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avengersassemble-fics · 3 years

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Stark’s Girl

part 014/015 “one more time, captain”

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word count 3.9k

an: this part does include dialogue from avengers endgame, which is not my work nor do i claim it to be!

It’s been five years since the Blip. You had been back by Natasha’s side for almost six months now, and she was grateful for every moment. There were days where she would break down (which until recently was unheard of) and you would be there by her side. And she had done what she could to help you out with your trauma. Before you accepted her offer of coming back, she had put two and two together when she recognized the faces on the news to the faces that had adorned a spare room in that house of yours in Ransdorp. Natasha had a past of her own, no doubt about that, so she could relate to how you had felt when you admitted on your own time what you had been up to those few years after Siberia.

It wasn’t an easy conversation, at one point you had broken down into sobs and reminded her a lot of herself when she had taken some time after a mission gone wrong years back. She mostly understood the shame that coursed through you, but one thing she made you understand was what HYDRA had done, the things you did because of them, wasn’t your fault. Natasha also made sure to tell you the blackouts weren’t your fault either, and she understood why you did what you had done. Although it was trauma you would have to live with, she knew the feeling better than most of losing your years to programs like that.

All of this was to say that both women had a newfound respect and understanding of one another. It became easier to work alongside one another, being able to almost anticipate one’s actions and decisions as they occurred. No one had seemed to really get Nat like that since Barton.. Which was why she was so hell bent on tracking him down.

Natasha had come to the realization about a year ago that Barton had gone off the radar because his family was among those they lost. When bodies started piling up (not due to your hands) and some of the known details were faint signatures of Barton’s handiwork.. Nat made it her mission to find him. Because this was not him. And although he was taking down some questionable people, they weren’t responsible for Thanos.

“Listen fur-face,” Carol Danvers threw out that regained Nat’s attention. “I’m covering a lot of territory. The things that are happening on Earth are happening everywhere, on thousands of planets.”

“All right all right, that’s a good point,” Rocket remarked. Nat stole a glance your way to which you only offered a shrug as Carol continued.

“So.. You might not see me for a long time,” she redirected towards Nat. Natasha nodded her head and leaned forward on the desk she sat behind.

“Alright.. Well this channel is always active. If anything goes sideways, anyone’s making trouble where they shouldn’t, it comes through me.”

Everyone agreed and one by one the holograms disappeared. You took a seat in front of the desk, and Nat redirected her attention to Rhodes. “Where are you?

“Mexico,” Rhodes answered. “The Federales found a room full of bodies, looks like a bunch of cartel guys. They never even had a chance to get their guns off.”

Nat shrugged her shoulders and sat back in her seat. “Probably a rival gang.”

“Except it isn’t,” Rhodes countered. Natasha’s eyes shift, and your gaze shoots up at her. “It’s definitely Barton.. What he’s done here, what he’s been doing the last few years.. Nat, the scene he left?.. I gotta tell you, a part of me doesn’t want to find him.”

Natasha grabbed the sand which she had prepared just earlier and bit a piece off. She just needed to focus on something other than what Rhodes was telling her, she didn’t need anyone to see her cry right now. “Will you find out where he’s going next?”

“Nat,” Rhodes tried to warn.

“Please,” Natasha pleaded. You glanced Rhodey’s way and he met your eyes. You offered a grim look, and he sighed.

“Okay.”

And with that Rhodey’s comm broke off too. You watched as Nat placed the sandwich back down and sighed deeply, all before her face began to scrunch up into a sob. You were quick out of your seat and moved around the desk and kneeled by her side. “Nat.. Nat we’re gonna find him.”

“I just don’t know why he couldn’t come to me,” she sniffled and rubbed at her eyes. “I know this must be hard for him, losing Laura and the kids, but he could’ve come to me.”

You reached your hand out to rub her shoulder and let out a small sigh. “Sometimes it’s hard to let those you care about see in you in those dark places.”

Nat finished rubbing under her eyes and grabbed the sandwich off her plate again with her other hand. “Is that why you’ve been avoiding the talk with Steve?”

You bit back the smile and stood. She had done what she did best, diverted the conversation from herself to something else. “You’re still on about that?”

“Oh come on, I’ve seen the way you look at one another,” Natasha prodded as you went to gather your things. “How much longer are you going to wait to be happy?”

The question made you pause, and before you could respond Nat perked up at something behind you. You glanced over your shoulder and was met with none other than Steve Rogers, hands in his pockets, and with a small smile on his face.

“Speak of the devil,” Natasha joked. Your gaze immediately went back to her and you gave her your best glare, while Steve raised his brow at her. They were so easy to mess with, she thought. “Here to do your laundry?”

“And to see some friends,” Steve replied. You held your things closer to your chest as Steve came further into the room.

“I’m actually getting ready to leave for Tony’s,” you threw out there. “I promised to go see my favorite niece.”

“Are you going to be okay making the drive this late at night?” Steve asked. Natasha rolled her eyes to herself and took a hefty bite of her sandwich. If she had to watch another pining episode she was going to make sure you two never heard the end of it. You, on the other hand, smiled at his sentiment.

“Oh I think I can manage,” you told him. You offered your farewells, and started back to your room to grab your bag and head out. Steve watched you leave before looking back at Nat who was waving him off.

“Meet me in the kitchen, I need a drink,” she told him, and took her sandwich with her towards the kitchen area. Steve chuckled lightly, and followed in your steps to the residence area. He was just catching you outside your room, and he took a deep breath and pulled something out of his pocket, clutching it in his fist. You heard him approach and looked his way, shutting your door and offering a smile.

“Hey,” you managed before Steve got up to you, and his serious expression made your smile fall. “Are you okay..?”

“Seven years ago I asked you if one day you’d want to get away from all of this,” Steve started. You remembered the conversation far too well, and immediately shut your mouth in a tight expression. A heaviness filled your chest, but you tried your best to ignore it. “From this life where we were needing to be more than just us… Do you remember?”

“Yes-”

“I told you that I would wait for you, no matter how long it took, no matter what happened, because.. Because you have been the best thing to happen to me since I came out of the ice. You taught me how to live again,” Steve continued.

“Steve,” you whispered, but he kept going.

“I love you,” he admitted, finally looking into your eyes. They were darker than usual, and you could see he meant it. “I couldn’t go another day without telling you. Because.. You feel like home.”

Steve grabbed a hold of your hands, and you watched as he placed something into your palms. He retracted his hold on you and your fingers curled over the soft velvety box in your hand. You looked up at him with curious eyes, and slowly used your thumb to open the box and let out a small gasp.

“Steve,” you whispered, staring down at the contents.

“It was my moms.. SHIELD saved it when I went into the ice,” Steve explained. You carefully ran your finger over the gold banded ring that practically shined up at you. You hadn’t seen a more beautiful piece of jewelry, and did your best to fight back the tears. “I’m not expecting an answer.. But I just wanted you to see that I meant it. It was always meant for you anyway.. Maybe we still have a shot at that normal life.”

Your gaze went back up to his, and he smiled softly at you. You were speechless as one of his hands grabbed onto your arm and he leaned down to press a chaste kiss to your forehead. And then you watched him take a couple steps back, before he turned around and went back the direction you both had just come.

You were shocked, which even then felt like an understatement. Steve just.. Proposed. Inadvertently? Well it was purposeful, and if Natasha knew about it you were going to kill her for not saying anything. It took you a while to reclose the box and carefully place it into a pocket in your bag, it was delicate and you wanted to take care of it.

And well.. It certainly kept your mind occupied on your drive to Tony’s cabin.

Tony had left your room untouched for the most part, which was a welcomed thing to come into. You weren’t up for too long, forcing Tony to go to bed, but you did spend some time scrolling through your phone. Steve was right when he had said he wasn’t expecting an answer right away, you half expected a message of some sort but things seemed relatively quiet from his end. It was harder to fall asleep that night, you found yourself drifting off to what would happen if you said yes.

You’d want to move somewhere quiet, like what Tony did. That would give you a chance to refocus yourself.. Would that even be something Steve would be open to doing?.. Could he get you the same help he had gotten Barnes (Natasha said he felt at peace for once)? Hell, if they could just wipe out any lingering thoughts of Hydra you’d never have another problem in your life.

What’s more.. If you said no would this be what you life is like? Alone, and longing for the maybe’s that could have been? Which was better? Risk getting involved again, or risk never having that connection to someone again? It wasn’t the ideal question to fall asleep to.

When morning broke and sunlight peeked through the blinds, you woke up and found yourself sitting among the sheets and staring at the open box in your hands. The diamond that sat in the middle and gleamed in the sunlight made you sigh, it felt as if it was screaming at you that you knew what you wanted to tell him.

Did you?

You snapped the box closed and hid it in a drawer beside the bed and decided to change into something other than sweatpants for the day. After finishing and bounding down the stairs you ended up behind your favorite little niece, and scooped her up into a bear hug from behind. “There’s my little sleeping beauty!”

“She couldn’t wait to see her favorite aunt today,” Pepper remarked from the kitchen amongst the giggles that erupted from her daughter. You peppered kisses on Morgan’s head, and Pepper turned around as she was drying what you assumed was breakfast dishes. “Tony barely had to tuck her in before she was out.”

You set Morgan back down on the ground and she went back to messing with a toy on the breakfast table. You ruffled her hair and went to grab a cup of coffee before resting your hip against the counter besides Pepper. “How has he been?”

“A little stir crazy,” Pepper admitted to which you nodded lightly and sipped at your warm mug. “He put up this picture of the kid and I catch him getting lost looking at it.”

“And how have you been?” You asked. Pepper glanced your way and smiled.

“Hoping one day he’ll finally rest his mind.”

Eventually, you brought Morgan outside who immediately ran towards her tent and disappeared inside. You went towards the shed with an open door, and leaned against the frame, taking in the sight of Tony wielding what you could make out was a helmet. “Work never stops for you, does it?”

Tony glanced over his shoulder and waved you in, which you accepted. You came up behind him and gripped his shoulders and gave him a squeeze. “You’re supposed to be retired, old man.”

“It’s just a little project,” Tony tried to assure you. You couldn’t help but scoff, and pointed your thumb to a corner of the room.

“Says the one who built me a new suit last year,” you teased. Tony used one hand to back hand your side playfully and you laughed. You stood beside him now, and grabbed a picture frame sitting on the shelf over where he worked. It was a picture of the two of you when you were younger, barely big enough to fit the frame, and slightly discolored. You ran your hand over the front before putting the frame back and rubbing your hands together. “Can I talk to you about something..?”

“Anything, kid,” Tony said, overly engrossed in the task in front of him. You took a deep breath and shrugged your shoulders, not that he could even see you.

“When did you know that.. Well that you didn’t want to wait anymore? To start a family?”

Tony immediately stopped what he was working on, taking off a pair of clear protective glasses and setting his tool down. When he turned to face you and rest his elbow on the table, he tilted his head and scrunched his brows. “Excuse me?”

“Come on Tony, I’m being serious,” you told him.

“Yeah well so am I!” Tony exclaimed and stood. You watched as he stood from his stool and started to pace back and forth. You crossed your arms and huffed. He was acting like such a child! As if he could read your thoughts he stopped and pointed a finger at you. “It’s Steve isn’t it? Is he pressuring you or something?”

“What? No! Why would you even think that-”

“Because he’s hard headed and doesn’t know when to stop,” Tony said, cutting you off. You shook your head and scoffed.

“Tony please, this isn’t about you two-”

“I told him if he messes with your feelings again.. I swear when I get a hold of him,” Tony started pacing again and you rolled your eyes and started towards him. “He has some nerve-”

“Tony,” you stopped him dead in his tracks and made him face you, finally getting a hold of his gaze. “He didn’t do anything to me, okay? If anything.. He’s been trying to make up to me what happened.”

Tony sighed and his expression softened, but you shrugged. “I know he lied to us about knowing what happened to mom and dad… But you always told me that I wasn’t what Hydra made me, that what I did wasn’t me but them… Tony, why is Barnes so different?”

“Steve lied to us,” Tony said in a low tone. “He lied to protect his friend but what about us, huh? We weren’t his friends? We didn’t deserve to know the truth?”

“He handled it wrong Tony, I know. I’m just saying does that outweigh all the good he did for us,” you offered. Tony sighed and looked away for a moment as if annoyed. You grabbed a hold of his hand and it forced him to look back at you. “He’s trying.. And you told me that sometimes just trying was a good start.”

Tony sighed and raised a brow at you. “I hate it when you throw things back in my face like that.”

You chuckled and Tony used his free hand to cover the hand holding his. “Look I’m still iffy on the idea but.. If Rogers is who you want to be with then who am I to stop it? I’m a family man now anyway, I have bigger fish to fry.”

And with that his phone buzzed in his pocket, and while he fished it out you laughed little. “She’s turning out too much like you.”

“Scares me to death everyday,” Tony replied while checking the message from Pepper. “Time to feed the munchkin anyway, we can continue this talk later when I’ve had a couple drinks.”

Tony and you walked side by side to Morgan’s play tent, and after finally getting her out. Tony whisked her up when you felt your phone buzz, and you pulled it out to see a notification from Natasha. It was weird, she normally didn’t bother you when you were with Tony, she always said to focus on family time. You fell back a few steps and read her message.

Nat: Heads up, you got incoming.

“Incoming?” You muttered to yourself as you came up the steps behind Tony. You nearly knocked into him. You followed his gaze to the car coming to a stop in front of his cabin, and watched Steve, Natasha, and someone else get out. Steve’s expression was serious, hell all of theirs were and Tony didn’t look amused. Natasha offered a nod to Tony and he turned to you, and you took Morgan from him with a smile. “Let’s go see mom, hm?”

You quietly walked inside and set Morgan at the table and met Pepper’s look before she returned to watching out the window. You ruffled Morgan’s hair and returned back outside, the screen door thumping closed behind you. The three visitors started up the stairs as you rejoined Tony’s side.

“Sorry for dropping in unannounced,” Steve offered. Tony glanced your way with a look. You could only shrug. What? You didn’t know they were coming. But if they did then.. Something was up.

“We have something though that we think might work.. To get everyone back,” Natasha said. Your breath hitched, and when you looked over at Tony there was a hint of something in his eyes. The third person stepped forward and nodded at the both of you.

“Have you two heard of the Quantum Realm?”

It was.. A long explanation. Everyone was gathered in a circle at this point, and in all honesty you had a hard time following along. There were stolen glances between you and Steve, and each time a feeling grew in the pit of your stomach. But you forced yourself to pay attention because this was big.. Could it work though?

“Now, we know what this sounds like,” Scott had finished up before Steve cut in.

“Tony, after everything you’ve seen, is anything really impossible?” He asked. Tony was looking out to the lake near his home but when addressed he looked back at the group and gripped onto the railing.

“Quantum fluctuation messes with the Planck Scale, which then triggers the Deutsch Proposition. Can we agree on that?” Tony asked. You glanced at everyone else and cleared your throat.

“Maybe for those of us not fluent in quantum mechanics, Tony?” You asked. Tony sighed and tapped his fingers on the wood.

“In layman’s terms, it means you’re not coming home,” was all he offered.

“But I did,” Scott offered. Tony shook his head at that.

“No, you accidentally survived,” Tony corrected. “It's a billion to one cosmic fluke. And now you wanna pull off a... What do you call it?”

Scott cleared his throat. “A time heist..?”

Tony scoffed in a joking manner and rubbed his forehead. “Yeah, a time heist. Of course, why didn't we think of this before?”

“The Stones are in the past. We can go back and get them,” Scott tried to reason.

“We can snap our own fingers. We can bring everyone back,” Natasha chimed in.

“Or screw it up worse than he already has, right?” Tony asked. Steve shrugged his shoulders.

“I don’t believe we would,” Steve said.

“Gotta say, sometimes I miss that giddy optimism,” Tony said in a sarcastic tone. Everyone went back and forth for a while. Tony shot down every claim, and the rest tried to tell him there’s always a chance. The back and forth didn’t stop until the screen door was pushed open and Morgan came up to Tony’s side.

“Mommy told me to come and save you,” she said. You couldn’t help but smile and cross your arms. Tony picked her up and pat her back.

“Good job, I’m saved,” he reassured her. He refocused on the group and offered a shrug. “I wish you'd come here to ask me something else. Anything else. Honestly, I... I missed you guys, it was... Oh, and table's set for seven.”

.”Tony, I get it. And I'm happy for you, I really am. But this is a second chance,” Steve tried again, but Tony shook his head.

“I got my second chance right here,” Tony told him. You could see Steve accept his denial and then met Tony’s gaze. “I can’t roll the dice again.”

Tony excused himself and the porch fell silent. You watched him disappear into the house and looked back at the group in front of you. No one knew what to say, but Natasha was the first to speak. “Sorry for interrupting your weekend.”

“Well when you have a hell of a plan like that I don’t expect you to wait normal business hours,” you replied. Natasha sadly smiled and you sighed. “Tony has everything he’s ever wanted.. I don’t know if I can sweet talk him into helping.”

“We know,” Steve offered and gave a sad smile. “We just wanna do it right.”

“Tony may not be on board but.. If there’s a chance? I’m in,” you offered. Nat reached out and pat your shoulder and as if knowingly, she turned around and pulled Scott with her. You took a couple steps towards Steve and he straightened up a bit. “Nice to see you back, Cap.”

“One last mission,” Steve whispered. You smiled and looked behind him at the car he had come in and Natasha smirked at you. You met Steve’s gaze again and slowly lifted her young to rest on his cheek. On your tiptoes and with the sun basking in the sky, you leaned up and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. Steve had leaned into your touch, his lips pressing against yours as if it would be the last. After a couple seconds you pulled away and you both lingered close.

“Go save the world one more time, Captain.”

- - - - - - - - - -

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heytherejulietx · 3 years

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white collar and leather

part one of five

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↳ content warnings - swearing, mention of drugs, mention of weapons

↳ 2.2k word count

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the rumble of the motorcycle underneath her was normal. the cool leather of her jacket against her skin was normal. the pressure of the helmet against her ears was normal. what wasn’t normal, was parking her bike in front of riverdale high in the north side. as much as she somewhat cared about her education, she’d much rather go to school literally anywhere else.

fuck this.

betty unclipped the clasp from underneath her chin and took her helmet off, shaking her head a little to loosen up her hair as she hung the helmet over the handlebars. she straightened up her jacket before she swung her leg over the bike to stand up, sighing as she looked up at the school.

for the town with pep this was probably the peppiest place that riverdale had to offer. riddled with annoying cheerleaders and noisy jocks and everything that betty pretty much despised about high school. at least at south-side high, everyone was too worried about getting stoned to bother her. now she actually had to face people. gross.

“cooper!”

betty turned her head, and leaned back against her bike as she spotted sweet pea walking over towards her, toni and fangs following shortly behind him. they were probably just about the only people she could actually tolerate. on a good day, anyways. sweet pea tended to get annoying a lot. although she had stayed at his place for the past few nights, which she appreciated. anything to get away from her trailer.

“you guys better get your pep on.” betty commented as they walked over and fangs snorted.

“can’t believe we actually have to go here, it’s bullshit.” sweet pea rolled his eyes and dropped the cigarette he was smoking on the ground, stepping on it afterwards.

“bullshit we’ll only have to put up with until we graduate.” betty pointed out as she pushed herself up from her bike, glancing over at the school with a sigh.

riverdale high was a completely different experience from south-side high. as soon as they walked in betty could see that, even just in the air. it was clean, and didn’t smell like weed. at least they wouldn’t be second hand smoking all day. it looked like it had just been renovated, honestly. none of the lights flickered constantly. the floor looked like it had been polished five seconds ago. none of the lockers had dents in or had been spray painted. and all of the students looked so… pristine. honestly, they looked like they were all about to walk into the set of some dumb teen drama. it was a joke.

everyone was looking at them strangely as they walked through the school. betty could feel them burning holes into the side of her head as she walked past, and she had to roll her eyes. it was like they had never seen other people before. before they could even get to the end of the first corridor the intercom crackled to life, and a voice traveled through the building. “will all new transfer students please come to the main hall.”

great. an assembly just for them.

“ten dollars we spend the next half an hour being told the dangers of gang activity in school.” toni scoffed, and betty chuckled as she looped her arm through the pink haired girl’s.

“i bet so.” betty nodded, catching the blue eyes of a boy staring at her down the hallway before she carried on to the main hall. she didn’t know where it was, though sweet pea seemed to have an idea of where it was so she just followed him.

toni was right, of course. they were lectured on all sorts of things for thirty minutes; drug use, fighting, weapons, even the indoctrination of other students into the gang. they had to be joking by the end. and if they weren’t then sweet pea and fangs must’ve been laughing over nothing. betty just wanted nothing more than to start her lessons and let the day go by as quickly as possible. as much as the south-side was a shit hole, she much preferred it to the north. at least there she wouldn’t be judged on her shitty life, and she could live said shitty life in peace.

when the principal had finally let them go, under a final warning to “behave like proud students of this school” she took a beeline for the exit and left quickly, promising to catch up with her friends at lunch. during the assembly of mostly patronising nonsense, something had caught her attention; the blue and gold, which was the school’s newspaper. when it had first been introduced, betty had run the red and black for a while, though with the lack of funding and minimal interest that students had in it betty stopped after a few months. though the blue and gold seemed promising, and maybe it would help make her experience at riverdale high a little more bearable.

when betty had finally found it’s office after five minutes of looking (seriously, this school was huge) she pushed the door open and stepped inside, honestly a little disappointed that someone else was there. she had been looking forward to spending her time there alone. the boy sat in the office turned to look at her, and she briefly remembered meeting his gaze earlier when he was staring at her.

sheesh, he looked like he was full of enough pep alright. the boy was almost too pristine. he was probably the epitome of “small town boy“, with a shirt and round-neck sweater, polished shoes, and small riverdale high badge pinned to his bag which sat on the desk. the only thing that stuck out was a grey beanie that sat atop his head, though even that screamed soft. he was adorable.

