can lean on me until we get there, then you can sit down.”

“…Thanks, man.”

“So, feeling ‘off’ how?” Ryuuga glares at his partner. “Well, they’re picking Emu and Hiiro back up first, aren’t they? Better to figure out what to say now.”

“…‘kay, you’re not wrong…” Ryuuga slumps down, letting his head hang. “Kinda… sick to my stomach, I guess? It’s… I mean, last time I got the space junk pulled out, I kind of had that happen, too, but. I dunno, I guess I chalked it up ta being disgusted that the bastard would use you like… like that.”

“Hmmm…” Sento nods. “That’s fair, I suppose, but he wasn’t able to remove those genetics from your body all the way back then. This time, it’s the fabric of the universe itself trying to delete them. It stands to reason that any side effects would hit you harder.”

“Existing has it out for me, gotcha.”

“That is not what I meant, and you know it.”

---

(on the train ride back)

Sento sighs, turning the cup of coffee around in his hands. “You know…”

“Mnuh?”

“I don’t like it. That they’re so young, I mean.”

“Dude, is this the ‘feeling old’ thing again, cause let me tell ya, that’s-”

“That’s not it. It’s that those three… they’re practically children. Intellectually, I know that a lot of our friends here were even younger, but still…”

“It’s messed up, isn’t it?” An exhausted voice comes from the bench across the aisle.

“Hey, thought you were sleeping.”

“Tried. Can’t. Everything hurts too much.” Emu lifts himself up a little, enough to look at Sento and Ryuuga, staunchly ignoring Hiiro’s stern look. “It’s just wrong that teenagers keep getting dragged into these things.” He winces, and leans back down. “Ow… wow, I hope we can get this over with soon. Another thing is… I told one of them, Geiz, that he was kind of cold, but… that’s not it, really. It’s that he’s hardened. The look in his eyes…” Biting his lip, Emu seems to be trying to choose his words carefully.

“It was like the one you two had, when you arrived here for good.” Hiiro runs with the idea. “I… suppose I noticed it too, but I was trying to focus on the task at hand… I didn’t even think to say anything.”

“…Which look?” Ryuuga huffs. “The ‘super lost’ one? The ‘tired of the nightmares’ one?”

Emu shakes his head, flapping a hand in the air loosely to give the message, in case they can’t see him. “No, not those. The same one that the Zawame contingent gets sometimes, and Eiji, too. The one where…” he hesitates. “The one that says you’ve been in a war.”

Ryuuga breaths out a curse. “Didn’t see ‘im long enough to catch that. He’s the one with the red suit, yeah? That Sougo kid was pretty peppy, though, so I doubt he has.”

Sento absently fidgets with the hem of his shirt. “I think I can safely speak for all of us when I say this is terrible, right?”

--- ---

HeiGen Forever

When the crowd of riders detransform, Zi-O and Geiz are nowhere to be seen. Several people look over at Sento and Ryuuga.

Ryuuga spreads his hands defensively. “What?! We’re not in charge of ‘em! If they’re gonna run off and do whatever, I’m not gonna try and stop the kids!”

Shotaro scoffs. “Hey, didn’t we mention something about taking responsibility for guiding the next- ugh…” Cutting himself off, he rubs at his head. “…The hell?” Leaning on the Hardboilder, he squeezes his eyes shut. “The hell is all this…?”

“Shotaro?!” Emu goes over, helping his senior sit down. “Are you alright?”

Sento looks nervous. “Ah. They. Uh. Zi-O used the Double watch earlier. I think this is you getting hit.” He winces. “But you’re not nearly as tied into your power source as certain other people are-”

Shotaro grits his teeth. “KADOYA! Can you get me to where Philip is?!”

“Uuuugh.” Tsukasa rolls his eyes. “I wanted to see the sights, but noooo-”

“Get. Me. To. Him.”

“Alright, alright, already. I’ll be back for everyone else in a little while, seeing how the Denliner’s up and left us behind.”

A wave of rippling air moves past him, Shotaro, and Emu, and they vanish through it.

Wataru shudders. “Think we can find a different way home? I hate those things.”

Haruto glances at him. “You mean you hate him.”

“He’s a complete tool! Just because you met him later-”

“It’s called growth!”

“It’s called ‘dying barely taught him his damned lesson!’”

“I’m sure he’s better about the whole world-ending thing than he was when you met him.”

“You weren’t there for the third Daishocker stunt, either!”

“Wait, hey, third Shocker ‘stunt’?!” Takeru pipes up.

Kazuma scoffs. “Yeah, Decade’s a real winner. Guy led a branch of Shocker, got the shit kicked out of him and lost his memory, and then immediately went back to leading it when he got his memory back. Not to mention his literal existence was disintegrating the multiverse.”

---

“PHILIP!”

