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repairgirl · 1 year

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michelle || leo valdez x fem!reader songfic

a/n: #2 in songfic series! song: michelle- sir chloe

t/w: alcohol, cursing, substance abuse, mention of vomitting, super smutty and super nsfw

word count: 1.2k

You swayed back and forth to the boom boom boom beat of the music, sipping the raw, bitter alcohol. Travis's party was just what you needed: shots, random boys you didn't care about to grind on and distract yourself with, getting blackout drunk, and basically anything to make you get your mind off of him.

Just thinking about his name made you want to vomit. You were reminded of walking in on him with that other, terrible, Nemesis girl, the half-assed breakup, never getting closure, and endless nights of sobbing and feeling sorry for yourself. Two weeks later, and his words were fresh in your mind like a fresh cut he had just re-opened yesterday. You drank more, feeling dizzy, praying the alcohol would numb your brain.

Fuck him, anyway. You'd show him you could do better.

"Woah, calm down," a random boy said, approaching you. The darkness and flashing lights of the cabin made it hard to see his face, so you could barely make out his gleaming brown eyes and sepia skin. "You might wanna be careful with that much alcohol."

"You don't know what's best for me," you snapped, your words slurring. The bass pumped in your ears, making your head feel like it was going to explode.

To your surprise, the boy laughed rather than acting offended. "Okay, I guess you're right. I shouldn't be talking, anyway. I just finished shotgunning this beer,” he answered, showing you his tattered-up Natty Lite can.

Lightheaded and unphased, you allowed yourself to plop on the tattered sofa, the boy crashing next to you. His breath smelled of beer and straight tequila, and you only imagined that yours did too.

"Why?" you asked, inching close to him. His hand rested on his thigh, barely grazing yours under your ripped denim shorts.

"Why what?"

"Why do you drink? I mean, we all drink for a reason. We're either mad at someone else, or ourselves."

He paused, tapping his leg.

When you got drunk, you got angry and philosophical. Mad at the world, hyperaware of everything wrong with everyone, the reason why many people couldn't handle you drunk. The reason you usually drank alone.

The boy leaned back, resting his head against the seat. "I'm lonely. I'm fucking tired of being the seventh wheel, and always feeling like everyone's life is better than mine."

"Hey, I'm lonely too."

"You?" he asked. "Once everyone heard you were single again, they all wanted to get with you. Thought you would even be taken by now."

You scowled. You hated your reputation at camp: the pretty girl who everyone thought they could take advantage of just because she was from Aphrodite. You were tired of being treated like a sex object, especially by your ex, and you wanted to prove them all wrong. "That's exactly the point. All anyone ever wants me for is my body. But apparently even that wasn't good enough for... him."

The boy paused, almost looking sorrowful, and like he regretted saying anything. What was that look he was giving you? Pity?

"He cheated? I'm sorry... That's rough."

"Yeah, but it's whatever. That's why I drink, anyway," you said, gulping down more of a Coors bottle someone handed you. He looked concerned.

"You and me, we're opposites. I have to rely on my personality to get me anywhere. All my friends have amazing good looks to rely on. I have to work for that shit, to even be slightly noticed."

The strobe light shined on him, and you could see his features more clearly this time. Unsure of whether it was you or the alcohol speaking, you noticed his chocolate brown hair, beautiful curls you wanted to pull.

Most guys repulsed you, especially after the breakup. You wanted them to get their hands off of you, because no one felt right the way your ex did. But every move this boy made, every hungry look he gave you, all of that just made you want him more. He made you feel different.

"Then we would fit together perfectly," you said, inching towards him.

He moved his hand to your thigh, rubbing your leg with his thumb. The lights dimmed as the party entered its peak, and the sexual tension between you two increased.

The boy inched oh-so-slightly to the left so that his hot breath was on your ear, close enough to bite it. "Maybe we would."

Agonizingly slowly, he put one hand on your waist and used another to cup your face. You stared into his eyes, mesmerized by his gaze, your ears and head buzzing from the alcohol. Finally, you both shared a drunken kiss. You didn't even think about what you were doing.

He gripped your waist, and you climbed on his lap. He bit your lip, then sloppily put his tongue in your mouth, not bothering to ask for permission to enter. You kissed back, your tongues swirling together, making out like you were running out of time, running away from the world, running away from your ex, running to each other.

Once you slowly started grinding on him, he pulled away and whispered in your ear. "Let's take this to a room."

Once you got to an empty room, the boy twirled you around and pressed me against the wall. He tightened his arms around your waist, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, having to stand on your tiptoes. You pressed your body as close to his as possible, sticking your knee in between his legs for extra friction.

"Jump," he growled.

You did as you was told and jumped up so you were face to face, straddling him. He connected his lips with yours and squeezed your ass as he held you, making you moan into the kiss.

You urgently ran your fingers through his hair, feeling his curly locks. You grinded into him, and he moaned into your mouth.

He set you down and pushed you onto the bed, never letting your lips disconnect.

One you were on the bed, him towering over you and shoving his tongue in your mouth, he finally put his hands under your shirt, feeling and squeezing your tits. He grinded his member against you, and you shivered in delight, running your fingers over his well defined muscles.

He started trailing kisses down to your neck, trying to find your sweet spot. Once he did, you let out a loud moan which you had been holding in, which of course only encouraged him to suck harder. Once he was done covering your neck in red spots, he pulled back, giving you that lopsided grin, then he finally hungrily kissed you again.

Whatever you felt- buzzed because of the alcohol, eager to get a rebound to prove your ex wrong, or solely just sexual attraction, you knew it felt right.

He was taking off your shirt after already discarding his on the floor when you stopped him.

"Wait," you panted. "I don't even know your name."

"Leo. Leo Valdez," he responded, and as he did, you watched his lips, wishing they were back on yours. "You?"

"Y/N L/N."

Leo trailed kisses down your chest, seductivley looking up at you with hungry eyes.

"Y/N L/N, you are a monster from hell."

leo valdez taglist: @slytherindaughterofposeidon0 @persephil @mmmelanie-blog1 @blue-violin @goldengoddess @dee-zbignuts @animes-trash @nottherealslimshady @cellias @lovemss

#leo valdez #leo valdez smut #leo valdez angst #leo valdez x reader #leo valdez x you #pjo #percy jackson #leo valdez lemon #leo valdez fluff #leo valdez oneshot #leo valdez one shot #Heroes of Olympus #heroes of olympus one shot #heroes of olympus oneshot #hoo imagine #leo valdez imagine #songfic

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amyscascadingtabs · 3 years

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the way you keep the world at bay for me

post-the set up, a.k.a jake taking care of hungover amy, hungover amy taking care of sad jake, and mac caring mostly about himself because he’s a baby 😌

read on ao3

Jake doesn't get a lot of sleep that night, and for once, it's not even Mac’s fault. It's not even due to the pizza parlor simulator game either, although he does play a couple of rounds when Amy's finally snoring next to him after ranting to herself about the babysitter’s club for a solid ten minutes, but not even that can fully distract him from the dull sense of doom that's made itself at home deep in his chest.

This is bad. Holt wants to see him tomorrow, and Jake knows there will be consequences. There has to be. There should be. He made a mistake, and he's going to get punished for it, and there is nothing he can do but accept his defeat. He already knows what he has to do; the nerve-wracking thing is the fact that it's still hours away, and his brain is spinning too fast for sleep.

He really wishes he could talk to Amy. She's sleeping on her stomach with her mouth open, arms straight out to the sides like she’s trying to push him out of bed, but he still can’t be mad at her. He hasn’t seen her this drunk since before she got pregnant, and he’s seriously worried about the hangover she’ll be sporting tomorrow, but he also knows she did it for him. Because they’re a team. Because she trusts him, sometimes even when it turns out he was wrong.

He wrongfully arrested someone. The sentence keeps repeating in his head, appears pasted in bold font on the inside of his eyelids if he tries to go to sleep, and displayed in luminescent letters on the ceiling of his bedroom when he gives up and opens his eyes again. He should have known better, has learned his lesson time and time again since his early days of constantly glorifying his job and letting his impulsivity get the best of him, and he still made a mistake.

He just wants someone to tell him it doesn’t make him a bad person. If only Amy wasn’t so drunk he’s scared to wake her up right now, Charles wasn’t so devotedly biased in all questions involving Jake’s role as a detective, and Mac wasn’t, well… so completely unable to grasp any of the concepts involved in the question.

Amy lets out another mighty drunken snore, and Jake hopes she will consider it a testament to his love for her that he doesn’t voice record it. He turns his head instead and picks up his phone to go back to the pizza game. Maybe just a few more virtual customers will be able to lure him to sleep.

He must have fallen asleep eventually, because when Mac does start babbling to himself over the monitor, the morning sun is shining through the windows, and Amy’s stopped snoring. She’s only moaning uncomfortably to herself now, and Jake’s guessing from her strained grimace that the headache has kicked in hard.

“I’ll get you coffee and aspirin as soon as I’ve checked on Mac,” he whispers to her with a kiss to her neck, and he thinks he sees the hint of a smile as she reaches out for him in what’s probably an attempt of a pat on the back, but ends up more of an unintentional slap to his butt. Or maybe she’s still drunk, and it is intentional. It’s hard to tell.

Mac may have no clue about what’s currently going on with Jake, but at least it’s impossible not to smile when he hauls himself up and rocks back and forth on unsteady feet in excitement over the fact that someone’s coming to get him. He greets Jake with that wide grin that shows off all of his four teeth – two up and two down, and they’ve kept everyone up at night for weeks, but they’re so pearly white and cute so maybe it was worth it – and a laugh that’s been Jake’s favorite sound on Earth since the first time he heard it.

“Good morning, bud,” Jake tells his son as he lifts him up in his arms. “What do you say we get you a bottle and mama some coffee? Hmm?”

“Bah,” Mac repeats. Jake decides to give him the benefit of the doubt and say it means he agrees on the bottle.

“Bottle, exactly. You're so smart,” he says, booping his little nose and smiling as it makes Mac giggle. “Let's try another one. Dada.”

There's a tense moment of them both just staring at each other, and then finally, his son goes,

“Bah.”

“One day,” Jake says with a sigh as he carries Mac out of the nursery. “As long as you say me first, okay? We’ll get there. We’ll practice.”

He puts Mac in the high chair while he tries his best to work the coffee machine and the bottle warmer at the same time. It's trickier than to be expected on almost no sleep, but at least he manages to pour the breast milk from the freezer bag into the bottle and not into his coffee this time. He's only made that mistake once (fine, maybe twice, and he kind of liked how sweet it tasted but he's never gonna tell anyone), but he suspects Amy's never gonna let him live it down. He gets Aspirin from the medicine cabinet while he waits, and puts a couple of slices of toast in the toaster. His own day feels already pretty much beyond saving, but at least maybe he can improve Amy's.

Though, when she stumbles out of the bedroom, still in her pajamas with her huge glasses and hair on end and looking like she's either seconds from being sick or going straight back to sleep, he worries whether she might just be beyond saving, too.

“How are you feeling?” He asks as she gives him one drained look before walking up to the couch and face-planting on it with another pained groan.

“I think I might be dead.”

“That's called a hangover, babe. I think you used to be familiar with the concept once upon a time, but I guess it's been a while.” Jake grins at Mac, who only reaches his chubby hands out for the bottle out in response. “Toast?”

“Do I have to?”

“It's going to help.”

“Fine.” Amy pushes her head off the pillow to look at Mac. “He's not drinking the milk I pumped yesterday, right?”

“I poured that out for you. I know they say moderate amounts of alcohol are fine, but, well, you were speaking British.”

“Good call,” Amy mumbles as he puts the coffee, aspirin, and toast down in front of her. “See, this is why I married you.”

Jake just hums, but he does smile to himself as he goes to grab his own cup of coffee.

“I wish I could call in sick to work today,” Amy says between bites of toast, and Jake looks up from where he’s absentmindedly brushing crumbs off the countertop while finishing his own. “My head feels like it’s going to explode.”

“I mean, you did very much go through contractions while managing an entire precinct during a blackout once. You could think about that?”

“No, this is worse than giving birth,” she states confidently, and Jake has to try very hard not to laugh. “Don’t tell my past self I said that. Or my future self if I ever give birth again.”

“Yeah.” He grimaces. “I’m pretty terrified to go, too.”

“Why?”

“Because yesterday? All of it?”

“Ohh.” Amy sighs. “Right. Maybe we should both just stay home.”

Jake’s about to tell her how much he wishes that was an option when Mac drops the finished bottle against the tray, immediately starting to twist in his seat. Jake unclasps the belt and lifts him out before he manages to rock the chair – that kid’s shockingly strong – and Mac immediately crawls away towards the walker. He doesn’t use it to move yet, but he’s been pulling himself up with it for over a month, and the anticipation is high every time he lets go with one hand only to sit back down on his booty the next second. Sometimes Jake could swear his son does it for attention. At least Mac doesn’t seem to have inherited his impulsivity, Jake thinks, and then he’s back to beating himself up in his head.

“I just don’t know why I did it,” he mutters as he sits down on the floor next to Amy’s head on the couch. She nods slowly, and Jake takes it as a sign she might actually be able to listen to him now. “I should know better, right? These are, like... the kind of mistakes I used to make. I thought I’d gotten better at this kind of stuff. Smarter. Less impulsive. Less of a bad cop. But instead I arrested and tailed an innocent man, all because I thought I had a gut feeling and thought I was being set up.” He shakes his head. “I guess that FBI jerk was right about gut feelings.”

“You’re a great detective,” Amy says without missing a beat. “A lot of the time, your gut feeling is right.”

“That doesn’t excuse it. I still shouldn’t have done it.”

“No.” Amy sighs. “You shouldn’t have.”

“It sucked.”

“Yeah. It did. But there’s nothing you can do to change it now.”

“Do you think I’m a bad person for it?” The question comes flying out of him, and Amy frowns.

“Why would I think that?”

“Because it was a shit move! And because I’m definitely gonna get suspended for it, and that’s going to lose us money. And then we’re not going to be able to save as much for Mac, or pay for his baby music class or baby gymnastics. And then he’s going to end up broke and untalented and it’ll all be my fault, and then you’ll be ashamed of me and leave me and I’ll die sad and alone in a ditch.”

“And you don’t think you’re spiraling just slightly right now?” Amy asks. The smile on her lips is one of amusement, and it humbles him, bringing him out of his cycle of self-pity.

“I don’t know. I didn’t get a ton of sleep last night.”

“I don’t think you’re a bad person,” she says, and that does make him feel a bit better. “I think you made a really stupid mistake. There's no getting away from that. I’m not happy about it. But… I know you'll take responsibility for it. That’s already a whole lot further than a lot of people care to go.”

Her fingers brush through her hair, calming him as she speaks. The hangover has made her voice a little scratchy, Jake notices when she's this close. It reminds him of mornings after long evenings out before they were parents, a time that always feels far longer ago than it was. Sometimes he thinks everything before Mac might as well be another lifetime.

“And we'll work it out if you do get suspended,” Amy continues, talking over the obnoxious melody playing from a toy Mac has found. “It's not great, of course. But we can save lots of money on daycare if you stay home with Mac. That helps.”

“Like a paternity leave,” Jake says. He does like that thought.

“Oh yeah.” Amy laughs. “You’ll be just like one of those hip Scandinavian dads who get to stay home with their kids because they live in countries where they don’t hate people for having kids. And you two can go to all of the cool classes and playdates together. You’d be the sexiest dad at baby swim class for sure.”

“Wouldn’t I also be one of the only ones?”

“Good point. Make sure to mention your wife a lot. But hey, Mac’s going to love it.”

As if wanting to confirm Amy’s point, Mac crawls over to Jake and tries to climb up on his knees to sit in his lap. He does this sometimes when he’s playing on his own; retreats to their arms for a hug or a quick cuddle, only to try and wriggle out of their grip and go back to whatever it is he’s doing in the next moment. Jake thinks it might be one of their son’s sweetest qualities. Mac rests his head against Jake’s chest, almost hugging him like that, and he wonders, not for the first time, how a person that’s not even one year of age can make every other issue in the world seem so insignificant. Even if it's just for a moment, it's a pretty damn good moment.

Fueled by the most powerful motivation of all – their son’s love and attention – Amy sits down on the floor too, patting her knees.

“You want to come to mama, Mac?”

Mac squirms for a moment in Jake's arms, and Jake lets go of him. Using the couch as support, for a second it looks like he’s almost about to take a step toward her. Both parents gasp in anticipation, and it must confuse him, because he reacts by giving Amy a shocked look and sitting right back down on his butt. Jake laughs as their son crawls away again, heading for the soft building blocks outside the playpen.

“He's such a tease.”

“He gets that from you,” Amy says, and Jake huffs in mock-offense. “Are you sure we shouldn't just stay home from work?”

Jake thinks of his upcoming meeting with Holt. He's been fearing it for so many hours now, and he's starting to wonder if the anxious anticipation might just not be worse than the meeting itself. He already knows what he has to do; the only thing left is to rip off the band-aid.

“I don't think it will make anything better if we don't.”

“Yeah.” Amy sighs, closing her eyes and leaning on his shoulder. “I love you.”

“Love you too. And you should probably shower and put on makeup unless you want everyone to know exactly how hungover you are.”

“I know you're right, and I hate it.”

Jake grins and strokes her hair before getting up from the floor. “I’ll go get Mac ready for the day.”

“Jake?” Amy calls out before he can leave for the nursery with Mac in his arms, and he turns around. Her voice is still a little hoarse.

“Yeah?”

“It's going to be okay, babe. We’ll figure it out.”

Jake brushes his fingers through Mac’s already unruly curls. He thinks of playground dates, the storytime for toddlers their library holds every Wednesday, and how much time he’ll have to make sure Mac says his name first now. Then he thinks of the bigger image; of daring to set a good example for this child, even when it's hard. If he wants the world to be a better place for his son, he's going to have to start by taking responsibility for his own actions.

“Yeah. I know.”

For the first time that day, he dares to believe it.

#my writing #b99 #b99 fic #i put / bc tumblr doesn't do line breaks anymore clearly #anyway. this is late and not my best it's been a Week but i really wanted to write something so. here is Something <3

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love-hatred-stuff · 3 years

Text

Mad at him } Jung Jaehyun [nct]

》 genre:

angst, light fluff

》 warning(s):

Jaehyun swears a lot & is kind of a dick, mention of other idols [ma johnny], um that's it ig

》 word count:

1.9k

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Crap, school is shit!

I was doing homework for hours now and I was still not finished with all of it. It was upsetting me, more than it should.

After I had let out a heavy and annoyed groan I heard my phone ring. Jaehyun, my boyfriend was calling me.

Wow, he actually had the time to call me.

He didn't contact me for a whole day and I was getting more pissed each minute. In the beginning of our relationship, he always made sure how my day was when we hadn't had the chance to meet up.

Today had been an absolute disaster what wasn't making my mood any better.

But I had to suppress my anger for a moment, because he was rather sensitive. What means, I better not get mad for no proper reason.

He started talking instantly after I picked up.

"Hey, sorry that I couldn't call earlier. How was your day?" His voice was monotone and I didn't like that, at all.

I felt the wish that he would've better just let me be for the rest of the day with that attitude crossing my mind. Though I tried ignoring my now mixed feelings.

"Yeah, nevermind. Mine was not the best day to be honest." I tried to reply like I normally would.

"What happened?" I wasn't in the mood to tell him about my whole day.

And because he hadn't had the time to pick me up yesterday too, I decided to tease and play a little bit. Maybe this would make my day better.

"Nothing, that's the problem. I am doing homework for hours now and my brain is about to explode. But luckily, I have Kai. He helps me out a lot, with my problems." It almost sounded like I was only talking to a friend and not my boyfriend. Acting like Jeahyun wasn't my boyfriend for almost two years now.

Since I knew, he gets angry when I'm close to other guys, it's the perfect idea to play with his feelings. Cruel, but effective.

"What do you mean, helping you with your problems? That's what I'm supposed to do. You should better get your ass here now!"

"Don't cuss at me. He's just a good friend I met in school Jaeh." I acted like I was trying to convince him that it wasn't a big deal, but in reality it was what I wanted, of course.

I wanted him to spend time with me, without telling him to.

"Do you think I care if he's just a friend? We had been friends too before we started dating, Y/N." He sounded pissed and I had to smile proudly.

"That's different." I wasn't allowed to mention that I would never replace him, like I usually would, because it had to sound a little suspicious.

"That Kai guy is going to get killed if he thinks he can have you. I want you to come over right now!" I almost giggled at his command.

"I don't think, you really want me there." I expressed my thoughts.

"What the fuck is wrong, Y/N? You know that's not true." I could hear his voice getting shaky and hard to control.

"Ok then. I'll be there in 10." I ended the call quickly before it could get too emotional.

I didn't like emotions, except for the ones I had for Jaehyun. They can easily let you make some real dumb decisions.

That's why I was a rather cold person. I was kind, but I wasn't someone who smiled all day and acted like nothing angered or annoyed me. 'Cause there were always things in my way.

Fortunately I was also a quite strong person, that learned to be in the past few years and I don't give up that easily or let some shit destroy me.

Jeahyun was also strong but I had better skills than him to get what I wanted and my influence on him was just too big to let him win. I always won fights, but that wasn't important in our realtionship. To me it was just an advantage that I would use in such situations.

...

I changed into a short but cute, rosè dress and a white cardigan with brown buttons, put my converse on and fastly walked to Jaeh's dorm.

I had needed fifteen minutes, but it was fine, he would wait for me longer.

I knocked like I always did, three times.

After some seconds Jaehyun ripped the door open and I slightly flinched.

"Holy Shit. What are you wearing?" He scanned my body. I could see, he found it hot but there was also some anger building up in his eyes, and it was rising fast.

"Nice to see you too." I rolled my eyes, inconspicuously also looking over his body. He was wearing sweatpants and a muscle tank top, showing his biceps and toned abs.

He wasn't getting his eyes off me.

"Y/N, this dress covers like nothing. I get it, your curves look absolutely stunning but you have to change!" He angrily commanded.

"Shut up, can I come inside now?" I asked with a hint of annoyance.

"Yes." He stepped away and walked through the kitchen, into his room.

I could sense his tightened jaw and all of his tensed muscles.

"Slow down. It's just a dress." I pronounced looking at him like I couldn't believe how childish he reacted, and at this point I really couldn’t.

"Do you have ANY idea of what the boys think about you when you're wearing this?" He asked and finally turned to me again.

"I would LOVE to know." I ironically said.

"I don't want my girlfriend to walk around like she's just some bitch. Because you're not. These boys are disgusting when it comes to something beautiful like you, Y/N."

Now I'm a bitch? You're done Jaehyun. I thought but grimaced at the hurting word he just said to me.

I know he also called me beautiful, but that wasn't the word that was spinning around my head just now.

When he noticed my face and that I didn't reply after some seconds he tried to apologise.. of course.

"Babe, you're not a bitch. I didn't mean it. All I was trying to say is-" He wanted to grab my arm but I moved back before he could do so.

"No, I got it Jaehyun. I only look like one." I snapped back at him. Not yelling but also not in normal loudness.

I was even more mad than before. And now, I was also hurt. Dangerous Combo.

"No- I- I think it's just too short, Y/N." He wanted to defend himself.

"I understand." My voice wasn't loud anymore at all, but it didn't sound like I meant it.

My voice was pathetically shaking and I was looking on the ground, thinking if it would be the best to just leave now.

"Maybe I should just go. I mean I wouldn't want a bitch in my room either, so..." Talking with a quiet voice, I looked up at him and I saw fear in his eyes.

"No, please-" He stepped forward and was going to take my arm but I backed away again.

"Don't touch me." I warned. His face was getting pale. I didn't miss his teary getting eyes either when I looked at him.

"I'm so sorry. Please don't leave. I really didn't mean it, Y/N. Please, I am just jealous of boys being able to see what usually only I see." He avowed.

"It's fine. I wasn't ready with my homework anyways. I should leave."

"Don't. I want you here right now. Please, I'll do anything." His begging voice spoke.

"But I wanted to get finished today."

"Y/N?!" Suddenly a different person asked excitedly.

I knew who it was and turned around instantly to look at his good looking face.

"Johnny!" I jumped in his arms and he was hugging me back happily.

"Johnny, not now-" Jeahyun was angry once again.

"Let me hug this precious little girl! Hell, you're getting hotter everyday?" Johnny laughed and we separated. He scanned me up and down and smiled mischievously.

"Honestly, if Jeahyun wouldn't date you, surely I would ask you out." He claimed.

"Definitely." I giggled softly.

He was always letting me feel good. And he was one of the guy friends of my boyfriend that I liked the most. He was funny, hella handsome and so nice over all.

Though everything remained on just a friendship, we just always casually played around.

"Hey, shut the hell up. She's mine." Jaeh growled at him and put his hand around my waist, taking back what's his.

I kept smiling but I was also trying to push his hand away, so it was difficult to keep a happy look.

Johnny noticed the awkward situation and started talking to me again.

"Anyways. Do you wanna watch a movie in the living room?"

I opened my mouth and was about to say something but Jaehyun was faster than me.

"No, we were busy." His cold voice was giving me goosebumps.

He could be scary, when he was jealous. I am talking out of experience. Not too nice ones.

"We were not, actually I was about to leave. But because I didn't see you in so long I will stay longer alright?" I suggested when I was back in my senses.

"That's perfect!" John smiled at me.

"You won't hang with my girl, Johnny." Jaeh protested.

I turned around to give my boyfriend a look.

"Could you shut up for a moment? It's my decision since you don't own me. And I'm a bitch right? So it's normal when I hang out with a lot of boys, isn't it?" I started to grow my confidence back but I was fucking mad.

He won't destroy my moment with Johnny right now!

"Did he do something?" The brunette boy in front of us asked.

He was almost two heads taller than me and since Jeah knew I liked taller guys, he was probably freaking out.

"No-" Jaeh started but I thought he could know the truth.

"He said, I looked like a bitch." I told him.

"You did what, Jaehyun?" His shocked voice asked, searching for a reassuring answer in our faces.

"I said sorry already. I didn't mean it okay?! But the dress she's wearing shows almost all of her legs, not to mention her half exposed butt."

"That's no excuse bro. Look, she looks stunning in this dress! There's no reason to fight over." His friend wanted to convince him.

"You better not look at my girl like that, or I have to punch you until you understand." Jeahyun pushed his chest with his fist.

"Calm down man. You should work it out before you come in the living room, I'll pick the movie in the meantime." Johnny decided and walked away.

"Do you let all boys touch you like him?" Now Jaeh asked aggressively, coming nearer.

Now we both had reached a certain line, so I tried to keep it low with my next words, struggling to find a compromise.

"No. I love you. And I wore this dress because I thought you'd find it cute too. Not to attract other boys. I won't wear it in public anymore okay? But you should the fuck calm down and let me talk to Johnny. After all he's your roommate and friend. He won't do anything I don't want." I explained with a strong tone.

His expression softened finally, giving me hope he'd give in eventually.

"Yes, I'm sorry. Will you forgive me for calling you... that?" He wanted to know with puppy eyes.

"I'm not over that yet. It hurted me, Jaeh. I will forgive you if you let me sit with Johnny and watch a movie with us." I claimed and cupped his cheek.

"Fine." He sighed.

We watched an action movie and had a lot of fun. In between time Johnny touched me unintentionally, during laughing and talking.

Jaehyun couldn't hold back and threatened that he would get angry if he would keep doing that. I told him it was fine and Johnny and I just continued like nothing happened.

Don't let your boyfriend treat you like he's in a higher position than you.

▪︎¤▪︎¤▪︎¤▪︎¤▪︎¤▪︎¤▪︎¤▪︎¤▪︎¤▪︎¤▪︎¤▪︎¤▪︎¤▪︎¤▪︎¤▪︎

I'll probably do a masterlist for all the groups I stan and write about.