“oh, hi,” he smiled, obviously surprised to see her there. “what can i- how can i help?”

“your dumb principle mentioned the blue and gold being open to new members,” the boy blinked at her, obviously taken aback. though whether it was about the name-calling to the principal or her willingness to join the newspaper that she was uncertain of. “i’m interested.”

“oh,” he seemed to come to after a moment, and a smile covered his once bewildered expression. “great. yes. we’d gladly have you,” he nodded and stood up from his seat.

shit, she’d underestimated how tall he was. at least he had one thing going. he must’ve been six foot tall at least, and when he stepped out towards her she had to tilt her head up to look at him. at least he wasn’t as tall as sweet pea.

he held his hand out and smiled again. “nice to meet you.”

betty stared at him for a moment before she gripped his hand in return and shook it for a moment. “right. likewise.”

when she had pulled her hand away the boy nodded, and he opened his mouth to say something, though the bell ringing for the next class got to it first and cut him off.

“oh, well i’ll see you soon to sort out what times you can be here?” the boy asked, and betty nodded as she headed to the door.

“hey white collar?” she called back to him as she swung the door open, and his blue eyes met hers again across the room. “what’s your name?”

“jughead,” he responded after a moment, and if he was embarrassed at her entertained smile at his answer he didn’t show it. “what’s yours?”

“betty cooper.” she told him, and before he could say anything else she stepped out of the office and shut the door behind her. that was enough social interaction for one day, even if she’d be working with jughead every day now.

“so, what, you’re going to be working with her? alone?” veronica gasped, as she leaned across the table towards jughead. “what if she, like, has a knife on her or something? oh my god, what if she had drugs-“

“veronica, i highly doubt she has drugs.” jughead shook his head as he took another bite of his apple. the way that people were reacting to the south-side high students was mostly irrational, and it was getting a little annoying. he’d had to listen to reggie ranting about how he thought that one of the new students was going to kill him for an hour in his english class.

“some of them do. aren’t they all drug dealers? they’re in a gang.” she pointed out with a huff.

“none of them would be dumb enough to actually bring their drugs into school, even for lowlifes like themselves.” cheryl piped in from beside veronica. jughead wasn’t particularly friends with the redhead, but he tolerated her for veronica’s sake as they were on the cheer team together.

jughead found himself looking past the girls as veronica carried on about drugs, and found betty sat across the room. she was sat with another girl with pink hair, and two guys - one of them taller than the other. all four of them were wearing those gang jackets, though he could see the snake symbol from the jacket on the taller guy’s neck.

jughead didn’t believe that betty was dangerous by any means, but he was a little worried. there were a lot of rumours surrounding the south-side serpents, and it was hard to distinguish gossip from actual facts. were they really drug dealers? did they actually carry weapons on them? did the big guy sat next to betty actually kill someone? okay, jughead was less inclined to believe that one as it had come from reggie, but still. he was unsure on the situation, but there was nothing any of them could do. they’d just have to stick it out.

the rest of the day passed relatively quickly. in history jughead had to listen to a few cheerleaders giggling and fangirling over the taller serpent who had sat in front of them, and then in biology he had to put up with another thousand questions from veronica, though as soon as the bell went he managed to escape and headed to his locker quickly. as he was packing up his things betty passed him in the hallway with the tall guy again, and he couldn’t help but wonder if they were dating.

jughead closed his locker as he shrugged his bag onto his shoulders before he made his way out of the building, and put his headphones in for the walk home. he took the long way back to his house, putting off what he knew was coming. his dad had been more annoyed by the south-side high students joining the school than anybody in his class, and he knew when he got home he’d have to hear it all over again. jughead had decided to not tell him about betty, at least not yet. he didn’t want to give his dad an aneurism or something.

his father’s car was in the driveway when he got home and jughead frowned as he unlocked the front door. he had been hoping that fp would be out of the house for whatever reason, so he could avoid the bombard of questions that was sure to come and just escape upstairs to his bedroom.

“jug? that you?” he heard from the kitchen, and jughead rolled his eyes as he shrugged his coat off. no, he wanted to say, it’s a stranger who somehow has a set of keys to the house.

though instead he called out “yeah.” and walked through to the kitchen, where he found his father sat at the table surrounded by paperwork and his laptop.

“those students all in school todsy, then?” fp asked, and jughead sighed as he took off his bag and went over to the fridge to get a drink.

“yeah, they’re all-“

“they didn’t give you any trouble, did they?”

jughead clenched his jaw and willed himself not to snap at his dad. of course they didn’t, they weren’t monsters, they were still people, no matter where they came from. he couldn’t understand why that thought was so hard for people to grasp.

“no, it was all fine.” he forced a smile as he turned to face his dad, and met his eyes in his reflection of the laptop screen.

“good, just don’t get too close to any of them. god knows what they all get up to.” fp scoffed, and jughead gripped the bottle in his hand tighter as he took a drink from it. they went through all of this yesterday. and the day before. and the day before that. and every day since it had been announced that the schools were merging.

“i’m going upstairs. i have homework.” jughead excused himself to get away from the conversation, and he watched as fp nodded before he grabbed his bag and headed for the stairs, escaping from the lecture that he was sure fp would finish at dinner anyways.

#amber’s writing #riverdale #bughead #fyeahbughead #bughead series #bughead fic #bughead fanficition #bughead fanfic #bughead fluff #bettycooper #betty cooper #betty cooper x jughead jones #jughead #jugheadjones #jughead jones #jughead jones x betty cooper

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tarithenurse · 5 years

Text

Agent of Hope - 21

Your world falls into ruin together with the Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcements Logistics Division when you find out that your boyfriend isn’t one of the good guys. Pairing: Brock Rumlow x fem!reader, Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader Contents: Probably some errors due to lack of concentration when proof reading...both times. Boring office, pain and puking, fluff, hurt/comfort, comfort that is actually very intimate, smut…yeah, I mean smut. A/N: Not only have I finished yet another chapter here, but I’ve also completed two for a new series AND I’m apparently a home owner now! Now I just need to save my job after my performance has taken a toll during the home-process. Thanks for bearing with me! Thanks even more for liking and reblogging!!

21 - Living a dream

Somehow the buzzing from the old fashioned fixtures overhead hits a frequency more annoying than a mosquito at night and the light glares off of any shiny surface, causing you to squint in this world of greys. It’s hard to keep track of the maps and pictures agent Ross is showing you, but you do recognize some of the scenes from your nightmarish memories. Through an increasing blanket of fuzz, he shows you photos from the interior of a ship. It felt bigger, but in reality it’s nothing more than a smallish trawler.

You want to ask how they found it, but the words are warbled, coming from far away. The warmth of Natasha’s hair sweeps into view, blocking some of that awfully bright light before you taste the sour discharge in the back of your throat. Fuck.

Not a sound is heard, but you know the man would have a deep voice, a foreign language that would make you think of heat and traditions from before the alphabet you know. He looks kind, the stocky man, as he stands before an audience. Sweeping rows of tables makes you think of a lecture hall, but that doesn’t fit with the glass façade behind him. Glass that suddenly shatters, pushed into the room by a torrent of fire. You see it in slow motion, how a younger man leaps out of nowhere to push the speaker away as finally there’s a voice proclaiming the king is dead.

… Romanoff …

Holding [Y/N] up so she won’t choke in the vomit, Natasha doesn’t bother explaining to Ross what’s happening until she hears the first groan (which could resemble the word “fuck”) is preceded by a flutter of lashes. It’s over.

“Might want to get rid of this,” the former spy remarks, pushing the waste bin across the table to the CIA agent.

Surprisingly, he just accepts, making sure to return with a relatively unused one and even extra plastic bags. “Anything else I can get? Want me to call a doctor?”

If only that would help. “I’ve got something for the pain so I can get her back…learned to be prepared.”

“This happens often?” Shock makes the already pasty face paler.

“Every time she sees something.” Soft hands run circles on [Y/N]’s back, nursing the poor woman as she’s curled together, head cradled between shaking hands. “Imagine getting your skull hit by lightning…overloading every single neuron until the whole thing is overcharged and ready to burst only it can’t explode it can just keep hurting her.”

It’s obvious how Ross’ entire idea of how premonitions work is being re-evaluated and adjusted to allow for what he’s just witnessed. Not as romantic as books or movies claim, huh?

Natasha sits patiently, answering the confused agents many questions (though, to be fair, he actually finds the answer to a lot on his own), while nursing [Y/N] back into a shape where she can drink some water to swallow some of Dr. Cho’s pills and eventually stand on her legs. Wobbly, sure, but well enough to make it down to the car.

…

“How you feeling, babe?” She looks better. There are bags under [Y/N]’s eyes, but at least the ashen shade that had covered her face is gone. “Dare to get some food in you?”

There’s a brief moment where the option is considered before dismissed. “Thanks though…” Then she resumes the scribbling in the notebook Happy has given her, sometimes absentmindedly stroking the sequins or highlighting something – this time in an electric purple shade which she adds to something else after leafing backwards. “Has…has there been aaa…a bombing with a king or something?”

It’s a quick search for the combined forces of Natasha and Jarvis, both coming up with nothing relevant despite the pressure of a growing frown on [Y/N]’s face. The red-head recognizes the thinning line of her girlfriend’s lips and knows an intervention is needed if ever the woman is going to get some rest, but she has also seen firsthand how important it is to work through the vision as soon as possible or it will keep interfering with everything else.

Carefully lowering herself onto the bed behind the pained woman, she runs slender fingers across [Y/N]’s scalp, eliciting a sigh. “What else can I do to help?”

“Thaaaat,” a breathy moan divulges, sending chills up and down Nat’s spine, “it feels sooo good, hon.”

Nails cart gently through messy-looking hair, fingertips circling the temples and adding pressure at the nape of the skull. Back and forth while the woman between the hands start to relax into the touch. Then the slender fingers find the shoulders, kneading gently but deeply into the tangled mess of tense muscles in the vain hope that some release can be found and might help ease the pounding headache Natasha knows is reigning.

It must be working because [Y/N] sighs deeply, a content smile growing on the lips as she arches her back in relief, free breasts stretching the front of the lose t-shirt that replaced most of the ensnaring and sweat-soaked clothes the moment they got home. It’s so simple, so natural to slide a hand along the clavicles and trace the neckline of the shirt with a fingertip while the other traces a path back into the mane that smells so perfectly, and Nat can’t resist the urge to plant a feathery kiss on the top of the ear.

Did you see this too, sweetheart? See me fall in love with you? It doesn’t matter if [Y/N] knew, though, because it won’t change how right it is. It has brought a new worry into Natasha’s life, but it’s a price she’ll gladly pay over and over again as long as she gets to listen to this woman’s heartbeat, taste her kisses in the grey morning hours, know that the trust they share can’t be broken. Not by anything.

[Y/N] twists in the Avenger’s grasp, subtly moving the southern hand to rest on a boob under which a rapid beat is drumming. Led by her own hair, Nat is guided until mouths meet. There is still a tender lightness to it but also an urge, a hunger that demands more and wouldn’t it be wonderful to give in? To gorge in the sweetness without fear of causing damage?

“It’s okay, Tasha.” Hot breath carries a scent of toothpaste. “I want it. Please?”

Anything for you. A searing kiss is the only answer Natasha can muster at first. Then, without breaking contact, she pulls [Y/N] onto her lap like a goddess placed on a pedestal to be worshipped. A stray thought tries to ruin the fun by pointing out how lovely it would’ve been to slowly remove any trousers, but it’s a notion that’s squashed the moment soft thighs settle around Nat’s in a strong hold.

The first buttons of the red-head’s blouse are worked on uncontested while the remainder pop from the brute force of [Y/N] pulling at the fabric, finally allowing colder hands to roam over pale skin, finding and caressing a few old scars and toying with the fine lace.

It’s a slow maelstrom of desire that spins and pulls the women. Natasha isn’t sure when the t-shirt is discarded, she just knows how perfect the hard nipple feels against her tongue and lips and that the weight of each breast is the loveliest burden to hold and massage until [Y/N] rocks against the jeans.

It can be seconds later or minutes when the former spy pulls out the sweetest sounds by stroking the silken folds, already slippery with need. Each pass over the clit has the woman on top moaning, trying to stifle the sound against Tasha’s skin which is puckered after kisses and teasing bites. It’s not enough to silence the quaking groan when the adept fingers brings the roaring sensations to a blissful peak and [Y/N]’s body shudders and stiffens, core clenching around a few fingers that had reach inside and found the right spot.

… Reader …

Inside you are heavenly chorus is singing the praises for Tasha, for the fact that she proved your hope right and showed that, yes, being intimate could still feel good. Pfft…inadequate word. It had been beyond amazing, reducing you to a soft mass of euphoria collapsed onto her gorgeous frame.

Once relatively conscious again, you wanted to reciprocate.

“No, babe, not this time,” Tasha shushes you, stopping any complaints with kisses, “tonight I take care of you, ‘kay? And right now you get to rest.”

Of course nothing she says is a lie and she makes sure to clean you before tugging you under the covers. You’re half asleep by then and smiling like a lovesick fool.

“Tasha –“

“Nuh-uh!” A finger lands on your lips. “Unless you’re about to say you love me too then you’re going to sleep. Right now.”

“I guess I have to stay awake then.” But the smirk on your face is stretched into a yawn and you feel warmth echo inside your bones and mixing with the bliss your hero has left behind.

One more kiss, a whispered promise that she’ll be back to check on you, then darkness descends with a gentle peace.

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alchemist-shizun · 5 years

Text

Thinking of you keeps me awake

Read on Ao3!

Word count: 1,407

Pairing: Logicality

Warnings: There's surgery mention and a mention of an incident in a playground, nothing specific or graphic.

Summary: Logan has been testing out the new advanced technology that had just been created for surgery. Patton, a doctor at the same hospital, finds the machine one night and starts talking to it daily. Logan finds it out in the weirdest way, and crushing ensues.

A/N: Hi name's Ellie and I find inspiration in TV advertisings. Okay this was supposed to be a drabble but I can't physically write less than a thousand words. (pardon me I can't put the read more on mobile.) This is also the first fic I post here so I'll just let you read in peace while I will disappear in fear. (Look I rhymed) Feel free to point out any typo or mistake, English isn't my first language and I'm always one for learning! Thank you so much and without any further ado, enjoy your reading.

✾

Logan finally found relief in the comfortable chair in front of his desk. It had been a little over a month since they started using advanced technology at work, which permitted Logan to attend meetings and to his job at the same time.

They didn't really take into account that being a surgeon wasn't exactly a piece of cake and doubling his work-related stress didn't help at all.

But Logan had never minded pushing himself to the limit in order to save lives or learn something new. (A bad habit that he had been dragging along ever since youth.)

The "machine of the future", as they liked to call it, was this robotic device that could be controlled wireless from a long distance. All Logan had to do was turn his phone on and a projector would show him what the robot was seeing and he could interact with the projection.

For instance, there had been cases in which he was required both at an updating course on new discoveries and also at the operating room to operate on one of his patients.

With this new object, he could help his team while traveling, as soon as he found a quiet place.

Quite the jewel, wasn't it?

That was the reason a hidden camera was implemented in the machine, it functioned both while in use and while seemingly asleep. If anything touched it, it would send a notification to the database Logan had access to on his laptop.

He was used to check on it daily, of course. Especially at 2 a.m., when he was definitely not supposed to be asleep. Now, he wasn't messing with his circadian system, just touching it up a little to see-

« A notification? »

His heart started pounding as panic drove its way through his chest; his mind, though, tried to find all the possible positive outcomes.

It could have been just an incident, right? Someone moved it or touched it by accident. There was nothing to be worried about, or else it would have automatically sent a call to the police.

Yes, it had a complicated security system, but it was needed, considering it was the only device existing at the time.

Logan scrolled through his database and found the videotapes section. He checked on the least recent video; they got deleted by the system monthly, so he was used to only check on them once a month unless an issue like that occurred.

He went through the frame previews and stopped when he saw a figure at the back of the room. The video started playing.

Logan could only watch as the figure became a more distinct man with wavy hair who paced around the room.

There was something familiar about him, but maybe it was just the glasses he was wearing that oddly reminded him of his own pair.

The mysterious man (actually, he was probably a doctor given his white coat) turned to the robot's direction and gasped at its sight before approaching it.

It was something, to see that scene almost as if it had been playing right in front of his eyes.

But Logan wasn't a robot.

« Oh my, what do we have here? » the man spoke in the most sugary voice Logan had ever heard. He wondered how soothing he was with distressed patients.

« This is so cool! » he paced around the object, then stopped back at its front.

« Is someone there? I'm Patton! »

Oh- That's what it was. He had worked with Patton, once or twice, but he had been on his team for a fairly short time. Wasn't he the new one around?

« Cat got your tongue? » his chuckle was so soft he could have made the maddest beast grow gentle. « Oops! You don't have one. »

Logan snorted and shook his head, was it really just this guy goofing around until the end of the tape?

He made to close the video and move onto the next ones, when Patton looked up again.

« Oh! Uhm ... whoever's behind this- because I really don't know, none bothered to answer me when I asked. » this time his snicker was embarrassed, he almost felt bad for him.

« I don't know why they think I'm dumb. I mean I got a doctorate, you can't exactly make your way through that by playing dumb, right? » Patton looked exactly where the robot's camera was hidden. Logan felt his heart skip a beat and he couldn't pinpoint whether it was out of fear or something else.

« But here I am, venting to a soulless machine. Maybe they're right. » he scratched his neck and sighed.

Logan remembered suddenly how Patton's first period of time with them was filled with simple tasks and chores. He had always thought they were just using him and not letting him unleash his potential.

Until one of the oldest doctors had to retire and some space had been made for him too.

« Anyway, to whoever is doing the awesome job behind this, I hope you know you're amazing! » Patton flashed him a toothy grin, then waved, gathered the stuff he needed and left.

Logan went through the other tapes as quickly as possible, but couldn't help but stop and listen to whatever Patton had to say in every single one of them.

The sight of his bright smile was a cathartic experience and, essentially, all Patton really did was clean some spots in the room and give both the robot and Logan a pep talk.

He didn't realize how wide he was smiling thanks to all the "I'm proud of you"s, "Your work is amazing", "Look at how marvelous you are" or "You inspire me", not until he reached the last tape and his cheeks were soaring from all the stretching.

Logan passed his hands on his face, his clock barely counting down to 3:30 a.m.

He tried to shake off the giddy feeling he felt when Patton appeared on his screen once again.

Sometimes you just need constant but simple reminders.

« Patton! Did a real good job! » he entered the room dancing and humming in his tracks. « Hey, didn't see you there! »

He approached the camera skipping along the pavement, that was the happiest he had ever seen him in those videos.

He couldn't believe that happened that day and he had missed the opportunity to see his joy at less than a couple of paces away.

« I saw the family of your patient today. » Patton sounded as if he were reminiscing about the moment.

Logan digged in his earliest memories and remembered the serious conditions of his patient: they had been victim of a terrible accident at a local playground. A mere little kid.

They had to work on the child for hours before it was safe to assume they would survive.

« I wish you could have seen the relatives. Their reaction when I delivered the news just ... Made me realize why I really love this job. » he hesitated, letting the words sink in.

« You did that. » Patton looked right into the camera but this time Logan's chest didn't feel tight.

Instead, it filled with warmth. Pleased and content.

« It's all thanks to you. » his voice trailed off as his cerulean eyes wandered around a spot Logan couldn't see.

« Oh gee, let's get you cleaned up! »

Next thing he knew, Patton had cleared some blood from the robot's surface. So that was why it sent off the notification.

Logan was glad it turned out to be nothing serious.

Just a cute and bubbly doctor that managed to start stealing his heart away without anything more than a night and video tapes. Not even his beloved surgery was needed.

Wait, what was that thought just now?

Logan closed his laptop as soon as Patton walked out of the frame.

He felt like he could have seen him if he moved, he didn't want to ruin the peaceful atmosphere Patton brought.

Afterwards, he finally dedicated himself to the thought of getting some rest for the hopefully less stressful day ahead.

Even though Logan spent the first few seconds of his sleeping time mentally smacking himself for staying up late, which he didn't actually regret, he now knew who to go to during his next coffee break.

#sanders sides #patton sanders #logan sanders #ts patton #ts logan #logicality #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides logan #sanders sides patton #ts fanfic #ts fanfiction #logicality fanfic #logicality fanfiction #logicality fic #tw surgery #tw accident #fanfiction #ts fic #purp's writings

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choicesfanatic86 · 5 years

Text

TTS: Part 48

DISCLAIMER: All characters belong to Pixelberry Studios, except characters unique to my story. Those belong to me. ;)

PAIRINGS: Riley (MC) x OC, Riley (MC) x Liam, Liam x Riley (MC) x OC, Olivia x Drake, Bertrand x Savannah, Maxwell x OC

SUMMARY: Riley & Andy chat about their love lives.