“Sh-Shotaro? I can’t – what’s going on, the library, I can't get there-” Philip looks briefly up, wide-eyed and panicked, before focusing back down on his book. “If- if I try harder, maybe I can just-”

Shotaro grabs him around the shoulders. “Philip, hey, it’s okay, you can stop, it’s…” he flinches. “This sucks so much.”

“What’s going on, I’d look it up but I can’t, I-”

Emu kneels down in front of them. “Hey, focus, okay? It’s going to be a little while. I can’t say for how long, but this is the history alterations in effect. It’s just for a short time.”

“The- what? From- from Zi-O?”

Emu nods. “Yeah. Sento and Ryuuga said that he used your watch for the first time today. Sometimes it takes a while for the effects to kick in. I guess since reality needed you two to be Double shortly after, it took a bit longer than it did with Ryuuga and myself.”

Shotaro groans. “Why am I getting hit, too? It didn’t hit anyone else’s teammates.”

Philip answers quietly. “Sorry. Since we’re so closely tied together, it might be from that – from our connection. So, it’s my fault…”

“Okay, neither of you should start with the blame-game, because I already went down that path when he got mine.” Emu carefully reaches for the book, resting a hand on one side. “May I? if you aren’t as tempted, it’ll probably help you cope better with not having access.”

Slowly, Philip nods, and Emu gently closes the book, setting it next to the pair. “I hear people are doing sightseeing while we wait for the time train team to give us the all-clear to head home. Think you two are up for it?”

--- ---

Episodes 13&14

(some time after the events, once people are back together.)

“Where’s. Decade.”

That simple statement has multiple people back away from Takeru as he stalks up to Tsukasa. The steely glint in his eye doesn’t help matters.

“You-! You could have given me a better warning than that! ‘Oh, hey, might wanna get to perfecting that force push’ is not the same!”

“Look, kid-”

“I barely had time to- Sougo could have died! Damnit, Kadoya, this isn’t-argh!” Infuriated, Takeru rears back

And decks Kadoya Tsukasa across the jaw.

Tsukasa falls to the ground, but Takeru freezes. his breath hitching for a moment.

--- ---

Episodes 9&10

“I don’t like this plan. I don’t like it at all.” Hina frowns. “You hate your father, and politics, and now you have to masquerade as… as what, his successor?”

Eiji shrugs minutely as he straightens his tie. “It’s fine. It’s to keep up appearances. Our names are similar enough that it’ll work, and I can can get this over with that much sooner.” His shoulders sag as he looks at himself in the mirror.

The suit fits perfectly – he wouldn't expect any less from Hina having chosen it. He managed to talk her into letting him wear a tie that matches his aesthetic, at least. But still.

Hina matches his slightly confused expression. “This doesn’t feel finished. Something’s missing, but I can’t figure out what.”

“Hey!” Ankh calls out from where he’s been watching. “As far as this kid knows, none of our stuff ever happened, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

“That means that I never existed in his so-called past.” Stepping forward, he unfurls his wings, a small shower of curled red feathers fluttering with them. He bends down to pick one up, his wings fading back out of sight. “And you guys are supposed to have been ‘drawn together even without the original history’ or whatever BS they’re sticking us with feeding him, so…”

He turns Eiji around, a little gentler than would be expected. “Here’s your finishing touch.” Quietly, he carefully sticks the feather into one of the suits button holes. “There. Hina, what do you think?”

She grins. “I think it’s perfect. Mind if I get a picture?”

“Aw, Hina, come on-” Eiji winces.

---

Hina has uploaded a picture to “Nice Looks”

Hina: Turns out Eiji looks good in a suit!

Date: :thumbs up emoji:

Akiko: I love it <3

Shinnosuke: Very nice!

Ryuuga: Is that a feather?

Hina: It was Ankhs’s idea. Really pulls it together, don’t you think?

Date: :eyes emoji:

Eiji: Come on, guys…

Yuuto: As much as I am, in fact, liking this outfit, we’ve got places to be, you two.

Eiji: Coming

Hina: coming!

---

Chat: EiAn pool

Gouto: So. Ankh suggested the feather.

Akiko: I knew they’d get it together.

Hina: Wanna know what’s better? His reasoning for it.

Hina: He said that since on record, he never existed, but me and Eiji were still somehow drawn to meeting, it only makes sense for him to have something to represent himself.

Sento: relatable.

Emu: Can I move my date up by a week?

Emu: I want to move my date up by a week.

Gouto: That is one of the single most saccharine things I have ever heard someone say.

Date: and with the hidaris and teruis around, that’s saying something.

Akiko: I’d be insulted if it weren’t true

Shotaro: and it’s coming from Ankh

Shotaro: I’m raising my bet

Yuuto: Same. This is tooth-rottingly sweet.

#kamen rider zi o #kamen rider ex aid #kamen rider build #kamen rider ooo #riders reunited #i will ride this inspiration train until it runs out of track #sailorcressy says #:)#we've got two episodes left and i needed these out here asap #it's an hour and a half until episode 48 airs

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