Hope you enjoyed, stay tuned!!! ♡

#kpop imagines #nct #nct angst #nct jung jaehyun #jung jaehyun #nct jaehyun #boyfriend jaehyun

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iamanartichoke · 3 years

Note

Congrats on follower milestone! I greatly enjoy your presence on my dash with your thoughts and witty tags and all :) For the Loki writing prompt, here's a sort of idea or mood or emotion, very vague, but maybe you can make something of it, and if not, totally cool! Prompt: Mobius taking care of Loki.

@humbae Thanks so much for your kind words as well as the prompt! I kinda just took the "taking care of" idea and had Mobius do the bare minimum, bc it's angstier that way, but I hope you like it anyway.

Summary: Takes place immediately after the end of episode 1; Loki has a realization and Mobius kinda maybe cares. Word Count: 1460 Author’s notes: Please forgive the quality, I started this earlier today and wanted to post it before watching the finale, so I finished the last bit of it in a less-than-alert state, merp.

“What’s this?” Loki asks. He can’t keep the edge of suspicion out of his voice.

“It’s tea,” Mobius says, as if it’s obvious. He sets the red mug down in front of Loki. “What we normally do is drink it.”

The suspicion doesn’t leave him. Loki eyes the mug, wondering if he’d even be able to tell if Mobius had done something nefarious to it - but, there would be little point in Mobius going to the trouble of intervening in Loki’s “trial” and recruiting him to the TVA only to turn around and poison him so, despite himself, Loki picks up the mug and takes a cautious sip.

“Hope you like chamomile,” Mobius adds as he takes the seat across from Loki. “It’s all I could find.”

“It’s passable,” Loki says, after a longer sip. When was the last time he’d had anything to drink? He can’t remember; the blur of New York shifts too sharply into the shock of the TVA and his brain feels too muddled to grasp onto any specifics. There’s been a consistent twisting in his stomach for days; he doesn’t know how long it’s been since he’s eaten, either.

Mobius is just watching him and Loki hunches his shoulders, a bit defensively. “What,” he says, setting down the mug.

Mobius shrugs. “You’re not the first Loki variant to come through here,” he responds. Before, when he’d been questioning Loki, everything about his posture had been straight and precise; now that the interrogation is over, Mobius has adopted a much more casual stance, leaning against the back of his chair with his legs slightly outstretched. “There’ve been a lot.”

“How many is a lot?” Loki’s mind is still spinning from the revelation that the rogue variant they’re hunting is another version of himself, but the idea of even more being out there just makes him feel slightly ill. There would be a crisis here, were Loki in a clearer headspace - something about how it could be possible for more than one version of himself to exist, and if those versions existed, what proof does he have that he, himself, in this moment, also exists? How does he know he is the real Loki? Is there a real Loki?

Apparently, he is in a clear enough headspace for a minor crisis. He wraps his hands around the mug, waiting for Mobius to answer.

“I don’t know,” is all Mobius says. “I’ve lost count, to be perfectly honest with you. You’re like a bad penny, you know - you just keep turning up. You’re a stubborn bastard, I’ll give you that.”

“Thank you.” Loki’s tone is icy. “So if there are so many other variants, why not prune me? What do you think I can do for you that they couldn’t?”

Mobius looks thoughtful for a moment before he shrugs. “Call it a hunch, I guess.”

Wonderful. Loki’s entire existence rests on this bureaucrat of a man’s hunch. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t find that particularly reassuring,” he counters. “How do I know you won’t simply prune me either once we find this other variant, or once I stop being useful to you?”

“What, whichever comes first?” Mobius’s lips tilt slightly upward. “I suppose you don’t.”

Loki slumps a bit in his chair. He’s still holding onto the mug and, for lack of anything else to do, brings it back to his lips. Chamomile, Mobius had called it. It tastes like honey, with just the slightest tinge of apples, and it makes Loki think of the fruit in Idunn’s orchard, how they melted on his tongue like sugar. He remembers dewy summer evenings, laying in the grass with Thor, each of them with a golden apple’s sticky sweetness coating their lips and teeth.

The back of his throat tightens and he focuses on the tea, blinking hard against the sudden sting of tears. Crying in front of Mobius is not something he wants to make a habit of.

Still - “In the desert, when your hunters set off those reset chargers …”

“They pruned the alternate timeline you created when you took off with the tesseract, yeah.” Mobius adjusts his position, straightening up and leaning forward, elbows on the table. “You - that is, the you that’s supposed to exist - never escaped. Your brother took you back to Asgard.”

“And the sacred timeline continues as it should.” The twisting in Loki’s stomach worsens, and it has nothing to do with hunger. “Which means I can never return to Asgard, because he’s already there.”

Mobius’s forehead creases a bit as he nods. He looks almost sympathetic. “You don’t have a place there, no,” he agrees.

A heavy silence falls over them. Loki doesn’t need Mobius to spell it out any further. Loki, the Loki he is right now, will never see Thor again. Nor his mother, or even Odin … but mostly, not Thor. His brother is the worst kind of gone, because he’s not dead, nor lost. He exists on the sacred timeline, forever separated from Loki, and none the wiser to Loki’s absence. He’ll never know that Loki is gone, because the correct Loki is still right where he should be - rotting in Asgard’s dungeons, perhaps, but home all the same.

Rage wells up inside of him, swift and cutting. He pushes away from the table and jumps to his feet so abruptly that even Mobius startles, but before he can do anything, Loki has hurled the red mug against the wall and it shatters, tea and glass shards clattering to the floor. “It isn’t fair,” he snarls; he pushes his hands through his hair, yanking hard at the strands yet the sting of it barely even registers. "That's not fair."

“Loki -”

Loki barely hears him. He drops his hands and clenches his fists; the rage is pressing against his throat, desperate for escape. He wants to scream. He wants to hurl magic in every direction. He truly wants to burn this place to the ground - the TVA, the timekeepers, and every person within it who is complicit in taking away entire realities with hardly a thought spared to the variants left behind.

He’s breathing hard. The trouble is, all of that anger has nowhere to go. Loki cannot bring himself to explode the way he wants to - with neither his magic nor the ability to set fire to the timekeepers’ hearts here and now, the only other option he’s got is to throw things, and he’s hurled enough chairs for today.

Closing his eyes, Loki turns in a circle, grabbing the back of his chair. Instead of throwing it, he leans forward, pressing all of his weight against it because he isn’t sure he can hold himself up. The effort it takes to keep from screaming is leaving him light-headed. Not Thor. Please, please don’t take Thor from me.

“Loki,” Mobius says again. Loki draws in a breath and lets it out slowly, and then opens his eyes and looks up. Mobius is hovering over him, but somehow he’s less dominating than he’d been before. He seems almost concerned - either that, or just plain tired. “Look, I get it. I get that you’re upset, but -”

“How?” Loki demands. His voice is hardly more than a growl. “The timekeepers made you. You’ve never lost anyone. You’ve never known anything besides this … this nightmare.” Frustrated, he pushes away from the chair and gestures broadly at the room around them. “Don’t tell me you get it.”

Mobius sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “You’re right,” he agrees, “I suppose I don’t get it. But I can’t change what you’ve lost, either. All I can do is -”

“I know,” Loki cuts him off, and now he is the one who feels just plain tired. Just as swiftly as the rage had crashed over him, it was now receding again, leaving Loki feeling drained and so, so exhausted. “All you can do is offer me opportunity.” Not salvation. Not anything useful.

Instead of replying, Mobius just puts his hands in his pockets and rocks back on his heels. “Why don’t we start fresh tomorrow,” he suggests. “Okay? ‘Cause I can also offer you your benefits package, if you’re interested. Involves a hot meal and a place to sleep.” His lips quirk a little. “No offense, but you look like you could use both, like, yesterday.”

Loki eyes the other man. Mobius’s features blur a bit, and he realizes it’s because his eyes have welled up. He rubs them and then sighs and nods, giving in because what else is he to do? This is what he has been reduced to - powerless, with nowhere else to go, his entire existence contingent upon getting in - and staying in - Mobius’s good graces.

He’ll start with a hot meal.

#charlotte writes #follower celebration prompt series #loki series spoilers #loki spoilers #loki tv series spoilers #mobius dick #loki + mobius (platonic)#validatemepls #NOW i am going to go watch the finale #wish me luck

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pl-panda · 4 years

Text

Damienette arranged marriage: Part 8

Credits: Miraculous Ladybug team for the elements I take from MLB show. DC for their characters, @ozmav for the AU, @maribat-archive for giving me access to so many different stories to have take inspirations from, @thyladyanput for idea for Chat Damian and me for the plot.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Damienette arranged marriage: part 8

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“Children. Chloe wanted to say something to all of you.” The teacher started.

“Yes. I wanted to apologize for my utterly ridiculous behavior in the past and hope that you will give me chance to earn forgiveness from the better part of you.” Chloe stated nonchalantly.

----------

The class exploded into murmurs. Chloe was standing there. It was probably the first time Marinette saw her actually uncomfortable. The blonde was often irritated, tense or even uneasy, but not in this way. She was looking ashamed, but not with her actions. Both damian and Marinette were quite good at reading people and they could tell that Chloe was sincere in her apology.

Alya finally broke from her murmuring with Lila, stood up and looked at the blonde. “How can we know you actually changed. For all we know this might just be some scheme of yours to get Ladybug to trust you again and give you a Miraculous back!” She accused her.

“Yeah! You were always just mean and self-centered. Why would you want to change now?!” Kim shouted.

“You are just sad that Sabrina finally decided not to stick with you!” Rose also joined this

“I can’t believe I stuck with you for so long!” Sabrina huffed and turned away not to look at Chloe.

The blonde looked distraught at the class. She knew that just by apologizing she would achieve little, but Chloe hoped that at least they would not shun her completely. The last few weeks were hard. Now not even Adrien talked to her anymore. A single tear formed in her eye.

“Don’t try playing on our emotions witch!” Alya shouted with anger. “We are all past your lies and manipulation!”

“I estimate ninety percent chance that this is all a plot.” Max stated calmly.

Lila didn’t say anything aloud, but she was smiling in a twisted way that could be even called evil. She only watched as Chloe was slowly being torn apart by the class. Soon Hawkmoth would get a very strong Akuma.

“You were never even my friend!” Sabrina shouted.

“We don’t want you here!”

“Go to New York and stop bothering us!”

“You are just sad, pathetic bitch!” Alya fumed with anger. How dare Chloe try to manipulate them into liking her again.

Tears streamed down Chloe’s cheeks. She collapsed onto the floor and sobbed. Marinette decided that this was enough. She jumped from her place and walked in front of the class. “What is wrong with you?! Don’t you see you are hurting her!?”

“Shut up bully! You are even worse than her!” Kim didn’t care what the blunette said.

“Yeah! The two of you are worth one another! Both of you should get lost!” Rose was also not holding back with insults

“No.” Alya said. “Marinette is worse. At least Chloe doesn’t try to sleep with random guy just to get Adrien’s attent…” She didn’t finish when a metal pen suddenly embed itself right in front of her at least an inch deep in the desk.

“That’s enough from you.” Damian growled. He then walked down with hand twitching. Probably the most irritating thing was that the teacher watched this whole scene and didn’t bother to react.

Marinette kneeled next to Chloe. “Don’t worry about them. They are not worth getting akumatized for. Listen to me Chloe. Everything’s all right. I… I forgive you. I saw that this was sincere.”

The blonde looked up, still having tears in her eyes. “Dupain-Cheng? But… But I was the worst to you...”

“But you try to change. And…” Marinette felt something wet hit the back of her head. She touched it and realized that someone spit at her.

Damian’s eyes were cold fury. He was so focused on the scene in front of him that he stopped paying attention to the class. He slowly turned to them. A silent anger burned in his eyes. Most people in the class flinched and some tried to sink in their chair. Juleka looked particularly guilty Damian noticed. But Alya and Lila were completely unfazed by him.

“tt. I will say it once, and very slowly so your collective one brain cell understands it. I do not care about any one of you morons. I do not want to make friends with anyone of you because you are not worth it. The only person in this whole class that so far I consider valuable is Marinette, which she proved this very moment. So I will make it crystal clear. Back. Off.” He growled.

“You are protecting two biggest bullis and dare talk to us about worthiness?” Alya refused to shut up, which in other situation would be a risk to her health, but by sheer stroke of luck Damian ignored her and instead turned to Marinette.

The blunette helped Chloe up. “I don’t think she is emotional state to participate in the lesson right now Madame Bustier. Can I walk her out?”

“If you believe that’s best for her.” The teacher stated with a smile. Damian held the urge to growl again. Instead, he just followed Marinette. “And where are you going, young man?”

“I need to make a call to my brother.” Damian stated. Luckily, he was here under fake name so they had no idea who his brother was. Teacher didn’t say anything.

-------

Outside of the class Chloe hugged Marinette tightly, crying yet another river of tears. “Thank you Dupain-Cheng. Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”

“I-it’s okay Chloe. I couldn’t just let them talk to you like that.”

Damian watched the whole situation with awe. He was focused on planning ways to slaughter the class and make it look like unfortunate accident, but Marinette instead chose to comfort the victim. She did not care about what they said even when they spat on her and insulted her instead. Justice, not Vengeance. Even after five years he had trouble with comprehending this idea. But Marinette lived by it. Right in front of his eyes she comforted someone who bullied her for better part of her life. Damian too knew that this apology was genuine, but he would not be able to forgive so easily. It was almost naive from Marinette to do so.

“I… I don’t think I want to return there. At least not today.” Chloe stated. She slowly calmed down. “They were ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous!” Marinette smiled at Chloe’s catchphrase.

Damian pulled his phone and called someone nicknamed ‘replacement’. After three rings there was an answer.

“What do you want Demon Spawn?” Tim sounded at the other side.

“Call the school and tell them that three students are to be excused for today. We had a situation here. Explain later. Got to go.” Before Drake had a chance to ask for explanation, Damian hanged up and quickly texted him the names.

“Uh… I think that’s not how it works. Besides, I left my things in class…” Marinette stated unsure.

“It will work.” Damian said firmly. “Now let’s go. I will get your things.” He walked inside the class and Marinette heard some shouts from the inside, but Damian walked outside with a grin.

“You didn’t hurt anyone?” she asked him pretty unsure.

“Believe me I wanted.” He simply stated and handed her the backpack.

“Who is your friend Dupain-Cheng?” Chloe asked. Marinette smiled with relief. The blonde was already feeling better apparently.

“This is Damian… Grayson. From yesterday, remember?”

“I wasn’t in class yesterday.” Chloe stated. “I was… never mind.” She stated and started to walk outside. “Uh… Would you like to go with me Dupain-Cheng?”

“Okay. Honestly… I don’t want to go back there either.” The bluenette stated. “And for their own goods it’s best if Damian don’t go in there alone.” She smiled at the boy.

“I swear. I was gone for one day and you got yourself a boyfriend. Only you Dupain-Cheng.” Chloe grabbed Marinette and dragged her with her out of the school.

“tt.” Damian followed them quickly before he lost them.

-------

They arrived at the Hotel Le Grand Paris in record time. It wasn’t even noon.

“Uh… Chloe? Do you have any plan whatsoever?” Marinette finally asked. She stayed silent for the way, instead just switching between sending Damian an apologetic glares and watching Chloe ramble about their class. She knew that the blonde needed to talk all the emotions out.

“Of course I have a plan. I want to introduce you to my mother properly. Then we can go to my room and I can do something with your clothes… For a fashion designer you dress ridiculous. Utterly Ridiculous!” Marinette had to admit she was not really a fashion icon that day. Her outfit was completely mismatched. She just took first things that she managed to grab and put them on in the rush. She took a second look at her clothes and gave her a sheepish smile.

“I kinda maybe might have slightly almost overslept.”

“Scratch that. We are going to my room first. I think we wear more or less the same size.” Chloe stated and dragged the bluenette to the elevator. Damian for the whole trip just walked behind them and let two girls solve it between themselves. He decided it was best if he just didn’t intervene. It was… interesting thing to watch. Chloe pretty much ‘adopted’ the girl. And Damian knew better than to step into this situation. Call it personal experience.

They got into her room and Chloe locked the doors.

“Okay. Now you explain to me Dupain-Cheng how did you manage to get a mysterious Damian Wayne, the damned ‘Ice Prince’ of Gotham, to act like a lost puppy toward you.”

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Taglist (sorry if I missed you)@pheonixashtree @sassakitty @unabashedbookworm @vixen-uchiha @maggiecc12 @actualdisasterwoman @tired-butterfly @shizukiryuu @floralfi @imanerddealwith @northernbluetongue @krispydefendorpolice @toodaloo-kangaroo @dast218 @bluesoulblueheart @theatreandcomicfreak @disneyfoxuniverse @mindfulmagics @alwaysnumberonetruth @nyaabinch @jardimazul @lenamau @rosep16 @dramatic-squirrel @sonif50 @daminett4life @lulutheawkwardess @weird-pale-blonde-person @mooshoon @jeminiikrystal @mochegato @moonlightstar64 @dragonflyswing @silverwhiteraven @shamefullove @magic-miraculous @valeks-princess @heaven428 @mlbchaosqueen @winter-gardenflower @spicybelladonna @emo-elaine13 @vetilora @karukofox21 @my-name-is-michell @sturchling @lokiifriggasonn @redscarlet95 @melicmusicmagic @interobanginyourmom @the-fusionist @razzledazzle247 @miss-mysterys-blog @darkthunder1589 @i-is-mysterious @catthhay @the-one-woman-army @zestyzealot @dahjokester @write-for-your-life2 @mermaidreject @peachedpocky @sassakitty

#fanfic #fanfiction #maribat #maribat au #marinette x damian #guardian!marinette #redeemed!chloe #crossover #mlb #mlb x dc #damienette #maridami #arranged marriage au #batman #miraculous lb #miraculous ladybug #order of the guardians #league of assassins

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jjaybank · 4 years

Text

𝐒𝐚𝐥𝐭 • 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐢𝐱

𝘚𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘭

Masterlist

Pairing: JJ Maybank x Reader (mentions of John B. x Reader) Summary: You are a backpacker who has wound up staying in the Outer Banks for a while and being taken in by the Pogues. Starved of love, JJ struggles with the realisation that he’s falling for his friend. Hard. In which John B is one of the best of friends A/N: In my head The Pogues are like in their early twenties in this okay, so humour me. It’s 4.20am and i’ve just finished this chapter pls don’t let it flop omg. Warnings: Some swearing, and passing mentions of drugs and alcohol Word Count: 2.7K

Taglist @danicarosaline @sspidermanss @teamnick @x-lulu @pancakefancake @plantsarenice-love @mybnkjj @1believe-in-your-self1 @thistreasurehunter @pixelated-pogues @moldisgoodforyou @jellyfishbeansontoast @otrbnks

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You wake with a start. You don’t really remember much of the previous night. You know that at some point John B had convinced you to move inside, out of the storm. You also think that he may have sat with you while you spilled your feelings for JJ out incomprehensibly. You can’t remember exactly it was that you said, which horrifies you. You scrunch up your face, slightly mortified at your display of emotions. It was out of character for you, and you would have to apologise to John B for both the outburst, and the inconvenience your altercation with JJ was going to cause within the group. Your heart sinks, recalling the dramatics of your standoff in the centre of the storm. Your throat tightens at the memory of the blue-eyed boy staring you down with pure betrayal shining in his eyes. You rub your face groggily and groan at the splitting headache that’s expanding within your skull. That’s what you get for crying all night you think, pulling yourself reluctantly from the bed in John B’s spare room. It’s a tangle of sheets and blankets, an illustration of how restlessly you slept. You catch sight of yourself in the grimy mirror that hangs lopsided on the wall. Your eyes are so puffy and irritated from the tidal wave of tears they produced that your irises are barely slits in your face. You laugh despite yourself; you look ridiculous and quite frankly, pathetic.

The shack feels awfully quiet as you make your way through to the kitchen. The storm had almost subsided, only the odd sharp gust of wind now shook the windows. A nice break from the incessant beating they received during the night. You note that yours and Pope’s patchy attempts at strengthening the window frame with all that duct tape had worked, and smile to yourself at the small victory. There is, however, a massive leak in the roof of the living area. That’s where you find John B. He is standing on a wobbly looking chair, inspecting the damage. He has a bucket in his hands and is attempting to catch all the rainwater that is draining off the roof and directly onto the sofa. You watch him for a moment, a bemused look on your face. He notices you suddenly, and almost topples straight off the chair. The bucket crashes to the ground, spilling brackish looking water all over the wooden floorboards. ‘Fuck! He yells, ‘Y/N, you just gave me the fright of my life.’ He steadies himself by putting his palms flat against the ceiling. ‘Sorry, I didn’t realise my face looked quite that horrific.’ You quip, helping him down from the chair before going to the kitchen to find a mop. John B hurries after you, backpedalling massively. You realise that he’s looking at you in a way that suggests he thinks you could explode at any given moment. You raise your hand in an attempt to calm his onslaught of unnecessary apologies, and he finally quiets. ‘It’s okay, John B, I’m okay.’ You say, too brightly. He looks pointedly at your puffy eyes and knotted hair, concern vividly apparent on his face. ‘Really.’ You reiterate. You try to push past him, mop in hand, but he steps back into your path. You sigh, exasperated. ‘Y/N,’ he says cautiously, ‘do you remember the things you said last night?’ A lump catches in your throat and a spark of fear flickers across your face. All you can recall is a whirlwind of pain and the salty trace of tears on your lips. You shake your head warily. John B reaches over and takes the mop from you gently. ‘C’mon, I’ll make you breakfast.’ You sit on the kitchen counter nursing a mug of coffee as John B whirls around making you up some eggs. ‘You really want me to tell you everything?’ he asks for the third time. ‘Yes.’ You try to say it firmly, but you still sense the waver in your voice giving away the nerves twisting inside and eating you up. ‘Okay, so first of all you tell me you’re in love with JJ.’ Wow, you think, he’s really going straight in there. ‘How do you feel about that?’ He asks. The matter-of-fact tone in his voice shocks you a bit. Why was there no surprise? No shock in this ground-breaking revelation. He hands you a plate of scrambled egg and buttery toast. You take it thankfully, but quickly realise you’re not really very hungry. You swing your legs nervously, avoiding his intent stare.

‘I’m not sure if it’s love-’ you start, and John B shocks you both by audibly scoffing. He slaps a hand over his mouth, ‘no go on’ he insists. ‘Hang on, no, what was that?!’ you protest, aiming a kick at his shin from your vantage point. He raises both hands in surrender before running his hands through his hair and pushing his fingers to his temples. You keep a scrutinising eye on him. What on earth was going on? ‘It’s obvious, Y/N.’ John B sighs finally. He leans against the counter next to you and picks up a half-nibbled crust of toast from your plate. He chews at it thoughtfully, and you can almost see the cogs working in his brain. ‘You and JJ, you have always had this, uh I dunno, a connection? Would you agree?’ He points the crust at you. You nod slowly, chasing eggs around your plate with your fork. ‘Okay, so the two of you, I think, have very slowly developed something – feelings?’ You open your mouth to speak. ‘No, no- let me finish.’ You snap it shut again with a huff. ‘He was hurt by the idea that there was something going on here’ he was indicating between the two of you, ‘and you know JJ, with vulnerability comes fear, and he was afraid of being rejected.’ ‘Wait, what?’ ‘He’s scared of losing you, Y/N, and I think he feels he’s gotten himself in too deep. But he’s not ever gunna admit that.’ Your mind was running a million miles a minute. When you can finally speak it’s barely a whisper. ‘You think he feels it too?’ ‘Yes.’ John B says confidently, and you search the boy’s eyes and are soothed to find that there is sincerity swimming in them. You sit in silence for a while, mulling over everything John B had said. How had you been so slow to notice what was happening between yourself and one of your closest friends? Perhaps you were the same as JJ – maybe you were terrified of the prospect of loss. ‘Do you want me to tell you everything else you said?’ John B asks abruptly, breaking your train of thought. ‘Absolutely not. ~ You spend the rest of the morning helping clear up outside The Chateau. There are branches and debris everywhere, it had taken you well over an hour to clear one small portion of the yard and you wish that you had more pairs of hands to help with the labour. As if on cue, the VW rolls into the driveway. You feel a pang of panic in your stomach, bile rising in your throat, as you recall the events of the previous day playing out in the very spot you stood now. You look over at John B and he shoots you an encouraging look. JJ doesn’t look at you when he walks across the yard. He’s wearing the same clothes as yesterday, and it pleases you slightly to see that he had also had a rough night. He looks exhausted and his eyes are red. Whether that’s from weed or tears, you can’t confirm, but whatever it is he does not look great. He doesn’t talk to either of you, but rather just starts helping you clear up. You and John B exchange looks but don’t say a word. You work in silence for what feels like an age before you’re pretty confident that most of the ruin has been either repaired or thrown out. You slump down on the pontoon as John B and JJ haul the HMS Pogue back into the water. The marsh is still fairly choppy but the little boat will be safe in there now. ‘Whatcha thinking, Y/N’ John B asks loudly, taking both you and JJ by surprise. You look out at the horizon, chewing the inside of your lip. ‘I’m thinking that I ought to go and check out my place’. You twist your face into a grimace and pick at a tuft of lichen that’s growing in between the wooden slats next to you. ‘It’s gonna be wrecked after that belter.’ You run your hands over your face, attempting to mentally prepare yourself for the ruin. ‘Tell you what,’ says John B, ’why don’t you go with JJ and sort out your place? I can handle everything else here on my own.’ You both stare at him, mouths slightly agape. Your heart pummels against your ribcage, and you think you might vomit. ‘Look, you two have got a tonne of shit to talk about, and you’d be killing two birds with one stone.’ You get to your feet hesitantly, trying to make eye contact with JJ but he’s boring a hole into the ground with his eyes. You roll your eyes at John B and climb aboard the Pogue. JJ doesn’t move. John B steps forward and nudges JJ in the back with his index finger. JJ scowls at him. ‘Oh, you know what, fuck this.’ You say suddenly, throwing your arms up in defeat. You reach over to release the mooring lines of the Pogue from the jetty and experience a white-hot sear of pain as you clash heads with JJ. John B winces and swallows his laughter. You rub you head tenderly, settling in front of the steering wheel as JJ jumps aboard. ‘If I’m coming, I’m steering.’ He says roughly and you shoot him a glare but make your way to the bow of the boat. ‘Please don’t drown each other.’ John B calls, as he waves you off and hopes that this isn’t the last time he ever sees you in one piece. ~ The trip to your shack is a quiet one. You don’t even dare look back at JJ, you can feel his eyes wearing into the back of your head. But when you do finally round the corner of the marsh you can’t help but let out an anguished cry. The devastation that lies before your eyes was even worse that you had anticipated. Your tiny little home doesn’t really exist anymore, in the sense that the structure has completely gone. You can see what remained of your belongings scattered along the beach. Yours and John B’s efforts had been rendered fruitless, and although you had prepared yourself for the worst, you feel heavy tears stinging your eyes. You wipe them away angrily as you approach the jetty. Once you’re on dry land you instantly start up the beach, collecting sodden items of clothing and pieces of your house on the way. When you reach where your little beach shack had once stood, you drop the little bundle that you had salvaged and drop to your knees. The angry guise evaporates, and JJ is there in an instant - he always is. You feel his arm around you, and he pulls you against him as you let the tears fall. ‘I don’t really know what I expected,’ you laugh sadly, ‘it only had a little tin roof.’ You stick out your bottom lip as you spot said tin roof, discarded by the wind some forty feet away. ‘I’ll be honest Y/N,’ JJ says softly, ‘I’m surprised it lasted this long.’ You nod in agreement and the two of you get to your feet and begin rummaging through the wreckage to gather the few things that you didn’t take with you the day before. You recover a couple of books, they’re water damaged but you insist that you want to dry them out. You pull your old travelling backpack out of the debris and begin stuffing your few remaining items into it. JJ pulls one of the flimsy walls away from the heap of the shack and starts going through all the accessible drawers and cupboards. There’s not much left for him to unearth but he does find your trusty walking boots which he launches across the rubble at you. ‘Careful.’ You warn. But he doesn’t reply. He’s frozen in place, looking down at something in his hands. ‘What, JJ, what is it?’ You ask, trying to peer over his shoulder at what he’s holding. ‘You kept it.’ He says quietly, and you frown in confusion. You clamber over the wreckage and kneel down beside him. In his hands he holds a small but perfectly formed shell. Your face lights up in an instant. Your mind flashes back to that first day on the beach, the day you became a Pogue. You remember sitting in the soft sand, a slightly warm beer in your hand. John B was trying to get a fire started and you were all laughing at him for how badly he was failing. You’d offered to go and find more firewood and JJ had volunteered to come along. Kie was slightly disgruntled as you were her friend, but JJ had been insistent. ‘Can’t let the Touron get lost now can we’ he’d explained. ‘JJ. It’s a beach.’ You had retorted, deadpan. The two of you had walked much of the stretch of the beach and you had a substantial bundle of firewood gathered in your arms. JJ had stooped suddenly and when he came back up to face you, he held out a simple yet perfect shell, ‘For you,’ he had grinned, ‘so you don’t forget about us.’ You had smiled so widely, and assured him that you would never forget them, not in a blue moon. He’d put the shell in your pocket for you, so you didn’t have to put down your collection of sticks. ‘I hope you stay here for a while, Y/N’ he had said. ‘I do too.’ JJ was looking up at you now, under his floppy mess of blonde hair. His eyes are swimming with questions, he looks like he might cry. ‘Why did you keep it?’ He asks. His voice is so serious that you don’t know how to respond. So you do the only thing you can think of. You kiss him. His eyes are wide with shock for a moment before he sinks into your embrace. His lips are chapped, and he tastes like the ocean. His hands find your face, your hair, but he never drops the shell. It sits in his palm as his finger tangle themselves into your tresses. You relax into him in a way you don’t think you ever have before – so utterly at peace. Like it is the most natural thing in the world. Meanwhile you heart is bursting out of your chest and there are sparks flying around your head. You wonder if he can feel them. His lips move against yours so softly. He brushes his tongue against your bottom lip ever so lightly, testing the waters, working out what is acceptable. You open your mouth to his, deepening into him, savouring him. You wish for this feeling of pure bliss to never come to an end. When JJ pulls away his eyes are searching yours desperately. He needs a confirmation, something solid. You nod reassuringly, touching your fingertips to his face, tracing his jaw. ‘Say it.’ He whispers ‘I want you, JJ’ you murmur, running a thumb across his bottom lip, ‘I think I always have.’ His face lights up and he grabs your face in his hands, sending the shell skittering across the beach. ‘Shit!’ He gasps, leaping to his feet and scampering after it. You smile, your bottom lips caught between your teeth and you watch the boy who makes your heart skip a beat give chase after a shell. ‘You better fucking find that.’ You yell after him. And while there is still so much to work out between the two of you, you feel your first real breath of relief in weeks. And amid the ruin of your storm torn house, you are so undoubtedly happy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I really hope you enjoyed this chapter. I really enjoyed writing it!! I had to repost it because Tumblr just refused to work so I am so sorry about that! Please let me know what you think x

#jj maybank #jj maybank fanfiction #jj Maybank x reader #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank oneshot #jj maybank fic #obx writing #obx writers #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks writing #outer banks writers

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actualfarless · 3 years

Text

If You Hold It To Your Ear

You are a new trainer at the local aquarium. During your tour of the facility, the staff show you their newest addition; a mermaid. You are tasked with training her.