If you are new to the series and would like to catch up by reading previous parts, please check out my master fan fiction listing. CATCH UP HERE

Permanent Tag List: @umccall71 @drakelover78 @jamielea81 @bobasheebaby @speedyoperarascalparty @hopefulmoonobject @theroyalweisme @gardeningourmet @jlouise88 @hamulau @traeumerinwitzhelden @blackcatkita @mrs-simmy @kaitycole @alwaysthebestchoice @mfackenthal @trr-duchessofvaltoria @pbchoicesobsessed @alepowell @greyeyedsmile14 @annekebbphotography @princesaakl

Tag List for TTS Only: @herladyshipxx @devineinterventions2 @captainkingliam @cocomaxley @queencatherynerhys @boneandfur @spetstoof @grapefrults @pessimystic-fangirl @dralenamax @mspaigemoore @jayjay879 @hhiggs @penguininapinktuxedo @topsyturvy-dream @diamond-dreamland @pnhanga @ladynonsense @mrsdrakewalkerblog @crookedslimecreatorpasta @liamxs-world @flowerpowell @bruteforcebears @withice @jared2612 @darley1101 @sleeplessescapades @katurrade @leelee10898 @craftytacotrashdream @eileendannie @bella-ca

5/13/2019 - Ya’ll there is no excuse for how long I’ve been gone. Life got crazy and unfortunately my Choices obsession had to take a backseat. I’m back and writing again, and I’m so excited to rejoin the community and give you closure to the pieces I’ve had up, and introduce you to some new pieces as well. I still love Choices and plan on getting updated on all the new stories too!

Thanks for all the feedback. I LOVE IT. :)

Part 48 - Girl Talk

Riley awoke with a small smile across her lips. Had last night really happened? Maybe she should pinch herself to make sure she wasn’t still dreaming? Nope, not a dream. She chuckled to herself. How on earth did Liam always manage to sweep her off her feet? She had been wary to make the trek back to Cordonia. Okay, he had been more than wary, she had been downright reluctant to ever set foot in the country again. She’d had her heart broken twice there, and she wasn’t in the market to have it happen a third time. And although she woke with a sense of peace for the first time in months, she, admittedly, still had a whole lot of worry lingering inside of her. But, just as he always did, Liam went far beyond any of her expectations. First the office, then his impromptu visit and his talk of wooing her again – it wasn’t what she had expected at all. She had been so certain that all they could ever be together again was co-parents, yet, here he was changing trying to change her mind yet again. Could this really work? Was this finally her second chance? Could they finally have the happily ever after that she had so desperately wanted back when they first met? She shook her head, trying to bring herself back to reality. Her life would be forever different now. Her wants, her needs, none of it mattered because she had an entirely new focus to think about now. Her only focus was the health and safety of their lima bean.

Her hand drifted down toward her belly, grazing the still unnoticeable bump. She rolled over in bed and paused for a moment, waiting for the familiar feeling of nausea to come over her . . . but there was nothing. That was odd. Most days she was awoken by the rumbling sensation of nausea deep within her stomach, but today there was nothing except butterflies - the good kind. Her mind drifted back to Liam once more, and she released a sigh. The evening spent with Liam played back in her head. A courtship? The idea alone caused a shiver down her spine. It wasn’t traditional . . . at least not by any sort of American terms, and she wondered what exactly Liam had in mind. As she recalled, dating in Cordonia was lavish, and while she admitted the exciting rendezvous she went on with Liam when they first met took her breath away, it was highly impractical to go along those lines of dating given the current situation they found themselves in. After all, they weren’t just dating to see if they liked each other and to have fun. It was dating to see if they could have a future together. Talk about a lot of pressure. Would she be ready to commit to the future with him? Truly commit? A life forever bound to Cordonian culture and society? A life as queen? She mentally chided herself. Mere moments ago she was in a state of euphoria, and now here she was thinking of everything that could possibly go wrong. She shook her head, pushing the uncertainties out of her mind for the time being. All she could do was take things one day at a time. They had four weeks. Four weeks to give their relationship another chance. She wasn’t going to think about any of the what ifs or maybes until then.

She ambled down the staircase slowly, the smell of something delicious making its way out of the kitchen. The fact that she hadn’t woken with the nagging feeling of nausea was something to celebrate in itself. The fact that she suddenly had an appetite was an added bonus. She quickly wandered into the kitchen, mouth salivating.

She spotted Andy putting on a pot of coffee as music blared from her iPhone. She shimmied around the kitchen like she owned it, dancing along without a care in the world. Riley could barely contain the smile on her face. She looked absolutely ridiculous, but she also looked happier than she had ever seen her. What more could she have wished for her best friend?

“Good morning, Future Mrs. Beaumont,” Riley sing-songed loudly over the blaring music. “Someone is up bright and early this morning,” she teased her.

Andy jumped a little, throwing a hand to her chest. “You scared the crap out of me,” she gasped. “What are you doing up so early?”

Riley shrugged. “I heard some movement down here and figured I’d see who was up,” she smiled. “Little did I know that the Future Mrs. Beaumont was up and about dancing her way through the kitchen,” she teased.

Andy beamed at Riley, as she turned to the coffee pot that had just chimed. “I love the way that sounds,” she sighed contently as she poured herself a cup of coffee. “You need to call me that all the time, okay?” She chuckled. “I still can’t believe it,” she grinned widely as she continued to flutter around the kitchen. “Being engaged has me feeling so . . . domestic,” she laughed.

“Apparently,” Riley agreed, her head turning toward all the dishes. “My gosh,” Riley looked around the full countertops. Andy must have been up for hours already. There were dishes of pancakes, bacon, scrambled eggs, waffles and even some grits bubbling on the stove. Andy had even managed to whip up a batch of sweet tea. In all the time that she had known and lived with Andy, she had never showed that she had a domestic bone in her body. She could barely pick up after herself let alone make an entire meal by herself. “You did all of this?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” she said excitedly. “I wanted to call my parents at a decent hour in New York time,” she explained. “Then once I had, I just couldn’t stop talking,” she exclaimed giddily. “I chatted with mom for over an hour about wedding plans. Did you know that my sneaky fiancé had my parents in on the whole thing!” She squealed.

Riley’s eyes widened in surprise as she shook her head. “I didn’t.” She hadn’t actually been privy to the fact that there was about to be an engagement at all. The last she knew, Bertrand had talked him out of proposing. Then again, that had been months ago. It amazed her that Maxwell had kept such a life-changing decision a secret, especially from her. But it certainly didn’t surprise her that Maxwell had opted to include Andy’s parents in his plan. Family was something very important to him, and considering that his own parents were long gone, she could certainly see why he would want Andy’s parents to be involved. After all, they would become his parents, too, once they got married. “How on earth did he manage that?”

“He took their numbers from my phone,” she explained. “He’s such a sly dog,” she chuckled. “Well, you can imagine what an awkward telephone call that was considering that I’d only just told them about him a few weeks prior,” she mused. “He ended up meeting with them while we were in New York! Can you believe that?” She asked. “I mean, I was so distracted with everything that was going on with you and the baby that I didn’t realize he was off schmoozing with the parentals,” she said merrily. “My parents didn’t say a single thing,” she murmured.

“Well, aren’t proposals supposed to be a surprise?” Riley asked.

“Yes, well if that was the intent, he most certainly nailed it,” she gushed.

“How did they react to the news?” Riley asked. Andy’s parents were well-to-do New Yorkers, but they weren’t the least bit snooty. They were relatively open-minded and supported Andy in every endeavor she had . . . even if her decisions were a bit off the wall at times.

“As any parent would I suppose,” she shrugged. “Mom told me they were a bit surprised about how quickly our relationship had been progressing, but she admitted that Maxwell was absolutely endearing. He even made a whole presentation as to why he would be the best suited life partner for me,” she sighed dreamily. “Mom said it was adorable. He had the ring with him and everything. He told them that he wanted them to feel like they were a part of the whole thing, even though they’d be back in New York when it actually did happen. Mom said they were so worried at first since he seemed a bit . . . eccentric, but in true Maxwell form, he won them over with his charm,” she said a bit wistfully.

“And your dad?” Riley asked

“Dad thought he was insane!” Andy laughed. “But he said he could tell that Maxwell was an honest guy who really did care about me. It helped that Maxwell tried to butter him up with the offer to take him fishing when they finally made it out to Cordonia.”

“Does Maxwell even know the first thing about fishing?” Riley asked.

“He knows absolutely nothing,” Andy laughed. “He was just so desperate to make some sort of connection with my father that he fudged his way through. Of course, my father saw through him right away. He said that any man that would go through so much trouble to pretend he liked fishing had to have it bad for his daughter. So, when he asked for their blessing, he found it rather hard to tell him no,” she murmured.

“I’m sure,” Riley nodded in agreement. “He’s a pretty difficult guy to turn down,” she said thoughtfully. Riley couldn’t help it, but she started to get misty-eyed over the entire thing. Maxwell and Andy were going to have such an amazing life together. She just knew it. She admitted that when they first got together, she was a tad bit wary. Maxwell had just come back into her life, and she was worried that if things soured between him and Andy, she’d be forced to choose between the two, and she hated to admit it, but her roommate had the upper hand. But after only a few days in, she knew there was something different about their relationship. They both genuinely seemed to care for one another, and it was apparent, that the connection went far deeper than just a casual fling. Still, she couldn’t believe that her two best friends were settling down - with one another no less. Who knew that it would only take a plane ride and a few thousand miles for their love connection to happen?

“Hey, no crying,” Andy admonished.

“These are happy tears, I promise,” Riley said, wiping the tears from her eyes. “I can’t control these damn hormones,” she chuckled lightly. “I’m just so excited for you guys,” she murmured. “It’s been a whirlwind, hasn’t it?” Riley commented. Thinking back on everything that happened over the last few months, things had changed tremendously.

“I’m so happy you’re here,” Andy said as she placed a glass of water in front of Riley and sat next to her. “I can’t imagine going through all of this without you,” she smiled lightly . Riley forced a small smile out. She didn’t want to remind Andy that she didn’t know how long she’d be staying in Cordonia. She didn’t want her friend to get her hopes up that this was a permanent move. “So? Any wedding plans? Did you guys set a date or anything?” Riley asked, taking a sip out of a glass of water.

Andy shook her head. “We’re hoping for a long engagement,” she explained. “I want my parents to be able to fly up here and get to know Maxwell, and I also want to be a bit more settled as a couple in our own space before we get married. The house won’t be ready for a while, but I don’t really like the idea of being newlyweds with Bertrand lurking around at every corner,” she cringed at the thought.

Riley could relate thinking back to Bertrand chaperoning her date night with Liam. She knew that his protectiveness came from a place of love, but she couldn’t help but think that he was also being rather overbearing. Even her own parents hadn’t been as apprehensive about what she did. Bertrand took protectiveness to a whole new level. “Yeah, tell me about it,” she rolled her eyes. “Liam stopped by last night, and Bertrand was like a guard dog. You know, he actually had the audacity to require me to leave the door open. He acted like we were a bunch of horny teenagers who were about to jump each other at any given second.”

Andy laughed. “Well . . . can you blame him? You did lock yourself in your bedroom last time around for days on end,” she eyed Riley suggestively.

“Shut up,” Riley frowned.

“It’s just such a Bertrand thing to do,” she said in between side-splitting chuckles. “He’s delusional to think that things can’t happen when the door his open,” she snickered.

Riley blushed a little. “Liam and I aren’t even at that point . . . in our . . . thing,” she sighed. She didn’t really know how to explain the dynamic between them. Their conversation last night hadn’t exactly solidified anything between them except that they would court one another for four weeks.

“Thing?” Andy arched an eyebrow. “Girl, you’re having his baby, you two are way more than just a thing,” she added knowingly.

Riley let out an exasperated sigh. “I don’t really understand what we are right now,” she said with a slight blush. “He kind of threw me a curveball last night.”

“Ooooh, do tell,” Andy leaned closer to her eagerly.

“So, as you know, he came over last night . . .” Riley trailed off.

“And?” Andy leaned even closer.

“And, he wants to try and court me,” Riley said simply.

Andy snapped back with a look of confusion on her face. “Court you? What is he ninety? That sounds like something out of a 1950s show.” Andy burst into a fit of giggles. “You realize how lame that sounds right?” She gasped out in between laughs. “You’re joking. You guys are way beyond courting. You’re about to have a kid. He needs to put a ring on it and seal the deal.”

“Will you stop and be serious for a minute? This is a big deal, okay? I’m not sure if I’m ready to do a whole courtship thing,” Riley admitted quietly.

“Well yeah, I mean, courtships are a thing of the past.” Andy crinkled her nose.

Riley couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “Look, things are complicated right now, and I know we need to figure out what the heck we’re going to do about our future, but the idea of a courtship is kind of . . . intimidating, ” Riley shrugged. “I need your advice.”

Andy looked at her. “I’m not exactly a dating expert, Riley. You of all people should know that. Pre-Maxwell, I bounced from relationship to relationship. I mean, I never even thought I’d be remotely close to settling down until I met him. I used to rely on things like Tinder to find guys, and those relationships never exactly ended well,” she mused. “Nowadays, no one does the whole dating with a purpose thing,” she reasoned. “Welcome to the generation of random hook ups and STDs,” Andy snorted. “I didn’t really think about finding my life partner, you know? I mean, at our age, who really thinks about settling down with the whole white picket fence. But I met Maxwell, and then, something changed. I mean, yeah at first, I kind of thought, well, he’s just going to be my random European hook up that I think back on when I’m in my fifties wondering if I ever did anything adventurous in my life . . . but then, I don’t know. We started hanging out and actually started to get to know one another, and . . . well, I fell for him. These guys . . . they were raised differently than us. Yes, there are so many rules . . . so many freaking rules about proper etiquette and manners, but that’s what made them who they are you know? You found a guy who actually wants to take the time to court you,” she raised her hands in quotation marks. “As ridiculous and old-fashioned as it sounds, that’s way better than some random douchebag trying to slide into your DMs,” she reasoned.

Riley chuckled a little. She was right. Gone were the days of guys opening doors and bringing flowers on the first date. She knew very well that guys like Liam were hard to come by, which is why she fell so crazy in love with him the first time around.

“So, are you actually going to go along with it?” Andy asked.

Riley nodded slowly. “I told him that I would,” she sighed. “Do you think that’s the wrong decision?” she asked, suddenly feeling so uncertain.

Andy paused thoughtfully. “I can’t make that decision for you, Ri.”

“I know that. But I want your opinion. Do you think I made the wrong choice? What if this whole thing blows up in my face? Maybe co-parenting was the way safer option for us. I mean, what the heck do I know about courtships?”

Andy shook her head fervently. “Riley, just stop for a second. Breathe. No. Co-parenting was so not going to work with you two. You guys have too much history. Honestly . . . as stupid as courting is . . . I think that saying yes to it was the first smart decision you’ve made . . . well a part from moving back here,” she nudged her as she took a sip from her coffee cup. “Hey, maybe this is a good thing,” she reasoned. “Your ‘courtship’ might actually teach you guys how to actually communicate with one another instead of jumping to conclusions all the time,” she teased.

Riley threw her hand up to her chest in mock indignation. “Ouch.”

“Just being real,” Andy said, waggling her eyebrows. “So after you agreed to the courtship, did Casanova spend the night? Please tell me you at least fooled around a bit.”

“Oh my God, you’re too much,” Riley shook her head. “Yes, Andy we fooled around so much with Bertrand pacing right outside the door,” she snorted as she rolled her eyes.

“Like I said, things can still happen with the door open,” Andy winked at her.

“Stop being so crude. We don’t have overnight privileges,” Riley assured her. “He was a perfect gentleman who came with the best of intentions,” she said.

Andy snorted as she poured herself another cup of coffee. “Right, and it was those gentlemanly intentions that got you in trouble,” she motioned to Riley’s stomach. “But then again, it’s not like he can knock you up again if he let those gentlemanly intentions slide for a night.”

Riley sighed as she shook her head. “We are nowhere near that point in this courtship thing. Even though I can’t get pregnant again, sex will still complicate things. Emotions get involved and it gets messy. I just . . . I just don’t have the luxury to be careless anymore. Not when I have the baby to think about.”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry, Ri. You know I’m just messing with you right? I’m still on my engagement high and just want you to be happy, too,” she nudged her shoulder. “So when does this courtship begin?”

“Today.” Riley answered.

Andy choked a bit on her coffee. “Wow, he certainly doesn’t waste any time,” she mused.

“Well . . . that’s the thing . . . we’re kind of working on a specific timeline,” she explained.

Andy arched an eyebrow. “Explain,” she said simply.

“He wants me to give him four weeks to see if our relationship can be salvaged,” she began. “So, I said I would try it out for the four weeks.” She shrugged. “I mean, I’m going to be here anyway, and he’s been really trying. The least I can do is give it a shot for the lima bean’s sake.”

“And after four weeks?” Andy asked hopefully.

“And after four weeks,” Riley paused. “I don’t know,” she furrowed her eyebrows. “He did say that if I don’t think our relationship will work out, he won’t pressure me anymore about staying in Cordonia. He’ll let me go back to New York and raise the baby how I want. I mean, I guess if it doesn’t work out, we’ll just go along with the original plan of co-parenting and just move on with our lives.”

Andy grunted in disapproval. “Yeah, right.”

“What?” Riley asked.

“You will never just move on, Riley. Not when a baby is involved. No matter what, that baby is half Liam’s, and no matter how much you want to believe you’ll be able to move on with your life and co-parent like it’s no big deal, it won’t work.”

Riley sat up a bit indignantly in her chair. “What are you talking about? Why won’t it work?”

“Because you’re head over heels crazy about this guy. I know it. Maxwell knows it. Bertrand knows it. Liam knows it. The only person who is fighting this is you,” she smiled sadly.

Riley paused, considering her words for a moment. Riley was so up in the air about everything, and the damn pregnancy hormones were making things worse. “I’ve really made a mess of things, haven’t I?” She said sadly.

Andy shook her head. “Oh, Ri. I didn’t want to make you feel bad. It’s hard to maneuver through something like this. I mean, I wish I could give you a textbook answer that would apply to this scenario, but I can’t. I can’t imagine going through what you’re going through,” she admitted. “I know I’ve been just as pushy as the guys about you and Liam, but I want you to know that no matter what happens, you’ve got me, okay? I’m always going to have your back.”

“I know,” Riley nodded confidently. “Same for me as well,” she offered.

“Look, I didn’t want to kill the mood. I just want you to go into this courtship thing with eyes wide open. Give the guy a chance. Let loose a little,” she placed a hand on her shoulder, willing Riley to look at her. “I know you’re scared, and I know there are a whole lot of things that need to be figured out, but please, just give him a chance, okay? For him to take the risk of you going back to New York with the baby . . . he must have a whole lot of faith and love invested in this relationship.”

Of that Riley was fairly certain. Liam had made it very clear that he loved her and their little lima bean. She wanted desperately to believe that things will work out. Andy was right. She needed to give things a fair shot and she needed to open herself up to the idea of the three of them being a family. “No, it’s okay. Maybe I needed the tough love,” she shrugged, smiling sadly. Riley took a strong whiff in the air around her, and changed gears for a second. “What’s that smell?” She felt hunger pains rumbling around in her stomach, and it was a welcome sensation. She had gotten distracted with their conversation and had forgotten about the hunger pangs she had awoken with. She hadn’t had much of an appetite in weeks, but something Andy had cooked proved to be too much of a temptation to resist.

“Oh crap,” Andy said, jumping out of her chair. I forgot I left the croissants in the oven,” she said, running over to the stove. “I’ll never hear the end of it from Bertrand if I somehow burn down his kitchen,” she muttered. “I’m sorry, I know all sorts of smells are ten times worse now that you’re pregnant,” Andy apologized. She looked around the kitchen, her eyes wandering over the multitude of plates and dishes. “Ugh,” she cringed. “I know all this stuff must be making you feel absolutely nauseated, she frowned. “I honestly didn’t think you’d be up for at least another hour, so I figured it would be safe to get all of this cooking done before you woke up. I can open the windows to let the smell fade out,” she offered.

“Actually . . . I don’t want to jinx anything, but I think today is going to be a good day,” she said hopefully.

“Really?” Andy asked skeptically as she pulled the croissants off the baking pan. “That will be like the first day since you found out you were knocked up,” she mused. “Maybe your spawn is happy to be back in the land of his conception,” she laughed.

Riley narrowed her eyes at her best friend. “That’s not funny,” she whined. Admittedly, the same thought had run through Riley’s head when she had first woken up. She thought that the change of scenery and timezone might have forced her body to reset itself.

“Well, whatever it is, I hope it sticks,” she crossed her fingers and waved them in front of Riley’s face as she passed by to pull out a couple of plates. “Dare I ask if you’d like some?”

“Well, I mean, I’ve only been starving for the last few weeks,” Riley chuckled. “Plus, it’d be a tragedy if I let Maxwell and Bertrand eat all of this food all by themselves,” she motioned around her.

Andy laughed and started putting some bacon on her plate. “Everything but the eggs?” Andy asked.

“Actually . . . the eggs smell sort of delicious,” Riley said thoughtfully.

Andy looked at her in surprise. Riley hated eggs. It had been a food aversion she had developed when she was a kid. She wasn’t sure what it was about it that made her hate it, but eggs were just never that appealing for her. It didn’t matter how it was cooked – fried, boiled, baked . . . it didn’t matter. Eggs were just not her thing. “You’re joking?” Andy asked.

“I wish,” she shook her head. “Mind if I have some?”

“Are you sure that’s such a good idea? What if you . . . ya know . . . upchuck it?” She asked hesitantly.

“Gross,” Riley wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Can we not talk about upchucking when I’m not nauseous for the first time in weeks,” she sighed.

“I just don’t want you getting a bout of that hyperemesis stuff and have you wind up in a Cordonian hospital,” she explained. “Especially since you know what,” she said as she motioned to her stomach “isn’t exactly common knowledge.”

Riley sighed. She knew Andy was right. Just because she was feeling a bit better, didn’t mean that she should push it. Winding up in the hospital in New York wasn’t exactly newsworthy. Landing herself in the hospital here with Liam undoubtedly by her side, yeah, that would be front page news. She wasn’t exactly ready for a media storm just yet, especially with things so up in the air about their relationship.

“Ugh, you’re right. Just a little of everything and no eggs. The last thing I want is to feel queasy before my date with Liam,” Riley finally acquiesced.

“Speaking of your date, where is he taking you?”

Riley shrugged. “I’m actually not sure. “We agreed that he’d pick me up around eleven . . . but that’s all I pretty much know,” she explained as she started to dig into her food.

“I like that he’s keeping it mysterious,” Andy said thoughtfully. “It shows that he really wants to make things special for you,” she said cheerfully.

Riley nodded in agreement. “I never really thought of it like that,” she smiled. “You’re right, you know. I really need to give him a chance.”

“Well, duh,” Andy said. “Don’t you know I’m always right,” she said, trying to keep a straight face.

The two ate in silence for several minutes, before Riley looked at her best friend and smiled softly. “Andy?” Riley asked quietly.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you. For talking me off the ledge earlier,” she smiled softly. “I know it sucks to get wrapped up in all of this chaos, especially when you’re about to embark on one of the most exciting times of your life with Maxwell,” Riley said. “So I appreciate you being here for me . . . for us,” she trailed off.

“Of course, I mean, you’d do the same for me right?” Andy said honestly.

Just as Riley was about to agree, the doorbell chimed from the main entrance. Riley’s eyes bulged as she looked at the clock. “Oh no, he’s like two hours early,” she said as she jumped out of her seat. “I’m not even ready. I still have morning breath and bed head,” she exclaimed.

“Go on and get ready,” Andy laughed. “I’ll stall him with all this food,” she motioned around her. “Men can’t say no to food,” she reasoned.

Riley smiled at her friend, kissing her on the cheek. “Best friend ever,” she exclaimed happily as she ran out of the kitchen.

“And please, do something with your hair!” Andy called after her.

#trr #choices #choices fanfiction #choices: stories you play #choices trr #trr fanfic #trr au #theroyalromance #the royal romance #choices the royal romance #liam x riley #liam x mc

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artificialqueens · 5 years

Text

The Good Times and the Valentines (Branjie) - Mac

AN: Thanks to multifandomgeek for helping me clean up this work. And BLESS my darling Grapefruit for betaing this hot mess express and trying to teach me how to stick to one tense. Y'all the real MVPs.

Summary: Vanessa and Brooke plan to do a Valentine’s show together to answer all the burning questions people have about their relationship. All is well, but Brooke is keeping a secret.

It was Brock’s idea.

Jose had been resting comfortably on his Canadian body pillow of a boyfriend, tracing lazy patterns over his chest when Brock mentions it.

“We should do a Valentine’s show together.”

Jose sat up to look at his boyfriend/body pillow, a lopsided smile on his face. “Yeah?”

Brock gave an equally happy grin in return. “Yeah. I think it would be a great way to talk with the fans, and really open up about our relationship.” Brock noted Jose’s raised eyebrow. “What do you think?”

“If you think it’d be a good idea, I’m down.”

“I know we have kept it under wraps these past three years, and I know that was difficult for you.” Jose nodded slightly. It had been Brock’s idea to keep their relationship private this time. Fans knew, for sure, but they didn’t talk about it openly in interviews or at shows. Just little hints here and there. It had been hard at first. The romantic in Jose wanting to tell anyone and everyone that this man, this wonderfully kind and talented man, was his and his alone.

“I want everyone to know without a doubt that you’re mine.” He cupped Jose’s face in his hand. “And I’m yours.”

Jose smiled even wider.

…

Their relationship after filming had been good. It was peaceful for a time, until it wasn’t. Nights got longer and lonelier as time moved on. They split up on semi-good terms. Neither really wanting to leave this comfort they had made, but they knew if they had any shot at working in the future, they needed time apart.

Then the show aired and there was no time to be apart.

They were thrust together for pictures and tours and performances. It was hard being so close and yet so farfrom the person you still cared deeply about. But they managed.

They managed for all of three weeks of touring before falling back into place.

Nina told them that it wasn’t enough time apart. She was probably right, but they didn’t care.

Jose’s hand felt safe in Brock’s. His arms felt right wrapped around Brock’s neck. His heart felt content in Brock’s chest.

It had taken a while to get the hang of it. Brock had to come to terms with expressing his feelings rather than bottling them up until he burst. Jose had to learn to be more patient.

It had taken quite a while before they finally got it right.

They took things slow. Very slow. They didn’t move in together till almost a year and a half of dating, and when they did move in, it was really more of a convenience thing. Brock had started out with his own drawer at Jose’s place. His one drawer grew to two drawers, grew to part of the closet, grew to both their clothes being practically interchangeable.

The moving in had been an adjustment as well.

Brock loathed laundry more than anything in the world, which is probably why he only wears that one goddamn red hoodie. Jose loathed doing dishes or cleaning up after himself in general. There were quite a few fights about each of their respective flaws when it came to tidying up. But the fights paled in comparison to all the other amazing things that came with living together.

Like how Jose made them have ‘date-nights’ every Saturday where they would curl up on the couch and watch a movie. They would alternate who got to pick the movie. Jose always opted for rom-coms and Brock tried his damndest to show Jose that other genres were pretty good too. Jose always ended up falling asleep when it was Brock’s turn to pick, but he couldn’t really be mad as the younger man snored peacefully on his lap.

It was the little things that made it all worth it. The way Brock would wake him up with kisses to his forehead or the way he would just look at him sometimes. Jose wouldn’t even be doing anything and Brock would just look at him like he was his world. Like he would steal every star in the sky if Jose just asked. Like he loved him.

Jose hadn’t actually expected Brock to follow up with the Valentine’s Day idea. But the next morning he got to work contacting their managers and clearing their schedules. Jose was surprised at how easily they got out of some of their previous engagements, but he wasn’t going to complain.

Rehearsals started two weeks before the show. Jose hadn’t expected there to really be rehearsals. He thought it was just going to be a fun night of the two of them bantering and performing after each other.

Brock had different ideas.

“No, J you have to turn left on 4.” Brock sounded exhausted.

He was. He hadn’t been sleeping well the past few nights. Jose had heard him pacing back and forth on their balcony, mumbling under his breath.

“I’m tryin, Mary. We can’t all be fuckin professional dancers on the first try.” Jose sounded agitated.

He was. Brock had been making them rehearse for the past six hours, and they had barely completed half the dance.

Brock had wanted to do this big opening number with all the girls at Mickys. It seemed like a fine idea, until Dance Instructor Brock took over. He was harsh and commanding and settled for nothing less than perfection. If Jose weren’t dead tired he would find it sexy. Right now he just found it annoying.

Jose spoke to the other girls in the room. “Let’s take a break.” They nodded their heads in agreement and made themselves scarce, giving the lovers time to talk.

Jose took slow steps over to Brock who was looking at himself in the mirror doing god knows what kind of move. Jose was irritated. Angry even. But he knew that had to be pushed aside for now. That was one of the many things he had learned in this relationship. If Brock was lashing out or being unbearable, it was most likely because he was hurting.

“Brock, baby, come talk to me.”

“Let me just-“

“Brock.” Jose spoke softly. “Please.”

Brock turned around at the tone in his boyfriend’s voice. He let his shoulders slump and his pristine posture relax.

“Hey.”

They looked at each other for a moment, letting the tension leave and small smiles mirror on their faces.

Jose stepped forward, still cautious. “What’s goin on up here?” He lightly tapped the side of Brock’s head with a finger. “Why you so intent on makin this perfect?”

Brock looked at him a moment, seemingly holding something back. “I just want it to be special. I know you love Valentine’s Day, and the past three years we haven’t been able to get it right.”

“Oh god, don’t remind me about the zoo.”

Jose saw Brock laugh, open and honest. The first he had laughed in what felt like days.

The three Valentine’s Days that they had been together had all ended horribly. One of them would plan something nice and it would inevitably go haywire. Leading to food poisoning, another cat to feed, and a lifetime ban from the Los Angeles Zoo.

Brock slid his hands into Jose’s, “I want it to be special for you. I want this Valentine’s Day to be perfect.”

It wasn’t the truth. Or at least, not the whole truth. Jose could tell there was still something eating at his boyfriend. But he let it go for now, and opted to smile, putting all the love he had on his face. Brock gave him a peck on the lips that felt far away even though they were inches apart.

“Alright. From the top.”

…

When the actual day arrived, Jose and Brock didn’t think too much about the show that night. They spent the day in all their favorite places. The little coffee shop around the corner from the hospital. The secret park they had found one night after drunkenly getting lost. Their living room. They talked and talked about everything and anything that came to mind. Content to just spend the day in domestic bliss.

But Brock dragged them away from their little paradise at around 10pm to head to Mickys. They got there early, thanks to Brock’s planning, and did their makeup in relative silence. Brock finished first, as always, and went to ‘check up on some things’ leaving a kiss on Jose’s cheek in his wake.

The crowd was electric. The place was packed full of so many people that Vanessa could barely see their faces. She and Brooke smiled to them and waved as they made their way on stage.

“Hi there everybody! How are you all doing tonight?”

The scream from the crowd was deafening.

“Lovely!” Brooke laughed. “Well we wanted to do something special for Valentine’s Day, so we are doing a show together for you guys.” The crowd cheered again. “And by the way for the Q&A we are gonna have you guys write questions down and let our lovely friends and managers pick the best ones for us to answer after the show.”

Vanessa chimed in. “There’s pens and paper at the bar, and while you’re over there grab yourself a drink, Mary. It’s Valentine’s Day.”

Brooke smiled at her and Vanessa marveled at how the butterflies still fill up her stomach at the sight.

The opening number went off without a hitch. However much Vanessa had loathed the long hours of rehearsing, Brooke had been right.

Vanessa kicked off the show with a high energy performance of ‘We Found Love’ - Rihanna and Vanessa being the ultimate crowd pleaser - the crowd was electric. They kept up the momentum with Brooke doing ‘Crazy in Love,’ a classic in her repertoire. Vanessa had always loved to watch her perform and stood in the wings of the stage, ignoring the knowing looks from their fellow performers. The two took turns back and forth performing a mix of pop and slow love songs. They even threw in a duet performance of ‘River Deep Mountain High’ and the audience ate up every minute of it, cheering especially loud at their banter between numbers. Vanessa, laughing like she never had before, Brooke, opening up and letting her personality shine through, rather than focusing solely on everything being perfect.

The Q&A kicked off with some sweet questions. Brooke and Vanessa alternated reading them to each other.

How long have you been dating?

“Three years.”

“Three years, a hundred and nineteen days.” Brooke corrected.

What is your favorite thing about one another?

“His eyes.”

“How loving he is.”

Who loves who more?

“I love you more.”

“Impossible.”

Best date you went on?

“For our third anniversary he took me to Disney World! Now if that ain’t a keeper I don’t know what is.”

“We went to this hole in the wall restaurant in Miami when we visited his folks. It was right next to the ocean, and we ate fresh seafood by the water and talked till the sun came up.”

The questions continued for almost an hour, becoming more and more sappy and Vanessa’s heart swelling more and more.

“Alright I think we can take one more question.” Vanessa said, trying to wind the show down after a look from their manager.

Steve handed Brooke the last question and Vanessa saw Brooke look at it quizzically for a second. Then a small smile teased the corner of her mouth. “Ok, this one is for you.”

Vanessa looked at her expectantly.

Brooke’s face softened all of a sudden, and in a split second, Brock was standing in front of her. The switch was immediate and Vanessa barely had time to register anything before Brock is speaking with a soft voice, reading the paper.

“I have loved you for what feels like all my life. I never knew that all I needed to be happy in life was a short Puerto Rican drag queen with a loud mouth and huge personality.”

Vanessa melted at the words and she suddenly knew exactly what was happening.

Brock’s eyes were watery as he continued on, looking up at Vanessa every other word, but still so anxious that he couldn’t look too long. “I am a better person for loving you. I know that to be true.”

Vanessa felt tears on her cheeks. She didn’t know when they had started to fall, but the floodgates behind her eyes had been released.

Brock angled the microphone away and reached for her hand as he whispered, “Don’t cry baby, you’re gonna make me cry.”

He pulled the microphone back to his lips. “You have effectively ruined me from loving anyone else. Which is good I guess, because I don’t want to love anyone else. Baby, there aren’t enough words in English to describe my love for you. Mi amor, there aren’t enough words in Spanish either. No language or words can show you all the ways you make my life better. Only actions.”

Brock breathed in and out and reached around the back of his outfit to pull out a small box. “So with that being said.” He got on one knee and Vanessa’s heart felt like it was beating out of her chest. Brock angled the microphone away again and spoke just to Jose. “Jose Cancel.” He put the microphone back to his mouth. “Will you marry me?”

Jose couldn’t pull Brock to his chest fast enough. He held him there for what felt like the rest of their lives. The audience was deafening, but Jose couldn’t even hear them. Focused on this moment. Focused on the now. Focused on how incredibly happy he was.

Brock pulled back and looked into his eyes. “Is that a yes?”

“Yes yes of course yes!”

Brock pulled him in for a kiss and it felt like everything fell into place.

The ring fit perfectly.

It was dramatic with small breaks in the silver exposing Jose’s finger and small diamonds placed strategically to fill the space. It was perfect.

Brock was perfect.

Jose couldn’t stop smiling.

Brock let Jose rest his head on the taller man’s shoulder as he wrapped up the show. “Well thank you guys so much for coming out tonight! And happy Valentine’s Day from me and mine to you and yours!”

Brock squeezed Jose’s hand and they made their way offstage to congratulations from their fellow performers.

When they made it back to their dressing room Brock turned and looked at him seriously. All the joy in his eyes a second ago had been replaced with worry. “I didn’t mean to put you on the spot out there. If you wanna take back your answer that’s fine. I understand.”

Jose shut him up with a kiss they both felt in their toes.

“When have you known me to say anything other than what I wanna say?”

Brock smiled at him. All his worry vanished. There was no trace of any hesitation or fear.

Only insurmountable joy.

#rpdr fanfiction #branjie #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #fluff #proposal #canon compliant #mac #the good times and the valentines

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flyswhumpcenter · 5 years

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Requiem [Whumptober 2019 - Stab Wound]

Summary: Felix gets stabbed in front of someone that isn't quite like the others in his eyes. Someone whose voice he never wanted to hear this torn apart.

Fandom: Fire Emblem: Three Houses (Blue Lions route, post-Timeskip, implied) Ship: Pre-Rel Annette/Felix

Content Warnings: Stabbing, major injury, depictions of blood, canon-typical violence.

Wordcount: 1,175 words

Notes: I've finally written actual whump for this challege, hurrah! It's only taken the 8th day for me to do that! I didn't quite think I'd write FE3H stuff for this Whumptober, especially when most of my friends seem to have jumped to other fandoms, or are at least less into the game as they used to be. Tbh, same, but I didn't see any other fandom I could write "Stab Wound" for (except maybe Trauma Center, but, heh... wasn't inspired for that one, you could say). I absolutely love Annette/Felix and am honestly surprised I've never written for it before. I think "Get Out Alive" almost was for them instead of just being Felix making it out of a battlefield while bleeding out (the prompt for it being "Bleeding Out", actually). Their support chain is one of my favorites of the game and I just really like their dynamic? And it allows me to pump out all the damn fucking musical imagery like there's no tomorrow, they open the floodgates of my metaphors. Anyway I love them and I've wanted to write them and this prompt seemed like a great choice

Event hosted by @whumptober2019

AO3 version available here.

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Truth be told, Felix has always thought of fighting on a battlefield as a solitary, almost lonely experience. It’s always been to kill or be killed and counting entirely on one’s army is a sure way to end up deceased by the end of the day and, even worse, showing a severe weakness. As he hates dependence on someone else and vulnerability in almost the same amounts, he’s always carried his duty on with himself in mind and, piercing through the air, his leader’s orders. Relying on his instincts, techniques and observations is a much safer way to fight a war and nothing could ever change his mind about it.

Although he may have counted a bit too much on his instincts.

His ears pick up on a distressing sound. Instead of feeling enhanced by her singing voice, the lyrics melting away into a choir guiding his moves and thoughts, he hears Annette’s words being filled with pain, almost strangled. His eyes quickly follow to get a visual on the scene, rushing without thinking twice about it as soon as he sees her getting threatened by a guy almost twice her size and more than double her weight for sure, discarding the body he’s just slashed with his sword. His legs are almost running on their own at that point, adrenaline more than enough to serve as a substitute for the energy he’s just poured on the battlefield.

He won’t let this battle be her swan song, not before he’s heard her sing again and teased her on the lyrics and spontaneity of her habit.

Alas, as he does to attack the axe wielder from behind with a sharp and to-the-point sword slash in the back, he doesn’t quite notice someone else sneaking up on him. When he does finally realize there’s a soldier waiting to kill him, it’s almost too late: their blades cross, and he feels like he’s getting punched, right before Annette’s horrified eyes. For a single moment, he wonders who is going to win, but he pushes his deep enough to inflict a mortal wound and, despite how ashamed he is of himself for having let his guard down this badly, he’s relieved to still be of the living.

“F-Felix…!” Her voice still trembles, far away from the melodious tones she has in her mouth when she cleans the library or waters the plants. “Y-You…”

He turns his head towards her, about to reply with some witty banter, glancing quickly at the Kingdom’s forces winning against their enemy, when a sharp pain makes itself known on his flank. His sword drops on the grass before he can even think of catching it back, putting a hand on the suddenly sore spot. One of his knees buckle without warning.

“Felix!!”

He looks at his fingers, noticing the red dripping from them and tainting the fabric of his gloves. Stretching an arm to recover his fallen weapon, the pain obvious and blurring his thoughts until they can’t be recognized. The wound is deep, he knows it from how lightheaded he now feels, the blood loss too major to be ignored. From all accounts, he’s potentially fatally wounded. If he’s won the ambush, he’s only done so by the skin of his teeth, and the blood keeps pouring.

“I need help! Anyone, please, help us!!”

Annette’s voice is distorted by her fears and panic, her arms flailing widely in front of him. The singing usually haunting him everywhere he goes and whatever he does is now gone, instead replaced by an excruciating requiem. Surely he’s done for.

She kneels before him, letting go of an anxious breath, sniffling and sobbing. His knee buckles again, making him pitch forward, and she decides to instead put him on his back and look around, eyes sharp, the expression on her face constantly shifting between sorrow, fear and a fierce kind of anger he’s not seen her feel yet.

“I’m gonna repay you,” she tells him with hand sparking. “I’m gonna repay you, and you won’t die, and it’ll be fine, and Mercie’s gonna heal you, and it’ll all be okay, I promise,” she almost hyperventilates out, chest rising and downing at an ever-quickening pace.

Not wanting to be quiet beaten in that territory, Felix tries rising to his feet, only for his own body to betray him at the last minute. Dammit, if he could just swing his sword around, he’d be fine being stuck there for a little bit, but he can’t even do that… His arms are weak, his legs have given up for now, and he has to watch Annette do all the dirty work he was supposed to be doing in the first place. Still, seeing this fierce side of her isn’t the most displeasing sight… If he wasn’t heavily blanking from his flank, if his head wasn’t feeling this heavy and this dizzy, it’d have been quite the sight to behold. Instead, he’s feeling his soul leave his body further and further, helpless, and he’d have rather died on the spot than be the witness of his own slow, disgraceful demise.

He also wishes Annette wouldn’t have had his blood on her delicate hands; but alas, it’s too late to have regrets.

Eventually, after thunder upon thunder has struck the ground of the battlefield, Annette kneels back to him, examining the wound with tears in her eyes and horror plastered on her face. He feels like he should be telling her something to reassure her, but he’s never been good with words, and the state he’s currently in doesn’t make it any better…

“Mercie’s gonna be here soon, don’t… don’t worry! You won’t die!”

As if he was planning on doing so.

“Takes… more than that… to kill me…”

“I know…! I know, but you’re still dying, Felix!”

She isn’t wrong. In fact, she’s entirely right. He is dying and will be until Mercedes can do something about it.

His consciousness, though, isn’t quite patient enough to wait for her to arrive to their position. Dammit… He’s always been impatient, but this is just ridiculous and ill-timed. He doesn’t want to die and wants even less to make Annette thinks he’s doing just that even further. He misses her smile even more so than he misses her songs, he figures, right as Mercedes’s voice echoes in the distance until it doesn’t anymore.

He holds on, clutching at the last shards of awareness he still has, as magic pieces back together some of the guilty wound. His vision dims to complete darkness while he’s being watched over by a gentle voice and a trace of the smile he’s wanted to see desperately all this time, leaving him with almost a sense of peace as he lets himself lose consciousness, certain he’ll somehow pull through it thanks to his companions.

Seen like that, it’s quite the ironic fate and thoughts to have for someone like him; and yet, when he eventually wakes up, he can only show gratitude to the woman who saved him.

#fire emblem three houses #fire emblem #felianne #feliann #felix hugo fraldarius #annette fantine dominic #whump #whumptober2019 #no. 8 #stab wound #stabbing #bleeding #cw blood #pre-relationship #canon-typical violence #injury #otp: sing for me

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theworldofsisi · 4 years

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Pretty (Finding Balance) 2

There was alcohol on his breath, and he was sure that it must have permeated the air around him like a stinking, suffocating cloud. He hadn't meant to drink that much because he knew that if had taken too much or his bandmate's liquor from his cabinet, he would find out and skin him alive.