Story below or available on Wattpad

Monday

She was nothing like what I expected, not that I expected much. When I first heard the rumors, I brushed it off as a joke. Even when the rest of the team stopped laughing. Even when my boss told me I’d be in charge of training her. He wasn’t fond of humor, not in my experience, but he took great pride in subverting expectations.

The others gathered around her tank, reverted to children with their excited jabber. Whoops and cheers erupted every at erratic intervals and even the ear-shattering whistle from our boss couldn’t part them.

His stern gaze could.

He shoved his way in front of the crowd, muttering what I could only assume were curses or complaints in his mother tongue. Each member fell silent as he passed, remembering, quite suddenly, that they were not employed to ogle at our newest member.

“Everybody out,” he growled. The crowd grumbled but complied and had he not grabbed my collar, I would have followed. “Obviously, not you, Amy.”

“Right.” I chuckled nervously. Peering past him, I gazed into the dark waters. “Is it… Do we really have a mermaid?”

“Yes.”

“Can I see her?”

“You have to.”

“Right-” more nervous laughter - “I’m training her.”

“Yes.” He crossed his arms, letting silence fill the air. If I looked closely, I could see his mustache mimicking the movement.

“What exactly am I training her to do?”

“Whatever it can do, as long as we can sell tickets. You have until Friday.”

My mind raced, trying desperately to parse what he said, but before I could even form a complaint about his proposed timeline, I found myself alone in the room and my hands full of fish.

“Okay.”

I inched toward the tank, somewhere between excited and nervous. Part of me expected her to break through the glass and drown me. Somehow. Another part expected that this was - still - part of an elaborate prank and the camera crew would roll out once I started feeding fish to an empty tank.

I was wrong on both accounts.

She swam to me with mirrored caution. Her hair was a fiery red which flowed behind her as she swam and exploded from her scalp when she stopped. From the waist up, only the hints of silver on her skin, webbing between her fingers, and large pupils gave any indication that she was anything but human. The colors around her eyes changed with the light from red to orange and back. Yet she was a mermaid in the most common sense. Her body turned to fish where her belly button would be. Two pelvic fins jutted from where her white underside met her silver-grey back. She had more fins along her body until her tail became a caudal fin.

She was stunning and terrifying and beautiful all the same time.

A red scar ran from her neck to her hip.

She followed me as I climbed the stairs to the top of her tank, likely regarding me with the same curiosity, finding words to describe my legs and questioning if my clothes were part of my body or not. I felt my cheeks burn as she studied me and wondered if she felt any indignity about her situation.

No, she couldn’t. Surely.

She was not human, even if half of her looked it.

I reached the top of the stairs and stepped out onto the deck and all at once we were really face to face. Her hair fell to the side of her face, darker out of the water. Sniffed the air a couple times and moved her gaze from me to the pail in my hands.

“Hi,” I said and awkwardly stuck out my hand. “I’m Amy.”

Eyes wide, she slipped back into the water. A fin rose from her spine, snapping into place and she disappeared faster than I could track, leaving me and the pail of dead fish alone on the dock.

Tuesday

“Good morning, Ariel.”

I paused, expecting a splash as she fled once again, but the mermaid stayed put, though a little further away from the deck than our first meeting. The pail I had left sat empty on the edge. Progress.

“Is it alright if I call you Ariel? I don’t know if you already have a name. For all I know, you call yourself Cthaegya or Dark Sorceress of the Depths or Bubbles.” I laughed at myself. Ariel shifted away at first, but moved closer once it was clear my joy wasn’t a threat. “It’s a little silly, isn’t it? I shouldn’t get to name you. Ariel isn’t even particularly creative. I stole the name from a movie about a mermaid. She kinda looks like you. Less terrifying, though - no offense. Do you -”

An ear-splitting sound interrupted me, then, in case that was not enough, another quickly followed. Ariel had been slowly drifting closer to me as I spoke but dove under the surface at the first whistle. I leaned over the edge, ready to snap, but on seeing the mustache and the man wearing it, I bit my tongue.

“Hi, boss. What, uh, what’s up? How can I help you?”

“The mermaid.”

“Yep?”

“How is the training going?”

“It’s good. Ariel’s shy, but she’s getting used to me.” I hesitated for a moment, then carefully added, “we haven’t had much time together. I think it’s going to be a while before she’s ready for a crowd.”

“Are you saying you are not equipped for the task, Amy?”

“What, no, no no no. I’m just saying that we need time-”

“Very well. You’re approved for ten hours of overtime this week, but -” he eyed me carefully - “I better not catch you goofing off.”

“That’s not exactly-”

The rest of my sentence was cut off by another pair of blasts from the whistle. I waited a beat after the door slide closed to make a series of faces few would call professional.

Once I ran out of faces to make at an empty wall, I turned back to Ariel. She swam just below the surface, still agitated, but the pop-up dorsal fin had gone back down and she lingered closer to me than the dark corners of her tank. She glanced between me and the door and, most often, the pail. I grinned.

“Here you go, Ariel.” I fished out a snack for her and tossed in the water close to me. She reached for it carefully, moving with the grace and beauty described of mermaids of myth. I once more felt the heat on my face as I watched her swim.

Then she opened her mouth and revealed rows of sharp, triangular teeth, much like a shark but confined to a human jaw. She tore chunks off the fish, swimming in a tight circle as she ate, forming a little cloud of fish guts, blood, and bits. Yet, as gruesome as it was, the scene was mesmerizing.

One she finished, she swam to the surface, placing her hands on the dock. Blood dribbled down her chin.

“Ligeia.”

I stared at her in disbelief, as if my ears had simply turned random sound into words, but, perhaps understanding my shock, she repeated the word and there was no denying she spoke. Her voice did not match what I imagined for a siren, deeper and hoarse, but I quickly adjusted my assumptions.

“My name,” she said.

“Oh. Oh! I’m Amy.”

“Yes. I know. You told me yesterday.”

“Right. I did.” I repositioned, moving closer to the edge. Ariel - no, Ligeia watched me closely as I dangled my legs in the water. She slowly lifted her eyes to meet mine, then immediately diverted away, cheeks reddening.

Mermaids could blush.

“You’re not like the others,” she said.

“Is that a good thing?”

“I think yes. You have given me fish and you are pretty.” Ligeia smiled, revealing her teeth once again. “You will give me more?”

I returned the smile. “Yes, if you answer some questions?”

Ligeia thought for a moment, then nodded. “Yes, for fish.”

Wednesday

“I miss my home,” Ligeia said. She floated on her back, staring up at the grey ceiling. “It is large. There is room to swim. I can see the sky.”

I sat with my feet in the water, scribbling furiously in a notebook. Every detail was vital and though I was sure someone, somewhere had a guide on mermaids, I had a suspicion that I’d be laughed at if I tried.

Until Friday, at least.

“Do you know sky?”

“I do.”

“I miss it.”

I dug my nails into my palm. Over my sessions with Ligeia, a knot of guilt had worked itself through my system and forced a painful realization. Ligeia was not some beast. She was an intelligent creature we trapped and intended to display and I had done nothing to protest. I told myself I wanted to make sure she was ready to return to the ocean, physically and mentally, as best as I could judge from a couple psych classes from my college days.

The truth, she made me feel something I hadn’t felt in a long time. I did not want to say goodbye.

At least I hoped that was the truth.

“Ligeia, can I ask you something personal?”

“If you give me more fish.”

“That’s a deal.” I laughed and tossed her another.

I learned quickly that mermaids were insatiable in their appetite and I had no understanding of a healthy diet. I had been tempted to ask Ligeia, but I didn’t expect any honesty from her on the topic. Instead, I had several buckets and we settled on an exchange rate of one fish for however many questions she felt like answering. Sometimes one per one. Sometimes she would get invested in a topic and answer several before she realized she forgot to ask me for due compensation.

That’s when I learned mermaids could pout.

I opened my mouth to ask the question. Nerves got the better of me. “How did you get caught?”

“Hmm. More please,” she said cheerfully.

“In a moment,” I replied. “One for one question, I think that’s fair.”

“More please,” she repeated.

I felt a chill go down my spine. Even though I could see her in front of me, drifting lazily in the water, I heard her whisper and her lips graze my ear. I chucked a pail into the water. Before I could start to piece together what happened, I heard the violent sounds of a ravenous mermaid feasting. There was no care, no delicacy. Even her eyes changed as she fed, her pupils growing so large her eyes were almost black.

I could only watch as she finished her feeding frenzy. I wanted to run, but my legs wouldn’t move, either from fear or from whatever Ligeia had done to me. My body felt independent from my brain and only when she had swum back up to me did I regain any sense. I pulled my legs out of the water as soon as I regained control. If Ligeia sensed my fear, she did not react to it. Perhaps mermaids did not understand fear.

“I forgot your question,” Ligeia said sheepishly. She squinted at me. “You are sad?”

“Sad?” A manic laugh escaped me. “I’m terrified. What the hell was that?”

Ligeia tilted her head and blinked at me.

“What did you do to me?”

“Oh, your question. I remember now.” She turned onto her back, staring back up at the ceiling again. “I had been hunting in the deeper waters. My nest - do you know nest? It is a home within a home. I sleep and eat and hunt and procreate there. The last only in dreams. For now. My nest had little fish left. They had all been stolen by men with beards and boats and nets. That is why I had to hunt beyond my nest. I was not careful. I was hungry. I was not careful. I saw many herds of fish together - what is the word you use?”

My heart had not stopped thundering in my chest. I hardly heard the words Ligeia said. I wanted to believe she had done… whatever she had done by accident. I really wanted to.

Only when she turned to me with the same quizzical stare did I realize she asked me a question.

“Sorry, what, uh, what was your question?”

“Your word for a herd of fish? What do you say?”

I took a deep breath, forcing my mind back on the topic at hand. “School. We say a school of fish.”

“A school.” Ligeia smiled and rolled onto her back again. “It is a funny word. I saw many schools together and I was hungry. I chased them. I did not care where they led me. I chased them to the men with their beards and boats and I did not realize until one of their boats cut me. I tried to swim away, but I had been hurt more than I thought. I could not even call for help.”

Ligeia traced the scar on her chest. “My throat took the longest to heal. When I could speak again, I was farther away from my nest than I had ever been. They put me in a cage like this one. Smaller. Men would come to look at me. Their skins - clothes - were strange but eventually two men visited me and told me I would work for them. They put me in a moving cage. Then I came here. I met you.”

Without thinking, I slipped into the water, realizing only once I was in Ligeia’s tank that I should have stripped to just my bathing suit. I wrapped my arms around her. For a moment, just a moment, I forgot about her teeth and her whispering in my mind. I felt her start to jerk away, dorsal fin half rising, before she stopped herself and wrapped her arms around me as well. Her breath smelled of fish. I didn’t mind. I also smelled of fish.

“What is this?”

“A hug,” I answered. “It’s for sympathy and affection. It means, I’m sorry and I care about you.”

“I already know you care about me.”

“You do?”

“Yes, you give me fish. With my people, this means we are married.”

I let go, eyes wide. “We’re what?”

Ligeia grinned and swam in a tight circle around me. “Aha! A joke. You know jokes?”

I laughed and splashed her. “Yes, I know jokes.”

“Good.” Her smile quickly faded. “I am sorry about what I did to you. I did not expect to do it. I have not been able to for a long time. Not since I was captured.”

“It’s alright. Can you promise me you won’t again?”

“I can.”

Thursday

The day passed quickly and soon the rest of the team checked out for the day, leaving the two of us alone in the aquarium. Ligeia shared stories of the ocean and I countered with my own, describing things I knew she never saw at sea. My confidence waned, though, when she told me she knew fire, then described in harsh detail. Technology easily impressed her. She had seen others use phones, either from boats or from her time between the ocean and our aquarium, but she had never had the chance to use them herself.

Unfortunately, my phone did not survive its brush with the mermaid, dying quickly after Ligeia learned the concept of a selfie and tried one underwater. A wiser Amy would have bought a waterproof case, but we weren’t supposed to carry our phones with us at work, so I never saw the point.

I did my best to bring Ligeia’s home to her. I spent well beyond my monthly allowance at the gift shop and offered a variety of beautiful shells and cheap jewelry to admire. She ran her fingers over them, admiring how they looked both above and below the water.

“We do not have our own,” she said as I fastened the necklace. “But, in my nest, I have a collection of rocks and glass. Sometimes I take it to the surface for the sun to play with. The thought is the same. It is pretty.”

“It is,” I agreed. I reached for one of the shells, a purplish, whiteish, conical thing and held it out to her. ��If you hold it to your ear, you can hear the sea.”

“I can already hear the sea.” She sighed and took the shell from my palm. “It’s just beyond my reach.”

“For now,” I offered. I tried to sound sincere, but we both knew the truth, even neither of us said it. Her wound was healed before she arrived. The only thing between her and her home was a mile of land and my own cowardice.

“For now,” Ligeia echoed. She held the shell up to her ear and let out a little gasp. “Oh, it sounds better! It sounds like I’m already there.”

“I did not realize the ocean could fit in something so small.” She held the shell out to inspect it, then looked to me. “Or is it just the noise?”

“Oh, it’s actually the ambient noise and, uh… reverb or something.” I trailed off. “I honestly don’t know what causes it. Maybe I could look it up for you.”

“No, I already know. It’s magic.” She flashed her sharp teeth in a wicked grin. “Thank you, Amy.”

“You’re welcome.”

Ligeia held the shell up to her ear as she floated in a small circle around me. “I miss stars. Do you know stars, Amy?”

I stifled a laugh. “I do.”

“When I was little, I would fly among the stars. I would sneak away at night when my family slept and I would fly so close to the stars I could feel their heat. Little suns each one.” Ligeia closed her eyes, her smile fading as she spoke. “A memory.”

“You mean a dream?”

“No!” She shouted. The sound echoed in my head. She glowered at me, hands curled so they looked like claws. I found myself suddenly reminded of her rows of sharp teeth. A migraine threatened to form but it disappeared as quickly as it came. Ligeia let out a calming breath, releasing her anger with it. Sadness took over once more. “A memory. But I cannot fly anymore. I am trapped. I am stuck here. I am a prisoner.”

“I’m sorry,” I said quietly, then, louder, “I wish I could help.”

I knew it was a mistake before the words left my lips but I couldn’t stop myself. Compelled by guilt or desire or whatever strange spell she had over me, I offered an impossible idea. The roots took hold in Ligeia’s mind. She turned to me and I knew what she would say before she said it.

“You can help me.”

“Eventually, yes. But I need time to-”

“No, now.”

“Ligeia, no. It’s an… It’s not possible.”

“You can free me.”

“I can’t.”

“One of the men who brought me here, he is the man with the whistle. He drove the cage - the car. It is still here. I know it.”

“Even if I could find the keys, I would have to to get past security. I can’t.”

“Release me,” she whispered.

Whatever hypocritical fury I felt in the moment disappeared as the feeling worked up my spine. My body went numb. My mind was buzzed with thoughts but none of them could go further. I felt Ligeia’s presence with me on every step, whispering in my ear, steering me to the keys to the truck. Did she know where they were? Did I? Did it matter?

The truck was little more than a shipping container on wheels, meant for whales, sharks, and other large sea creatures. Were I conscious, I might have felt more concern over the state of our equipment, but my body filled the truck despite my mental protests. As the seconds ticked to minutes and rolled close to an hour, I realized there was no limit on Ligeia’s power. My body would return to me only once I did what she asked.

The stars and moon shone beautifully in the night as I drove Ligeia to the ocean. I could imagine her in the open back of the truck, staring at the sky above, smiling to herself as she was moments from freedom. No guards had stopped me. No strangers. I could not tell if she worked her magic on them as well, or if we had been lucky.

By the time we got to the beach, the numbness was starting to fade. Pins and needles ran down my arms and over my fingers as warmth and feeling returned once more. I was still under her influence as I parked the truck in the shallows and as I pulled the lever to release her from her final prison. As soon as she hit the waters, I collapsed to my knees, panting hard. My body shook and my mind was fuzzy but I was in control once again. Fury and sadness and joy and resentment coursed through me with such rapid transition I could not settle on words for one.

“You’re free,” I muttered.

She dove into the sea and laughed. I realized then, despite my stupor, despite my mixed emotions, that I had never heard her laugh before. She smiled in the aquarium - frequently with many rows of sharp teeth and reddened eyes - and she joked, but she never laughed. I have never seen so much glee from anyone. From anything. It was the sweetest sound I ever heard.

“Thank you, Amy,” she said between laughs. Her voice came from the sea itself, no longer human in any sense. “This is a gift.”

“I guess this is goodbye,” I said as flatly as I could, in a vain attempt to hide my sorrow and my anger. Worst was the guilt. As much as I tried to tell myself I would have eventually freed her, I knew the truth. I would have kept her. I wished I could be happy for her. I wanted nothing more. But my selfish heart knew I would never find her happiness.

This time, I did not realize my mistake.

“It does not have to be. You can join me.”

“Ligeia, no, I can’t. I’m not - My life is on land. I… I’ll drown. I can’t survive.”

My protests were futile. Her laughter drowned out my words and I realized the gentle waves lapped at my knees. I already had succumbed to her song. I tried to turn, to throw myself back, but my body wouldn’t listen. Every time I raised a foot, I took one step deeper into the sea.

Tears ran down my face. “Please, Ligeia, don’t do this. I set you free.”

The water was at my waist. “Please.”

Calm as the ocean was, I strained against every wave. I wished the water would prevail. “I’ll visit you. Every day. Just please.”

I paddled to stay afloat, barely keeping my head above water. I knew how to swim, but my body didn’t want to. It took every ounce of willpower to stay as I was.

“Join me,” she whispered.

Whatever power I had left in that moment and I dove, swimming down and down and down into the depths until my lungs burned. A cloud of darkness filled the edge of my vision, filling slowly inward. Death lurked in the water. She waited for me to slip past the point of no return and yet I felt no need to try for the surface. I swam. My limbs went numb. I swam. My thoughts turned to static and then to silence. I swam. The pain would pass and soon I would be free.

And still, I could hear her laugh.

#short story #this is from reddit #if you hold it to your ear #mermaid #i'm gonna post some of my faves from last year and 2019 at some point #but not everything #maybe everything from this year #I still dunno how I wanna do this #tumblr's not the best for writing #but no website is it seems

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nessiesspeakeasy · 3 years

Text

And Baby Make Free

“Mom’s not gonna like that.” Fiona said, drinking her juice box diligently as she watched Sasha push the step stool to the fridge. She stood on it and opened the door, except the stool was in the way. Sasha huffed and climbed down to pull it away. Then she opened the fridge wide and pushed the stool in front of it.

“I just wanna make Mommy some cereal. He hasn’t eaten yet.” She reached for the milk and yanked it out as best as she could.

Fiona jumped forward, but it was too late, her twin had dropped the milk. It broke open across the floor, spilling an almost full jug.

-----

When single parent of three, Rhys, gets home from the grocery store, he realizes that he's accidentally kidnapped a child named Angel.

You can read this on my AO3!!! And if you wanna leave me a ko-fi, feel free!

“I just wanna make Mommy some cereal. He hasn’t eaten yet.” She reached for the milk and yanked it out as best as she could.

Fiona jumped forward, but it was too late, her twin had dropped the milk. It broke open across the floor, spilling an almost full jug.

-----

Rhys had been getting Tim dressed when he heard a crash, followed by the scared screams of his daughters. He came running out, Tim in tow, to step in milk. He gasped. “What!? What happened!?”

Sasha sobbed, face red, snot leaking from her nose. “I JUST- I JUST WANTED-” The rest was unintelligible. Fiona came onto the scene with a broom. She began to push the milk away from Rhys, bending the bristles.

Tim babbled in Rhys’ arms. He quickly set Tim in his high chair and called to the girls. “Fiona, not a broom, get towels. Sasha, it’s okay, please help your sister!”

Sasha continued to cry, standing on the step ladder, the fridge door wide open. Rhys went with Fiona to the hall closet and handed her a towel. He grabbed several for himself and together, the two of them sopped up the milk. Sasha was sitting on the top step now, no longer screaming as she cried.

Only when the milk was cleaned and the towels, along with soaked blankets and stuffed animals he hadn’t been able to pick up the night before were in the washing machine, was the omega finally able to crouch in front of Sasha and give her a hug. He scooped her into his arms and sat on the stool himself. “Why didn’t you ask for help, Sasha?”

She took a deep, loud, shaking breath. “I… I… I wanted to-” but she began to cry again.

Rhys held her close, rocking her gently. “Fiona, do you know why she was getting the milk on her own?”

Fiona nodded as she poured some cheerios in front of Tim. “She wanted to make you cereal.”

Rhys ducked his head to kiss Sasha’s forehead. “Is that what you were doing? You were trying to make food for me? That’s very sweet, thank you.”

Sasha rubbed her eyes. “But I didn’t!”

Rhys rocked her again. “No, the milk was a little too heavy for you, wasn’t it?” Sasha nodded. “You know what, though?” Rhys continued.

“Hmm?”

“It makes me really happy that you were doing something nice for me. You saw that I hadn’t eaten yet today and you were trying to help, that makes me feel very loved. Thank you.”

Sasha nodded, her cries mellowing out.

Rhys looked at Fiona tending to Tim. “And thank you, Fi, for helping, that makes me feel happy, too. I feel very loved to have you two as my children.”

“What about Tim?” Sasha asked, rubbing her eyes.

“Hmm, what did Tim do to help me today?”

The three looked at Tim. The red haired one-year-old shoved cheerios in his mouth.

“He’s cute?” Fiona asked.

“Yeah!” Sasha giggled.

Rhys laughed. “Yes, Tim was very helpful to me by being cute.” Rhys kissed Sasha. “Feeling better?”

Sasha nodded.

“Good, cause we need to clean ourselves off and then go to the store.” As Rhys got Sasha and Fiona into a bath, he left them to shower off himself. He’d need a carpet cleaner for the areas around the kitchen, and they’d need a new broom, and milk. He didn’t even want to think about how much renting one would cost him. He sighed heavily as he got dressed. Fiona and Sasha were just getting out of the tub. Tim was still in his high chair, getting frustrated that he had no cheerios left.

Rhys scooped him up and blew a raspberry on his neck. “Are you girls getting dressed?”

“YEAH!” Fiona called.

-----

With a carpet cleaner in the trunk of his van, they had stopped at the grocery store and gotten what they needed. He was about to close the side door when he gasped, staring at the pale child with black hair on a booster seat next to Tim. Sasha and Fiona tried to move in their seat to see. Rhys frowned. “Sweetie, you need to buckle up! I almost started driving, that would have been really dangerous!”

The girl smiled sheepishly. “Right… I’m sorry!”

“Nothing to be sorry about, just remember you are very important, which means keeping you safe is very important.” He reached around her with the seat belt and strapped her in. “There! Alright, time to head home.” He slid into the driver’s seat and set off. “What should we have for lunch?”

“What do you want, Angel?” Sasha asked.

Fiona frowned.

“Grilled cheese?”

“We had grilled cheese yesterday,” Fiona said.

“Oh…”

Rhys frowned. “We can have grilled cheese again, that’s okay. Do you like tomatoes, Angel? I was thinking we could add some things to our grilled cheese to make it different than yesterday.”

“Yeah! I love tomatoes!”

“And turkey?”

“Yeah!”

“Perfect. We can eat in the backyard, it’s a nice day out.”

“I never get to eat outside!” Angel gasped.

“You’re going to love it!” Sasha gushed.

“It’s kinda cool,” Fiona said.

Sasha beamed.

Tim cooed and grabbed at his toes.

-----

All three girls helped unload the car, though, Rhys made sure he carried the milk. He cautioned them not to go near the kitchen just yet. He set Tim in his swing, setting a few toys there for him.

“Alright, we’re going to go through the front to the back.” He led the girls to the back, to the small jungle gym he’d saved up for. “I need you three to stay out here while I finish cleaning up the milk.”

“Okay!”

“Milk?” Angel asked. “I didn’t see any.”

“Sasha spilled it all over the floor and it got into the carpet and now Mom has to deep clean it.”

“I didn’t mean to!”