That hadn't stopped him from completely losing control and cleaning the cabinet out of whatever was in it while the dorm was otherwise silent as the other members slept in relative peace. Ren had been left alone, his emotions in a tidal wave - he didn't know if he was sad or unfeeling, and honestly, he hadn't been able to find it in himself enough to care.

He had known that they had practice the next morning, but the rational part of him had been outweighed by the part of him that needed a quick fix to his pain, to forget all of the suffering he had been put through in the weeks past. And now here he was, sitting in the cramped and hot company van, on his way to practice with an ungodly hangover.

His head pounded like a bass drum and he felt nauseous, but he had still tried to eat breakfast so that he could at least appear like he was okay. He was able to hold it down until they started practicing, and the loud music, heat, and demanding dance moves unsettled his stomach and he found himself on his knees, heaving the contents of his stomach up onto the hardwood floor.

He held his hand up to stop the worried members from approaching him. Aron met his gaze when he was finished and sighed. “Ren, you're not sick. You're hungover, aren't you?”

“I had a little bit to drink last night.”

“A little bit? You cleaned out my entire fucking cabinet.”

Ren looked away and Aron shook his head. “I'm not mad about the liquor - I can buy more. I'm worried about you, Minki. I know you're smarter than that. There's no way in hell that you thought it was a good idea to get drunk knowing that we had practice the next morning.”

“I didn't get drunk on purpose.”

“Yeah, well what did you think would happen?”

“I don't know! I wasn't thinking, okay? Don't act like you've never showed up to practice hungover.”

“I didn't say that I haven't. Believe me, I know how many times I've done it. But you're also not me. You're more rational, hell more careful than me. That's why I'm concerned - it's normal for me, and unheard of from you.”

“There's a first for everything, right?” Ren knew that it was a petty move, but it was the only thing that he had left. He knew the comment had done its ob when Aron let out a long suffering sigh and turned his back to Ren. JR stepped forward, his leader mode activated.

“Arguing won't do anything to fix the problem now. I'll go tell the manager that we need to take you home.”

“No way! This will be the second time that we've called off practice early because of me in the last month.”

“Ren.” JR's voice was stern - he only used that tone of voice when there would be absolutely no bargaining with him. “Can you practice like this without puking across more of the floor?”

“Probably not.” Ren's words were seconded when his stomach gave another lurch and his hand flew to his mouth. He closed his eyes until the wave of nausea passed before meeting JR's gaze again.

“I thought so. We're going home, and that's final.”

An hour later, JR had gotten Ren back in the bed to sleep off the rest of his hangover and had situated himself on the couch. The leader was biting his lip as he scrolled through the contacts on his phone until the name that he was looking for popped up - Seong. He clicked her name and placed the speaker against his ear, his heart racing in his chest as he waited for her to pick up. It got to the third ring and he began to think that she wasn't going to pick up until the ringing stopped.

“Hello?” The voice on the other end was snippy and tired sounding, and JR began to wonder if he had woken her up. Shit - just what he needed to make this conversation even more awkward.

“This is JR. I know that I'm probably the last person that you want to talk to right now, but I really need you to hear me out. It'.s about Minki.”

“I don't want to talk about him.”

“I figured that much. But if you ever cared about him, and I know that you did, you'll listen. He went to practice drunk this morning.”

“He doesn't drink.”

“Not normally, no. Bu since you broke up with him, it's become a regular habit of his, but he hadn't managed to get drunk yet. He didn't care, Seong. He knew that we had practice today, but he still got drunk. Does that sound like the person you know?”

“I don't know the same person as you do, so I really couldn't say.”

“When will you wrap your head around the fact that he's both Ren and Minki? They're the same person, they just act differently. You know that he doesn't like drinking very much, whoever the hell you think he really is.”

Seong had a sarcastic comment on the tip of her tongue, but she felt it slip away when she heard the genuine concern in JR's face. It was now obvious to her that he was seriously worried about the possible implications of Ren getting drunk meant. Even then, she knew what he wanted her to do, but she couldn't bring herself to see Ren - not yet, not when his betrayal was still fresh in her mind. “I think I know what you're about to suggest, but I can't. I can't see him yet. You have to give me time. It still hurts too much to think about him, let alone see him.”

JR took a deep breath. He had been expecting the answer, but that didn't lessen the disappointment that he felt at actually getting it. “Yeah, I thought so. Thanks anyway.” T

“Hey JR?”

“Hm?”

“Try and take care of him? I.. couldn't live with myself if something actually happened to him.”

“I'll try my best.”

Ren stood in front of the bathroom mirror, staring at his long hair in distaste. He was getting tired of losing so much hair in the shower and clogging the drain, and waking up to find so much hair on his pillow that it looked like a cat had died. He knew that wasn't the only reason that he had the scissors in his hand, but he wanted to believe that this was completely his choice and just some simple change of fashion.

His hand was really guided by his desire to end the comments about his gender. While most of the comments about his sexuality had abated since he hadn't posted any more pictures with Seong, the rumors about his gender had gotten to the point that he couldn't go outside without someone recognizing him and asking him if he was really male. It was driving him crazy, and he hated feeling like he couldn't be himself, but if cutting his hair would make the comments end, then he would try anything at this point.

He grabbed one side of his hair and sighed deeply as he snipped it. The hair fell into the sink. He did the same with the other side until his hair was a good few inches shorter than it had been. It still was by no means short, but it wasn't as long either. He looked a little bit more masculine with his hair cut to his jaw, and surprisingly, he found the feeling empowering. He could choose to look more feminine or masculine just by making a simple change to his hairstyle.

He wasn't done yet. He couldn't stand to change his hairstyle without changing the color as well. He brushed his newly cut hair through with a brush, then opened the box of brown hair dye. He didn't even have to read the directions - he had dyed his hair enough in his career to know exactly what he was supposed to do.

Fifteen minutes later, he was in the shower washing out the dye. He watched as it whirled down the drain in a cloudy brown tidal wave. When the water began running clear, he stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel. His mind wandered back to the last time that he had dyed his hair and ruined Seong's towel - he had never apologized for ruining another one. She was sure to have found it and gotten appropriately angry by this point, and he wasn't there to promise to buy her another set to make up for it. The realization made his chest tighten and he closed his eyes against the tears pricking behind his closed eyelids.

With a sigh walked towards the mirror and stared at his handiwork. His hair was disheveled from being wet and freshly washed, but he could already see a difference in the shade of his hair despite the wetness. He smiled slightly as he collected the hair that he had cut from the sink and threw it into the trash.

He then proceeded to step two of his plan and got dressed in his favorite all black outfit. He did his makeup quickly, making sure to go light on the color of his lips and the darkness of his eyeliner, opting to use nude colors. He succeeded in making himself look more like a guy, and that made him happy.

He grabbed his phone and snapped a few photos of himself doing different poses and posted one to twitter. He didn't know what he was trying to prove, but he wanted to see if people still said the same things that they did when his hair was longer. He wasn't sure how much of a change cutting his hair would cause, but there had to be some improvement, right?

Ren couldn't have been more wrong. Within minutes, there were comments on his pictures that made his heart sink lower than it already had if that were possible. Some of the comments were worse than they had been before. It took everything he had not to throw his phone against the wall and watch it shatter into thousands of pieces, just like his sanity.

He couldn't please anybody, so maybe there really was no point in trying.

Ren didn't know why he wanted to go home, but he did. There was something comforting about the thought of being hugged by his mother, to hear her tell him that it would be okay. JR had managed to get the okay from the manager and company director to let Ren have a break. The leader had been worried about Ren going on his own, but he had managed to assure him that he would be perfectly okay to get back home on his own.

He had decided to take the bus route to Busan. It would take a little bit longer than driving would, but it would give him more time to think. Rather than thinking, he ended up falling asleep until the bus driver announced that they had arrived in Busan. He had kind of defeated the purpose of not driving, but if he had fallen asleep on the noisy bus, he didn't want to think about what could have happened if had chosen to drive instead.

He quickly exited the bus and made the short walk through the familiar streets of Busan until he came to his childhood home. He smiled when he realized that it was exactly the same - his dad was supposed to fix the broken step, but when Ren got to it, he felt it almost give under his weight and jumped up to the next stair quickly.

He threw open the front door and took one step inside. His mom was sitting on the couch and she smiled when she saw him. She stood up quickly when she saw her son and wrapped him in a firm embrace. “Minki, its so good to have you home, even if you're only here for a few days.” She took a step back to appraise him and bit her lip when she noticed how he looked. “You look... very pretty, son.”

“Do you have a problem with how I look?”

“You look a little bit like a girl. It's not necessarily a bad thing, but I'm afraid that it might make people.. wonder about you.”

Ren sighed. Somehow his mom had hit the nail on the head. “Yeah, you really have no idea, mom.”

His mom cast him a sympathetic look and kissed his cheek. “Your father might say something, but I still love you however you look, as long as you're happy.”

Ren nodded and smiled genuinely for the first time since Seong had broken up with him. “Thanks, mom.”

“It's not a problem Minnie. Now how are you and Seong?” Ren's face fell, and his mother released a long sigh. “You're not together anymore, are you?”

“We broke up about three weeks ago. There was a really stupid rumor about me, and for some reason, she believed it and she broke up with me.”

“You loved each other so much. Didn't you at least try to reason with her?”

“Of course I did, but she wouldn't listen. I haven't spoken to her since.”

“Do you want me to call her?”

"No. If she wanted to talk, she would have called me already. Will you please drop it?"

His mom gave him a sad smile but nodded anyway. "Sure. Have you eaten?" Ren paled and shook his head. His mother gave him a disapproving look. “You haven't been eating very much, have you?” She went straight to the kitchen and began preparing lunch for her son who smiled gratefully and sat on the living room couch. He soon fell asleep, and when the food was done, his mother simply sighed and covered him up with a blanket before planting a kiss on his cheek.

Ren awoke to the sound of his parents arguing, something entirely unusual in itself. He had only heard the two of them fight a handful of times during his entire childhood, and what made this time worse was that he heard continuous mentions of his name in his father's angry not quite yell. He rolled over onto his side and strained his ears to hear what his parents were saying. He managed to make out a few words, and none of them were reassuring.

“We had a son. We sent him off and he comes back looking like that - like some damn girl.” Ren's heart rose up into his throat as his mom yelled something back at his father, but he couldn't hear what she said over the roaring in his ears.

He felt physically sick and for a moment regretted not eating before falling asleep because he didn't have anything in his stomach to throw up. He had come home to his parents for consolation, and now here his father was talking about him while he thought that Ren was sleeping.

Ren heard more words being said, but he tuned them out as he buried his face into the couch cushion, fighting back the tears quickly springing to his eyes. He wouldn't cry - if his father felt like that about him, then he wasn't worth Ren's time. Crying over his father's opinions would prove that he cared, and he didn't care, did he?

When a choked sob escaped Ren's lips, he knew that he had answered his own question. He cared very much about what his father thought about him because he had always respected his father highly, despite his overly high expectations for his son. He had always known that his father had severe opinions when it came to how a man should look, but Ren had always thought that regardless of how he looked, his dad would never stop loving him. But that was what the fight sounded like it was over - how he was disappointed in him despite his growing success with Nu'Est. Ren could never be good enough to please him.

Fury and hurt spurred Ren into action as he stood up from the couch, causing the blanket his mother had covered him up with to fall onto the floor. He silently thanked his mother for her caring heart, then stormed into the kitchen where he heard his parents arguing. His father immediately stopped talking when he realized that Ren was awake, and his eyes bugged at the sight of his crying and obviously angry son.

“Minki.” he began, his voice shocked and almost... apologetic.

“Don't bother,” Ren said warningly as he wiped a hand across his face to brush away the tears. “I've been awake for awhile now, dad. I heard everything. I know what you really think about me, so don't worry. I'll find my way back to my dorm. Mom, I'll call you later. “

Without another glance back in his shocked parent's directions, Ren made his way out of the house, throwing the front door open as quickly as he could, not bothering to shut it. He got to the broken front step and jumped over it, not caring how hard he landed on the pavement below.

Ren hadn't realized that he was still crying until his eyesight was fogged up by the tears. He wiped them away furiously as he walked in a straight line away from his parent's house, not really sure where he was going but just knowing that he wanted to be anywhere but there.

He pulled out his phone and his fingers lingered over the one number that he didn't want to call, but knew that he had to. He wasn't even sure if she would pick up - it was late, and he knew that she had school the next day. But he still had to try.

The dial tone began ringing, and Ren's heart beat faster. He silently begged for her to pick up. A few seconds later, he heard a click and knew that his call had been picked up.

“Hello?” Came the sleep-tinged reply and Ren felt himself relax, even if just a little.

“It's Minki.” he muttered quietly, crying affecting the way his voice sounded.

“Are you crying?” he could hear the concern in Seong's voice, and it made something in his heart jump. She still cared about him, even if it was just about his well-being.

“Can you come and get me?” he knew that it was a bold request, but he needed her.

“Where are you?”

“Busan. I'll walk to the subway station. Can you meet me there?”

“I'll be there as soon as I can.”

Seong arrived at the subway station and found Ren leaning against a wall with his eyes closed. She touched his shoulder lightly, causing his eyes to flutter open. He gave her a weak smile and she led him to her car before shutting the door and getting in herself. He had fallen asleep with no explanation minutes later, and it was only then that she noticed how tired and worn he looked. His hair was also shorter and lighter, and she wondered when that had happened.

She drove him back to Nu'Est's dorm in a daze, the time seeming to pass by in a blur. She had called JR to tell him that she was bringing Ren home, and he had agreed to stay awake to let her in. Sure enough, when she pulled up to the dorm, the leader was sitting outside in a chair with his head laid against the house. He blinked his eyes open when the bright lights of Seong's car shone into his face.

He gave her a tiny smile as he opened the car door and pulled the still half asleep Ren into a standing position and led him to the dorm, turning back around to wave at Seong as she pulled away. With some effort, he managed to get Ren inside the dorm and into his bed before sighing and getting into his own. Worry filled his mind at what had caused Ren to come home after not even staying with his parents for a day and the look of pain that had been written clearly on his friend's face, even in sleep.

Ren awoke with dried tears on his face. He blinked the remaining moisture out of his eyes and sat up in bed, quickly realizing that he was in his room in Nu'Est's dorm, and not the living room of his parent's house. The memories of the night before came back to him in a rush, and more tears sprang to his eyes, but he fought them back.

With a sigh, he got out of bed and stumbled groggily to the bathroom. His hair was disheveled and his dark eyes puffy and tired looking, despite having just woken up. He ran a hand through his hair and winced as his father's comments ran through his brain again, causing a fresh wave of pain to course through his body.

He wasn't good enough to please Nu'Est's fans, hell he wasn't good enough to please his own parents. He really couldn't do anything right, so why should he keep trying? There wasn't a reason to keep fighting for approval, to keep caring what others thought if no matter what he did, he would never have been able to live up to the world's expectations for him.

A small laugh escaped him and he covered his mouth quickly, unsure of why he was laughing. It wasn't like him - the sound wasn't normal, and he wondered if he was beginning to have a mental breakdown. Huh, wouldn't that be great? He imagined the headlines for that one with a sarcastic smirk. 'Transvestite idol in a mental asylum after having a psychotic break' that would be just his luck, something more to ruin his already devastated reputation.

He laughed again against his will, a bit louder this time. At the same time, he realized that he was crying harder than he ever remembered crying before. He ran back to his room and dialed Seong's number, praying that she would be willing to talk to him again. He needed her to save him before he shattered into a billion pieces that could never be put back together.

“Minki, why do you keep calling me?” he hadn't even realized that she had picked up until he heard her angry voice on the other end.

“Seong, please. I need to talk to you - I know that I shouldn't be asking you because we're over, I know. But please give me a few minutes to talk to you. Just please.”

Seong was about to hang up, until she heard the desperation in his voice, and knew that he was crying. She had always had a weakness for him when he cried because it was so unusual for him to break down. “O-okay.” she agreed almost instantly.

“Meet me at the restaurant across from your apartment at seven.”

Seven o'clock rolled around quickly as Ren showered and changed into something presentable. He brushed his tangled hair, but didn't bother putting on makeup - he wasn't going out to please anyone. He just wanted to make things right. He'd been drinking for a few hours, once again “borrowing” some of Aron's liquor, this time not even caring if it was obvious that he had taken some. By this point, he wondered if his band-mate even cared. Why would anyone care about what someone like him did?

He was sure that he smelled like a drunk bum, but that was nothing that a bit of cologne couldn't fix. He squirted some of his favorite on his clothes, realizing as the scent wafted up to his nose that it was the one that Seong liked most on him as well. He smiled a little bit against his will before the cold reality hit him and he frowned again.

He checked his phone for the time, nearly dropping it as he read the time. It was already six forty-five, and he wasn't there. Ren walked quickly through the living room, not stopping to address the curious looks of his four hyungs as he walked by them. He was a man on a mission.

Ren arrived at the restaurant at 7:03, and saw Seong already sitting at the booth when he went inside the warm building. A waiter handed him a menu, and he ordered a salad, along with a bottle of soju. Seong gave him a distasteful look as she smelled his cologne from across the booth, mixed in with some other poorly masked but unmistakable scent.

“You've already been drinking tonight?” she asked quietly, and he just sighed.

“Yeah.”

“Why are you here, Minki?”

“I wanted to tell you that you were wrong. I've never kissed JR, I've never done anything with JR. He's my friend, like a brother to me.”

“How close you are to someone doesn't mean that those feelings can't turn into something else. Look at us - we were basically siblings, but we still ended up together.”

“Do you regret that we ended up together?”

“No. I regret that I put so much faith in you.”

Ren let out a tired breath. “You still believe that those pictures are real.”

“I don't know what I believe, Minki.” Seong was cut off by the waiter who gave them an apologetic smile as he set Ren's food out in front of him. Ren didn't bother eating, instead, he ended up grabbing the bottle and taking a long swig. He wasn't sure how much he had drank before coming to meet Seong, but he knew that he was definitely close to drunk already.

He continued to sip on the soju as Seong talked. Once half of the bottle was gone, he could barely comprehend her words, but it didn't frighten him. He enjoyed being numb - he couldn't think about all of the things that hurt him when he was like this.

The only thing that managed to break through the haze was the sound of cameras, many cameras snapping pictures, surrounding him and in his drunken state, making him feel trapped. He cast Seong a downcast glare, even though his vision doubled and suddenly there wasn't just one of her giving him a concerned look as her gaze darted from him and then around the small restaurant, seemingly searching for the source of the shutter noise.

Ren couldn't shake the feeling that it was all too damn convenient. He finally gets to the point that he needed Seong the most, and barely a few minutes into their meeting, it was being crashed by reporters. Somewhere in the back of his clouded mind he knew he was being irrational and jumping to conclusions, but that part wasn't dominant enough to quiet his fears.

Ren shook his head and cast his ex-girlfriend a look that he could only pray showcased the entire weight of betrayal and hurt he felt at her giving up his privacy like she so obviously had. He had trusted her despite their breakup, had trusted her because he had never known a time in his entire life that he hadn't trusted her. Clearly, that trust and their long past meant nothing to her if she had betrayed the one person that she promised to always be loyal to.

Seong wasn't inside of his head - she didn't understand the pointed looks that Minki was giving her, but at that moment, she realized that whatever pieces of her ex might have been left in the shell of him that becoming a member of Nu'Est had left him in, were gone and all that remained in his place was someone she didn't know at all.

Despite everything, despite the near hate-filled looks he was giving her, she knew that whatever happened, she couldn't let him out of her sight, lest he do something incredibly stupid. She watched him carefully as his brown eyes softened slightly, becoming more confused and frightened than angry. She realized that more of the alcohol must be taking effect and changing his judgment. She couldn't move in time as he cast her one final look, even though it didn't look like he saw her at all. He was out the door in an instant, like a startled cat trying to hide under a bed during a thunderstorm.

Only Ren wasn't running from a thunderstorm, he was running straight into the crowd of reporters that she knew all too well were waiting for him just outside of the restaurant's doors. Seong threw some money on the table, positive that it was entirely too much but not being able to find it in herself to care as the one she loved darted through the doors, obviously terrified and confused... lost even.

She ran in the direction that she hoped he had taken, ripping her arm away from a touchy reporter who tried to grab her for questioning about Ren. She was having none of it as she charged by the entire horde of people, desperate to catch up to Ren before he got into some sort of trouble. Ren stumbled blindly through the streets, no longer sure where he was or for that matter, who he was. The only thing that he could register was that he didn't feel normal. Whatever was going on with him was wrong. His vision should not be blurry, and the road sure as hell should not have looked like it was rushing to smack him in the face.

That's exactly what it did as Ren fell forward numbly, his stomach giving a lurch as he fell to his knees, expelling the contents of his stomach onto the pavement in front of him. A metallic scent filled the air, and in some quickly awakening part of his consciousness, he knew that he should not be coughing up blood. Blood was bad, and he could see even in the dim lighting that what he had thrown up was far more blood than alcohol.

Ren fell forward and vomited again, this time his vision going almost completely dark before slowly focusing again. He couldn't see through the tears in his gaze, the burning in his throat and the churning of his stomach causing him to roll as far away from the pile as possible before collapsing, too weak to move. He only hoped that he wouldn't have to throw up again because by that point he honestly wasn't sure whether or not he would have the strength to roll himself over so that he didn't suffocate.