Rhys brought them out drinks in different colors, along with a bowl full of fruits and veggies. Then he got to work. It didn’t take long for him to shampoo the carpet, which was a relief. He set to work making lunch. He wondered how long Angel was going to stay, he should call her parents to find out. As he went to place a name to her parental figure, he realized he didn’t know. Rhys stopped, mid-spread of butter on bread.

He blinked out the window to the backyard. He didn’t know how to get a hold of Angel’s parents. He’d never met them before… Well, he’d just have to ask her… He frowned, his brain forcing his thoughts to what he’d been missing all day. He did not remember the girls talking about a friend named Angel and he did not remember picking her up… In fact, he did not remember when she had joined them at all.

Panic exploded inside of him. He did not know how Angel had gotten into his car either! He did not know who this Angel was, but more importantly, he had accidentally taken her from her parents. He had kidnapped her!

Setting the bread and knife down, he covered his mouth as Tim began to fuss, getting hungry. He swore and automatically went through the motions, getting his food ready. His mind ran a mile a minute, trying to think back to when he remembered when Angel wasn’t in the car with him. He needed to talk to her and get her to give him the number for her parents. If not, he was going to have to call the police. A sudden sob caught in his throat. He was going to lose his children for sure this time.

His hands shook as he placed the cut pieces of cheese out for Tim, tears blurring his eyes. His whole body ached with fear, but he tried to catch his breath. Tim began to fuss and cry, sensing and smelling the terrified pheromones Rhys could not help releasing. He had to hold and rock Tim while feeding him. By the time the grilled cheese sandwiches were done, he had managed to stop crying, but he knew the girls would all be able to tell something was wrong. He felt dizzy, but his stomach was too knotted to do anything about it.

He was going to lose everything. His children, the house, his job that let him work from home. All it would take is one report about an omega stealing a child and everything would be over. He would be labeled unstable and unfit. It was all too easy for an omega to lose their kid, and now he was going to lose his because of his carelessness.

He swallowed hard as he brought the sandwiches out to the patio table, carrying Tim. “Girls, it’s lunchtime.”

They all ran to him, but stopped as they got close. Sasha’s nose scrunched and she rubbed it harshly as Angel looked on confused. Fiona frowned. “Mommy, why do you smell like that?”

Rhys tried his best to stay calm. “I’m just really concerned because Angel’s parents don’t know where she is. I bet your parents are very scared.”

“Oh…” Angel said quietly, climbing onto a chair. “It’s just my Dad…”

“Do you know his number?”

She nodded slowly.

“You’re not in trouble, sweetie,” Rhys said gently. “What is his number? I’ll call him so he can come and get you.”

She shrugged. “I don’t want to…”

Rhys blinked back a frustrated sob. “How come?”

“Because he’ll make me go back to my nanny and I don’t like her.”

Rhys paused. “Is… Were you with her today?”

Angel nodded.

“Is that when you got into my car?”

Another nod.

He sighed. “Have you told your Dad that you don’t like her?”

She shook her head.

“Why not?” Sasha asked.

Angel twisted her hands in her lap.

“You can tell us!” Fiona said around a mouthful of grilled cheese.

“She said that Dad wouldn’t listen to me because I’m just a kid.”

Gut twisting in anger, Rhys bit it back and smiled.

“That’s stupid,” Fiona grunted. “Mommy always listens to us!”

“Yeah, I bet your Dad will too!” Sasha added.

Angel looked at Rhys, who nodded. “That’s right. Do you think you can give me his number now?”

“Okay…”

-----

Jack was hysterical. He yelled at the hired nanny. “WHAT DO YOU MEAN SHE’S GONE!?”

The nanny cowered. “She… She was with me, but then wasn’t! Someone must have kidnapped her! I tried my best to find her, I really did!”

“If you had tried your best you would have seen something. So, what did you see? Who took my daughter?” The enraged alpha could honestly rip out her throat right now. His daughter was kidnapped and she hadn’t said anything until he had gotten back from his short trip to work. He’d only been gone four hours.

The alpha woman sputtered, sobbing into her hand. “I didn’t… I don’t…”

“You are useless.” He stalked away, dialing the number for his close friend, Wilhelm, who was a detective. “Wil. I need your help. Angel’s missing. It happened at eleven-thirty-eight at Shop ‘n Stock. The dumbass nanny didn’t tell me until now. Yeah, I’ll be pressing charges against her and whoever took my daughter.”

As he hung up and turned to yell at the nanny, a call came in. He glared at her as he looked at the unknown number. His heart began to race. It was probably the kidnappers. Or it was some rando. He answered it normally.

“Are you Angel’s dad?”

Jack’s heart went wild and he went feral. “Who are you? Where is she!?”

“I’m so sorry, I thought she was a friend of my girls!” An address was then given. “I’m so, so sorry!”

“You took her?” Jack was heading out the door and to his car.

“I didn’t mean to, I’m really sorry-” there was a sudden choked sob. “She was just suddenly there!”

“I don’t want to hear excuses!” Jack snapped. “I’m on my way.” He hung up and texted Wil the information. He didn’t care how many red lights he ran, or stop signs he ignored, his baby girl was in a strange place and probably terrified.

The house that matched the address was in a col-de-sac and looked very unopposing. He flew from the car and banged on the door.

He could hear voices from the other side of the door.

“Hang on, Angel, don’t open the door unless you know who it is, it’s unsafe.”

His ground his teeth. Who was this asshole to tell his daughter about safety when he had taken her?

“It’s dad!” he heard. The door opened and Angel appeared, grinning wide. “Dad!” She hugged his leg as a baby cried and screamed somewhere in the house. Behind her stood a man, tall, slender, and totally gorgeous if Jack wasn’t ready to murder him. The sour scent of fear assaulted his nose in a way only an omega could do. Good, this man should be scared.

In as calm a voice as he could, Jack spoke to her. “Get in the car, Angel.”

“I need my shoes.”

“I tried getting her to wear them, but-” one angry glare and the omega swallowed his words.

“Don’t be mean to him, Dad!” Angel whined.

“Get your shoes on, Angel.”

The omega opened the door wider and retreated into the house, scooping up the crying baby. Jack felt his inside twist tighter, how many of the other children here were taken from families.

“Dad!” Angel whined loudly. “Stop getting so mad, it smells gross! Rhys is nice! I really like him!”

“Enough, Angel, get your shoes on.”

When his daughter looked at the omega named Rhys, Jack wanted to scream.

Rhys nodded. “Listen to your dad.”

“But I don’t want to go!”

“Angel-” As Jack refrained from snapping at her, a door opened and two girls ran out.

“Mom! Fiona hit me!” she was crying.

“What? I told you girls to stay in your room so Angel can focus on getting her shoes on.”

“But Fiona hit me!”

“DID NOT!” the other girl, Fiona yelled over the crying baby.

Sighing heavily, Rhys lowered to a crouch. “Why did you hit your sister?”

“I didn’t!” Fiona yelled, starting to tear up.

“Fiona,” Rhys said quietly. “What happened?”

“She was throwing my stuffed animals that I told her not to, but she wouldn’t listen and she knocked over the snow globe and it broke!” Now Fiona was crying.

Rhys stiffened and Jack could smell the fear grow heavier in the room. “The snow globe broke? Did you two step in it?” The girls were crying loudly now. Rhys set the baby in his swing, which only made him cry louder. “Sit down, I need to check your feet.” As they cried, the two girls obeyed.

Angel went over to the baby, picking up a toy and setting it in the swing. “Angel,” Jack called to her. “Get your shoes on.”

His daughter glared at him. “NO! You’re going to be mad at Rhys and I want to help Tim!”

“Angel, your Dad wants you to go home, it’s time to go home now.” Rhys said, his phone’s flashlight pointed at the feet of the girls.

He watched Angel’s face grow red and her eyes well with tears.

Jack was quickly losing control of his anger. He did not know what sort of manipulation the omega had done to get Angel to want to stay. As the thought crossed his mind, he knew it didn’t sit right, the omega was not engaged in Angel, he was focused on the other children, and he kept telling her to listen to Jack. It didn’t matter. He was furious that this creep had kidnapped his daughter.

Rhys turned the flashlight off. “You guys look okay.” He pulled them into a hug, kissing each of their cheeks. “It’s okay, go play outside while Angel gets ready to go.”

Sniffling, the two nodded and headed outside.

“Wait for me!” Angel ran out with them.

“Angel, wait!” Rhys called at the same time Jack did.

The omega winced, cowering away from Jack. “I’m sorry.”

“You really think sorry is going to cut it?” Now that they were alone, he rounded on the omega, pointing a finger at him. The omega had raised his arm in defense. “You kidnapped my child! What kind of sick world-” The movement cut Jack’s anger off immediately. He blinked, automatically taking a step back. He stared, dumbfounded, the sour scent unbelievable worsening. He gritted his teeth and took several steps back, moving to the opposite side of the room. He glared at the man. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” He had meant the defensive position, but Rhys didn’t seem to catch on.

Rhys avoided eye contact, closing in on himself to look as nonthreatening as possible. “She was just in my car and I didn’t think… I just assumed she was the girls’ friends… I didn’t mean for it to happen! I did call as soon as I realized!” He eyed the baby, looking like he wanted to pick it up, but then he glanced at Jack.

It was an action that made Jack disgusted. The pure anger inside him caught in his throat. The omega thought Jack would lose control and hurt the kid. “Fuck!” he hissed. “Pick up the damn kid, I ain’t going to do anything.” When Rhys did not move, Jack swore again. How had the situation turned so suddenly? Why was he trying to soothe the man when that baby had probably been kidnapped too? And why wasn’t Angel listening to him? He found himself crouching, raising his arms. “I won’t move, okay?”

The omega made no bones about how untrustworthy he thought Jack was, nevertheless, he did pick up the baby, rocking it and popping a pacifier in his mouth. “I didn’t intentionally kidnap her. The day has been crazy and I just thought she was a friend of my girls. I did call you the moment I realized.” His voice was quiet now, removed from the situation.

Jack’s gut twisted tighter. He sighed and went to the kitchen.

“Don’t step-” Rhys called, but Jack had already stepped on the wet carpet. Rhys sighed. “Never mind.”

Quickly stepping off, he opened the door to the backyard and called out. “I need you to come inside, I need to talk with you.”

There was a knock on the door. He heard Rhys sigh heavily under his breath. “Now what?” He gasped and hesitated before opening the door. “Hello.”

There was a pause before Wil spoke. “I’m here because a kidnapping was reported?”

Jack watched Rhys’ body grow tight and then retreat into the house. Wilhelm stepped into the house, nodding to Jack. Angel finally met him at the door and they went in. “You’re just in time, detective,” Jack said. “I was going to ask Angel a few questions.”

Angel’s eyes grew wide. “But… But…” She looked at Rhys. Jack frowned, how had there been enough time for the two to form a bond?

“Tell the truth, Angel, it’s okay.” The baby had calmed down now and the silence was blessed.

Angel nodded.

“Alright,” Wil said, looking between Rhys and Jack. “What happened today, Angel?”

She shrugged.

“Angel, you’re not in trouble, remember? Tell the truth, please.” Rhys said gently.

His daughter slumped. “I just… I just wanted to be with Rhys! He looked so nice! He held their hand when they crossed the road!”

Jack frowned, but Wil continued, crouching down to her level. “You saw Rhys with his kids?”

“Yes! They were so happy and I wanted to be happy.”

“What happened next?”

Angel looked at Jack, unsure. Jack crouched down next to Wil. “It’s okay sweetie, tell Wil.”

“I… I went over there and they said I needed a booster seat, so I went back and grabbed it.”

“Who said that?” Wil asked.

Rhys sighed and went to the back door. “Girls, get in here, please.”

Fiona and Sasha ran in. “Yeah, Mommy?”

“Did you tell Angel to get her booster seat earlier today?”

They suddenly looked nervous.

“Please answer my question.”

“Yeah,” Fiona said.

Sasha huffed.

“Why?”

“We knew you wouldn’t like it if she wasn’t safe-”

“- Cause she said she hated her nanny.”

“Thank you, girls, you can go back to playing.”

They looked at Angel. “What about her?”

Rhys smiled. “We need to talk to her a little bit more. After we’re done and if her Dad says it’s okay, then she can come out and play some more.”

They nodded and left.

Jack, meanwhile, looked at Angel. “You don’t like Ronda?”

Eyes on the ground, Angel shook her head.

“Why didn’t you tell me this, cupcake?”

Angel shrugged.

“Tell him what you told me,” Rhys said.

Once more, Jack was shocked by how open Angel had been with Rhys. He no longer felt anger towards the omega, but he still had frustration bubbling just under the surface.

Angel fidgeted even more and this time, Jack reached out and took her hands. “Angel, I want to hear what you have to say, please?”

That seemed to convince her. “She told me you wouldn’t listen cause I’m just a kid…”

He felt his anger begin to rise again. He glanced at Wil, who stood by, watching silently. He looked at his daughter. “Angel, I believe you. Can you tell me why you wanted to be with Rhys instead of Ronda?”

“Because she’s mean. She never lets me play outside or eat something other than peanut butter and jelly and she never holds my hand when crossing the street. She doesn’t like me talking or asking questions or playing too loud. Can I go play outside now?”

Jack sighed. “Yeah, you can.”

She smiled and ran out, making sure to jump over the wet spot on the carpet.

-----

The alpha stood up, sighing heavily. “I’m going to ruin that woman’s career.” He glared out the back door at the playing children. “She doesn’t get to treat Angel like that.”

Rhys hugged Tim close, chancing a glance at Wilhelm. The stoic man met his gaze and then looked at the man. “You can deal with that later, even file a report about it, but later, we need to decide what is happening now, with-” he gestured to Rhys.

“Oh.” the man waved his hand. “It’s fine. I’m over it. No harm was done.”

Rhys grunted.

The alpha turned to him.

Fear tangled inside Rhys and he smiled quickly. “Just clearing my throat. Everything’s fine.” He moved his attention to Tim who had finally passed out. “I’m going to put Tim in his crib.” He left to his room where Tim’s bassinet was, setting him down carefully. Rhys sat on the bed, trying to calm his breath. Everything was crumbling to pieces all over again.

As he quietly moved down the hallway, he became dizzy and stumbled, falling into the alpha.

“Whoa, you okay?”

His stomach fell and he jumped away. “Sorry!”

The alpha watched him closely, his eyes a stage light burning over Rhys. “We should go.” He collected Angel, grabbing her things and ushering her out to the car without waiting to get her shoes on. Rhys and Wil followed him out so they could get her booster seat. As they left, Rhys felt very, very tired.

“Jack is not a bad man,” Wilhelm said.

Rhys blinked, startled.

Wilhelm went back into the house. “Jack gets aggressive, but he would never do you any harm.”

Rhys nodded vaguely.

Wilhelm continued. “I’m going to take the rest of the day off. I will get boxes and food.” His hard, blue eyes pierced into Rhys. “I get the feeling you have had nothing to eat today.”

-----

Rhys woke up the next morning drained of energy. A sadness made his heart a thousand times heavier. He swallowed and then smiled as Tim cooed next to him. “Guess we should get up, huh?”

By the time he’d fed Tim and had breakfast almost finished, the girls had woken up. They looked groggy. They had spent the night packing their room up after Rhys had thoroughly cleaned the spill.

“Morning,” he called to them.

Sasha said nothing, rubbing her eyes and sitting at the table. Fiona yawned and grabbed plates and forks. Rhys served them up.

“And one for you,” Fiona said.

Rhys smiled. “Right. What would I do without you?” He kissed Fiona on the head and then gave one to Sasha. He got halfway through when Tim began to fuss. And after he put Tim down for a nap, he began packing again. The girls shuffled to their rooms in their pajamas and began to slowly pack.

Rhys’ heart ached for them, but it could not be helped.

A knock on the door called all of them to the front of the house. Rhys looked through the peephole and frowned. He opened it to see Jack and Angel standing there. “What-”

“ANGEL!” the girls screamed. They pulled her into a hug.

“What are you doing here?” Fiona asked.

“Dad wanted to apologize.”

Rhys looked at Jack. Jack smiled sheepishly.

“Let’s go play!” The three pushed past Rhys.

“Wait!” Rhys called, but they were already through the house.

“Whoa,” Angel said, slowing down. “Why do you have all these boxes?”

Sasha huffed. “We have to move so our dad can’t find us.”

“Girls!” Rhys snapped, his tone stopping them instantly.

“Sorry Mom!” They ran out into the backyard.

He swallowed, looking at Jack. He was holding a vase of flowers that had not been there moments before. He was frowning now, though. He looked at Rhys. “You know I hadn’t planned on sharing the incident with anyone? Not even the nanny will talk because it will lead to her discredit. You’re safe here.”

Rhys winced and sighed. “He… He has a way of always finding out…”

“Gotcha, well, in that case, you need help.” He smiled and handed Rhys the vase. “It’s a good thing I’m here.”

Rhys stammered. “What? No, it’s okay, really-”

“No it’s not. It’s my fault you have to move. I’m going to make this right. I’ll help get you packed and then you can stay at the beach house at no charge until you find a new place.”

“Beach house? I appreciate it, but-”

“Then let me help you. It won’t cost you anything.”

Rhys bit his lip, trying to ignore the fear that threatened to seep out, but he remembered what Wilhelm had said. He looked at Jack. Wilhelm had said he was a good man. He trusted Wilhelm’s judgement. He’d seen right through what was happening and had not rolled over when Rhys’ ex had demanded it. If he said Jack was a good man…

“Okay.”

Jack grinned.

“What’s this?” Wilhelm asked as he walked up the drive. He was in his normal clothes.

Jack frowned. “What are you doing here?”

“Helpin’ out, what’s it look like?” He indicated his clothes.

“Wil’s been helping us out since the beginning.” Rhys opened the door wide to let both men in. “Jack is letting us stay at his beach house until we can find a new place.”

“Good.”

Jack made a quick call, hiring movers. Rhys’ eyes widened, but he bit back any words to discourage Jack. He didn’t want to dilute Jack’s kindness, especially if it was to make up for yesterday.

“I also ordered lunch.”

“What!? You didn’t have to do that!”

“It’s fine, I’m beyond rich. Let’s get cracking!”

Rhys hesitated as Jack jumped in and began to pack things and Wilhelm worked on the kitchen. Rhys went to the rest of the rooms and began to pack them quickly. When Tim woke up, Rhys took a break to feed him.

As he began to, however, Jack took Tim from him. “The food arrived twenty minutes ago. The girls have eaten and I got a slice. Go get some food and I’ll feed Tim.”

Rhys faltered. “It’s fine, I can-”

“No, it’s not fine, how much have you eaten today?” When Rhys paused a little too long, Jack nodded. “Go.” He sat down with Tim and began to feed him.

Rhys watched from the kitchen, taking a slice of pizza. Jack had Tim laughing as he ate, cooing and talking with the infant. As he took a second slice, he realized it had been months since he had been able to have two slices in one sitting. A sudden gratitude began to grow for Jack. They went back to packing, letting Tim roam freely.

He heard Jack laugh. “Well, hello, nice of you to roll in.” Rhys knew he was talking to Tim and felt a small smile dare to touch his lips. “Here, hold this for me.” Tim garbled at him happily.

The movers showed up an hour later with two of the largest trucks. They were able to fit almost everything in. The extra items went into Wil and Jack’s cars and all the kids went with Rhys’.

“Say goodbye, girls.”

“GOODBYE HOUSE!” Sasha called. The others echoed.

With directions to their new home, Rhys set off towards it. His stomach was in knots, but his heart dared to be hopeful. Jack had been extremely aggressive yesterday, but he’d backed off when Rhys had gotten spooked. And he’d helped in every way today.

“Mom!” Fiona called. “I have to pee!”

Rhys sighed. “Alright.”

#borderlands #Rhack #rhys/handsome jack #rated mature #rated m #rated m for themes and possible future sex #abo dynamics #Alpha Jack #omega rhys #single parent Rhys #Fiona Sasha and Tim are his children #implied/referenced abuse #implied mpreg #Rhys is in hiding #Wil is a good cop #Tiny angst with happy ending

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softspideys · 5 years

Text

The Favorite (Peter Parker x Stark!reader)

summary: you’re convinced your dad likes peter parker more than you, until he saves your life

warnings: none

word count: 3.6k

pairings: peter parker x stark!reader

a/n: the idea for this came from an anonymous request, thanks for sending it in! I appreciate y’all being patient with me and I hope you enjoy :)

Most people thought that being Tony Stark’s daughter meant you had the love and respect of all the Avengers. And in a way, you did. You knew they cared about you and would do anything for you. But it also meant that you had to work twice as hard to prove that you could keep up with them, that you weren’t there just because you were his blood.

Tony loved to push you, to make you take on situations that you weren’t comfortable with. You never thought he’d ever put you through something you couldn’t handle, but clearly you were wrong. After all, he’d sent you on a solo mission with Peter Parker.

There wasn’t much to say about the kid, except that you hated him and could never seem to get rid of him. For some reason, Tony and Steve seemed to find great pleasure in constantly pairing the two of you together. While it was true that you and Peter worked well in a fight, that was only if you managed to stop arguing long enough to focus.

If you really sat down and thought about it, you might conclude that the real reason behind your dislike of Peter was jealousy. Based on what little information you had about Howard Stark, he had missed being the perfect dad by a long shot. Tony was nothing like him, but he wasn’t exactly your best friend either. If you were going to take over Stark Industries one day, you needed some tough love whether you liked it or not. Tony’s praise had to be earned, and you never could seem to do it.

But with Peter, he was all affection and smiles and jokes. Steve always said it was because Peter needed a stable father figure in his life right now and you didn’t, but that didn’t make it hurt any less whenever you came downstairs for dinner and saw they’d eaten without you, washing dishes side-by-side at the sink.

You suspected they put you together so often in the hopes that you’d eventually find some way to get along, but you had little faith in that ever happening. As long as your father continued to favor him over you, you’d never stop seeing him as the enemy.

Now, the two of you lay on your stomachs, surveying the computer room of some massive army base in the middle of nowhere. This mission was, as Tony put it, a “milk run,” meaning all you had to do was get in, get the intel, and then get out. No one was supposed to get hurt.

“Alright,” Peter said after about an hour of surveillance had passed. “I’m going in, watch my six.”

“Why do you get to go in first?” you demanded.

He had his mask on, but you could still practically see him rolling his eyes. “Because I can sense when danger is coming?”

“Didn’t seem to sense it yesterday when the TV remote hit you in the face,” you muttered, fondly remembering how satisfying it had been to be the one to throw it at him.

“That was because—fine, you know what? You go ahead. I don’t care. We’re wasting time.”

Smirking, you undid the latch to a small window on the roof, squeezing through the space and dropping to the ground silently, the way Natasha had trained you to do. Peter crept in after you, clinging to the ceiling like the spider-boy he was.

You moved through the darkened hallways of the base, stopping every few feet to listen for the sound of voices or footsteps. In hushed whispers, you argued about where to go.

“We’re supposed to turn left here.”

“No, that was at the last turn. Here it’s right.”

“I’m literally looking at the map right now, I think I know where we’re supposed to go.”

“Oh yeah? Well maybe you should get your eyes checked, because I can see the room from here, and it’s to the right.”

Peter said nothing for a second before the eyes on his mask narrowed in what was no doubt a scowl. “You’re the worst,” he muttered as you smugly led the way into the room. You checked the hallway, making sure no one had seen you enter, before quietly closing the door and locking it. You turned and saw Peter already booting up the main computer, lifting up his mask so he could see better.

“What are you doing?” you demanded, hurrying over and trying to nudge him out of the way. “You’re going to lock us out of the system.”

“Shut up, I know what I’m doing.”

“No you don’t, let me do it.”

“How many times have you practiced this again?”

“Way more than you, I bet.”

“You really think you’re so much better and smarter than me.”

“Probably because I am.” This argument was heading into dangerous territory, you could tell. It wasn’t like the usual light, jabbing ones you normally had. These words were laden with spikes.

“Just because your dad is Tony Stark doesn’t mean you’re anything like him,” Peter hissed.

“At least I have a dad,” you shot back.

As soon as the words left your mouth you knew you’d gone too far. Peter’s face instantly dropped, his normally warm brown eyes going cold and dark. His mouth flattened into a thin line and for a second, he just looked at you. “I didn’t mean—” you started to say, knowing it was useless.

You waited for him to yell back, to say something even crueler, but all he said was, “If you’re done, I’d like to get this over with.” He turned back to the computer and resumed typing.

“Peter,” you said weakly. “That was—”

“Save it.”

You stepped forward, laying a hand on his arm. “No, I shouldn’t have—”

“I said save it!” Peter said louder, shoving you off of him. The force of his super strength sent you stumbling back into the wall, landing in a pile of chairs and computer equipment with a loud, echoing CRASH.

The two of you froze, listening as the sound of doors opening and heavy footsteps filled the hallway. Peter stared at you, horrified. You weren’t sure if it was because he’d pushed you or because he’d just landed you both into some deep shit. “Keep going,” you said finally, gesturing him to finish what he was doing. “I’ll hold them off.”

“You can’t do it on your own, you don’t even have superpowers,” he said, shaking his head. “Switch with me.”

“There’s no time!” you said as the doorknob jiggled. “I don’t know where you are in the code. Just hurry up so we can get out of here.”

The door strained against its hinges as whoever was outside tried to get in. Peter let out a breath and nodded, pulling his mask down and turning back to the computer, typing frantically.

THUD. The door finally swung open and banged against the wall as several armed guards rushed in, yelling in some language you didn’t understand. You took a deep breath, squared your shoulders, and charged them.

You managed to keep all of them focused on you for a while while Peter worked. It was easy enough at first: you caught the wrist of one guard as he threw a punch, twisting it hard and ramming your elbow into his back when he bent over in pain.

Before he could fall to the ground, you caught him by the neck and slammed his face into a nearby desk, effectively breaking his nose and knocking him out.

Another guard grabbed you from behind while his companion rushed at you. You held onto the arms of the one holding you, swinging your legs up and planting your feet on the other man’s chest, kicking him clear across the room. The momentum of the kick sent you and first guard flying backwards, and he crashed into the wall hard, his grip on you loosening.

Shaking free as he slumped to the floor, you didn’t pause to catch your breath, charging right back into the fray. You ducked and rolled between the legs of the man running at you, popping up and roundhouse kicking him as he turned to face you. He hit the ground and you smiled with grim satisfaction. That had to be a new record.

But the sound of a small click made you stop dead in your tracks. A quick glance around the room told you exactly what was going on: three of the guards were down, but four had entered the room. One of them must’ve gotten up without you noticing. Your stomach plummeted. Slowly, you turned around, expecting to be looking down the barrel of a gun.

But it wasn’t you the fourth guard had his pistol pointed at. It was Peter. Peter, who was too busy trying to gather your intel to pay attention to his spider-sense, who trusted that you would hold the guards off for him.

As the man squeezed the trigger, all you could think about was your father. What would Tony do if he lost Peter? What would Tony do if he found out you could’ve prevented it, could’ve saved him?

You did the only thing your brain was telling you: you dove forward and knocked Peter out of the way. Pain exploded in your side as the bullet entered it, and then you were hitting the floor hard. You couldn’t help the loud cry that escaped your lips.

“No!” Peter screamed. His voice was awful: raw and hysterical and full of pure rage. You closed your eyes as the guard let out an ugly laugh that was abruptly cut off by the thwip of Peter’s web. You were vaguely aware of the sounds of fighting going on around you: grunts and thuds and loud crashing, but it was like you were a thousand miles away from all of it.

The next thing you knew, the room was silent. You slowly opened your eyes and saw Peter hovering over you, his mask pulled up so you could see his face. “You’re alive,” he said quietly, exhaling with relief. “I thought—” He stopped himself before starting again. “M’gonna get you out of here, okay?”

You blinked up at him, taking in his bloody nose and the bruise under his eye. “You got hurt.”

He choked out a laugh, shaking his head. “Me? I’m fine. I’ll be fine. It’s you we gotta worry about.” He swallowed. “Why did you take that bullet? Why would you be so stupid?”

“Tony,” you answered simply. “He needs you. More than me.”

“That’s not true,” Peter said fiercely. “He loves you. You’re his daughter. Did you really think he wouldn’t care if you died?”

You tried to shrug, taking in a sharp breath at the pain. It seemed to start in your side and then spread from there, touching every part of your body. “Okay,” Peter said, taking your hand and squeezing it. “We’re gonna fight about this later, I promise. But right now I gotta get you home.”

Taking a deep breath, he pulled his mask back on. “Karen, how do I get out of here?” he asked. You didn’t know who that was, but a second later he was speaking to you again. “I’m gonna carry you, okay? Do you trust me?”

You nodded, allowing him to gingerly scoop you up in his arms. He lifted you like you weighed nothing, tucking you firmly against him. He shot a web and soon you were swinging through the air.

You knew he was trying not to jostle you too much, but every time you moved it was like someone was sticking a hot knife just under your ribs. “Peter,” you whimpered, closing your eyes. “It hurts.” Your hands and clothes were both sticky and covered with blood, and it was getting harder to stay awake.

“I know, baby,” Peter whispered. His voice sounded different, so sweet and gentle. You’d never heard him speak that way to you before. “We’re almost there. Just stay with me.”

All you wanted to do was sleep, but there was something you had to say first. “I’m sorry for what I said before. I didn’t mean it.”

“I know you didn’t. It’s okay.”

“It’s not.” You sniffled, a few stray tears slipping past your closed lids. “I wish we weren’t mean to each other all the time.”

“I wish that too.”

“I just want my dad.” Your thoughts drifted to Tony again: how he would press his cool hand to your forehead whenever you had a fever and kiss your scrapes when you fell down as a kid. But what could he do to fix this?

“I’m gonna get you to him, I promise. But you have to stay, alright? You can’t leave me. Please don’t leave me.” You weren’t sure, but it sounded like he might be crying too.

“I won’t,” you said, but you could already feel yourself slipping away.

* * *

The first thing you noticed when you woke up was that you were in your own bed at home. The second was the various machines hooked up to you, their monotonous beeping the only noise filling the room. The third was your father, fast asleep in a chair next to you.

Your body was achy and stiff and your throat was like sandpaper, but hey, you were alive. Not bad. Slowly, the memories came rushing back: the failed mission, getting shot, Peter holding you close as he carried you out of the building.

“Dad,” you whispered. He didn’t move, so you tried again. “Dad.” Your voice was rough, but it worked: Tony’s chin jerked forward and he woke with a jolt, blinking a few times. You thought you saw something pass over his face for a second as he looked at you, but it may have been a shadow.

“Oh, you’re awake. That’s good. How do you feel?” He handed you a glass of water from your nightstand and you drank it gratefully.

“Like shit.”

“Yeah, well, that’s what happens when you get shot,” he said briskly. “So let’s agree to never do that again, alright?”

You nodded mutely, wishing the floor would swallow you whole. Getting lectured by any of the adults was terrible, but your dad’s scoldings were by far the worst.

“Good,” Tony said. “Parker managed to grab the intel, so the mission wasn’t a total bust. But I want you on bed rest until you’re completely healed, understand? That was a close call. Too close.”

“Okay,” you mumbled. You expected him to leave after that, but instead he stayed, just looking at you. You weren’t sure what he was going to do or say next, so you just waited.

Finally, in a low voice, he asked, “Why’d you do it?”

“What?” There was no use trying to play dumb, but you did it anyway.

“You know Parker heals fast. He would’ve been down for a day or two at most if he took that bullet. But he said you pushed him out of the way and got hit instead.”

Of course Peter snitched and told Tony everything. You exhaled, wincing at the pain in your side. “I don’t know. I just didn’t want him to get hurt.”

Tony raised his eyebrows and you looked away quickly, fidgeting with the bedsheet. “Well, would you look at that,” he said quietly, a tiny smirk playing on his lips.

“Shut up.”

“Was that all it was?” he asked. He’d always been good at coaxing the truth out of you.

You didn’t answer for a second. “I know it’s stupid, but you guys just spend so much time together and you care about him so much . . . I guess I just thought you’d rather have him.”

The expression on your father’s face was unreadable. Then, to your surprise, he leaned forward and hugged you tightly, squeezing the breath out of you. “Dad,” you gasped. “That kinda hurts a lot.”

He loosened his grip, but didn’t release you. “Parker’s a good kid,” he muttered. “But you’re my daughter. There’s no one in this world I love more than you. Okay?”

You smiled into his shoulder, trying to swallow the lump in your throat. “Okay.”

“Good. And just for the record, if you ever pull something like that again I’ll ground you until you’re 40.” He kissed the top of your head before rising from the chair. “There’s someone else who wants to see you.”

You watched him leave in confusion, wondering who he could possibly be talking about. Maybe Steve or Natasha? You’d always been close with both of them. Or maybe Bucky; you were still holding out hope that the former assassin was starting to warm up to you.

But it wasn’t any of them. It was Peter.

You felt inexplicably nervous when he walked in; after all, the last time you were together, he’d carried your injured, unconscious body out of a building. But he smiled when he saw you, and it occurred to you that he’d never smiled at you before.

“Hey,” he said, sitting cautiously in Tony’s empty chair. “How are you feeling?”

“Sore,” you said. “Could be worse, though.”

“Yeah, for sure,” he agreed. “I’m, uh, glad you’re . . . you know. Okay.”

“Me too.” You hesitated. “How are you?” It was a dumb question. He looked like shit: dark circles under his eyes, messy hair, rumpled clothes. Was it really because of you?

He shrugged. “Yeah, I’m alright. Just been worried.”

“About me? Seriously?” you blurted out, still in disbelief.

He gave you a funny look. “Uh, yeah. Why is that so surprising?”

“It’s not. I just didn’t know you cared.”

Peter rolled his eyes, shaking his head. He looked normal again, annoyed at you like always. “Are you kidding me? You literally got shot, which was so stupid of you, by the way.”

“Oh, okay, I guess next time I have to save your life I just won’t,” you retorted. Jerk. Whatever butterflies you felt when you originally saw him had now vanished. Mostly.

“Save my life? Please. I would’ve been fine. But instead you decided to be an idiot and jump in front of me like we’re in some dumb action movie and freak everyone out.”

“Are you really gonna lecture me right now?” you said tiredly, ignoring how cute he looked when he was indignant, eyes bright and nose scrunched up.

“Yes!” he said heatedly. “Of course I’m gonna fucking lecture you; I had to sit there and watch you nearly bleed out! Do you have any idea how scared I was that you were going to die in my arms? Do you have any idea what that would do to me? No, you don’t, because you’re selfish and annoying and you—”

“Peter,” you said abruptly. “Shut up.”

He bristled. “Excuse me?”

“I said,” you repeated, leaning forward and putting your hand on the back of his neck, “shut up.” Peter opened his mouth, either to argue further or to ask what you were doing, but you silenced him by pressing your lips against his.

You really had no idea what possessed you to do that. For some reason, watching Peter yell at you made something in your brain click, and you thought oh. The next thing you knew, you were kissing.

While it clearly surprised him at first, Peter eventually kissed you back, his hands flying up to cup your face. You wondered why you hadn’t thought to do this sooner, why you spent so much time fighting when it could’ve been put to better use.

Eventually, though, the pain in your side was becoming unbearable, and you had no choice but to pull away from him and lean back. “Sorry,” you said, a little embarrassed. “Just . . . gunshot wound and all.”

His eyes widened. “Shit, that’s right. Are you okay? I forgot.”

“I’m fine,” you said quickly. “And it was worth it to do that.” You smiled and he returned it, his cheeks tinted a light shade of pink.

“I guess you did say you wished we could do something other than fight.”

“I did say that, huh?” You chuckled. “Well, this seems like a pretty good start.”

“Yeah,” Peter agreed. He hesitated, looking down at his lap. “And, uh, I know I hog your dad a lot, but . . . I was thinking that maybe we could hang out sometime too? Just me and you?”

“Oh,” you said, suddenly feeling a little shy. “Yeah, definitely. Um, what did you have in mind?”

He shrugged. “Maybe once you’re feeling better I could take you out for dinner? I just got my license and May won’t mind me borrowing her car for the night . . . but only if you want to,” he added hastily.

You couldn’t believe how silly you felt, with butterflies in your stomach like a little kid with a crush. “Dinner sounds really, really great.” You paused. “But right now . . . can you just stay? With me?”

Peter stared at you for a second before he nodded, a small but relieved smile on his face. “Of course I’ll stay. As long as you want.”

You swallowed, avoiding his eyes. “And I, uh, never got to thank you. For saving me. So . . . thank you.”

He shrugged, bringing your hand up to kiss your knuckles. “You’re the one who saved me. I just carried you out.”

When Tony came back half an hour later to make sure you hadn’t killed each other, he was only mildly surprised to find the two of you fast asleep in your bed, Peter carefully curled around you. He pulled out his phone and took a picture, sending it to Steve with only a few words as his caption:

Told you they’d figure it out

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x stark!reader #spiderman #spiderman x reader #spiderman x y/n #spiderman x you #spiderman x stark!reader #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker oneshot #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman oneshot #marvel fanfiction #marvel oneshot #writing #stark!reader

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rocksandrobots · 4 years

Text

Of Rocks and Robots Ch. 26 - Temper

Varian grumbled under his breath as he fiddled with a bunch of wires. He was sitting in his lab at school, trying to get the portal to turn on. The machine had decided not to work at all since his misadventure in the desert.

"Grrr...ow!"

His irritated growl turned to a yelp of pain as he shocked himself. This only drew more curses and angry groans.

He wasn't having a good day.

Heck he wasn't even having a good week. Everything had seemed to go wrong for him ever since he and Hiro had their run in with Momasake on Saturday.

First off, he had just gotten back from his second therapy session this morning and, while it went smoother than the first one had, it still had put him out of sorts for the rest of the day.

Dr. Brown's more reserved and quiet manner suited Varian much better than Dr. Mcguire's cherry earnesty, and he made sure not to delve too much into his past like he had last time. However it still made him feel self conscious to sit on a couch and talk to some stranger about what's bothering him.

He couldn't shake the feeling that he was being analyzed. Much like the way he would dissect a compound to figure out its chemical makeup, so too did the older gentleman study him; peering over his reading glasses, jotting notes down on his yellow notepad, and every so often, stroking his salt and pepper beard in thought.

They talked mostly about the nightmares Varian had been having and ways to mitigate them; habits he could try to form, like going to bed at a regular time everyday or meditation exercises similar to the ones Andrew and the rest of the Saporians would partake in. Varian wasn't sure how much he'd be able to keep up such practices and he kind of doubted that they would help anyways.

And then there was the discussion on medication, which Varian really wasn't thrilled about. Dr. Brown wanted to put him on a small dosage of some sort of 'mood-stabilizing' medicine as he had called it; which only sent alarm bells off in Varian's brain. The doctor was patient enough to walk Varian through what the drug was made of, how it worked, and to reassure him that it was only temporary.

"As a scientist yourself, you must know the importance of experimentation. You won't know if the medicine will help or not until you've tried it for awhile. That is why I'm starting you off on such a low dosage to test it out first." Dr. Brown encouraged.

Varian understood. He understood far better than either the doctor or anyone else would ever know. The brain ran on chemicals, and chemical potions could very much alter behavior and mood if ingested. The right or wrong chemicals could make ones whole personality change or compel them to do things they didn't want to…. Like tell the truth for instance. Yes, he knew that better than anyone, and it was precisely why he was so uncomfortable with idea.

But still, Varian had reluctantly agreed to give it a try anyways. If nothing else than to avoid a long drawn out argument or a lecture from someone. Though doing so had only increased his anxiety.

The second thing that had upped his discomfort was that Aunt Cass had discovered his firework display yesterday.

Instead of being impressed like he had hoped, she had rounded on him for daring to build what she referred to as a "fire safety hazard." She then called Officer Cruz to come and confiscate his stash of firecrackers and gunpowder.

Apparently one wasn't legally allowed to build explosives in one's home, even if you didn't intend any harm with them. He then had to endure two separate lectures from both of them on safety regulations.

Oh, how he hated lectures.

He just about had his fill of them these past three weeks.

He also just about had his fill of Hiro and his 'holier than thou' act. The other boy hadn't brought up the incident with Momosake's knife again, but Varian could sense tension between them anyways.

Varian didn't know if Hiro suspected the truth of what happened inside the vent or not, but the other boy had kept his distance from Varian for the past couple of days anyways. Keeping their conversations short and going quiet whenever he spotted Varian walk into the room.

Despite this, Varian didn't regret his actions at all from that night. He was only protecting his friends after all and it's not like he harmed anyone else other than their attacker.

He couldn't wrap his head around Hiro's concern for a person who actively threatened both him and people he cared about. Being noble and compassionate was one thing; going out of your way to help someone who only wants to hurt you was another.

But that's what made the two of them different, Varian guessed. It was easy being a hero when you've never had to defend yourself from seamingly the entire world; to fight just to survive.

Ever since his arrest and subsequently moving in with the Hamadas, Varian had only been reminded just how much he didn't belong there; of how much he didn't really fit in. As nice as his friends and Aunt Cass were, they really had no understanding of what he'd been through and he still felt alien to this world and to their beliefs. The run in with Momosake only served to heighten his feeling of inadequacy, as if he somehow fell short of the imaginary standards that everyone else seemingly already knew but he somehow didn't.

He kicked the device in aggravation. No, he wasn't having a good time at all and the sooner he could get back to his father then the better.

He took a deep breath and ran his hand through his hair as he tried to calm his runaway thoughts. Then he turned back to the console and readied to turn the portal back on, having finished his tweeks to the wiring.

He saw the giant metal ring spark to life as the turbines hummed with power, slowly the blue energy that indicate that the portal was working made its way towards the center, then it crackled, fizzled, and died out as the portal shut itself down.

Varian growled in anger and went to double check the wires again. Nothing off there. He checked the computer. Also okay there. He even tripled checked the turbine, before trying again.

Nothing.

Varian had had it.

He gave a wordless scream of frustration before knocking his scientific instruments off his desk with a push. He kicked the portal repeatedly and threw anything he could find towards the devious device; yelling curses and venting his rage in angry grunts.

It was petulant perhaps, but Varian didn't care anymore. He was tired. Tired of failing and tired of not being the golden boy like Hiro was. Hiro never got lectures. Hiro never made stuff explode, or flood the whole school, or get trapped in a desert. Hiro never gave in to his darker side. Heck, Varian wasn't even sure he had a darker side.

If the stories were to be believe than Tadashi had been Mr. Perfect and Hiro had followed in his footsteps of being the selfless brave hero. They all had. They were all just so, good and perfect and wonderful, and he..he was broken and he knew it. And the longer he stayed, the more at risk he was of having everyone find out just how broken he truly was.

His angry yells turned to sobs. He didn't know to do with himself anymore. He turned around looking for more things to throw and was greeted by the sight of Honey Lemon and Fred standing in the doorway.

He stopped what he was doing and stood stock still. His face turned beet red and his breath hitched. They were looking on with both shock and alarm and to Varian's horror he realized that had saw everything.

He couldn't stop from bursting into fresh tears as he knew that his friends had gotten yet another look at the cracks in his happy, innocent facade. He crumpled in on himself, plumping down on the ground and hugging his knees to his chest, and then he buried his face in his arms to hide his shame.

"What should we do? Should we get Baymax?" He heard Fred say in a hushed and hurried whispered.

"No, he's with Hiro at his internship, remember?" Honey Lemon whispered back.

"Oh, should we call Gogo then or Wasabi?" Fred suggested instead.

"Umm..I think they're both in class...we're just going to have to help instead." Came Honey Lemon's nervous reply.

"Okay…......how?"

Honey Lemon didn't seem to have an answer for that question and Varian only hugged himself tighter as he feared what their response might be; another lecture, more prying questions into his past, or would they just leave altogether and refuse to have anything to do with him? This last option really scared him and brought more unbidden sobs.

He heard footsteps come closer and felt a gentle hand tentivently touch his shoulder.

"V..Varian?" He heard Honey Lemon ask. She sounded scared. He'd had scared her! Of course he had. Everyone was afraid of him back in Corona. Why should here be any different? He wasn't a hero like his friends, he was the villain and, no matter how hard he tried to hide it, it was what he'd always be.

"Why are you still here?" He sobbed, still not looking up to face them.

"I..I'm sorry. Do, do want us to leave?"

He heard Honey Lemon stammer out this apology and he finally looked up at her in surprise. He searched her eyes in confusion as she continued to apologetically ramble.

"We can go… if you want.. If you think that's best..or..we can stay too. It's up to you..we just want to help.."

Varian cut her off, "No, no, that's not what I meant. I...I just don't why you'd want to stick around...not after...not after.."

He broken down in tears again and he saw Honey Lemon and Fred exchange worried glances.

"We're just worried about you, dude." Fred explained. Honey Lemon nodded in agreement and offered an encouraging smile.

Varian eyed them both warily. "You don't have to be so nice about it. You just saw me wrecking my own lab. I don't want you to feel like your obligated to still hang around just to try and make me feel better."

"Well..if either of us was upset you'd try and help us right? That's just what friends do." Honey Lemon said.

"Oh but, that... that's different. You don't ever get mad."

Honey Lemon pouted, "I...get mad. I just... don't always know how to show it."

She sighed and slumped down next to him, leaning against the wall. "I guess that's not always healthy though."

"Neither is losing you temper and busting up the place." Varian bitterly added. He surveyed the mess around the room. He'd have a lot to clean up once this was over with.

"Weeelll, throwing things isn't...good," she agreed,"but it's okay to be angry if something is bothering you." She reached out and slipped her arms around the crook of his elbow. She then nuzzled her head upon his shoulder while she hugged his arm. "We just need to help you find a better way to express yourself." She cheerfully added, as if this was the easiest and most obvious thing in the world to do.

"Whenever I get in a bad mood, I just give Mole a prank call and that usually makes me feel better." Fred offered up blithely.

Both Honey Lemon and Varian stared at him disquitedly.

"That's..that's also not the best way to handle things." She said frowning.

"Why would you prank call a mole?" Varian asked in confusion. "I mean how would it even have a phone?"

"Not a mole, the Mole." Fred explained exasperatedly. "Richardson Mole; he's my arch nemesis. My greatest rival! The most sneaky and nefarious foe I've ever faced."

"He's the boy who lives next door. They compete over comic book stuff." Honey Lemon clarified to a now even more confused Varian.

"Try 'compete over everything'!" Fred retorted indignantly. "There's no lows to which he wouldn't sink just to show me up." He huffed and plopped down on the floor on front of them.

"Ooookay…..well that wouldn't really work for me," Varian tried to steer the conversation back to solving the current problem, "So, what do you do Honey Lemon? How do you stay so calm all the time?"

"I..don't know if 'staying calm' is the right words for what I do….buuuut, I do love going to a wrestling match now and then; it helps to release tension."

Varian looked at her in surprise. "You wrestle?" On some level he knew that Honey Lemon was a capable fighter, she was a superhero, a modern knight, after all, but it was hard to reconcile the image of the sweet natured girl throwing herself into a tournament ring to slug it out with someone.

"Oh.. Not me, no." Honey Lemon hastily corrected and gave an awkward laugh. "I mean, I wouldn't mind doing it but I'm not a professional, sooo...I just meant I go to watch. It's great fun. No one actually gets hurt and you can be as loud as you want to be." She tugged at a strand of her hair and keep nervously looking back and forth between him and the ground as if admitting some embarrassing truth. "I just like the atmosphere, and it fun to just scream your frustrations out sometimes."

Varian softly laughed, "It's hard picturing you yelling, ever, but it sounds fun. Like those brawl tournaments we have back in Corona. There's a lot of shouting and cheering going on during those too."

She perked up at that."Yeah, exactly like that! Would you wanna come to one? We could all get tickets to the next match!"

"Hey now, waaait a minute." Fred interrupted. "I thought we agreed to boycott the mecha-westling after Mole bought out the league! Please don't tell me you've still been going without me!"

Honey Lemon didn't answer, she just nervously bit her lip as Fred placed his hands on his hips and glared at her in disapproval. He then soon relented and sighed…"Fine, I'll buy us some tickets, but I'm getting us seats to a different league. There's no way I'm giving more money to Mole."

Honey Lemon's face broke out into a huge grin. Happy to have avoided an argument with her friend and even happier to attend her favorite sporting event.

"Well, before I can go anywhere, I need to clean up this mess." Varian sighed. "Thanks for trying to cheer me up, I needed it."

He stood up and started to pick up the broken metal and discarded instruments.

"Oh, we'll help you." Honey Lemon chirped.

"No, you don't have to..it's my mess, I need to be the one to clean it up."

"Yeaah, but if we help it'll go faster and then we can all go get lunch." Fred piped in. "That's why we came by in the first place. It's nearly after one and you haven't left your lab all day. Also you still haven't told us what's bugging you. You've not really been yourself lately."

Varian rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. "The portal stopped working. I'm not making any headway and it's been two months now. I guess I'm just worried."

"About your dad?" Honey Lemon interjected.

Varian nodded."Yeah, that and other things. So far I've only managed to create a working spacial portal, not a interdimensional one, and even then I can't figure out how to control where it opens up at."

"Then why not focus on that first?" Fred suggested. Varian looked at him in surprise, so he explained further. "Why not master the spacial stuff, get it where you can pinpoint global places, and then work your way up from there? It's like learning martial arts; you start small before learning more complex moves."

"It's nothing like martial arts." Varian insisted, "but, that may not be a bad idea." He relented as he ran the possibilities through his mind; mastering more local coordinates could help in figuring out how to reach his own world.

Honey Lemon also stood up and wrapped him in another hug. "You'll figure it out it!I know you will!" She encouraged.

Fred also joined in on the hug before adding, "Yeah, but before then let's get this place cleaned up and go grab a noodle burger. I’m starving."

#varian #Honey lemon #Fred Frederickson IV #big hero 6 #bh6 #tangled #tangled the series #rapunzel's tangled adventure #BH6 the series

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boldlygo-boldlygoing-boldlygone · 3 years

Text

And We Do It All Again - Chapter 2

Summary: Jim has two big problems right now. The first is that he is hopelessly in love with his First Officer and his Chief Medical Officer, and neither seems to return his feelings. The second is that he’s stuck in a time loop where his ship is destroyed and his crew killed, over and over again.

Things can never be simple for James T. Kirk, can they?

Warnings: angst, (temporary) character death, swearing, time loops, suicide attempt in a later chapter (again, it’s in a time loop so it doesn’t really work)

Pairing: McSpirk

Chapter 2 of 7

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A/N: Can also be read here on AO3!

Jim thrashed, legs tangling in his sheets, and ended up on the floor, clutching his chest and sucking in breath. Panicked, he kicked off the sheets and stumbled to his feet.

It was only when he realized he wasn't being sucked into the emptiness of space that he paused.

He stood in his room, blinking and taking deep, plentiful breaths. With a shaky hand, he glanced at the clock. Seeing the date, he exhaled deeply. A dream. It had only been a dream. His eyes turned, pausing on the chess board and glasses. A shiver ran up his spine.

Just a dream.

He rushed through his routine that morning, unwilling to admit even to himself that his hands shook a tad. Seeing them would help, he decided, and the sooner he got to see them, the sooner he'd feel better. Once he was dressed, he headed for the mess hall, trying to keep his face relaxed. Something caught in his chest when Spock was seated in the exact place he'd been in his dream, reading, but Jim pushed it away. Spock sat in roughly the same place every day. And he liked to be productive, so the PADD wasn't strange either. Still, he knew he was tense as he sat across from his First Officer.

"Good morning, captain."

"Morning, Spock."

"Our match last night was quite riveting. Your skill is improving."

Jim blinked, mouth going dry. He just knew Spock well. This wasn't weird, it didn't mean anything. "Thanks, Spock. Glad you had a good time."

The corner of Spock's mouth flickered down. "Are you well, Jim? You seem startled by my comment and you are, as Dr. McCoy says, fidgeting."

"No, I'm okay. Just had a weird dream." Jim threw his friend a reassuring smile and allowed himself to lightly touch his First Officer's forearm. Hands were a whole thing for Vulcans, he knew that, but a forearm should be okay. Besides, the contact made it easier to prove to himself that this was real and that he hadn't just watched the two people he cared about most die. "Anyway, let's have a rematch tonight. Bet you beat me this time."

"Not this again." Bones plopped down beside Jim, scowling. Jim grinned and let his arm- the one not touching Spock- wrap around his friend's shoulders. The contact did wonders in calming his racing heart.

"Yes, this again! You wanna come?"

"Depends. Will there be whiskey?"

"Not tonight. You drank everything I had last night."

Bones snorted and started eating. "Like you didn't help."

"Come on, Bones, it'll be fun!"

"I dunno if I can suffer both of your presence without a drink." Bones smirked, quirking an eyebrow at Jim. "But I can try."

"Great! We can meet in my cabin at 2300."

"Affirmative."

"I can do that."

"Perfect." Jim paused, pushing aside the words that came naturally. "Spock, we outta get to the bridge."

"Correct, captain." Spock stood and nodded at Bones. "Until tonight, Leonard."

"See ya, Bones!" Jim grinned as Bones waved half-heartedly, something fond flickering in his features even as he rolled his eyes.

Jim fell into step with Spock as they headed for the turbolift. Inside, Spock spoke up. "I must admit, I do find the recreational time spent with you and Dr. McCoy quite enjoyable."

"I'm glad, Spock. It's- It's quite enjoyable for me too."

He felt Spock glance at him from the corner of his eye, but he didn't comment further. They stepped on the bridge together, then separated for their respective stations.

"Captain on the bridge!"

"Status report, Mr. Sulu?" Jim asked, a strange nervousness crawling over him as his pilot responded.

"Starfleet sent us new orders this morning. There's a planet in our sector they want us to check out."

"Okay." Jim hesitated. It had only been a dream. They were on an exploration mission, after all. It was a common enough command, it wasn't surprising.

"Sir?" Sulu glanced at Chekov, then back at him. "Shall I set the course?"

Jim cleared his throat. "Yes, Mr. Sulu. Thank you."

"Yes, sir."

He forced his attention to turn to his paperwork (paperwork that felt too familiar, too much the same as before), though was unable to keep from occasionally glancing out at the stars. Time crawled by and he found himself painfully tense, worry circling his mind. It had just been a dream. A frighteningly realistic one, but a dream all the same. After his shift, he'd head to his room, meet Bones and Spock, and tell them about it. They'd calm his fears and assure him that he was, in fact, being ridiculous. It'd be okay. He just had to finish this shift.

Then Sulu spoke and he felt as though all the air had left the room. "Sir, there's an unidentified ship approaching."

Jim sucked in a breath and ground his teeth, forcing his shaking hands to steady. "Hail them."

"They're not responding."

"Shields up. Then try again."

"Yes, sir." As Sulu moved to act, the entire ship jolted.

"We've been hit, captain! Damage to engine one!"

Jim swore, a cold panic washing over him. "Are the shields up?"

"Yes, sir, but the hit came while I was putting them up. They didn't block the entire blast."

"Fire back immediately!"

"Shields at twenty percent!" Chekov called.

"Firing now!" Sulu tensed. "It didn't even dent their shields!"

"Get us out of here, Mr. Sulu!"

"Yes, sir. I need-" The ship shook again. The hit took the lights with this time.

"Shields at ten percent!"

"Sulu, can you get us out?"

"The engine is too damaged, sir, I can't warp!"

"Damn it! Evacuate the ship!" He commanded, slamming the button. Red light flooded the room and Jim strode to the console, already pulling Sulu up.

"The autopilot is down, sir, I need to stay and-"

"Get out of here, Hikaru! That's an order!"

"But sir-" The ship rocked again.