A choked laugh that sounded more like a broken sob to his still hazy ears burst from his mouth as he realized fully the situation he had gotten himself into. He was in some alley god knows where throwing up blood. Using the last bit of his strength the singer reached into his back pocket for his phone, finally realizing how much his fingers were shaking as he tried to grasp the one thing that might be a lifeline to him.

He didn't know who he could call. The chances were that if something serious were wrong with him, none of the members of Nu'Est would be able to reach him in time to provide any sort of assistance. His mind wandered back to the one person who at this point in time, he really didn't want to see. Something in screamed that he should call emergency services, but he wasn't sure if he had enough strength to talk.

With Seong, it would be simple to alert her that something was wrong. Having known each other as long as they had, they had developed the makings of their own language at some point during their childhood. He wasn't sure anymore when it had started, but they had developed short words for important things, such as if one of them was in trouble and needed help.

He was sure that word would serve him well now as he typed their safe-word into his phone, fingers just barely managing to hit send before the shaking in his hand worsened and the phone fell from his grasp. His stomach continued to toss and he closed his eyes against overwhelming nausea, tears filling streaming from his eyes as he prayed that he would be able to keep it down. Moving was painful, but if he didn't move and he got sick, he would die.

He sent a silent prayer to whoever was listening that Seong would get to him in time and that he wouldn't die in that alley surrounded by his own vomit and God knows what else, crying alone having never made things right with the one person who despite her apparent betrayal, still meant the world to him.

Ren felt his vision blackening once again as the nauseous feeling that he had been experiencing reached an all-time high. He forced himself to roll over, not able to see where he was but having no time to think about it as he retched onto the pavement again, coughing and choking as he accidentally swallowed some of it. He managed to cough and spit it out before he asphyxiated, but the act caused the copper taste of blood to fill his mouth even stronger than before.

He slumped forward again, his head connecting with the pavement hard enough for him to see stars. He realized too late that he was passing out, the sudden injury to his head not even giving him enough time to make sure that he was rolled to a position where he wouldn't choke if he threw up again, before the darkness that he had been fighting finally took over. Silent tears trickled down his face as his world went black and he was aware no more.

Panic was one of the strongest human emotions. That much made itself well known to Seong as she frantically ran, covering more ground in those few minutes than she had covered in her entire life. She didn't know where Ren was, but she had a gut feeling that even in his drunken state, he had probably tried to go in the direction of Nu'Est's dorm. She could only pray that she was right, because if she wasn't, she was afraid that Ren was going to die. He had never used their word for help outside of the most extreme emergencies, and for the first time in at least five years, he had sent her a message with that very same word that instantly made her heart drop like lead into her already unsettled stomach.

She had already called for an ambulance, explaining to the woman on the other line that she was sure that someone was in trouble and would take full responsibility if it turned out to be a hoax. Deep in her heart she knew that it wasn't that simple. She told the rescuer that she would find where the injured person was and then call them back so that they could reach Ren.

Spurred by adrenaline, her feet pounded across the dark pavement until she found an alley. She had a fear of going into dark and shady looking places at night, but she would do it for Ren. She had always trusted her gut feeling, and at that moment it was telling her that Ren was there and that he needed her more than he ever had before.

The first thing that she noticed was the strong odor permeating the air of the alley. It smelled musty and uninviting like you would expect from a place where countless crimes had more than likely been committed, but that was overshadowed by a foul scent that made her stomach churn - she didn't have to guess that it was vomit. Vomit wasn't the only scent that caught her hyperaware attention - the unmistakable scent of blood hit her hard, and she stumbled forward blindly in the dark.

It was only then that she saw the crumpled heap lying on the ground, surrounded by puddles of what looked to be something red. Seong's heart broke when she noticed long black hair and she knelt down beside the collapsed figure, rolling him over so she could be sure that it was her Ren.

It was. A choked sob escaped her lips as she realized that her best friend and former boyfriend was deathly pale, his breathing shallow and labored. Not to mention that somewhere in her daze she had managed to place both scents together and knew that he had been vomiting blood.

She scooted behind him so that his head was in her lap. Trying to see through her tears she stroked his sweat drenched hair fondly, hoping to relax him some. His body stiffened as he coughed and she barely managed to turn him onto his side before more vomit splattered across the pavement. Seong rubbed his back carefully as she reached for her phone and called back the EMT. Her voice was low and dead sounding as she told them where they were. Ren retched again and more tears streamed from her eyes.

It felt like hours but it couldn't have been more than minutes when flashing red and blue lights assaulted her eyesight in the previous darkness of the alley. She barely registered it as someone pulled Ren off of her lap and wrapped her in a blanket before gently hauling her to her feet.

She's ushered into the ambulance, her spirit feeling like it's outside of her body. She briefly registers her informing the emergency personnel that Ren was an idol in a band and would need to be in a private room to avoid the publicity that she knew would severely damage Nu'Est's reputation. Her fingers seemed to act on their own accord as she dialed JR's number. She could barely understand his panic filled voice as she told him that Ren had been injured and was being transported to a hospital in Seoul. She hung up quickly, unable to handle the tears that she could already hear making the leader's voice deeper.

The only thing that broke into her haze was Ren, his dark brown eyes dazed and confused as he blinked them open and instantly reached for Seong's hand. She held it tightly, her heart breaking at how completely weak that his hold on her hand was. It killed her seeing him like this, but before she could find the words to apologize, he was saying the words that she wanted to say to him, his voice desperate and pleading despite obviously having no strength to be convincing. She had no idea what he was talking about, and could only attribute it to his drunken delirium and loss of blood causing him to say things that made absolutely no sense. She was the one who needed to apologize, for breaking his heart and leading him down a dark path that she hadn't even known that he had been traveling on ever since their sudden breakup.

Her earlier adrenaline began to wear off and she finally felt the full weight of the situation. Because she had jumped to conclusions and immediately assumed that Ren had been cheating on her without giving him a chance to explain, here he was in an ambulance, pale and very sick. His eyes were glazed as he fought to keep them open, to keep holding Seong's gaze. It was a losing battle, that much was obvious as his grip on Seong's wrist became even slacker.

Wanting to keep her hold on his hand, Seong tightened her own grip and it was only then that she realized how cold that his hand felt. There was no heat radiating from his body - it was like he was already dead. One of the EMT's working to stabilize Ren paused for a moment and cast her a sympathetic look. “He's freezing. The vomiting and loss of consciousness, as well as the lack of body heat, are all symptoms of alcohol poisoning. That's my guess as to what's wrong with him, but the doctor will have to professionally diagnose him. It's a good thing that you got to him when you did.”

Seong nodded, blinking back tears as she stroked Ren's cold hand. A few seconds later his eyes closed and her breath hitched in her throat. “Minki?”

The EMT put her fingers against Ren's neck, checking for a pulse. “He's alive, just unconscious.” The EMT gave Seong a curious look as something clicked in place. “You said he's an idol? I remember him now - Ren from Nu'Est, correct?”

“Yes.”

“This doesn't seem like something he would do at all - drinking himself to this point. I don't know him personally, but he's always seemed so bubbly and happy. I guess appearances can be deceiving.”

“He normally is happy. It's just that he's been going through some issues lately. Some “fans” of Nu'Est don't support his appearance and fan's opinions of him weigh heavily in his mind. And then... we broke up. This is really my fault - I knew what he was going through, but I still believed some stupid rumor. Of course, I still don't know if I'm convinced that it isn't true, but I didn't even give him a chance to explain. If I had, maybe he wouldn't have started drinking. He wouldn't be in this mess right now.” Seong didn't really know why she was spilling all of this information to the EMT, but she couldn't stop.

The woman gave her a gentle smile. “He seems like a fighter - I'm sure he'll pull through. You can let him explain everything first thing when he wakes up.”

Seong nodded and returned the smile, even though it didn't quite reach her eyes.

“He has alcohol poisoning. I'm guessing that he continued drinking even after he was drunk. Many lightweight people get drunk much faster than they expect so they continue drinking, not realizing that they're already drunk because the alcohol hasn't caught up with them. I'm also guessing that he didn't eat before he started the night. The prognosis is good, however. We're giving him an IV to prevent dehydration. He should regain consciousness in a few hours when some of the alcohol wears off.”

“Thank you, doctor.” The doctor gave Seong a knowing smile and nodded before walking out of the room and letting the door fall closed behind him. Seong laid her head on Ren's bed, feeling completely exhausted. She lifted it up after a moment and glanced across the room to where JR was sitting. The other members were in the lobby due to the hospital's two visitor at a time policy. JR had insisted on being the first one to visit.

The leader had his eyes closed, but Seong didn't have to guess that he wasn't asleep. He was probably just like her - wracked by worry and guilt, unable to sleep if his life depended on it. As if sensing Seong's gaze on him, JR opened his eyes and stared back before running a hand through his hair. “You alright?” he asked softly.

Seong shook her head in way of answer. “No. You?”

“Nope. I'm relieved to hear that he's okay, but I should have known that his problem was getting worse. It's my responsibility as the leader to know my members - to watch over them and know when something is wrong. Not that I didn't see it, I just didn't know what to do about it.”

“You knew what to do.” Seong felt like crying again when JR gave her a questioning look, so she proceeded with her guilty thoughts. “You tried to call me and tell me that something wasn't right with him, but I didn't care. I was too hurt and I refused to see him. If I hadn't been so hard-headed, we could have stopped this before it started. I'm.. sorry JR.”

Seong barely registered it as one minute JR was sitting on the couch, and the next minute he was standing in front of her, his arms wrapped tightly around her. Seong hugged JR back, unable to do anything else as tears streamed down her face. She could hear him whispering consolations to her, but she didn't want to hear them. After a moment, JR pulled away and looked her square in the eyes, his expression more serious than she ever remembered seeing it. “It's not your fault. Some people don't have anything better to do than try and make idols lives a living hell. It was only natural that you believed the rumor with everything else circulating.”

“I should have trusted him, though.”

“That's what you think, but that's why it hit you so hard. You trusted him too much and felt like he betrayed you. That's like a weapon of mass destruction and can tear apart any relationship. You reacted like anyone else would have, sadly it wasn't the reaction that Ren wanted.” JR gave her a concerned look before sighing. “You look like shit - sorry for being blunt. I'm going to go and update everyone about his condition. Try to get some sleep, will you?”

Seong nodded and watched as JR left the room, allowing the door to fall closed behind him. Suddenly feeling the true weight of her exhaustion, Seong blinked a few times to try and clear her vision. It didn't help and she knew that the only way to recover would be to give in and sleep. The couch looked completely uninviting and she knew that if she tried to sleep in the chair, her back would hurt so bad when she woke up that she wouldn't be able to move; the only option was to crawl into bed with Ren- the bed was plenty wide enough for her to sleep if she stayed pressed against his side.

Kicking off her shoes quickly, she gingerly sat on the bed, carefully avoiding the wires attached to Ren before laying on her side. Seong pressed her head against Ren's chest, listening to his heart beating steadily. Even though they had broken up, her position felt natural - like she was still designed to fit perfectly against his side. For just a moment, she didn't care about the turn that their relationship had taken - she didn't care about her loss of trust in him. Right at that moment, she wanted to be with him. She was lulled to sleep quickly by the melodic sound of Ren's heartbeat.

Ren woke up feeling like complete and utter shit.

His head pounded, and he was almost certain that his brain was going to break out of his skull, and his stomach felt like it was trying to reject anything that he had put in it since birth. Despite that, there was a pleasant weight settled against his chest and he looked down curiously to figure out what it was.

He was met with familiar rod-straight black hair fanned around a pretty face. It was Seong, and she was sleeping in a bed with him. The singer blinked a few times before opening his eyes again, convinced that what he was seeing had to be an illusion or the perfect dream. Seong was still there when he looked down at his chest again, and he was finally convinced that she was really there with him. Ren's hand acted on its own accord as he reached towards her hair, needing to feel the comforting sensation of her soft hair through his fingertips.

Ren stroked her hair gently for what seemed like forever, until Seong's light brown eyes opened and he stopped, resting his arm behind his head. A slight blush colored her cheeks as she sat up and moved to the edge of the bed before looking back over her shoulder at Ren.

“Do you remember what happened?” she questioned worriedly. She had read on the internet that amnesia was a common symptom associated with alcohol poisoning. Ren thought for a moment before a distant look appeared on his face and Seong sighed.

“Yeah... I was drunk and there were reporters. I was trying to get away and I went into an alley. I think I got sick and passed out.”

“I didn't call those reporters, Minki.”

“I know. I wasn't thinking rationally. I knew I was jumping to conclusions even then, but I wasn't in my right mind. I'm sorry for accusing you or that.”

“Don't bother apologizing. It was the same thing that I did to you when I saw those pictures.”

Ren turned his attention back to Seong before closing his eyes tightly. "I just wish you had given me a second to convince you. I would never cheat on you with JR."

"Will you be honest with me? When you touch him is it really skin-ship? I've seen the way you look at him, Minki. There's something there but I don't know what.”

Ren took a deep breath, steeling his nerves as he lowered his gaze from Seong's. “I'm bisexual, Seong.”

Seong stared at him as if caught off guard. Then the surprise faded from her expression. “So you do like JR?”

“Yeah. But I've never kissed him - I've never done anything with him. I don't know how to make that any clearer. Those pictures, every single one of them was photoshopped. I don't know why they look so convincing, but you have to trust me when I say that even if I've had thoughts like that about JR in the past, they're thoughts, and I've never acted on them. I'm never going to act on them because you mean the world to me.”

Seong felt tears pricking at her eyes and she looked away, desperate not to cry in front of him. “I'm sorry for not giving you the chance to explain. I don't even know why I didn't let you explain - something in me snapped when I saw those pictures. I was already upset because I felt like I haven't really known you since you debuted. But I should have known that those pictures weren't real considering what else was going on during that time. All of those comments about you, the hate and rumors, and I fell right into the trap.”

Ren sighed. “You did, but at least you realize that. It taught me something, though - we trust each other, but not as much as we thought. That might really be something to think about in the future.”

Seong gave him a defeated look. “You say that like you still that we have a future.”

“As far as I'm concerned, we do. That is if you want us to.”

Seong's eyes widened and she blinked back tears for what felt like the millionth time. “I'd like that.”

Ren's expression instantly brightened as relief swept over him. “Come here.” Seong settled back down on the bed beside him and he planted a kiss on her forehead. “I love you, Seong.”

“I love you too. Promise me that you're going to stop drinking. It's not healthy for you and I never want to see you like that again.”

The singer's expression became guilty as he stroked a hand through her long hair. “I promise. Drinking wasn't very fun anyway - I think I have a really low tolerance. Being hungover during practice was the worst thing I've ever done.”

Seong chuckled before snuggling into his side, her previous exhaustion once again catching up with her. Ren relaxed too, still feeling weak from his illness. The two soon fell asleep wrapped in a familiar embrace.

#nu'est #ren #jr #minhyun #baekho #aaron #pledis #mental health #angst

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duhragonball · 5 years

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Dragon Ball 113

Now that Emperor Pilaf’s crew is out of the way, King Piccolo can finally get down to business, which is conquering the world.

Piano tries to brief Piccolo on the current geopolitical situation, but Piccolo just zaps his whole Powerpoint presentation. I really like Piano as a character, and I’m not entirely sure why, other than that he sort of reminds me of some of Jabba the Hutt’s entourage in Return of the Jedi. Functionally, he’s probably like Bib Fortuna, but he talks like C-3PO, and he sort of feels like a team mascot, like Salacious Crumb.

Also, the dynamic between Piano and Piccolo is kind of interesting. Piano speaks much more candidly to Piccolo than anyone else, indicating that he’s a close and trusted advisor. Presumably, Piccolo created him just like Tambourine and Cymbal, which means that Piano is exactly what Piccolo wanted him to be. And yet Piano doesn’t seem to quite fit Piccolo’s plans. He tries to act like he’s counseling a real king, but Piccolo’s military and domestic policies essentially boil down to “Break Stuff”.

I think this points to King Piccolo’s defining character trait. He’s a horrible, merciless villain, sure, but I think what sets him apart from the others is that he’s a bitter outsider who wants to punish everyone on the inside. That’s why he wants to topple the legitimate king and usurp his throne. The Red Ribbon Army was content to establish their own power base someplace else, but Piccolo wants the recognition. He wants people to know that he’s part of their society--the top part-- whether they like it or not.

So with that ambition comes this attitude that he has to make himself look and feel like a real king. That’s why he surrounds himself with advisors like Piano, that’s why he sits on a throne, and that’s why he wants to move into King Castle. I don’t think any of these things actually helps him accomplish his goals, but when your goal is basically “Break Stuff”, I guess it doesn’t matter. King Piccolo doesn’t isn’t really interested in the final outcome of his reign, just so long as he gets to have authority that he can abuse.

As the pair cruise into the city surrounding King Castle.... You know, I’m just gonna go back to calling it “King’s Castle”. Funimation added the possessive, and I’m starting to see why. It just sounds better that way.

Anyway, it’s the 20th anniversary of King Furry’s reign, so there’s a big celebration with fireworks and a parade and so on.

A lot of this episode is designed to set up King Furry as a counterpoint to Piccolo. He’s everything Piccolo isn’t: modest, peace-loving, a dedicated public servant.

The catch is that King Furry’s record sort of contradicts a lot of the lawlessness we’ve seen in Dragon Ball leading up to his introduction. Characters like the Ox King, the Red Ribbon Army, and Mercenary Tao seem to be able to do whatever they please. I’ve always interpreted this to man that KIng Furry may officially rule the entire world, but he has a hard time enforcing his policies in the periphery of his kingdom.

To be sure, I don’t expect King Furry to be perfect. It’s likely that the world was a lot worse off before he assumed power, and the peace and prosperity his subjects are celebrating is a relative thing. I just find it odd that the Red Ribbon Army was a Big Problem just three years ago, and everyone in this episode is acting like that never happened.

Meanwhile, in the Land of Korin, Goku’s planning to seek help from Korin at the top of Korin Tower. But he’s all beat up, so Bora suggests that he rest for a few days before making the climb. But Goku can’t wait, so he says Yajirobe will take him up. Yajirobe refuses, until Goku tells him that there’s Senzu at the top of the tower, and it’s “Wizard Food”.

This leads Yajirobe to imagine a cereal mascot making giant food items appear out of thin air. See, this right here is what all those Harry Potter movies should have looked like. How hot would that be? Dumbledore fights Voldemort, and they just keep trying to crush each other under giant pizzas and hot dogs.

Bora offers to help the boys out by doing a Fastball Special. Only it’s even cooler than a Fastball Special because he’s gonna throw two people straight up.

I can’t believe Dragon Ball topped Harry Potter AND the X-Men in this one episode. Well, actually, I can totally believe it. This show rules. Yajirobe grabs Goku’s butt, and Bora grabs Yajirobe’s butt, and we’re off to the races.

Of course, the animators sneak in plenty of upskirt shots of Yajirobe. Wotta buncha perverts.

Once they’re as high as they can get, Yajirobe starts climbin’, crying out ORAORAORA as he goes. Wow, a JoJo reference too. This episode has everything.

Back at King’s Castle... uh... City? Kingscastletown? Castle City? I think I’m gonna start calling it that.

Why are all these soldiers wearing pink? I mean, they look all right, but they have a real ice cream truck vibe to them. This makes me wonder if ice cream trucks in this town are Hum-vees driven by army guys in pixelated cookie-dough camo. That’d be pretty badass.

So Piccolo’s ready to start invadin’. First thing he does is T-Pose for dominance, and then he drops right on down on King’s Castle.

This guy at the gate tells him he can’t go in, and he has a gun, so Piccolo gives up and leaves. And that’s the end of the story! Kind of anticlimactic, but it’s a pretty daring way to wrap up a saga like this. I think the moral here is--

Just kidding, Piccolo stone cold murders all the guards and just wanders through the castle at will. Also, Piano finds a bag of chips next to some guy’s corpse and just picks it up like a crow. This show is amazing.

Meanwhile, Master Roshi and Chiaotzu are still dead.

I feel like Tien’s sort of wasting time here. I guess the last couple of episodes have taken place in roughly real-time, so it’s been maybe about twenty minutes since Piccolo made his wish? That’s kind of nuts when you think about it. But it feels like TIen’s been standing around all week.

The rest of Dragon Team finally arrives, and thank goodness Yamcha’s changed out of his blue tank top and short-shorts. That outfit looked terrible on him. Launch, of course, is still wearing her cool outfit from the Tien Saga, because you don’t want to mess with perfection.

So, just to be clear, Master Roshi is dead....

And Chiatozu is dead.

Yamcha tells Tien that they need to team up to beat Piccolo. Okay, time out, fantasy booking time. What if they really did team up, and somehow they found out about the fusion dance, and King Piccolo met his match in... Tiencha!?

Like, TIencha would just instantly master the Mafuba, because he has Tien’s firsthand knowledge of the technique, combined with Yamcha’s ability to improvise moves like the Kamehameha and Spirit Ball. But he’d be like, no. No, this King Piccolo dude needs to pay. So he’d wear him down with some Dodohamehas, and then polish him off with the Wolf Fang Volleyball Fist. Then he’d cross his arms and shout “The Power of Tiencha!”

Then Tiencha would be made the new king. Yamcha and Tien would rule jointly, but they’d use the fusion dance before making any important decisions.

But no, we can’t do anything super mega awesome like that. Instead, Tien wants to go off by himself and master the Mafuba on his own. Yamcha offers to learn it with him...

But Tien tells him it would be impossible for Yamcha, since he’s never seen the move performed. Well neither did Mutaito when he invented it, and so far he’s the only one who ever executed it successfully.