"Think of Demora!"

Sulu's eyes went wide. Jim felt guilty for the bluntness, but it got the man moving, and that was what mattered. Jim turned his attention to Spock immediately.

"I need to find Bones."

"I will accompany you, captain."

Jim nodded sharply, not bothering to argue. The memory from yesterday- the dream, the damn dream- rose, but he pushed it down and pressed on.

"Bones!" The ship shook, more violently this time. The shields were down.

"I need to get my patients off this ship. Go without me!" Bones barked, not even looking at Jim.

"Come on, Bones, we can't stay!" Jim insisted, even as he pulled a patient out of bed and helped Nurse Chapel get a grip on him. She dragged the man- the last patient, he realized, as Bones helped Dr. M'Benga with another.

"Alright, alright. Lead the way."

Jim moved, knowing the two were behind him. Fear gripped him as the world exploded again, however, and he was thrown into Bones' office.

"No!"

Spock and Bones, clinging for dear life.

"Bones! Spock!"

Spock's eyes rolling. Bones' face going blue.

"No! No!"

Spock let go. Jim screamed. The world exploded.

. . .

This time, he shot out of bed, eyes fearful as they found the clock.

Same time. Same day.

He wanted to believe to it was a bad dream. That he was stressed and his brain had come up with some weird situation to cope with that. But it had all been too real for that. He didn't know what was happening, but he had to stop it.

He barely pulled on appropriate clothing before taking off, sprinting for Spock's room. He pounded on the door as soon as he arrived, heart racing.

"Jim. It is quite early, is all well?"

"No. You have to listen to me. I dunno what's going on, but I've been through this day twice now and both times, the Enterprise has been blown up and we all die. I need your help stopping it." As soon as it was out, he knew how insane it sounded. He was certain Spock thought he had lost it, but he was simply staring. When he spoke, his voice was void of emotion.

"Why don't you come inside?" Jim blinked, confused, but let Spock usher him inside. "Were you able to sleep last night, Jim?"

"What? Yeah, I guess. Spock, you're missing the point!"

"I am not. I am simply assessing the situation. You are certain these events were real?"

"Yes. Like I said, I don't know how, but they were! We have to do something!"

"Indeed." Spock looked at him a moment longer, then cautiously raised his arms. "You are shaking. May I hug you?"

Jim blinked. "Uh- what?"

"Hugs are customary means of comfort in Earth culture, correct?"

"Well- yeah."

"Then I wish to comfort you. This has clearly caused you great distress."

"I guess." Jim was still confused as Spock hugged him. He couldn't recall if Spock had ever hugged him. "I'm just glad you aren't calling me crazy. I thought you'd think I lost it."

"Believe me, Jim. I do not think you 'crazy,' as you say." Spock released him, sincerity in his eyes even as his features remained neutral. "I do apologize, however."

"What? What are you-" He didn't have a chance to finish as he felt Spock's fingers at his neck. The world was black before he even hit the ground.

The first thing he registered when he came to were voices, low and worried.

"-clearly believed these events to be real."

"Jesus, Spock. You did the right thing bringing him here."

"Will you be able to determine what is wrong?"

"Yeah, I should. He's probably just been pushing himself too much. You saw how tired he was last night."

"Exhaustion could cause delusions."

Delusions? "Bones. Spock!" Jim forced his heavy eyes open and tried to sit up. He found he couldn't.

"Woah, Jimmy, relax." Their faces appeared in his vision.

"Spock, what the hell!?"

"I apologize, captain. You were clearly in a state of panic and I believed Dr. McCoy could best assist you."

"I'm not having delusions! The ship is going to get attacked! Let me up so I can stop it!"

Bones frowned, eyes worried. "Kid, calm down. We're gonna figure out what's wrong, okay? You're gonna be fine." He was being gentle. Bones was never gentle.

He really thought Jim had lost it. He struggled harder against the restraints, anger and despair and betrayal flowing through his system. "Damn it, Bones! Just listen to me!"

"You're not makin any sense, kid. The ship is fine."

"Yeah, now! But we're gonna get attacked!"

"Jim-"

"I saw the crew dying! I saw you both die! I need to save you, let me save you!"

Spock and Bones exchanged a look. A hand closed around his and squeezed. "We're right here, Jimmy."

"Don't touch me, damn it!" Jim thrashed violently, too angry to properly appreciate the gesture. "Listen!"

"I'm gonna put you to sleep again, kid. We'll figure this out, I promise."

"No, Bones, don't! Please, don't!" But it was too late. Jim glowered at Bones, then Spock, as he felt the hypo kicking in. "Damn you both!" He snarled before his body relaxed on its own account and he fell unconscious again.

When he woke the second time, the world was red. Bones was beside him, yanking his limp body- still weak from the sedative- off the biobed. Jim leaned again Bones, groaning as the doctor practically dragged him to the door.

"Leonard!" Spock skidded to a halt in front of them, then grabbed Jim's other arm and helped drag him towards the door.

"What the hell is going on?" Bones hissed as they stumbled to the door.

"We are being attacked." Spock explained shortly. Jim was too weak to say 'I told you so.'

"What? By who?"

"I do not-"

The explosion cut him off. This time, Jim watched, horrified, as Bones was sucked out of the ship. The only thing keeping him from the same fate was Spock's strong arm, his grip painful on Jim's bicep.

"BONES!"

"Jim!" Spock pulled at him, but it was obvious the lack of atmosphere was affecting him. Jim himself already felt lightheaded. Black spots filled his vision and he passed out before Spock's grip failed.

#star trek #jim kirk #spock #leonard mccoy #mcspirk #tos #star trek tos #star trek aos #aos #fanfiction #my stories #mine #and we do it all again

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7wanderingpaws · 4 years

Text

Simply, yours (2)

Pairing: Baekhyun x reader

Genre: non-idol AU, hapkido teacher AU

Word count: 3.1K

a/n: Maybe this chapter might be a bit frustrating, it was for me, but it will all get better very soon!! :) Enjoy and leave a comment please!

.2.

You came out of the office still shocked, your body moves a bit stiff. Sukyeong was giving you a wary look from behind of her glasses and watched you all the way till your butt touched the cushion of your office chair.

“You look like you have been sacked,” she commented, unable to keep it in.

Gulping, you realised your throat went dry. Reaching out for your tea cup, you picked it up to take a sip but noticed it was empty. Right. You have spilled its contents on your skirt that still had the wet stain.

What do you do now? Why aren't you feeling as good as you thought you would after receiving your first promotion?

Perhaps you needed some time. After all, the result would be shown on your bank account, not through your emotions or the behaviour of your boss.

“I-I got promoted,” you finally let out, staring at Sukyeong.

To say she was surprised was an understatement. Her eyes widened and she took her glasses off to get a better look. “Don't tell me it is because of Bina.”

“It is,” you mumbled. “Did you know she got fired?”

“Oh, yes, I heard but so suddenly? Nobody knows why.”

“Yeah,” you raised your eyebrows, nodding, before telling the truth “She got pregnant. That's why.”

Sukyeong's eyes darkened. “No way! No freaking way! You have got to be kidding me.” She went silent for a second, obviously the information still loading in her brain. “He fired her because she got pregnant? Is he stupid?”

“Apparently, the company doesn't want a useless workforce.” You went on explaining the whole meeting, ending it with his proposal (decision) to promote you to her position.

Sukyeong was a very kind and genuine person at heart that rarely showed negative emotions. It was quite shocking to see her explode (in a neat manner) about the whole situation.

Eventually, she looked at you, then at the phone resting on the top of your table. “It is good news for you, though. This way you can lead a more comfortable life with Baekhyun. You should let him know right now. He will be so happy and proud of you.”

You bit your lip. Sukyeong wasn't informed about the little condition called pregnancy that your boss made you indirectly promise. You felt it was too personal and uncomfortable to tell her. Or maybe you were scared she would tell you how stupid and out of your mind you were.

“I will tell him,” you heard yourself mumble, zoning out into your little bubble.

You didn't tell him when you came home. It wasn't like you didn't have enough chances throughout the day. You and Baekhyun were constantly in touch through your phones, writing silly messages or small updates on what the other was doing.

You could have told him then.

Yet, as you were preparing your evening tea and heard him listing through his textbooks, there was not a chance to even start the conversation. He needed to be focused.

And anyway! How inconvenient would have the whole situation been? There was no way you could afford to… start a family. He knew it. You knew it. It would be a massive burden for both of you; physically for you, for him financially. He needed to finish his PhD. No time for children. He needed to focus on his career in hapkido. No time for children. He-

You hissed in pain as you, guess what, spilled your tea straight on your left hand. You weren't even holding the cup; you hit it with the back of your hand by accident, causing Baekhyun to look up from his textbook, his forehead slightly scrunched.

“You alright, love?” he stood up from the small table, walking to you.

“Mhm.” You took two quick steps reaching for the tap, letting cold water relief the throbbing skin.

Baekhyun was next to you within a second. He grabbed your hand, quickly looking at it. “Shit, Y/N, that's really bad,” he murmured seriously while observing the skin.

“It's nothing, c'mon,” you answered, playing it cool by giving him an eye roll with a smile.

“That could easily be a bad burn,” he placed your hand back under the water and looked at you. “Be careful next time.”

Forcing a bigger smile, you nodded but-

“Is something wrong?” He caressed your back gently. “You are not one to be clumsy usually.”

“All is good,” you nodded cheerfully, maybe a tad too fast.

He was analysing you. He knew you like the back of his hand. “Did the idiot try something at work again?” he asked, his voice lower now.

“What? Oh, no, not at all, please!”

“Why are you laughing like I just guessed correctly?”

“Because you haven't guessed correctly, hihi.”

“So there is something to be guessed,” his eyes shone in challenge.

“No, Baekhyun, there isn't. However, you will need to guess correctly at your exams, so go back to studying. I'll prepare some fruit for you.”

“Not with that hand,” he argued, closed the tap and grabbed a towel to dry your hand. “You will sit next to me and give me strength while I'm studying.”

You snorted. “I am pretty sure that will be a productive study session.”

He raised his eyebrows at you with a wide smile.

You did end up studying. Baekhyun was preparing a report to be handed in next week about his current workplace where he was teaching hapkido. The wonderful way his experiences, memories and plans were coming out of his mouth while you were trying to type it all out on his laptop was something that made your heart warm. Baekhyun was satisfied where he was in life. You don't need anything more.

“Now the elementary school one,” he said, deep in thought as he was going through his notes. “The kids are sometimes a pain in the ass. Therefore, a hapkido professor-to-be shall have high levels of patience while kindness and eternal love shows through his guidance in order to reach the utmost peace while practicing hapkido.”

You were typing quickly until you realised what he was dictating in the academic language. It made you look up at his shiny eyes. “Ya, what is this. Your sarcasm will not go unnoticed with-”

He bursted out into fit of loud laughters, giggling on your expression. “I was wondering if you are even listening to what I am saying.”

“Of course I was,” you smacked his arm. “Kids. Talking about kids.”

He came closer to your face on all fours like a puppy he was. “I want to have some as well.”

You gave out a snort though your heart jumped in anticipation before your entire positive mood deflated with the situation you suddenly appeared in at work. “Some? It's not like asking for apples, you know, my love?” you responded gently, quickly glancing at his stretched out lips. You glanced back at his eyes just to catch him also stare at your mouth.

“You haven't thought about it at all?”

Oh no...

“How did you get to this topic? We were talking about kids in your hapkido class,” you tried to avoid the inevitable.

He shrugged, biting his lover lip as he examined your eyes now. You could feel his breath on your lips. “Exactly. You know how much I adore to teach that class. University students are fun and I can seriously practice hapkido with them, lead them to something much better, but with kids… Maybe I'm just crazy,” he laughed quietly, closing his eyes as he pressed his forehead to yours, gently shaking his head, “but I can't stop imagining us having a baby.”

Unconsciously, your breathing grew frantic, the idea being way too pleasant.

“And yeah, it isn't easy but… I love you so very much,” he breathed, raising his head, his eyes still closed as he crashed his lips onto yours in a slow, lazy kiss as if he was too drunk on love to even think straight. Your heart responded right away, opening your mouth for him so that he could devour all of you right then and there.

Countryside people had one thing in common - their own kids came usually early on in their lives. It wasn't out of place for Baekhyun to want to start a family at such a young age. It might have been strange for city people who were too busy building up their own life, though.

“Baekhyun,” you murmured, and he pecked you twice to show that he was listening as he opened his eyes to look at you. You didn't know yourself why you said his name when obviously you had nothing to reply. Now it was confirmed that if you told him what happened today would break his heart. Just like it broke yours. But you were not well-off now. Not entirely poor but… not far from it either. There had to be sacrifices made in order to get a better life for yourselves first. Touching his cheek lovingly, you whispered: “Your report.”

You couldn't sleep the whole night. Not only because you were nervous about your upcoming day in work, given the new workplace would require much more responsibility (and we weren't even talking about the person you had to skip around now), but also the slight pain in your thighs signalling the upcoming period was making you uncomfortable. It was still early to get out of bed but you were worried you would forget to pack some pads in case it would surprisingly arrive at work. Oh! And you kept replaying Baekhyun's words from yesterday. How you saw the softness and desire in his stare. The honesty.

Guilt was eating you away.

Later during breakfast, Baekhyun was unusually silent and even though you tried to make some conversation with him, he wasn't in the mood. Must be the report, you thought as you quickly washed the dishes while he was quietly drying them off with the kitchen towel.

“You should go get ready, it's already 15,” he said, not looking your way.

You placed the last dish in the dish holder. “It's okay, I can leave at 45.”

Shit, how would you explain him the whole situation? He already did not like your boss (as if you did) yet here you were, hiding the truth that he will pick you up and bring you home.

“How come?” he asked, taking the dish, carefully sliding his hand with the towel under it over the surface, the action making a muffled sound. “You always panic about being late.”

“Well today I decided I can be late,” you said, smiling at him.

The corners of his lips lifted, but the emotion didn't quite reach his eyes.

“Are you okay?” you asked him, as you dried your hands in your pyjama pants. You had to wash them later anyway.

He nodded, winking at you which gave you enough reassuring for now.

“I will prepare your lunch box, go get ready, love.” You squeezed his arm.

He finished his task before wordlessly leaving.

Standing silently in the kitchen for a few more minutes after he left made you feel how strong of a slap you just received from him. You hated when he shut you out, when he was deep in his brain mulling over things you had no idea about.

You had no idea he was thinking so much about starting a family with you. You had no idea the kids in school were reminding him of how much he desired to create something so precious together with you.

Shuffling from the tiny bedroom snapped you back to reality, and you quickly put together Baekhyun's lunch so that he could leave.

“Anything you want to tell me?” he suddenly approached from behind, his voice serious.

You turned to face him. “What do you mean?”

“You… you are acting strangely,” he explained, not moving from his spot.

“Baekhyun,” you said, taking the kimbap from the fridge and placing it into the blue lunch box that you wrote “for my only love” on in a cute handwriting. “All is fine. What is making you so upset?”

Your brain kept beeping the entire time, screaming “warning” but you went on. Like an idiot you were. You knew he was a sensitive person, so he was taking the slightest off-behaviour in the wrong way. He could be very vulnerable despite his tough physique and self-confident talk.

He sighed, running his hand through his hair. “You know what? Let's talk once you're home tonight.” Taking the lunch box from your hands, he left.

The ending was a silent closing of the entrance door and the beep of the lock.

It was uncomfortable in the car to say the least. Sitting in the same car, on the same backseat with your boss... Well, concentrating on the work you had to start doing was hard.

He kept asking how your day went yesterday, if you felt good about the promotion, and what would you do to make the work and your goals more effective. Interestingly, being under pressure made you form sentences that had the exact meaning to those in his brain. Whatever he wanted to hear and you knew would please him, you would say it.

Back at work it wasn't much different, but it sure was a much longer day with sudden new tasks and meetings to attend to. What made it very frustrating was that your boyfriend didn't write a message even once. He would always write asking whether you arrived to work safely since you had to take transportation, but not today. Your phone was lying there, no beep, no ring.

“Did it ring?” you asked Sukyeong breathlessly as you rushed to your table after another meeting. You were about to go to another one.

“Nope, sorry,” replied Sukyeong regretfully, sending you a pout before she focused on her computer screen again. “What happened anyway?”

You groaned in reply, the office phone ringing. You knew who was on the other line so you picked up while unlocking your own phone. “Yes, sir, I am bringing the documents for signing now.”

“Alright.” The boss hung up.

“Pff, alright,” you mocked, while frustratingly huffing when the kakaotalk had no unread messages. Especially from Baekhyun.

Unfortunately, you had no time and had to leave a fast message:

“Honey is all good on your side?”

By the time you finished that day at work, there was still no reply. He didn't even read the damn message.

You came back home much later than usual, very tired and mentally drained. You were hoping Baekhyun wouldn't be asleep.

Silently making your way past the kitchen that was right at the entrance door, you saw dimmed light coming out of your shared bedroom. Right after a book page being turned. Ah, he was studying. Once you appeared in front of the bedroom, he raised his head, tired eyes focusing on you.

“Hey,” you said quietly, unsure what to expect from him.

He bit the inside of his cheek. “Hi.”

Putting down your bags, you took off your blazer before walking to him to give him a peck. But he seemed pissed. “Where were you till now?”

His tone made you stop in your tracks. “I had to work late. I sent you a message which you didn't bother open either obviously,” you snapped, not liking his attitude.

“You suddenly work this late? It's eleven in the night, Y/N,” he snapped back.

Emotions were flowing too fast in your veins, making you momentarily dizzy. “I am also trying to make a living here, you know.”

“Oh yeah?” he questioned, as if you were lying. “Making a living, is it?”

His behaviour didn't add up in your brain. “What the hell is your problem, Baekhyun? Just come at me, spill it all out. I'm not in the mood to be guessing what pisses you off so much since yesterday,” you said coldly, still standing few feet away from him.

He suddenly stood up, taking two steps towards you. He opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out as he focused his gaze on your eyes.

“What is it?” you demanded when he still didn't say anything.

“Did you have dinner?”

“What?” you exclaimed, disbelief written all over your face. You grabbed his face with your hands and made him focus his gaze on you. “What is the matter Baekhyun? What did I do so wrong? Don't do this to me, please.”

“I just,” he started, closing his eyes and going silent. Four heartbeats passed when he whispered. “I don't want to talk about this right now.”

Your hands fell to your sides and you felt a burn behind your eyes. Staring at him a little longer, you finally turned around, stripping to take a shower. You threw your clothes on the floor, noticing the period pads you forgot this morning despite how much you were reminding yourself to take them. Because of the morning argument and busy hours at work, you forgot your period was not coming. Still. Maybe tomorrow, you thought.

Half-way to the bathroom in your bra you turned. “For your record, I did not have dinner. Was too busy,” you muttered the last sentence and you slammed the bathroom door shut.

Fuming from these short-lived conversations full of suppressed anger made you very, very upset. But thankfully, a hot shower was something that could ease your mind. Although you couldn't stay under the hot waterfall for too long, you made sure to put on ton of scented shower cream and made sure you enjoyed every molecule of the shower.

Once finished, you turned to grab a towel just to find a pair of hands holding an open towel for you to be tucked in. You locked eyes with Baekhyun, not sure what to say or do.

“C'mon, you will catch a cold,” he ushered, shaking the towel slightly.

You stepped closer, not meeting his eyes, somehow feeling shy being all naked in front of him. He has seen you like that countless of times, but it still had a strong intimacy impact for you.

He wrapped the towel around you, massaging your shoulders. “I'm sorry,” he whispered in your ear from behind.

Tears that threatened to spill before now rolled down your flushed cheeks. You turned around, hugging him. “I can't take us fighting.”

“Me neither,” he said, squeezing your aching body.

You let out a quiet sob. “Don't shut me out.”

It took him a few heartbeats to reply. “I won't. But you better not do it either.”

This made you weep just a bit harder because you already have.

#baekhyun #baekhyun fluff #baekhyun AU #baekhyun fic #baekhyun imagine #baekhyun ff #exo fic #exo imagine #exo au #exo fluff #exo baekhyun #kpop fanfic #kpop imagine #kpop fluff #kpop au #my writings

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feferipeixes · 4 years

Text

Grapefruit Juice

For @skia-oura. You know what you did.

(on AO3)

It was a quiet morning when Bentley awoke, nestled in between Dipper and Torako. Dipper was curled up in the fetal position, forehead resting on Bentley’s shoulder, a clawed hand caressing his other shoulder, little Z’s floating above the demon’s head. Torako, on the other hand, was practically lying on top of him, spread-eagled and snoring loudly. A small smile spread across Bentley’s sleepy face. It felt so nice, in a weird way he didn’t know how to express. He loved waking up next to those two dorks. It felt safe to be with them.

Also, the fact that they were sleeping meant they weren’t wreaking havoc, which was always a plus.

A glance at the alarm clock -- it was early. Too early to really start the day, but too late to get back to sleep. He carefully extracted himself from the bed, making sure not to wake either of his roommates up. Tiptoeing out of the room like a cartoon character, he eased the door shut and then proceeded to the kitchen.

He opened the cupboard to look for something to eat for breakfast. The box of Moffios immediately stuck out to him -- he noticed that the sigil preventing it from being touched was almost worn away. Either Torako had been scratching it out or she’d made some sort of deal with Dipper. He quickly re-inscribed the symbol, and the box took on a glittery sheen indicating that it’d sting any fingers who tried to take it. That should keep her away from it for a few more days.

He grabbed his favorite almond-based caffeinated cereal and closed the cupboard. Setting the box of Nutty Tweaks down on the table, he fetched a bowl and looked through the fridge for something to drink. His usual box of orange juice was nowhere to be found. Bentley rolled his eyes -- no doubt his doofus brother finished it off and forgot to put it on the shopping list. Looked like he was eating dry tweaks that morning.

Except...

In the back of the fridge, he glimpsed a bottle of pink juice. He pulled it out and looked it over for a label. Nothing. It was probably the weird old-timey juice that Dipper would import from Australia, which was apparently the only remaining place where it was made. With a glint in his eye, Bentley poured himself a glass. If Dipper was going to drink all of his juice, he’d just have to return the favor.

His revenge at hand, Bentley sat at the table and started spooning crunchy almonds into his mouth. He considered the box’s promise to get anyone who eats the cereal “absolutely shredded” with “ham wild muscles” and “disgustingly feral abs”. He wondered if people really fell for that kind of marketing. At any rate, it didn’t affect him. He just liked almonds. And caffeine.

...although if he Did happen to get stronger from eating cereal, he wouldn’t complain. He’d be able to draw longer-lasting sigils if he could cut deeper into a surface.

Cereal consumed, Bentley raised the glass of juice to his lips. He briefly wondered whether it really was such a good idea to drink a demon’s juice -- for all he knew, it wasn’t actually juice but rather distilled insanity with blood mixed in (for taste). The promise of vengeance was too much to pass up, though, and he took a small sip.

And then downed the entire glass.

Whatever that stuff was, it was delicious. Weirdly tart with a sweet aftertaste. He’d never tasted anything like it -- no wonder Dipper went to such great lengths to obtain it. Before he knew it, Bentley had drunk the entire bottle. Surveying the casualties of his breakfast, he felt a small seed of guilt sprout within him, but he quickly brushed it away. It’s only what Dipper deserved for drinking all the orange juice.

Out of nowhere, the bedroom door slammed open with enough force to shake the room. Salt and pepper shakers spilled onto the counter. A clock fell off the wall and shattered on the floor. Bentley felt the chair he was sitting on jump a foot off the ground, and his arms shot out instinctively to grab the table so he wouldn’t fall over. Disoriented, it took him a moment to parse what was happening. Then he saw Torako standing in the doorway with a crazed look on her face, and immediately knew his peaceful morning was over.

“Bentley!” she yelled, gesticulating wildly. “You’re eating breakfast? Without meeeee?”

“You were asleep!” he countered. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

He shrank into his chair as she stomped over to him, hands on hips, hair matted and messy. She picked up the cereal box and broke into a mischievous grin. “Bentley’s Getting Buff, I see.” She cackled and tossed the box aside, sprinkling almonds across the kitchen.

“Stop! I just cleaned the apartment yesterday!”

Ignoring him, she picked up the empty juice bottle on the table and examined it while Bentley eyed her suspiciously. It was very likely she’d pick Dipper’s side if a revenge battle broke out because the two of them combined were an unstoppable chaos machine. He had to get her off the topic of breakfast, quick.

“Hey, Tora,” he said carefully. “I was thinking about re-dyeing my hair. Did you wanna...”

Torako cut him off by screaming at the top of her lungs. Bentley winced and clapped his hands to his ears. “What the hell are you doing?” he hissed. “You’re going to wake up the entire building!”

“Did you drink Dipper’s grapefruit juice????” she screeched.

Bentley shrank into his chair again. “Maybe. But he deserved it.” He glanced at the open bedroom door, curious about the fact that Dipper hadn’t come out yet to see what was going on. Maybe he’d been summoned.

“Oh NO Ben, this is BAD,” Torako continued to yell. “Holy shit holy shit HOLY SHIT!”

Bentley started edging away from her. “Is something happening right now? Am I missing something?”

She tore her gaze away from the bottle and stared him directly in the eyes, radiating such delirium that it was almost nauseating to look at. She hurled the bottle into the ground as hard as she could, and it broke through the floor into the next apartment down. Before he could object to this, she grabbed him by the shirt collar and shrieked, “BENTLEY you’re gonna DIE, that was GRAPEFRUIT JUICE, don’t you KNOW, it’s gonna make your ANTIDEPRESSANTS EXPLODE IN YOUR BRAIN!”

He gaped at her. “What are you talking abouuuu- !” He yelped as Torako effortlessly lifted him up and wrapped him over her shoulders. He tried in vain to wriggle free of her grip, but she was much stronger than him. “Let go of me!”

“Hello? Hospital?” Bentley stopped flailing to see Torako talking into a phone wedged between her head and her shoulder that couldn’t possibly have been there more than a second ago. “Yes, hospital! Please come quick! We have a serious case of genius boy brain burst! Oh stars, I can’t do this!” She dropped the phone and started sobbing, prompting Bentley’s anxiety to shoot through the roof.

“Tora? Are you okay? I’m really worried.” Not about himself, because he was pretty sure his brain was not about to explode from drinking juice, but even in her most trickster of moments Torako had never acted like this before and it was freaking him out. “Is this part of a prank or are you... really having some kind of breakdown right now? If this is real then I need to know so I can help.”

“You’re the one who needs help, you poor thing.” She laid him down on a stretcher and patted him on the head. “It’s gonna be okay! The hospital people will save you! They’ll take you to the juicer from Willy Wonka and everything will be okay!”

“What’s Willy Wonka?” Bentley yelled as he was pulled away on the stretcher. He watched Torako get smaller and smaller before finally fading away into the distance. Exhausted, he put his head down and stared up at the inky black ceiling of the ambulance. “This is so annoying. I don’t need to go to the hospital. I need to bust out of here.”

“Please don’t,” Philip said. Bentley’s eyes boggled at the sight of his father steering the ambulance. He gave his son a wink before turning back to face the road. “I’d have to chase you down or I’ll get fired, and I can’t do that. You’re so much faster than me now.”

“Dad?” Bentley breathed. “Why are you driving an ambulance? When did you -- you’re not supposed to -- isn’t it late?”

There was a sigh from the front seat. “Sorry, Bentley, I didn’t mean for you to find out this way, when you’re about to die from grapefruit overdose, but it’s true. I wasn’t making enough money doodling little hearts on pictures of your very handsome roommate. I had to pick up some odd jobs to make ends meet.”

“You what now?”

“It’s shameful, I know.” Philip’s head smacked down onto the steering wheel, and the ambulance started swerving wildly around on the road. “In a perfect world, we’d all be able to sit around and talk about demons all day without worrying about rent or food, but we don’t live in a perfect world and it’s my job as a father to break that to you. I’m so sorry.”

Bentley opened his mouth to respond, but faltered when he heard a hiccup. He flipped over onto his stomach to see his father weeping softly onto the steering wheel. Alarm bells rang in his head. “Dad, please don’t cry. It’s alright.” He attempted to undo the straps holding him on the stretcher, but they only seemed to get tighter. “We can talk about this. Please don’t cry.”

He reached out to him, his fingers gently brushing up against the driver’s seat, hoping that his father would sense his presence and take his hand. But it never came. There was a jerking sensation from beneath him as the conveyor belt activated, and the stretcher started moving away from the ambulance.

“Dad?” Bentley called, his voice heavy with reverberation. “Dad, don’t leave!”

No response. The sound of weeping faded away, and Bentley felt a pit settle in his stomach. He looked around and saw that he was rolling slowly on a track that ran through a landscape of stars. A row of doctors stared at him with blurry faces from behind a glass partition. Half of them gasped as he went by. The other half just looked disappointed, shaking their heads or crossing their arms.

“It’s… the Grapefruit Juice Boy,” one of them choked out.

“That doesn’t make any sense!” he yelled, scowling. “This -- okay, I’m getting suspicious now! Am I dreaming? Is this what a dream that isn’t a nightmare is like? It sucks!”

The conveyor stuttered to a halt and the doctors all vanished. Bentley blinked, and realized he was in a dentist’s office. A pair of hands pulled a paper bib around his neck, and his scowl deepened. “Now what’s going on? I thought this dream was about medication interactions! Why am I at the dentist now?”

“Grapefruit juice is really sugary,” came a voice from behind him. “Your teeth are gonna fall out.”

“Oh, yeah, definitely,” Bentley raged. “My roommates constantly pour sugar into every orifice on their faces, but I have a stress dream about the dentist because I drank a bottle of juice. I’d like to see Torako and Dip- hey wait a minute!” He cut off as the familiarity of the dentist’s voice hit him. The hands appeared again, putting a second bib on him, and Bentley noticed the fingers were tipped with claws. He struggled to tilt his head back, and caught a glint of light off the razor sharp teeth in the dentist’s grin.

“Hi Bentley,” Dipper said.

“Dipper? Why are you the dentist?” He collapsed back into the dentist’s chair and let his limbs fall limp over the sides. “Why are dreams like this? Is there some deep meaning behind all of this? I’d almost prefer the nightmares to Dipper cleaning my teeth.”

“Hey now,” Dipper pouted, putting a third bib around Bentley’s neck. “Maybe I’m really good at dental work. You know how hard flossing is with teeth like this?”

Bentley scratched his head. “Um, I guess not. But then why would I dream- hey wait a minute. Are you a dream Dipper or the real one?”

Dipper dropped the fourth bib he was holding and stepped back, bumping into a table of dental equipment. “Uhhhhh. Dream Dipper, definitely. Your brain just loves thinking about me. That’s it.”

The scowl returned to Bentley’s face in full-force. Sitting up, he tore the bibs off his neck and stared his roommate right in his dumb evil eyes. “It is the real you! What are you doing in my dream? This is all your fault, isn’t it?”

The demon smiled awkwardly and scratched the back of his neck. “Haha, well, uh, yeah sort of. Technically it’s Torako’s fault. This was all her idea, but I’m the one with the dream magic, so it just made sense, like oh who’s gonna keep Bentley in a weird dream so that he sleeps in today, Dipper obviously, and -”

Swinging his legs off the table, Bentley stood up for the first time in what felt like ages, and marched over shakily as Dipper backed away. “You trapped me in a crazy dream world??”

“No! Not really!” Dipper raised his arms, looking panicked. “I mean, okay, I made parts of it, but mostly all I did was stop you from waking up earlier! Sometimes people just have weird dreams, Ben! It’s a natural part of life for your species!”

“I’m putting wards all over the bedroom when I wake up. Why did you do this??”

Dipper shrank down to his 12-year old form and tried his best to look innocent. “No reason at all! You just looked like you needed some sleep! It definitely wasn’t that Torako needed time to break the sigil you made to prevent her from touching the box of Moffios!”

“Oh my stars Torako. This is ridiculous.” Bentley stared at his hands, picturing them each grasping one of his roommates’ hands, thinking about how that was definitely not going to be happening again for two weeks at minimum. “Does this at least mean you didn’t actually finish off my orange juice?”

Dipper giggled nervously. “Yeah, about that...”

Bentley facepalmed. “Wake me up. Right now.”

“Well, uh, you see,” Dipper replied, squirming, “it’s like, there’s a time limit on the deal I made with Torako, and yknow how it is...”

“If you don’t wake me up this instant, you’re gonna have a lot more to worry about than whether or not you’re getting cuddles ever again. I’ll have my dad over for dinner every single night and he’ll ask you every uncomfortable question under the sun! Do you hear me?”

Dipper blanched. “Yes sir, right away sir!” he babbled, standing up straight and saluting. He snapped his fingers, and the world fell away.

Bentley shot upright in bed, the sounds of squealing floating in from the kitchen. He jumped out from the covers, sprinting past the ashamed-looking demon at the door, to see Torako kneeling on the kitchen counter, jabbing at the box of Moffios with a dinner knife.

“Torako! No!” he hollered, racing after her. “I’m never buying Moffios again!”

Her eyes grew big as dinner plates and she took off with the box, running around the table to get away from him. “Bentley! You’re awake! Uh… this isn’t what it looks like!”

“It looks like I’m changing the locks is what it looks like!”

“Dipper!” she cried as she passed the demon, who was watching the scene looking half-concerned and half-amused. “You said you’d keep him busy! We had a deal!”

“He figured it out!” Dipper cried back. “I knew he’d be too smart to fall for this!”

“I’m coming for you next, jerkface!” Bentley roared.

The sounds of screaming and furniture toppling over filled the apartment. The people in the apartment immediately below them hesitated before calling the landlord to complain about the noise. It was, after all, not much worse than Saturdays usually were in the Pines-Lam-Farkas household.

----

A bright ray of sunlight beamed through a crack in the curtains and directly onto Torako’s face, waking her up. She shifted, trying to find a comfortable position amidst the lumpy couch cushions, but eventually resigned to her fate and opened her eyes. She was in the living room, of course, because Bentley hadn’t let her sleep in his room for a week now, which was just a little bit of an excessive punishment if you asked her! All of this and she didn’t even get any Moffios. The sheer injustice of it all.

Sitting up, she yawned and surveyed the room. She scratched her head as she looked for Dipper. He’d been sleeping on the floor next to her since they’d both been exiled from Bentley’s room, but the demon was presently nowhere to be seen, which was strange. He must’ve had an early morning summons. Oh well.

She headed over to the kitchen and opened the fridge. If she wasn’t allowed to have Moffios, she’d at least have something sweet to drink for breakfast. She grabbed the box of orange juice, flipped off the lid, and started chugging it directly from the carton. When it was all done, she collapsed into a chair with a large grin. Just what she needed to start the day.

“TORAKO!” Dipper yelled out of nowhere, blipping into reality directly beside her. “Did you drink my grapefruit juice?”

She yelped and fell out of her chair. “What? No, this is Bentley’s oran-” She lifted her hand, still holding the empty box of juice, but trailed off when she realized she was actually holding a clear bottle with a small amount of pink liquid left inside. She stared at it in shock, then at Dipper who looked equally as horrified. “What? But, I -”

“Torako, you’re gonna DIE!” Dipper screamed, suddenly wearing a nurse’s outfit and pushing her down the hall on a hospital bed. “Your MEDS are gonna EXPLODE in your BRAIN!”

“Noooooo!” she shrieked, flailing around as her parents jogged up beside the bed and waved at her while sobbing. “Bentley was right! This is awful!”

In the real world, Bentley was in the kitchen, applying the finishing touches on a new Moffios-protecting sigil that would last eight times as long. He heard Torako yelling in her sleep from across the room and smiled. “Yeah, it is,” he muttered, walking over. “Next time you’ll think twice before you try something like that on me.”

“Um… do you think she’s had enough?” Dipper asked from his position on the floor. He had his hand on Torako’s head, and when he looked up Bentley could see Torako’s dream reflected in the demon’s eyes. She’d somehow managed to wriggle free of the straps on the bed and was running down a highway in only a hospital gown, being pursued by a fleet of ambulances. “She admitted defeat.”

Bentley sat on the edge of the couch and seemed to consider it. “Yeah,” he said finally. “You can wake her up.”

Dipper nodded, and removed his hand from Torako’s head. She gasped and her eyes flew open, looking in all directions before making eye contact with Bentley. She leapt off the sofa and backed against the wall.

“Sorry, Ben! I’ll never Dip into your dreams ever again!”

Bentley sniffed. “Sounds about right. And you?” He turned to Dipper, who looked similarly panicked under Bentley’s purview.

“And I promise I’ll only side with Torako sometimes instead of all the time!” he offered, backing up beside Torako. “Also not to go into your dreams ever unless I really need to, which I totally won’t take advantage of ever!”

“Good. I’m glad we had this talk.” Bentley stood up. “Do either of you want breakfast?”

“NO!” Dipper and Torako both screamed, scampering away at full speed. They ran into the bedroom, dove under the covers, and clutched each other tight. “Never again!”

“Suit yourself,” Bentley said, trying out the shoulder up-and-down thing that Dipper always did to express indifference. He pulled the bedroom door shut and just stood there for a bit, reflecting on the day’s events. Then he walked over to the kitchen, poured himself a bowl of Nutty Tweaks, and took a seat by the window so he could watch the snow fall as he ate.

It really was a very peaceful morning.

(AO3 link)

#gravity falls #transcendence au #bentley farkas #torako lam #dipper pines #alcor the dreambender #fic #my stuff #this is very silly #and based on a dream i had #and also based on wanting to drive kass up the wall #ur welcome 💝

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fingerguneds · 4 years

Note

Stozier + going to the movies

im like one hundred percent sure this is not what you wanted and it turns out i dont know what a drabble is so it’s 4.4k long but um..yeah hope you like it

Richie is tired. Okay, “tired” is actually a litotes — he’s fucking exhausted. Two weeks of pre-holiday classes — two weeks of deadlines, exams and final test, two weeks of nervous breakdowns and panic attacks for all students, and for him, probably the biggest procrastinator in their year, it was a hell ride. Sugar-high, coffee-flavoured satanic ritual.

But in the end, he finished up good, of course he did, because not only he’s a phenomenal fuckup of a person with a pathological time-management crisis, he’s also a smart fucking guy. And now, after his last French exam, it’s only fair that he goes home and tries to recover from his two weeks long sleep deficit, but…no.

The problem is, he promised Bill to accompany him to the new Star Wars film premiere, they got the tickets days ago, and even though Richie feels like throwing up and lying in his puke for a month and crying helplessly about of it, he promised. And it’s not just someone, it’s Bill, his best friend, and the newest part of Star Wars! And maybe, if three Red Bulls and two strawberry-flavoured Fantas didn’t make his heart stop, another large-sized slushie won’t either. His heart’s a strong one, it’s been to hell and back and he can show you vouchers — his student’s record book, thank you very much.

“You’re gonna have diabetes,” Eddie, Bill’s boyfriend, intones, when Richie arrives to their apartment to pick up Bill with a venti gingerbread latte in his right hand. “Feed him something or come up with a good eulogy,” he tells Bill, standing on tiptoe to leave a quick peck on his cheek.

“But your mom told me I shouldn’t ever force myself to eat—” Richie tries, but Bill pushes him out of the apartment with a sigh and closes the door, leaving Eddie’s pink-cheeked and ready-to-fight face behind it.

“Sure you’re not hungry?”

“It’s always like that when you miss a night of your beauty sleep,” Richie grimaces as they get into the elevator. “But we still can grab something to go.”

“McDonalds?”

Richie chuckles. As kids, they always went to McDonalds before films, hiding burgers and fries in their little hats in winter or bringing a special backpack “for illegal purposes only” in summer so the cinema boys wouldn’t kick them out, or worse — make them throw everything away. Now, no one cares whether you bring your own snacks or not, and they actually finish their food while driving, but there’s still a lingering touch of nostalgia to the whole process.

They’re barely on time, because Richie insisted on buying a goddamn slushie, although the line was fucking enormous, and yet they take their seats exactly one minute before upcoming film trailers begin. They’re both excited as hell, the slushie tastes amazing after the first proper meal he’s had since yesterday’s evening (yes, fries, nuggets and a Big Mac is a meal, unlike two Kit Kats and a bag of Doritos), and yet…nothing goes as planned.

After fifteen minutes of the film, Richie starts to zone the fuck out. The food is still warm in his belly, his winter scarf he didn’t pull off is soft and comfortable under his crooked neck, his eyelids feel like the only thing heavier than them is his head. He tries, he really does, he clears his glasses twice, he finishes his slushie with the largest gulps to wake up, he bites the insides of his cheeks, but it’s all pointless.

Thirty minutes into the film, and Richie’s gone.

***

“Richie! Richie, wuw-wake up! Oh my guh-god, I’m so suh-sorry, he—Richie!“

Bill sounds nervous. His childhood stutter comes back when he is. There’s a tug at Richie’s hand he barely registers.

“It’s okay,” someone chuckles curtly right above Richie’s ear. “At least his hair is clean.”

Um, rude.

Well, maybe in a different situation, Richie wouldn’t have thought that it’s rude. Like, it’s always nice when people have clean hair. Yes.

But.

He’s diabolically tired. His nerves are nothing but a strained, stiff line that is in an alarming danger to snap and slap you in the face, his mind is dangerously aggressive, meeting every single thing with feverish hostility, and Richie doesn’t even wonder if it’s him the voice is talking about. Even if it’s not, it’s still rude. He tries to remember when he last washed his hair — this morning, to not die before emerging from his flat. And his shampoo is nice too, it’s his mom’s shampoo, because he has her curls and—

“Richie!”

He straightens up abruptly, as if someone just kicked him in the balls, eyes still blurry, like a newborn bird’s.

“Ye.”

Someone starts laughing.

“He sounds like that vine.”

Richie blinks and turns to his left, still not quite conscious of the situation, yet quite aware that this someone’s laughing at him.

The first boy he sees sits one seat away from Richie, but he’s leaning forward, elbows on knees, face on the palms of his hands. He’s the one who said about the vine (Richie’s almost one hundred percent sure he knows which vine), and although Richie feels very attacked, he has to admit, the boy’s cute. He has dark skin, dark eyes, jawline to kill (and to die) for, and his smile is so wide and genuinely nice that it would be a shame to get mad at the owner.

Fuck this guy, he’s educated on vines and he’s hot. If it wasn’t for the “basically a ray of sunshine” part, Richie would fall.

And then there’s the asshole. He opens his mouth again.

“The peanut baby vine?” Richie looks at the mop of curly dark-blond hair, currently hiding the said asshole’s face as he turns to look at the first guy, and Richie’s offended diva is back. He may be a fuckup, but no one has a right to say anything about his hair with a voice like this. Even if it’s greasy as fuck, knotty and smells like used oil, like everyone’s hair smells after visiting places where kitchens are inside the main room and they just keep frying the shit out of food right in front of you; even then, no one can say shit about his hair, even—

“Yeah, that one,” the dark-skinned guy laughs again, and the curly asshole turns to face Richie.

No one can say shit about Richie’s hair, even if they own Cupid’s face. No joke, the guy—pardon, the motherfucker looks like an epitome of Cupid from the Psyche myth (not the fat winged baby). Richie quickly gets mad at himself for paying this much attention to the guy, but know your enemy, right? Know your enemy — their hair dark blond hair, like fields of rye in November, their plump pale lips and pale, although with a warm undertone, skin with an almost invisible constellation of freckles on the wings of his nose, their eyes and their dark, muddy colour Richie can’t really identify in the poor lighting of the auditorium. They’re bright with joy and fox-like curiosity, yet insolent and a little arrogant; daring.

Seriously, do people have to be this pretty? One is hot, like an Abercrombie model you see once and think of for days, the second one is not hot but really, really attractive, like someone who would make a fortune with this intense stare, peeling you off right there, where you’ve had a misfortune to capitulate.

“Rich,” he feels Bill’s large hand on his shoulder, still participating in this ugly staring competition with the curly one. “Guys, we’re sorry ag-again, huh-he’s really tired and doesn’t cuh-control himself.”

Richie blinks and frowns, ready to explode right into Bill’s face, but he cuts him off.

“Come on, Richie, we gotta go.”

They stand up, Richie taking his empty slurpie glass in one hand and looking at the guys again. Everything feels like a dream, his brain is too heavy, his legs disobey, his hands don’t feel like they belong to him.

“ ‘s alright, no big deal,” the first boy says again with the gentlest glimmer to his eyes and the loveliest smile, but Richie…Richie’s tired and bitter and…stupid.

“Yeah, you’re probably used to people leaving after waking up with you,” he says, looking directly into the curly one’s eyes. “Not you, you’re cool,” he winks quickly at his friend, as Bill starts swearing quietly and pulling Richie towards the door.

“Dude,” he says, when they both emerge from the cinema doors, a cig already in his fingers. He offers his pack to Richie without a word.

They smoke in silence, walking towards Richie’s car, and Richie is the one to break it.

“Did I really fall asleep on him?”

Bill chuckles and rolls his eyes.

“Yes you did. I didn’t notice until the lights were on.”

“Surprised he didn’t say anything,” Richie mutters, turning the car key.

“You’re too hard on the guy,” Bill huffs out, lips still wearing a lopsided grin. “He didn’t say anything—“

“Yes he did, I heard what he said about my hair, it’s—“

“Rich,” Bill sighs, but he’s not in the least bit mad or disapproving. Bill has always been a keeper of the wonderful gift of understanding. “He said you weren’t a bother and that he’s glad your hair’s not greasy. This is a perfectly normal thing to say, you’re just tired and tensed, and take things too personally. You just need a rest. C’mon, want me to drive you home? I’ll catch a bus to mine, no problem.”

***

The next four days Richie spends at home, sleeping and eating. Sleeping, eating, watching Netflix, thinking about the curly boy, sometimes. Actually, the memory of that day quickly turns into something embarrassing for Richie, something he knows that will make his cheeks grow hot and pink even years later. He was really, really rude to the guy, rude for nothing, and the worst part of the situation is — he can’t apologize. And! The worst-worst part is that the second-to-worst part is — the boy was absolutely gorg dot com. What an unfortunate turn of events: Richie can’t even suck his dick as an apology. Or just suck his dick. Whatever, he’d find a way to make it up to the boy, he’s talented with all parts of his body.

But it’s like falling in love with someone you saw on a train or in line at grocery store. Or maybe slightly worse, because Richie manage to fall fucking asleep on the guy, but still — a crush, doomed to picturesque longing and a quiet little death. It’s all about the masochistic nature of humankind — Richie concludes bitterly to himself, because although he’s a certificated Trashmouth, there’s a pathologically romanticistic heart under all these layers of shit.

No, seriously. He’s too much for everyone, even for himself. Especially for himself.

But enough with this shit, Richie decides the moment next, because his mood swings are the only thing wilder than his imagination. C’est la vie, you fuck up and you keep going until you fuck up again. Maybe there is a lesson he can learn, like to keep his mouth shut when he’s tired or, um, to do his homework in time and not traumatize himself…but it’s Richie. He never learns.

He falls asleep on his couch again, trying to decide what he wants to eat after waking up. God only knows why his actual last thought is so, what the curly boy smelled like?

***

Richie doesn’t remember the last time he’s been to a library. He’s always felt that a book should belong to him for being able to read it comfortably, but when you’re assigned to write a research on Andrei Tarkovskiy’s connection with slavic symbolism…not many books you can find in a regular American bookshop down the street.

The library is huge. The entrance is decorated with ionic columns and the door is so massive Richie barely manages to open it. Inside, it’s just as impressive, with the highest ceilings he’s ever seen and beautiful bookcases and tables of dark wood, situated under big thick windows. Richie undoes his scarf and immediately walks towards the service desk, knowing for sure there’s no way he’ll manage to find anything without help. His steps are loud in the monumental silence of this place.

“Uh, hi?” he says, as quietly as he can, and the boy behind the desk looks up at him and smiles politely.

“Good afternoon. How can I help you?”

“Well,” Richie chuckles, trying to hope for the best. “Do you happen to know any books related to slavic symbolism in Soviet cinematography, Andrei Tarkovskiy’s specifically?”

The boy arches his eyebrows. Richie smiles unsurely and gets ready to shrug it off and maybe convince his lecturer to change his topic of research.

“I’ll have to be honest, I have no idea how to help you, sir, but my colleague, who is currently in the section number eight is probably more educated on this matter.”

“Oh, okay,” Richie nods, considering to leave the place right now, but the boy’s softest, a little apologetic smile decide for him.

“It’s to the left, straight up until you see the number.”

“Thank you very much,” Richie tells him and turns towards the rows of bookcases.

12, 11, 10, 9…here it is.

The amount of books is almost frightening. The bookshelves are no less than two and a half meters tall, and Richie immediately imagines one of these things crashing epically right on his head. He licks his lips and takes a deep breath, then turns behind the number Eight.

Five or more bookcases, forming some kind of a wall. In a couple of steps from where Richie’s standing, leaning on one of them, there’s a ladder, and on the ladder, one and a half meters above the floor, there’s a boy with a couple of books in his hands. Richie, even in glasses, can’t really see his face, because the light doesn’t reach it.

“Hi,” the boy speaks up first, although Richie decides to wait until he’s finished. It’s like, dangerous. The whole construction looks…unsafe. “Can I help you?”

“Yes, hello, uh, the boy at the desk told me you could help me to find some resources on slavic symbolism in Andrei Tarkovskiy’s films?”

Richie doesn’t notice that he’s holding his breath. The boy’s hands don’t stop, they don’t even flinch, he surely keeps placing the books one by one to where they belong. They’re both silent for a long minute.

“I’m not sure I can help you to find something with both Andrei Tarkovskiy and slavic symbolism, but you could look through slavic symbolism analysis in Russian art in general and the language of Andrei Tarkovskiy’s separately.”

Motherfucker.

“Oh wow, that would actually—“

“Also on the Internet there are a lot of articles on what inspired Tarkovskiy’s methods, if I were you I’d check them out as well.”

The last two books stay tucked under his arm, and that is when he begins to climb down.

“God, lemme help you,” Richie’s heart trembles and starts beating faster at the sight of how tremendously dangerous the boy’s position looks, and he rushes towards the ladder.

“I’m alri—“ the boy turns his head to look at Richie, and when their eyes meet and the spark of recognition explodes between them, two things happen at once: first, Richie’s heart stops, and second, the boy falls down the ladder.

“Bloody fuck,” Richie breathes out, already on his knees beside the boy’s sprawled body. It’s him, of course it’s him, his curly hair, pale freckles on heart-shaped face, but now it’s all red, wearing a grimace of breathless pain. Richie’s so shocked he doesn’t know what to do. The boy turns to lay on his back and a hard moan escapes his lips.

“Oh God, oh fuck, what the—“

“Shut up,” the boy manages to say, chest trembling from the efforts to control his breath. “Shut up and call the—“

“Stan! Jesus, what happened!?”

The other boy is now here too, Richie sees him with the corner of his eye. He looks back though, quickly inspecting the boy’s—Stan’s body.

“What does it look like,” he mocks, cheeks darker than a pomegranate. If Richie wasn’t so terrified, he would appreciate this. Like, a lot. “Call an ambulance, quick, I think my collarbone is broken.”

“Oh my God,” Richie and the other boy mutter in unison, and Stan rolls his eyes.

“Well unfortunately, it’s not my fucking neck, so I’m kind of in pain right now and would really appreciate—“

“God, yes, sorry, yes.”

Richie too pulls out his phone, hands shaking, while Stan closes his eyes and tries to remain unmoving. There’s not much Richie can do, but it’s still something. The other boy’s panicked voice is explaining something in the background. Every ring lasts forever, and when Eddie finally picks the phone, Richie’s sure he almost had a heart attack. Twice.

“Eds? Hi, listen, what do I do if someone breaks their collarbone?”

He accidentally catches Stan’s unreadable stare and looks away, heart already on fire.

“What? Richie, what the fuck, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, I’m just—“

“Did anyone break their collarbone?”

“Well it looks like this, yeah.”

“Did you call—“

“Yeah, but—“

“Okay, fuck, okay, most importantly, do not try to move the body until they arrive, it’s really fucking important, got it? Let them stay where they are, immobilize the shoulders completely, also—do you have ice there?”

“Do you—“ Richie turns to the other boy, but he’s still on the phone, so he has to ask Stan. “Do you have ice?”

Stan blinks, and for the first time, Richie notices that he’s balancing his head above the floor. It’s clear lowering it hurts him. Oh, and his pride is too hard-to-swallow to ask for help. It’s hot.

“Yes, I think we do.”

“Yeah, we do,” Richie repeats and moves awkwardly on his knees to help Stan keep his head up. Stan freezes for a second, but then blinks and relaxes into Richie’s hands.

“Use it for pain, you can give them an ibuprofen too, but don’t let them move, Richie, okay!? Now tell me what the fuck—“

“Later, Eds, thanks a lot, bye,” Richie breaths out as fast as he can and focuses on Stan.

Even upside down, he looks pretty.

Fuck.

Richie, shut the hell up, you’ll think about this later, you sick fuck.

Stan looks him in the eye, and Richie sees that those irises are brown. They’re bright with accidental tears, framed with dark thick lashes, and the colour is not exactly brown, more like greenish-brown, like pine tree needles three weeks after Christmas.

“You shouldn’t move,” Richie says, back to reality. “You shouldn’t move, we need ice and you’re allowed to take an ibuprofen.”

“They’re gonna be here in ten minutes,” the other boy finally joins them, face as red as Stan’s. Actually, even worse: red is his neck and probably his shoulders are too.

“Could you bring me some ice? And a glass of water with an ibuprofen?” Stan asks him, and Richie’s finally calmed down enough to notice how calm Stan is, although the situation is…literally the craziest he’s ever been in. He moves his leg to support his arm holding Stan’s head. Fuck, those curls are soft. Not like Richie’s, Richie’s are soft too, but Stan’s are in thicker rings, curling tenderly around Richie’s pale fingers, licking the boy’s unhealthily pale sweaty forehead.

“Like what you see?” Richie hears Stan’s voice and meets his intense gaze again. There is this daring glimmer to his eyes again, and Richie willingly accepts it.

“Dude, stop,” he chuckles weakly, licking his lips. “ You know I’m already in love.”

Despite their position, Stan huffs, but then his face skews of pain.

“Shh,” Richie winces and moves his fingers in an instinctive soothing motion. “You’re gonna be fine soon.”

“It’s not that bad, just a collarbone. Happens to people all the time.”

“At least it didn’t break through your skin,” Richie blurts out and regrets it immediately, cheeks flaming up.

But then, Stan chuckles. There’s a dimple in one of his cheeks, the left one. Richie’s almost sure his eyes are fully heart-shaped by now.

“Here,” the other librarian boy rushes up to them with what looks like a towel, stuffed with ice cubes, and a glass of water.

He puts a pill in Stan’s lips and lets him drink carefully, then passes Richie the towel.

“Tell me where,” Richie murmurs, and despite how fucked up the situation actually is, this feels oddly intimate. He lowers the towel and feels how more tensed Stan grows.

“A bit—yeah,” he breathes out, and Richie presses down a little.

“Told you you should’ve taken a lunch break,” the librarian guy mumbles softly, and for a moment Richie thinks he’s gonna cry.

Stan rolls his eyes. Richie keeps holding. Somewhere near the door bursts open.

***

“This shit’s surreal,” Bill says after a long pause, when Richie calls him from the hospital an hour later. “I don’t believe this.”

“Fair enough,” Richie nods to himself, inspecting his shoes. “And yet.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Probably something stupid,” Richie hears Eddie’s voice and grins.