So Tien flies off on his own, leaving Launch to get all a-flutter over his stoic heroism. Look, I get what they’re going for here. This is Tien’s redemption arc, and Yamcha would just be in the way. But this is a really dumb play. Basically, Tien’s setting himself up to make the same mistake Master Roshi made. Even if Yamcha doesn’t stand a chance of learning the Mafuba, he could still help in other ways, and if nothing else, he could be there when Tien tries it, and then if things don’t work out, he’ll finally have firsthand knowledge of the technique, so he can learn it himself.

Back at the parade, King Furry receives flowers from little girls from different parts of the world. One of them is Suno from the Red Ribbon Army Saga. I think this is the first time her hometown is called “Jingle Village”, and I really wish they had used that name back when I needed it.

Unfortunately, Piccolo blows up a bunch of heavy artillery at the castle, and the explosions finally disrupt the celebration, spoiling Suno’s big moment.

In hindsight, it probably would have been better to call off the rest of the celebration, but this guy in white only got word that a lone intruder was a the castle, and he thought tanks would be enough to stop him, so he decided not to interrupt the ceremony. It was the wrong call, but I can’t blame the guy, since none of them had any idea what they were dealing with. Now that he does know, he suggests King Furry leave the area immediately.

Furry really doesn’t want to do that, although he’s wise enough to know that his security chief is right. Piccolo came her to get Furry, so if he can escape the city, there’s at least a chance Piccolo will follow him instead of hurting anyone else.

Meanwhile this huge dude tries to buy them some time. From the dialogue, I get the impression that he’s the guy on the security detail they call when conventional weapons don’t work. So at least King Furry’s staff recognizes that there are fighters in the world strong enough to resist tanks and guns. It sort of makes me wonder why anyone still bothers with tanks and guns, though.

Piccolo offers the guy a job, but he’s not interested. It says a lot about King Furry that these guys are willing to lay down their lives for him, even against a foe this powerful. This whole part of the saga feels like an inversion of Goku’s assault on Red Ribbon Headquarters, only now it’s a villain no-selling a bunch of good guys with guns. But unlike the Red Ribbon soldiers, these guys are motivated by honor and loyalty, rather than denial and fear.

To be sure, a couple of other guards see Piccolo kill this dude and they run away, but at this point, I’d say it’s the smart call. There’s nothing left to defend here but an empty castle, and they’re way out of their league. All they’d accomplish by staying is to die.

Unfortunately, Piano spots King Furry making his escape.

And it doesn’t take long for Piccolo to catch him.

Elsewhere, a kid asks his mom if there’s anyone who can stop Piccolo.

Suno knows someone.

Yeah, Goku’s gonna come back and tear Piccolo apart. You just wait and see.

He just needs a little time to get his shit together. Hang in there, world.

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gimmesumsuga · 6 years

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Sweeter Than Sweet (10)

Pairing: Jimin x reader + others as the story progresses

Warnings: Blood drinking, very mild descriptions of gore

Word count: 2.8K

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Jimin isn’t in bed when you wake up, but then he never usually is. It’s not taken long for you to realise that what sleep Jimin does have is infrequent and little, but it seems to be enough. You’ve managed to switch to a nocturnal schedule with relative ease, going to bed not long after sunrise and waking at dusk and then spending the whole night Jimin and the rest of the guys, talking, playing games, having fun. It’s a nice little routine you’ve gotten into, and it’s beyond wonderful to finally feel like you’re finally starting to belong somewhere – even if it is amongst a family of vampire assassins.

You get up with an exaggerated stretch and yawn and then make your way into the bathroom to brush your hair and your teeth, not quite motivated enough to jump in the shower just yet. Looking back at yourself in the mirror you’re pleased to see that most of the bruising on your neck has started to turn a greenish colour, and even the colour in your face is starting to come back a little. You feel well enough now that you’re sure you’d be able to feed Jimin safely, and you’re eager to do so, keen to given him what he so obviously wants.

Things haven’t gotten physical between the two of you again since the first time two days ago. Jimin doesn’t really appear to be the affectionate sort; hugs are none-existent and even kisses are few and far-between. It seems to be only at the end of the night - when all his long, intense looks have had chance to build up to the point where he can no longer stop himself - that Jiimin finally pulls you in a passionate embrace that always leaves you breathless and wanting more. You’re not sure if it’s just how he is, or if he’s holding himself back, but you’re really starting to wonder where this ‘soft’ person Yoongi talked about could be hiding.

Nonetheless, you love spending time with him. Jimin is actually very sweet towards his friends, who are more like brothers than anything else. He smiles often, laughing so hard that his head tips back and tears fall from his eyes and it’s lovely to watch, even if sometimes all the relentless teasing they lay upon each other ends in physical confrontations that look a lot more savage than they truly are. Jimin might be the shortest of all of them, but he often comes out the victor in those situations, using his powerful legs to pin the others down. You have to try not to get too distracted by imaging yourself in their position whenever that happens, although it’s hard not to.

You really can’t be bothered to change out of the strappy top and shorts you slept in – all this dress wearing takes an awful lot of effort – so once your breath is minty fresh you head straight out, padding down the hallway toward the kitchen where you’re sure you can hear Jin rummaging around already.

“Morning hyung!” you greet enthusiastically as you enter, rounding the corner to see him on his knees, head right in the back of the cupboard, searching for something.

“Good morning to you too,” he smiles, retreating out backwards to look up at you, “And not that I don’t appreciate your effort, but hyung isn’t really the right word for you to use.”

“Oh.” Your smile falters. You were sure that that was right, everyone seems to add ‘hyung’ to Jin’s name when they’re together, so why can’t you?

“Hyung is what males call their older brothers or friends,” he explains, standing up and brushing off his knees, “What you mean is ‘oppa’.” Jin turns back to the stove to stir whatever it is he’s cooking today but after a second he pauses, looking back at you with a smile, “But maybe check with Jimin before you go calling any of us that.”

“Why?” you ask curiously, hoisting yourself up to sit on the countertop, legs dangling over the side.

“It can be seen as being a bit… flirtatious.” His smile widens as your cheeks go pink, taking a spoonful of whatever might be in the saucepan and walking over to you, treading carefully so as not to spill. “Here, try this.” You lean forward and slurp the steaming liquid from the spoon, smacking your lips in approval once you’ve swallowed the pleasantly fragrant liquid down.

“Excellent as always. What’re you making?”

“It’s just a broth for the dinner I’m making you later.” He walks back to the stove to try some himself, frowning a little and then adding a touch more salt.

“Jin, you don’t have to keep cooking for me you know. I actually can feed myself… just about.” You grin, swinging your legs back and forth, heels knocking against the kitchen cabinets. It’s true, you’ve never eaten so well as the few short days you’ve been living here, but you wouldn’t want Jin to feel obligated to cook for you.

“I know, but I want to. I enjoy it,” he assures you with a smile. You let him return to his cooking without further argument, content to just sit and watch for a little while as he works methodically through his recipe until another thought pops into your head.

“What would I call Jimin?” Jin looks up, blinking, almost as if he’d forgotten you were here. “In Korean,” you explain further when his expression remains blank.

“Oh.” He stops, looking thoughtful, saucepan in hand. “I suppose that’d depend. Young couples sometimes call each other jagiya. You could try that, if you think it suits.”

Does it suit? You’re not even sure. You certainly wouldn’t say you and Jimin behave in a coupley manner, despite your fumble the other night or kisses that have followed since, though you know you’d like the two of you to get closer eventually. Do vampires even have those kind of relationships? You try to tell yourself not to fixate on it – a few days is hardly long enough to go putting a label on anything, and besides, you enjoy his company and you’re having fun. That’s what counts, right?

“You look like you’re lost in thought,” Jin observes with a fond smile and you shrug, trying not to dwell on those anxious thoughts.

“Would I call all of you oppa? I mean I presume you’re all technically older than me.” Jin laughs at your question, shaking his head as he goes into the fridge and brings out a tray of chicken.

“We’ve been this way for longer than any of us were ever human, but we still address each other as if we were the ages we were when we were turned,” he explains, “I’m the eldest, then Yoongi. Hoseok was twenty-three, Namjoon twenty-two. Both Jimin and Taehyung were twenty-one. You might’ve already guessed Jungkook was the youngest; he was only nineteen.”

“That’s so young,” you say emphatically, frowning at the thought. “Did you all choose to be this way?” Jin smiles sadly, taking a pause from chopping and slicing.

“It wasn’t much of a choice… but it was better than any others we had.” He sighs and then continues chopping with a shrug of his shoulders. “It’s a long story, one that’s better for you to hear from Jimin.” A heavy silence falls between the two of you, and now it’s Jin, rather than you, who appears lost in thought, only the sound of his knife hitting the chopping board to break the quiet.

“Speaking of Jimin,” you say after a moment, clearing your throat, “Do you know where he might be? He was already out of bed when I woke up.”

“Have you tried the gym? That’s usually where he is at this time.” You didn’t even realise they had one, and when you tell that to Jin he just smiles and gives you directions on how to find your way there. You thank him and make your exit, leaving him alone with his thoughts. You feel guilty for spoiling the good mood he was in before, but then knowing Jin he’ll probably be back to his normal, chipper self in no time.

It doesn’t take you long to find the gym – it’s just past Yoongi's room – but when you get there Jimin is nowhere to be seen. Just as you’re about to leave, though, you hear music coming from nearby, and when you look more closely you notice that there’s another set of doors at the back of the gym leading to another room. It’s more piano music, though this time it’s definitely coming from a music player rather than Yoongi, and when you push open the door and see what’s inside you barely manage to keep a surprised gasp from escaping.

There’s a small dance studio attached to the back of the room, and inside is Jimin, lost to the world, his body twisting this way and that to the music with his eyes tightly closed, letting it carry him into spins and lift him into leaps. The way he extends his body, his arms and even his fingers reaching for something unknown, is nothing short of beautiful, and you find yourself being moved just watching him. There’s grace and undeniable strength in the way he moves and he conveys so much emotion through motion alone, more than you’d ever thought he’d be capable of when he can seem so closed off at times.

When the song comes to an end you have to resist the urge to give him a round of applause from where you’re still stood watching in the doorway, a beaming smile on your face. He keeps his eyes closed for a second, face turned down the floor as his chest heaves with effort, but when he eventually looks up you’re the first thing he sees, his eyes widening in surprise.

“You were watching?” Jimin asks breathlessly, his hair clinging to his gleaming forehead. You really must stop doing this; watching people when they’re unawares. They might start getting the wrong idea.

“Only for a minute or two.” You leave the doorway, walking toward him with your arms folded across your chest. “You looked so peaceful, I didn’t want to disturb you.” He watches you approach with a strangely wary expression, leaning down to pick up a towel from the floor which he uses to wipe his brow. When he pushes back his hair it sticks there, giving you a glimpse of his shining forehead. “You’re an amazing dancer, Jimin,” you compliment, resting your hand on his arm and standing on tiptoes to plant a kiss on his cheek. When you pull away, smiling shyly, you expect to see Jimin smiling too, but the expression on his face is more akin to a frown than anything else.

“Thank you,” he replies, tone clipped, not really sounding thankful at all. Your smile crumples, feeling foolish now for greeting him so warmly. He wipes his face again, eyes looking you up and down. “How did you know I was here?”

“Jin told me you’d be here.”

“Jin saw you dressed like that?” His eyes narrow, eyebrows pulling downward into an even deeper frown as you nervously glance downward at your top and shorts, instinctively pulling them further down your thighs. Jimin doesn’t wait for a reply; the blush on your cheeks tells him the answer to his question. “I didn’t buy you clothes for you not to wear them. I don’t like it.” He begins to walk away, apparently ending the discussion, but indignation grows inside of you, infuriated by him speaking to you that way.

“The skirt I wore yesterday was shorter than these,” you point out, walking after him. “The skirt you bought me.” Jimin turns abruptly, chest puffing up as his famous temper flares.

“Yes, it was, and Taehyung could barely keep his eyes off of you,” he snarls and your lips part in surprise. If that were true you can’t say you’d particularly noticed. Yes, you’d caught him looking at you a couple of times for a little too long, but Taehyung’s just funny like that – you’d figured he was just daydreaming or staring into space or something, but apparently not. “Or maybe that’s what you want?” So that’s what it this is; jealousy? How could Jimin possibly feel jealous or insecure? Can’t he see how absolutely besotted you are with him?

“Jimin…” You keep your voice soft, trying not to let any of the irritation you feel colour your tone, knowing that both of you getting irate won’t help anything. It’s not easy, though, by any means. “I wear these things for you, because you like them.” You watch his face closely, hoping for a sign that your words are slowly sinking in as you give time for Jimin’s anger to begin ebbing away in the silence that follows.

He exhales heavily, running his hand through his hair and glancing all around the room before finally looking back to you, his shoulders sagging.

“I’m sorry,” Jimin sighs after a moment. He looks so tired, drawn almost, and you start to wonder if he’s been overexerting himself, or if he-

“Are you hungry?” you ask suddenly, taking a step towards him, realising where the root of this problem actually lies and why Jimin’s been getting increasingly testy these past couple of days. With a pained look Jimin opens his arms, inviting you to deliver yourself into them and instantly you do, leaning your head on his shoulder and wrapping your arms around his waist. The back of the vest he’s wearing is damp with sweat but you’re undeterred by it, snuggling as close as you possibly can, loving the way his strong arms tighten around you.

“So, so hungry,” Jimin admits with a whisper, pressing his face into your hair. There’s not a flicker of fear that shows on your face as you pull the strands away from your neck, or as you unfasten and remove your collar to offer yourself to him. He eyes your skin as you tilt your head to the side, licking his lips hungrily and holding you so close that it’s almost becoming hard to breathe. You watch his Adam’s apple bob in his throat as his eyes meet yours, checking, at the last moment, that you’re sure that this is what you want. You give the tiniest nod of your head, and that’s all it takes for Jimin to succumb.

He delves in, mouth meeting your neck, and what starts as a kiss quickly turns into the feel of sharp fangs pressed to your skin. You try to not give in to the fear that threatens to paralyse you, holding your breath as you anticipate the same agony to overcome you as the last time he fed, but it never comes. There’s a definite stab of pain as Jimin’s teeth pierce you, one that makes you gasp, but then it’s gone and all that’s left is the feel of his lips and tongue caressing your skin as he rhythmically sucks and swallows. Jimin squeezes your waist as he feeds, and in less than a minute you start to feel that indescribable high you remember from last time, endorphins leaving you blissfully limp in his arms.

“Jimin,” you moan, running a hand through his hair, your vision starting to get blurry round the edges. The sound of your voice seems to remind him not to get carried away, and with what must be a great feat of self-control Jimin manages pulls himself from you, breathing hard and fast. Your blood is shining on his lips, crimson red, but with just one lick it’s gone, and no one would be any the wiser what has just transpired.

“You feel better?” you ask, vaguely aware that your words are coming out a little slurred. He certainly looks better; any remaining bruising from his fight with Namjoon has now magically disappeared, his face fuller again, eyes brighter, and his smile is kind as he looks down at you, caressing your cheek.

“Much. Are you ok?” he checks, and you smile a silly smile before nuzzling your head into him.

“’mgood.” You place kisses against his chest with your eyes closed, absentmindedly wishing he were topless so you could do so properly. “Smell good… you always smell so good.” Jimin laughs affectionately at your endorphin-drunk behaviour, abruptly scooping you up in his arms to carry you bridal style from the room as you shriek and cling onto him tightly. He kisses you as he carries you through the door, the taste of your blood still lingering on his lips, and you kiss back eagerly, nipping at his bottom lip with a carefree giggle.

“Let’s go get you sobered up.”

#bts #bts vampire!au #vampire!au #jimin x reader #jimin/reader #vampire!jimin #vampire!jin #vampire!namjoon #vampire!yoongi #vampire!jhope #vampire!taehyung #vampire!jungkook #jimin smut #jimin fluff #jimin angst #bts smut #bts angst #bts fluff #sweeter than sweet

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devintrinidad · 6 years

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Red Blood Cell, Sighted! Ch. 2

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13022702/2/Red-Blood-Cell-Sighted

4989 was going to be the greatest neutrophil of all time.

Throughout his relatively young life, he had been fascinated with long, sharp objects—as is the wont of most immune cells, but we digress. When they were younger and under the tutelage of older neutrophils and the odd macrophage, he often scampered away from the exercises whenever he could. Sure, he could be the model student if he tried hard enough, but school was boring and going off on his own adventures was far more to his taste. Sometimes, 2626 would accompany him as they pretended to fight bacteria. They would create makeshift weapons or raise general chaos until they were gifted their practice knives...which led to them raising general chaos with actual weapons.

One of those makeshift weapons was a long stick (leaves were optional) with a knife tied onto it.

Throughout the years, the idea of creating his own weapons and improvising with what was in the environment stayed within him. Under regulation, he wasn't supposed to create weapons like that (he might hurt someone, which would result in complaints), but when certain circumstances arose...well, ya gotta do whatcha gotta do, ya know?

So, it was during one of his patrols that he found a single bacterium. It was the run-of-the-mill, standard antigen that would have taken a single swipe of his weapon for it to explode. It was so bland and generic that even a Band Cell, nay, a myelocyte could have destroyed! However, such generic-ness wasn't fitting for 4989's worth ethic—or lack thereof.

The thing was, 4989 was bored.

As in, he was literally melting into the infrastructure of one of the buildings as he watched grass grow. The bacterium would serve as a distraction, yes, but it would be so short lived that he would end up devolving into protons and electrons. Since when was killing germs and bacteria so boring? Yeah, it was nice living with the peace and harmony, but it got to him. After all, he was trained and born just to kill—what life would he lead if he didn't?

At that moment, the gods above smiled upon him and gifted him with a long stick (a pole really, but his inner myelocyte screamed with enthusiasm when faced with unending possibilities).

A smirk stretched out his lips to an unimaginable degree, which only emphasized the hazy look of bloodlust that shadowed his eyes as he charged forward with his weapon.

"DIE, GERM!" He then threw his spear with the strength that he didn't really need for this task and watched as it—

"What the—?"

The bacterium dodged it?

Okay, Plan B.

(In retrospect, this was probably Plan A since he was just reverting to the traditional method, which was boring and efficient—two things that 4989 didn't like).

Knife in hand, he sprinted after the surprisingly agile germ before plunging his knife deep into the contents of the bacterium's stomach. At once, blood splattered his uniform while he could hear the screams of his opponent fade into silence. Job finished, he fished his knife out of the cytosol and bits of leftover guts. Not bad, he mused, but it would have been far more enjoyable to use his spear.

"Excuse me? Er, Mr. Neutrophil?"

Huh? Who was that? Was this person referring to him?

Looking wildly around, 4989 spotted the knife of his shoddy spear was embedded into the deep red uniform of a red blood cell. If he didn't have the signature pallor of the white blood cells, his cheeks would have blushed a fine hue of red to match the erythrocyte's attire. As it were, he jogged over to the red blood cell and pulled his weapon, knife and all, from the uniform. If he wasn't apologizing so profusely, he would have admired how tightly he managed to pin the uniform against the wall with just one throw of his spear.

Geeze, he must have been stronger than he thought.

"Sorry, about that," he laughed awkwardly.

"That's all right," the red blood cell chirped. She reached into the pack that rested against her hip and took out a tissue.

What was she—?

Before he could even finish his train of thought, she immediately caught his attention with an earnest, "Here, please use this so you can clean up!"

4989 glanced disbelievingly at the tissue that she held in her dainty little hand, back to her smiling features, and back to the tissue. She didn't honestly believe that such a tiny little scrap could help "clean him up" as she claimed. But her face was so pure and innocent, that 4989 found himself hesitantly taking the tissue in his right hand. Under her expectant gaze, he wiped his face and found that while the tissue quickly absorbed the cytosol on his face, he managed to get his visage mostly clean.

It was nothing short of miraculous.

"Wow," he exclaimed with all the exuberance and brightness of a young child, "this is awesome! What kind of tissues do you use?" His eyes were shining so bright, he thought that he could blind anyone who looked directly into his eyes. The red blood cell in particular looked like she was blinking dazed tears out of her eyes at his sudden display of gratitude. "If you had more of those bad boys, I wouldn't have to visit a wash station!"

At that, the erythrocyte mirrored his bright disposition.

"Well, you're in luck!" With a slight flourish of her dainty hands, the red haired erythrocyte pulled out an entire sheaf of tissues. "I usually reserve these for a friend, but…" A slight frown tugged her normally cheery complexion downwards, which immediately put a damper on 4989's mood.

Well, we can't have that, can we?

He held up his gloved hands in front of him in a placating gesture. On purpose, he exaggerated his movements as to appear more comedic and to provide levity for the situation. (Don't tell his old mentor or some of the macrophages back at the bone marrow, but he totally used this technique to manipulate them into going easy on him...it also helped that he was one of the youngest neutrophils of the batch at that time). As per usual, his little stunt earned him a small, shy smile that had him melting as if he were playing with a platelet.

Well, not like a platelet, that was weird, but her overall sociable demeanor and pink cheeks and bright wide eyes and—What was he doing again?

"I, uh...You don't have to give me all those tissues, cause ya know...there are several wash stations reserved for neutrophils like me and—" In the name of the mother hematopoietic cells, was he really rambling about tissues? That was definitely not scripted! "—I mean—"

She shook her head in a way that said that she didn't mind being so hospitable.

"No," she smiled softly, "I really respect you neutrophils and what you do for the body. Therefore, I insist that you take these tissues."