“You’re absolutely correct, Edward.”

“You scared the shit out of me,” comes an answer, and Richie thanks him once again for helping out.

“Trust me, I was ten times worse.”

“It’s actually unbelievable,” Bill says again, and Richie knows the face he’s probably wearing at the moment: blue eyes wide, eyebrows furrowed in the slightest bit, one corner of his lips crooked a little. “If it’s not fate, I don’t know what it is.”

“Ooooow,” Richie and Eddie fondly mock him in unison, and Richie knows for sure someone’s gonna get some when he hangs up. “Don’t get too emotional, Big Bill, Edster likes it rough, just like his mom.”

“Oh for fuck’s—“ Eddie’s scandalized howl is the last thing he hears before the line goes silent, and he’s alone again, with the most shit-eating smirk on his face.

The other librarian boy — Ben, he learned when the ambulance arrived — stayed at the library, and Richie was secretly happy to accompany Stan to the hospital alone, although he insisted a couple of times that Richie doesn’t need to.

Richie’s stomach growls and he needs a fag asap, but there’s no way he’s missing Stan. God only knows when he’s at the library again, and Richie needs…Richie needs to talk.

And when Stan, with a sling supporting his hand, walks out of the emergency room, Richie stands up, not being able to help a smile forming on his face.

“Don’t you have other things to do?” Stan asks him, but he’s not annoyed. He looks tired and disheveled, but still calm, and Richie notices that they’re both the same height. Stan’s all legs though, all legs and curls.

“You’re the most important one on the list,” Richie answers automatically, and Stan purses his lips, clearly unimpressed. His eyes glimmer brighter, though. “Hungry?”

Stan graciously arches his dark eyebrow.

“Are you—“ he cuts himself off, clearly thinking it’s a bad idea, but when Richie keeps waiting (politely, although he’s nervous as fuck, because hello to today’s third heart attack), he licks his lips and starts again. “Are you trying to ask me out?”

“Maybe?” thank God his voice sounds much, much more confident than he, in fact, is.

Richie probably needs to get comfortable with Stan needing a moment of silence to think good. Unlike other people that start…to ramble.

“Sorry, I’m just used to people leaving after waking up with me.”

Richie’s jaw hits the floor harder than that meteor hit the Earth and fucked up the dinosaurs. Go off, Stan the Man, go the fuck off.

And he doesn’t even look proud of himself. It’s as casual for him as it is for Richie to tell your dad a mom joke. For Heaven’s sake, who is this guy?

“Well,” Richie squeaks, feeling that his body is on again, as if something blew his fuse for a moment. “It’s not happening any time soon, pretty boy,” he points at Stan’s sling, “so I thought maybe I could try something different.”

“Like what?” he’s smiling now. Legit.

“A dinner? A couple of them? Maybe films? Although I’ll have to be careful with this one, your shoulders are fragile now.”

Stan’s smile becomes even wider as Richie continues to ramble, and although it’s not the brightest and sunniest smile he’s ever seen, it sure feels like the most precious one. It feels like a reward.

It still feels like the most precious reward, weeks later, when they finally wake up together and Richie only leaves to pee and to make them a coffee. Months later, when Richie lets his hand slide down Stan’s shoulder and feels the slightest crook to his collarbone with the tips of his fingers. Years later, after some shitty horror film about some monster clown who eats kids, when he proposes in that empty cinema auditorium, in those exact seats.

Stan still needs a minute to think good, but his burning, incandescent smile says everything Richie needs to know.

#i hope this is believably unbelievable though #stozier #kaspbrough #drabble #okay we concluded its not a drabble #ficlet #...i guess?#stanley uris #richie tozier #mine

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fraink5-writes · 3 years

Text

From Darkness Into the Lantern Light - Chapter 9

We’ve finally reached Liyue Harbor--woooo!!

Thanks to @leio13 for helping Zhongli and Childe’s journey get this far!

Summary: Once upon a time, there was a cold-hearted queen. Although the Tsaritsa, as she was called, possessed her own divinity, she coveted the powers of the other Archons. Aiming to steal the Geo Archon’s gnosis, she sent her strongest warriors to Liyue Harbor. But just when Rex Lapis was almost defeated, he escaped to another vessel, that of a powerless baby, and was swept away to a hidden tower for his protection.

Many years after the great fight, the young and ambitious Harbinger, Childe, arrives in Liyue to grant the Tsaritsa’s desire, but, on his search for the Geo Archon’s gnosis, he ends up tangled in a mysterious man’s dreams to see Liyue Harbor’s Lantern Rite.

This chapter can also be found on Ao3 here. Without further ado, please enjoy!

The sun peeked over the horizon, glazing over Ajax’s features in warm, golden light. Zhongli lightly poked his cheek. “Good morning, Ajax. It’s time to get up.”

Ajax groaned, rolled onto his back and finally opened his eyes. “G’morning.” Then he sprung up. “You’re right! We have to get going! We should have gotten through more of the plains yesterday…” He gritted his teeth.

“It’s all right. I enjoyed yesterday’s conversation.”

“No, it’s not! I absolutely won’t let you miss this—this is your dream, isn’t it?”

Zhongli smiled just a little. Seeing the lantern rite had always been his dream, but, now that he was close, his feet were heavy. If only he had a few more days…

Ajax, however, would not wait. “Come on, let’s go!” He waved, beckoning Zhongli as he started southward.

Zhongli hurried after Ajax. Any extra time would be wasted alone. If he could not buy time, he had to be sure to use it wisely.

Ajax and Zhongli ducked through a large complex of ruins, avoiding any nefarious groups or monsters. After they had definitively steered clear of the millelith towers, they joined up with the main road again at the base of giant stairs. The two columns of stairs had such grandeur that Zhongli would have assumed they led directly to Liyue Harbor had Ajax not suggested otherwise.

After three flights of stairs, there was a flat stretch with a couple of buildings and a prominent statue. The statue depicted a powerful but thoughtful figure. Although the man exuded the energy of a king, his features were obscured by a draping hood. As Zhongli studied the statue, his heart ached. He stared at his own empty palm as though he held his own cube. Perhaps the man in the statue was also looking for the answers to an unknown question.

“Zhongli?” Ajax’s fingers coiled gently around Zhongli’s left hand.

“Whose statue is that?”

For a moment, Ajax’s face was pensive in the silence. “That must be the god of this land.”

The god of this land?

Before Zhongli could ask another question, Ajax tugged his hand. “Come on! There’s an even better view right up ahead!” Zhongli cast one more nostalgic glance at the statue before letting Ajax drag him up more flights of stairs.

At the top of a cliff, Ajax gestured widely. “I present you… Liyue Harbor!”

Zhongli gasped. In front of him, the city of Liyue rose up like a stone staircase from the sea to the mountains. Its curved green and orange roofs glistened under the morning sun. In front stretched long wooden docks where dozens of boats with impressive sails bustled. The animated cries of people and birds drifted in the wind right to Zhongli’s heart. As he stood before the city’s grandeur, his earlier hesitation made way for the warm comfort and inexplicable pride which swelled in his chest.

A light squeeze on his hand pulled Zhongli from his feelings. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Ajax said. “But it’s even better up close!” He led Zhongli down the hill, but when they approached the bridge, he changed directions, going right into the hills. “Sorry, we can’t go through the main entrance. Not two suspicious figures like us.”

The city was almost tangible, kept out-of-reach only by Ajax’s gentle hand. Nevertheless, Zhongli followed him without objection on their improvised path around the city’s natural moat. Eventually, they came upon some ruins, at which point, Ajax led him down a stone path and across a wooden bridge.

"There—a perfect good-for-nothing!" Ajax exclaimed with a smirk. He pointed at a nearby millelith sitting atop a rock with a vacant stare. "Let's hurry!" With that, he and Zhongli darted past the millelith and a few other absentminded guards.

When they stepped into a stone plaza, Zhongli halted. Between a curved colonnade and a bouldered wall, a tiled path snaked across a pond of lily pads. Tall stairways stretched in either direction by the entrance.

Ajax made another large gesture. “Welcome to Liyue Harbor.”

But Zhongli’s excitement was quickly interrupted by a yank of his hair. He whipped around to see a mother consoling her crying child. “You have to be careful, honey.” She scooped up her child before stepping dramatically over Zhongli’s ponytail. A subtle frown surfaced on Zhongli’s face as he reeled in his hair.

“Don’t mind her, Zhongli.” Ajax nudged Zhongli softly. “Hold on, I have an idea. Let’s move somewhere less crowded first.” Taking Zhongli’s hand again, he pulled him up the staircase on the right.

The stairs opened to another plaza, this one surrounded by towering buildings. Ajax pointed to an old woman by an unassuming table. She was watching over a cluster of pink and blue flowers. Ajax approached the table first. “Excuse me, madame, are you, by any chance, selling these flowers?”

“Oh, no.” The woman frowned. “I am just watching over them. But, if you would like, I can sell one to you.” She examined Ajax up and down. “Hmm… for you, I can give you a glaze lily for 5,000,000 mora.”

“What?!” Ajax jumped back. “No way! That’s ridiculous!”

“It’s not unreasonable at all.” Zhongli chimed in. “Glaze lilies are extremely rare in the wild. Nowadays they grow almost exclusively in Liyue Harbor.”

Ajax stared, his mouth agape.

“My, my.” The old woman smiled. “You are quite knowledgeable—oh.” She paused and looked at Zhongli pensively.

“Is something wrong, madame?” Zhongli asked.

“Oh, nothing.” She chuckled. “I was just noticing what remarkable amber eyes you have. They remind me of a friend of mine.” Her gaze was expectant.

“I’m sorry, but this is actually my first visit to Liyue Harbor.”

“Of course.” The tiny frown was quickly wiped off her face. “You see, I am a very old lady. My friend has actually been dead for years now.” She tended wistfully to a glaze lily.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Oh, don’t be. I’m happy to be reminded of the memory, and happy that such cultured people are coming to this old city. I suspect the glaze lilies will be blooming happily in the near future.” She picked the glaze lily from the grass and offered it to Zhongli. “Here, why don’t you take this as a gift? In honor of my friend.”

“Thank you.” Zhongli tentatively took the flower, a spell of dizziness washing over him.

“Hold on.” Ajax plucked the flower from Zhongli’s hand. “Wear it like this.” With light fingers, he tucked the glaze lily in Zhongli’s hair by his ear.

Zhongli clutched his now throbbing head. His vision faded in and out as he squinted at the floor. “I’m sorry, but… I think… I need to sit down… for a bit…”

“Of course.” Ajax wrapped his arm around Zhongli’s waist and guided him to a nearby ledge to sit. “Take as much time as you need. I’m going to finish up some business with that old lady, but I’ll be back shortly. Holler if you need me.”

Ajax left to go talk to the old woman. Despite the short distance, Zhongli couldn’t make out their conversation, which sounded vaguely like an argument.

Zhongli’s focus was rapidly disappearing as though his thoughts were being dragged from reality. Invasive images crawled all over his brain, threatening to explode.

“Zhongli?” Ajax’s voice pulled Zhongli from the scenes which nearly consumed him. Countless flowers were practically erupting from Ajax’s arms. “Are you feeling any better?”

“I’m sorry. I do not know what has come over me.”

“It’s alright.” Ajax sat down on the ledge next to Zhongli. “It’s your first time in such a populated area. It’s only natural to feel overwhelmed.” He unfastened the clip and tie in Zhongli’s hair. “Let’s just sit for a while.”

Zhongli nodded, but he feared what would happen to his mind if he continued to do nothing, yet, at the same time, he felt too weak to move. Sure enough, the moment he let his guard down, his headache flared up. He contorted.

“Shh… it’ll be okay.” Ajax whispered from somewhere behind Zhongli. “Just try to calm down.” His fingers began dancing lightly across Zhongli’s scalp. Then they pressed deeper into a tender massage. Their patterned movements eased the stress from Zhongli's skull. As Ajax’s hands gradually combed through the length of his hair, Zhongli closed his eyes, letting himself slip into an artificial bliss. He made a selfish wish: that for the rest of the day—their last day—he could forget what his body was trying so desperately to remember, that he could spend the rest of the day like this, with Ajax and without another care in the world.

“Done!” Ajax danced in front of Zhongli with a huge grin on his face. Zhongli cautiously reached back with one hand to examine Ajax’s handiwork. From the feeling of it, he had done up all of Zhongli’s hair into a giant braid with interspersed flowers. “That should deal with the length problem. If only you could see yourself right now!”

“Thank you.”

“Ah—sorry.” A deep blush had covered Ajax’s face. “I got carried away. Are you feeling any better now?”

“I’m feeling fine. Thank you.” Zhongli stood up with a little twirl, trying to catch a glimpse of the silk flowers and glaze lilies in his hair. "How did you get all these flowers, anyway?"

"That old lady turned out to be not so unreasonable after all! After a bit of bargaining, she gave them all away for free!"

"Perhaps we should return some of them."

"She said it was okay! More grow all around Yujing Terrace, anyway," Ajax grumbled.

"Liyue Harbor is one of the only places glaze lilies grow. I would love to see one."

"Let's find one of these rare flowers then!"

Zhongli and Ajax strolled along the grassy borders of the terrace until they spotted a blue flower.

"It's not even in bloom now…" Ajax looked apologetically at Zhongli.

"How surprising—glaze lilies are supposed to thrive in joyful and peaceful environments." Zhongli pursed his lips.

"The old lady implied something like that too... Hers looked fine. Maybe this one is just a dud."

"There is another way to make it bloom—singing."

Ajax's jaw dropped slightly. "Huh?"

"A pleasant tune should encourage it to open its petals." Zhongli lightly cupped the drooping flower in his hand and softly began a small tune he remembered from somewhere.

"Flower gleam and glow

Let your power shine"

The stem perked up. Rings of beryl and azure petals danced concentrically around a sunlike core. Warm traces of hazy memories wafted in its fragrance. Although it swayed happily in the reminiscent breeze, one dissonant wind would be enough to knock it over.

“Would you like to try? I’m certain we could find another closed blossom.”

“Ahaha… no thank you.” Ajax scratched behind his ear. “How about we have lunch? Unfortunately, the best eateries are on the other side of town at Chihu rock.”

“That shouldn’t pose a problem. ...Unless you are already hungry?”

“Nah, let’s take our time!” Ajax offered his hand, which Zhongli accepted. “When we get to the main street, keep your eyes open for any place you want to visit.”

The main street was a wide, stone boulevard ornamented with a canopy of colors: red bridges, orange leaves, yellow lanterns, green tiled roofs and the blue sky. Casual laughter and the calls of rickshaw drivers echoed up and down its length. To the left, a giant golden fan plastered above the doorway and a humble waitress beckoned guests.

“Which restaurant is this?” Zhongli asked.

"Oh that's Liuli Pavilion."

"Then that must be Xinyue Kiosk." Zhongli pointed to the building across with an equally ostentatious carp sign above its door.

"Yeah—how did you know that?"

"After you indicated this was Liuli Pavilion, it was a simple deduction. The two restaurants are well known as the flagships of Liyue's culinary traditions: the Li and Yue styles. The primary differences between the two styles are the approaches to flavor and the sources of the ingredients. The Li-style cuisine values rich flavors, and its ingredients come primarily from the mountains. On the contrary, the Yue-style cuisine prefers light flavors. The central ingredient to Yue-style dishes is seafood. The two traditions have been competing for centuries without a clear winner. In fact, the owner of the Liuli Pavilion purportedly established his restaurant across from the Xinyue Kiosk in order to compete directly."

Ajax nodded haltingly.

"Given this opportunity, I would greatly enjoy tasting both styles from the finest chefs in the nation."

"No can do—sorry! In order to even think about eating at one of these restaurants, you need a lot of money and a reservation half a year in advance."

"That is quite a shame. To think that the ordinary citizen cannot taste the peak of its culinary tradition."

Suddenly, Ajax’s face lit up with a grin. “Never mind those places.” He yanked Zhongli’s arm and began dragging him in the direction from which they came. “Come with me.” He pulled Zhongli up a flight of tucked away red stairs. “I would be a terrible guide if you only saw Liyue from the street level—” then another flight—”aaaand…” When they finally reached the top of the stairs, he gestured grandly at the store in front of them. “TADA!”

Zhongli’s breath stopped momentarily. Before him were tables and shelves stacked with innumerable books and scrolls.

“You like reading, don’t you?” Ajax nudged Zhongli’s side. “This is Wanwen Bookhouse. Why don’t you take a look around?”

Zhongli couldn’t pass up the opportunity, but he didn’t know where to begin: the highlighted selection of the Lantern Rite, the selection of books on Liyue Harbor, the books on other regions Zhongli might have passed through on his journey with Ajax or even the tiny self devoted to books on Snezhnaya, Ajax’s homeland? Zhongli decided to skim through the shelves in that order. Although he was an avid book reader, many of the titles in the store were unfamiliar. He made note of their titles with the hope of returning to them at a later time. By the time he reached the Snezhnayan section, whose books all had ominous titles, Zhongli’s list had racked up at least 100 titles. He figured it would be better to ask Ajax about Snezhnaya, however.

When Zhongli found Ajax, hiding in a corner out of the shopkeeper’s view, his nose was deep in a book: Rex Incognito. Zhongli immediately added the book tothe list of unknown titles to investigate. “What are you reading, Ajax?” Zhongli whispered, hesitant to interrupt Ajax’s concentration.

“Oh, this?” Ajax glanced up. “It’s about an antiques shop owner trying to sell a jade plaque to a skeptical customer.”

“I was under the impression you aren’t interested in such stories.”

“You’re right; I’m not.” Ajax snapped the book closed. “What about you? Did you find anything you want to buy?”

“Yes, in fact, there are so many books here that I have yet to read—” Zhongli sighed—”But it would be impossible to buy even one of them.”

“I can buy them.”

“Thank you, I appreciate the offer; however, I can’t bring such evidence back home with me.”

“Ah…” Ajax frowned briefly. “Shall we get going then?”

Zhongli and Ajax crossed a bridge into another system of elevated walkways. Other couples dotted the path, just chatting and appreciating the view. Zhongli lightly tugged the sleeve of the fast-paced Ajax. “Look.” Zhongli gestured at the sea which stretched out below them.

“It’s a great view, isn’t it?” Ajax leaned against the railing next to Zhongli. “So many colors. The view in Snezhnaya is nothing like this. It’s all white. It’s a great backdrop though.” He grinned.

“Do you miss it, your home?” Zhongli thoughtlessly wrapped his arm around Ajax’s waist.

“Yeah… Of course. There isn’t a moment where I’m not thinking of it. But it isn’t so bad. I’m used to travelling a lot. And I love the adventure! And, you know, my siblings also like it when I send them back souvenirs.” Ajax laughed to himself. “What about you, Zhongli?”

Zhongli stared silently out at the scene before him: the rhythmic maritime traffic, the steady ripple of the sea, the light blanket of grass atop the rocky hills, and the endless cobalt sky. The caress of the ocean breeze, the calls of merchants, and the scents of imported spices embraced Zhongli. But it was impossible for him to disregard the chains of his obligations. “I don’t know,” he muttered. “No, actually, I—” Although he was so far away, he felt the stifled air of his tower in his throat, choking him. “I should head back soon.”

“What are you saying?” Ajax laughed. “We only just got here.” His hand slid around to Zhongli’s waist and held him in place.

Zhongli let himself smile just a bit. Even if the sounds, scenery and even time faded to white noise, at that moment, Zhongli felt extremely present. He was at home.

Ajax entertained Zhongli with stories of the many landscapes he had seen on his adventures until he was interrupted by the grumble of his own stomach. “Ahaha, we should find a restaurant, shouldn’t we?”

Taking each other’s hands, Zhongli and Ajax raced across the stairs and elevated platforms, dipping and ducking out of the eyesight of guards. Even when they reached the street again, they didn’t stop, not until they had made it across a wooden bridge. “Welcome to the heart of Liyue Harbor: Chihu Rock.”

Chihu Rock did not possess the same grandeur as the other parts of the city Zhongli had seen. The streets were narrower, and the buildings, with their wooden frames and blue tiles, were more compact. But in place of opulence, it was overflowing with energy. Potted flowers and fiery leaves danced as the wind glided from one storefront to another, picking up delicious fragrances as it went. Water bubbled in fountains and skipped through street-side canals. People filled every empty spot, chatting at restaurants and bargaining with vendors.

Upon arriving in Chihu Rock, it was not difficult to find the restaurant they were seeking, Third-Round Knockout, situated right by the fountain plaza. They sat at a table by the story-teller and ordered the legendary fermented rice balls.

“And now, let us hear the story of the Yaksha, whose flute you might hear tonight during the Lantern Rite,” the storyteller began. The ensuing story was extremely disturbing, and it lured out Zhongli’s earlier headache. As a result, he decided early on to tune it out.

Conversely, Ajax, his chin resting in his hands, was completely enthralled in the action story. His lips wore a permanent grin, except for the occasional muted gasp. His focused eyes sparkled as if the sun of a distant story world shone within them.

So engaged was Ajax that he didn’t even notice lunch’s arrival until Zhongli gasped. How closely they resembled Xu Liushi’s description: compact rice-ball islands in a sea of wine.

“Woah.” Ajax blurted when he finally looked down. “I think that’s pushing the definition of ‘fermented.’”

“It’s little surprise this tavern has built up a reputation.” To Zhongli, that could only be a good thing. A restaurant with a poor image would not survive, especially not without an official name. He dipped his chopsticks into the bowl without hesitation. The sweetness of the rice balls perfectly balanced the bitterness of the wine. Of course, the wine itself possessed a subtle mix of flavors that it would be pleasant to drink alone.

As Zhongli savored the piquant interplay of tastes on his tongue, Ajax stared reluctantly at the bowl before him. His right hand twitched.

“Ajax?”

Ajax laughed softly. “Busted again, huh? I wonder if they have spoons here...”

“Let me help you.” Zhongli stood up with the same determination from the morning before. He stepped behind Ajax and, leaning over slightly, steadied the chopsticks in his hand. “Hold it like this instead.” Each word fell warmly on Ajax’s neck as Zhongli urged his fingers into the right positions. “The trick is to only lift the top chopstick.” He opened and closed the chopsticks with a squeeze.

“Okay, I get it,” Ajax said hastily, but when he attempted to pick up some rice, his grip slipped with the top chopstick dipping into the wine and the bottom falling from position. He scrambled to right them. “It’s fine, okay? That was just bad luck.” Despite his confident claims, he fumbled through his second effort. And his third.

“Your grip—”

“‘Needs to be firmer’—I know! I just can’t focus.”

Zhongli had been so concentrated on Ajax’s hand that he had failed to notice the vermillion glow of his face. “I’m sorry.” With a faint burning sensation tingling on his own cheeks, Zhongli retreated to his own seat. “Shall I ask the waitress to bring a spoon?”

“No way!” Ajax pouted, his gaze fixated on his chopsticks. “As with any weapon, I’m going to master this.”

“A hero who wields chopsticks? That would, indeed, give your name much renown.”

Ajax’s laugh rang out. “Just watch.”

Sure enough, as he ate, Ajax’s grip improved, and gradually the amount of rice that fell back into the bowl decreased as did the intensity of his focus. By the end of the meal, they had resumed a pleasant conversation.

After they enjoyed their meal at Third-Round Knockout, Zhongli and Ajax hurried to meet Suling’s cousin, Master Zhang, at Hanfeng’s Ironmongers (“If we get there too late, he won’t be able forge you a quality polearm,” according to Ajax), then they meandered around Chihu Rock, stopping by a toy seller, and finally, they ended up at the docks. Zhongli had promised Ajax that he would handle all the dealings with the Millelith. So, while Zhongli, dragon kite in hand, talked to the soldier named Yong’an, Ajax hid inconspicuously amongst the crowd. But no amount of hiding could keep the three cats from finding him.

Then, once Ajax had seemingly adjusted to the playful scratching of the cats, he was surrounded by three children.

"Mister." a bespectacled boy pointed at Ajax. "Are you a pirate?"

Ajax blinked. "A pirate?"

Zhongli, who had been holding the attention of the millelith with a fascinating discussion of trade at the docks, quickly said goodbye and maneuvered closer to Ajax as discreetly as possible.

Another boy, this one in a hat, chimed in, "Lulu said that she saw your portrait being carried by a soldier who was talking about Captain Beidou!"

"Mm, mmm." The girl, Lulu, nodded eagerly.

Zhongli tensed up. He inched towards Ajax in case they needed to escape. Before resorting to such a desperate reaction, he fielded a question of his own, "You know Captain Beidou?"

"Mmhmm!"

"Captain Beidou is the coolest pirate ever!"

"Whenever she comes to Liyue Harbor, she always plays with us."

"She was here just earlier."

"But she said she was busy…"

"Will you play with us, Mister Pirate?"

The three children stared at Ajax with wide eyes. Ajax threw on a toothy grin. “Arr, I’ll play wit ye! But, ye should know, I’m not a part of Captain Beidou’s crew.”

“You’re not…?”

“No, mateys! Me sails with the Cygnus Fleet!”

The children passed glances amongst each other before Lulu announced, “We’ve never heard of it.”

“Arr, not yet! But ye will! One day the Cygnus Fleet will surpass even Captain Beidou’s Crux Fleet!”

The children gasped with varying degrees of acceptance.

“Are you the captain, Mister Pirate?”

“Me? No. The Captain’s sent me to spread his name far and wide while he searches the seas for recruits.”

“But you’ll play with us?”

“Arr, a pirate always keeps his word. But, ye best be careful—ye ne’er know what a pirate may take!”

The boy with glasses pouted. “Are you one of the bad pirates?”

“Captain Beidou would never take from us kids,” the other boy added on.

“Avast! What should ya have me do, mateys?”

“Hmm…” Lulu conferred with her friends before answering, “How about, cleaning?”

“Aye aye! But, be careful what ye wish for.” Ajax’s voice dropped to a serious tone. “By the time this ship is finished, it’ll be so clean it’ll look like me plundered the whole thing!”

“Yay!” All the children cheered. They led Ajax to their ship and handed him a broom, which quickly came to serve many other jobs besides a simple sweeper, including a makeshift peg leg and a polearm for fending off imaginary, bad pirates.

Ajax moved about the ship so gracefully and so playfully that Zhongli found it near impossible to imagine that he had a malicious bone in his body. Despite his affected pirate accent, each laugh chimed naturally like a bell in a gentle breeze. Rays of sun illuminated his smiling face and cast away the darkness that had lingered in the depths of his eyes. Although neither a pirate nor a Liyuean, Ajax appeared right at home.

“Avast! Look at the time!” Ajax called out when the sun was low on the horizon. “Shouldn’t ye be headin’ home, mateys?”

The kids nodded their heads with reluctance. “Will you be back soon to play more?” Lulu asked. All three children peered up at him with fragile hope glimmering in their large eyes.

“I don’t know.” Ajax frowned. “A pirate’s heart belongs to the sea. He knows not where the tides may take him.”

Although the children also frowned, they seemed to accept Ajax’s reason as they soon left, calling out their bye-byes.

“Zhongli!” Ajax scrambled over to where Zhongli had been waiting and squeezed his hands. “I’m sorry to have left you alone for so long—but I still have a few more things to do. Do you—”

“Go ahead. I don’t mind.”

“I’ll be really quick.” Ajax flashed a smile, but his eyes betrayed his regrets. His hands lingered in place.

“You should have more than enough time before the lanterns if you actually start now.”

“Right.” Ajax squeezed Zhongli’s hands again before taking off. “I’ll be right back!”

Time… The sun was a similar height in the sky as when Zhongli and Ajax set out that morning. They had had a quite full day, but was their time spent wisely? What would happen after nightfall? The next morning? Zhongli watched mournfully as the sun slowly descended towards that uncertain horizon.

#Genshin Impact #Chili #Zhongli #Childe

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