The sheer determination to not completely melt could have rivalled any known neutrophil's rage. In the end, 4989 settled for inwardly cooing and taking her tissues from her hand.

"Thanks, Miss Red Blood Cell!"

Now, there was one thing that most cells didn't know about U-4989; he acted completely on instinct and was impulsive. (That actually described neutrophils in general, but 4989 was the poster child for this sect of the famed immune system). Once he had latched onto an idea, it was hard for him to let go—like a cestode gripping the walls of the small intestine. It would take nothing short of the end of the world for him to change his mind.

With a bright smile juxtaposing his early look of bloodlust, he took her by the hand, much to her protests and led her away.

"You seriously didn't need to do this," the red blood cell murmured shyly as she sipped a little from her cup of barley tea. "It was just a bunch of tissues that I saved up in my pack."

4989 shrugged.

"Hey, don't worry about it! I've never been given such lovely gifts before and well…" He scratched the back of his head abashedly. "I wanted to repay you before we parted ways. The body is such a large place."

"Ah, you didn't have to do that! I always—"

4989 smoothly interjected before she went on any further, "You said that you usually reserved these for a friend." From the way that the red blood cell didn't shy away from him and willingly offered her services, he assumed that this friend of hers was probably a neutrophil. If that was the case, then he had a hunch that he knew which neutrophil it was. "Does the number 1146 ring a bell?"

She nodded eagerly.

"Yeah! You're friends with him, right?"

"Yup." He leaned back in his seat as he regarded the red blood cell with a new sense of respect. Strange, he didn't think that the red blood cell 1146 befriended would be so...unlike the stoic white blood cell. "It's good to know that he has friends that look out for him while. It's rare that we get to see each other outside of the battlefield."

"Don't you guys get breaks every once in a while?"

"Of course! If we didn't, we'd probably become all bored and crazy. I mean, I'm already at my wit's end waiting for something to happen. It's only a matter of time before things get out of control."

The red blood cell nodded sagely in accordance with his words of wisdom.

"I see." She brought the cup of tea back to her lips before pausing. "Speaking of getting things out of control, why did you tie your knife to a pole, by the way? You nearly hemolyzed me."

This time 4989 did in fact turn red.

"Well, sometimes...knives just aren't enough? I promise that my aim is much better than that." 4989 grimaced as a thought came to him. "I'm glad that 2001 wasn't here to say that. He would have phagocytized me in a nanosecond if he found out that I was going against regulation again."

The erythrocyte laughed.

"I can actually relate. My mentor told me that I should start acting like a full fledged erythrocyte instead of depending on her all the time or others for directions." She shrugged her shoulders in mock sadness and self-deprecation. "Well, it's a lot better than getting phagocytized, I suppose."

"You get lost?" That was interesting to know. It would have made sense if she were a normal cell because they were usually confined to their apartments due to the cloning business, but in her case, it was an altogether different story. "But you're a red blood cell! You're supposed to know where to go—you guys get everywhere!" At her furiously flushing face—so adorable!—he quickly amended with, "You're different than the others, huh?"

"I'm fairly new; I just enucleated recently and left the bone marrow. I'm allowed to get lost once in a while. What about you?" She asked in an offhand manner. "You're a lot different than the other white blood cells that I have ever met."

"I should hope so." He countered easily. All those days as the runt of the litter in his circle of friends actually did him some good in the comebacks department. "Imagine if all of us happened to be geniuses like me? We'd be throwing spears all over the place!"

The red blood cell looked worried for a moment before gracing him with another bright smile.

"No, you're special all on your own."

For a moment, 4989 felt something deep in his chest, something that told him that he should make her smile again—Wait! No! Make her laugh and smile just for him. Before he could crack a joke or act like his usual childlike self, the red blood cell threw her recyclable cup into a bin and waved a cheerful goodbye.

"Thank you so much, Mr. Neutrophil! Goodbye!"

As he stumbled over farewells, he watched as her form mingled back into the indistinguishable masses of red blood cells.

4989 hummed a little as he strode through the blood vessels, always on the lookout for any threats. As he did so, he let his mind wander about events of his past few patrols. One subject in particular caught and held his attention like one of those caps the normal cells would wear if they were under viral invasion: the red blood cell. It wasn't that she was a particularly outstanding blood cell (well, apart from her fitting red hair), but it was her kindness. Although 4989 liked to believe that cells lived in peace and harmony throughout the body, there was a widespread uneasiness that seemed to emanate profusely from the non-immune community.

Red blood cells would often work together and laugh about their jobs as they ran across the body. Normal cells would play cards with their roommates and several of their neighbors to pass the time. What did the white blood cell community have as a whole? The general image the body had of the immune system was that they were all well trained, disciplined fear mongers who lived for the feel of bacterial flesh within their jaws. While true, that's not what made the immune cells what they were! They were born to protect, to serve the other cells so that the body could survive.

But who would listen to a white blood cell who liked using whatever objects at his disposal to rid bacteria? Certainly not the red blood cells who were passing by him hurriedly.

Really, the cells that usually got along with the white blood cells with little to no prejudice were the dendritic cells and the platelets. Out of the other cell types within the body that was kind of sad and heartbreaking to know that the majority would rather do away with the immune system—bacterial or viral invasion notwithstanding. And yet…

And yet that one red blood cell didn't begrudge him any kindness! She willingly gave him tissues and didn't scold him for nearly spearing her into hemolysis. Wasn't she scared? (He hoped not. He rather liked her compassionate nature). If so, she hid it well and 4989 would be damned if he didn't find her intriguing.

In a world where the general populace would have immediately screamed at him nearly spearing a red blood cell, she was the only to have lent a hand.

Selfishly, a part of him hopes that he would see her again someday.

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sharphoe · 6 years

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Interview As Your Character: David Carrigan

via @wordsnstuff – The idea of this game is to answer these 20 questions in character in order to develop aspects of your character that are difficult to flesh out in other ways. Have fun with it and be creative, but remember to stay in character. It’s a fun little writing/development/immersion exercise that really pays off. Enjoy!

1. How do you like to spend your free time? I run, mostly. I like the time alone and it keeps me in something that almost resembles good shape. I also listen to music (who doesn’t, though?) and I also started trying my hand at photography recently. Can’t write or draw worth a damn, but Liam figured I could use a creative outlet.

2. What is your relationship with your immediate family members? Pass.

...I can’t?

Ugh, fine. I’m still trying to help my mom get past all the emotional abuse my now ex-dad heaped on her over the years. As for him? Fuck him. He burned that bridge all on his own, I don’t owe him shit. Next question. Please.

3. If you inherited a large sum of money, how would you approach handling it? How much money are we talking? However much it is, the only real answer I can give here is that I wouldn’t be stupid with it. I’ve seen firsthand how quickly you can piss it away if you aren’t careful. 4. Who are you closest to in your life? Hmmm. My best friends? My boyfriend? The man who saved my life? Depends on how you define that closeness. They’re all irreplaceable to me in their own ways, 5. What is your most painful memory? *Sigh*... Pretty sure I’ve never had it worse than when I was tricked, beaten, nearly murdered, beaten AGAIN, disowned, and driven to attempt suicide... all in the span of 24 hours. But, y’know, I could try to think of something else. 6. What is your happiest memory? Well, a lot of moments with Fred and Howie come to mind, but I think the week-long road trip we all took together is pretty high up there. Haven’t felt that free since, y'know? 7. Describe your experience in an education system, if any. Uh... I guess the thing that sticks out is when I was in middle school. Kids had finally reached the age where knowing that I was the son of someone slightly famous wasn’t just a neat bit of trivia. So of course people started to try to be my “friend” to get autographs or money out of it. This continued until his forced retirement... then suddenly those so-called friends were too busy to hang out or talk anymore. And people wonder why I have trust issues.

8. What is your biggest fear and why are you so afraid of it? Besides dying alone, obviously, my biggest fear is bees. Why?I was attacked by a swarm of them as a kid. Someone thought it would be funny to throw a rock at a hive I was standing near, and the rest speaks for itself. Thank God I’m not allergic. 9. To what extent do you believe in hate? Not gonna lie, hate can be a powerful motivator. That drive to show some bully or smartass so-and-so who’s boss by showing them up and doing what they say you can’t? It has its uses, as long as you aren’t consumed by it. 10. To what extent do you believe in love? You’re gonna have to excuse for getting sappy here, but... love is what saved me when I needed it most. And not even romantic love, but the platonic love one man could have for almost everyone he meets. Even when they yell at him, doubt him to his face, and generally act like an inconsolable shithead... sigh. I owe Peter everything for not giving up on me. His love opened my eyes.

11. What is the number one personal rule you have for yourself? “Trust, but verify.” 12. If you saw a picture of yourself, what is the first place you would look? First thing I’d look at (besides my big nose) is what I was wearing that day. 13. How would you describe yourself? I’d say that I’m the kind of guy who would like to be more chill than he actually is. Life just doesn’t really give me the chance. I just want to be left alone to do the things I like doing in peace. Really though, don’t start shit for no reason and I can generally say I’d be cool with you. 14. How would others describe you? “Moody”, “antisocial”, “hard to read”, “unapproachable”, I’ve even gotten “emo” once or twice. Of course, that was only after the money dried up. 15. What do you believe is your greatest weakness? Probably that I have issues with positive thinking. I keep my enthusiasm curbed and my expectations low - cautiously pessimistic, you could say. ...I’m working on it.

16. What do you believe is your greatest strength? You can almost always count on me to give it to you straight... intentionally or not. I don’t like to lie, and not just because I’m bad at it. You can be pretty sure that if I tell you something, I mean it, and that kind of honesty can be hard to come by. 17. What makes you get out of bed everyday? The fact that I got a new lease on life, and I’m not about to waste it. No matter how bad a day could be, I just remember that I might not have had the chance to see it.

18. What is the major challenge you face every single day? I dunno, finding my path for the future, I guess. Just because I have the rest of my life to live doesn’t mean I suddenly know what I want to do with it. So I’m... just gonna do my best. And I’ll see what I can do about helping others out along the way. 19. If you could give a message to your younger self, what would it be? “Things are going to break down for you, hard and fast. You’re gonna want to give up and let it all fall apart around you.

Don’t.”

20. What is it that you want most? Honestly, I don’t really know what I “want” most. I have my (relative) health, my friends, my boyfriend, and a fresh start. I’m content. And I think I just want to give that some time to sink in.

#shar's character stuff #wordsnstuff

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frustrated-writer-skyeknight · 3 years

Text

My OCs I'm still struggling to rewrite in my original story.

Here’s the plot so far and in a hiatus lol

🔥

“Thank you for your patronage!” Kyl beams, accepting a payment. “please come again.”

The woman smiles back in response, giving her own thanks before leaving the bakery. As soon as she steps out the shop, the boy sighs in relief, thankful that the last customer he had to deal with today was a mild elderly.

Kyl lets his smile fall with a heavy sigh, massaging his jaw with a hand. He huffs, running a hand through his hair, still peeved about a particularly irksome situation from the morning. He does what he can to give courteous and fair treatment to all customers, but that didn't make it any less aggravating to be polite to the brutes who intentionally made his job difficult, just to mess with him, for spending most of his time inside the bakery.

He knew he was different from most boys his age. Even his friends back home has ambitions of becoming knights or mercenaries in guilds, any job that meant action and adventure. Some of them don’t necessarily have a goal, but are still keen on mastering a weapon of sorts to be able to see the world as a wandering explorer.

As for Kyl, it wasn't that he found it completely satisfying to be a baker, and while he does see the appeal of the excitement that comes with the lifestyle aspired by his friends, compared to his own repetitive routine as a baker, he considers the peace it brings comforting enough. Kyl figured that if he was going to settle with being a baker for the rest of his life, he might as well learn how to deal with a wider range of customers.

Right now, he was assisting his uncle Teodor in his branch.

Teodor was like any typical Hearth family man. He was devoted to his craft, which only came second to his family. Even if it means being short on help, he wouldn’t let his wife, Myrah, lift a finger when she wasn’t in the best condition to do so. He did his best to replicate Myrah’s special recipes for some of their regular customers, but he wasn’t having much luck. The next person who could come close to baking them was his youngest nephew, Kyl. That was why he was here.

Kyl has a lot of relatives and they handle their own branch in their respective hometowns. Although not famous to get nationwide recognition, each was doing well. This was the first time that he was away from home for a long period. Because of a recent brawl which resulted in Myrah’s bad back, they were short staffed. Even though they were just three, they got by well enough. And it wasn't like there were never instances in the past that only two of the three would be the ones working the shop. It was especially the case back when Dru was a young toddler and prone to fever every now and then. Teodor had his fair share of moments when his blood pressure was too high and he needed rest to relieve his stress. But that never took a while, and they'd recover in a few days. This was the first time there needed to be a full month of resting for recovery, and neither Teodor nor his son could compete with Myrah in baking particular products even if they follow her recipe. But somehow, Kyl can come close.

Asides from lending a helping hand, Kyl was curious to find out the different challenges his relatives here faced, since they reside in a larger town. In a way, it was a welcomed change of pace from his dull routine back home. Since his hometown seemed more like a small, remote village than anything else, with a grand total of twenty houses, everyone was a regular customer, and it seemed like they had a fixed time when it came to making a purchase. But Kyl could also see the downside working where business had to be fast-paced in some parts of the day.

On his first day working with them, Kyl was overwhelmed by the number of customers alone and how fast they expected him to serve them. The orders and deliveries almost made him break down. If it wasn't for his cousin, it might have actually happen.

Dru was older than Kyl, and to an extent, taller. His height wasn’t the only thing big about him. Because of the sacks of flour he regularly carried to and from the storage, plus the dough kneading he does daily gave him well-developed biceps and he maintained an admirable muscle tone. That, with his dark, brown hair, and warm chocolate eyes, reels in the young ladies into their shop, sometimes mostly to gaze upon him than to buy bread. With his gangly physique and awkwardly tousled light brown locks, Kyl was envious and can only hope to grow into the same built. His only noteworthy quality in terms of appearance were his green eyes.

Kyl wonders if body size affected temper because his dad had a similar large build, and they both tended to be a bit of a hot-head at certain times. Kyl figured it could also be due to because life in a bigger town being more stressful in comparison to remote villages like his own. His dad said that he used to live in a bigger town in his youth, and he had violent tendencies back then. His cousin wasn’t necessarily violent though, and was nice enough when it mattered. For instance, even when he made a show of how it peeved him to have to pick up after him, Dru made sure Kyl got some learning experience out of it and guided him through it so he could do better the next time around.

He had claimed, “I don't want to keep doing your workload for you, brat, so get it right next time.”

But Kyl realized that his cousin guided him during his entire time with them, at least more than Teodor even when he was present to take over anytime if Dru really didn't want to. Just like this morning with those troublesome guys. While he was given an idea what to expect from difficult customers they usually encountered, he didn’t think handling patrons like those guys would be as irksome as it had been. He almost snapped back at them before Dru showed up and took care of it himself.

His cousin didn't even go about lecturing him about proper work etiquette afterwards, didn't push the point about treating customers nicely at all times like Kyl expected him to.

“People can be jerks without being aware of it,” Dru had said, ruffling Kyl's hair. “don't let them win by showing them how affected you are.”

In the end, Kyl found that he enjoyed the experience in spite of the hardships and difficulties. Plus, he enjoyed spending time with these particular relatives again since the last time had only been a three day visit when he was a toddler. He was almost sorry that he would be returning to the repetitive routine of his small village life soon. But at the very least he would be comforted by how peaceful it was compared to all this.

“Good work today, boys.”

Teodor comes out of the kitchen with Dru, each carrying two small baskets of bread. One basket seemed to have more bread than the other. But while they differ in quantity, their contents remained similar. Both contained , flat leaven manchets, rounder oatcakes known as clapbread made by Dru who can bake them best with a little spicy flare to it, the usual staple white cockets and powdered biscuits, Kyl version, because it didn't exactly capture the taste Myrah manages and only came close. Still, the youngest Hearth felt accomplished that it still sold well, even if it wasn't sold out the way Myrah's batch would've been.

I'm still not done preparing the batch for the local orphanage, but I can take care of it myself. You two handle the priorities for today.”

At the end of each day, the Hearth family always make it a point to give out their leftovers to the less fortunate. It was what Kyl's great grandfather always believed in, that kindness and acts of it goes a long way.

Kindness is the most hopeful provocation, He used to say.

Teodor hands them two sheets of paper. One sheet had a family name written down along with the name of their members plus an address. Then as Kyl looks over his cousin's shoulder, he noticed that the other piece of paper was a slip more than a sheet. It wasn't constructed the same way the other was either. There was only a single word written.

Kean.

There were only two reasons why a person would not have a last name. Either he was a grown orphan, or beings called a Mana user. Humanesque creatures with a questionable place in society. Kyl has never met one before, but from what he can gather by the gossips heard at the town square and the opinions of his family was that they do not contribute much to society, but at the same time, they did not require anything from it either. They seemed to exist for the sake of existence itself. However, since society cannot get anything from them some people find it meaningless for them to exist at all. Until much recently, a law regarding no tolerance for discriminatory acts did not extend to Mana users. Closer study implies that most riots arise due to the instigators’ acts of reproach towards the mentioned Mana users. Therefore, for the sake of holding the peace, a proposal to revise this law was underway.

By this provocation, the instigators are making the most of the time left that they can mistreat the Mana users without consequences.

“Kean...” Kyl mutters, finding that the name was familiar. He mentioned his musings, ‘did he come to the shop recently?’ he wonders. “Did I write a receipt for him, or...”

Dru makes a look. “Yes, because Mana users carry money despite not having jobs.”

“Do they?”

Dru gapes, checking if Kyl wasn't just pulling his leg. He forgot that growing up in a small village had the tendency to make people ignorant of common knowledge in larger areas. Plus, this was Kyl. While he didn't live in the province and just at a small village he could be pegged for a country bumpkin with his level of ignorance.

Teodor smacks his son upside on the head in reprove. “Druant, be nice to your cousin.” he scolds, and Dru realizes he said that out loud by the way Kyl is glaring at him. “Anyway, the answer is no. They don't. It's unlikely because Mana users don't seem to need the same bare necessities that we do. That being said, they don't require money. And the name should be familiar because I mentioned him to you once when we talked about your aunt's case.”

“Oh yeah,” Kyl says. “You said there was a fight. Was this Kean guy involved?”

Teodor nods, “You could say that. While your aunt was the unintended victim, Kean was the targeted one.”

“Except mom seemed have gotten the worse of it.” Dru scoffs.

Theodore frowns at his son. “We don't know that for sure. The fighting stopped when they realized they’ve injured someone else as well.” He says. “We haven’t seen Kean after so we don't know how he came out of it. That’s why he's a priority tonight. It occurred to Myrah and she wants to have it checked out.”

“If we find him,” Dru quips. “Come on, Kyl. Let's get going.”

Teodor calls out after them, “Don’t stay out too long,” he says, “the last thing I need is to tell Myrah you guys were found dead on the streets chewed on by some wild animal.”

“Wait, what?” Kyl blinks, turning back. “what wild animal?”

Teodor laughs, and Kyl figured he was teasing him. He scowls while Dru snickers, “How simple.”

🔥

Once they were outside, Dru opens his mouth and tries to say something. But figuring out what it was, Kyl beats him to it.

“Yeah, I can take Kean’s basket.” He says.

“I, uh…” Dru blinks, his mouth moving wordlessly before he simply nods. “Yeah… okay, thanks.” He gives Kyl the basket with the lesser bread.

Kyl pauses, as if in thought, before speaking once more. “You don't happen to agree with those who beat up this Kean guy, do you?”

“H-huh? Oh…” Dru mutters, worrying his lower lip. “Um, well, of course I don't like it that they started that whole fight because of it. I mean, mom got hurt and…”

Kyl narrows his eyes, “You know that wasn't the question.” He says. “Do you hate their kind, too?”

Since he hasn't really encountered one yet himself, Kyl doesn’t have any real sentiments towards Mana users. However, if they weren’t actually hurting anyone he didn't see how it was justifiable to hurt them or anyone, generally speaking, just because they weren't actively involved in society. He can understand getting annoyed, but anger was a little extreme for him.

“I…” Dru starts before sighing, “look kid, don't get me wrong. I don't hate Mana users, if that's what you mean. At least… I don't think I do. But if you've seen one up close, with the blank look in their eyes as if they weren't even alive… I don't know. It's creepy.”

“I see. But you know, it's okay to be scared. Pretty sure even Knights get like that, I'd be surprised if they didn't.” Kyl says. “I don't think you’d be disqualified just for that.”

“Huh?” Dru's eyes widens. “what are you—”

Kyl rolls his eyes, “Dru, I'm not as simple as you think. I've seen you training late at night when you're supposed to be sleeping like the rest of us. And the bulletin board at the square mentioned needs for recruits.” He says. “It doesn’t take a genius to figure things out.”

“Kyl, you can’t tell dad or mom about this, you hear?”

Kyl frowns. “If I wanted to be a rat, I would’ve mentioned it the first time I saw you training after taking a piss. You really could’ve picked a better, more hidden place to do that if you didn’t wanna be caught, by the way.” He says. “but they’re gonna find out what you're up to anyway, especially once you sign up. And sure, maybe he'll be a bit sad that you're not interested in baking full-time, but I don't think uncle would forbid you if that’s what you really want.”

“Yeah. If. That’s the key word.” Dru sighs, shaking his head. “I’m not really sure what I want either. But I do know there’s more I want to do than be a baker for the rest of my life. I mean, maybe I wouldn’t mind retiring as one. But that’s definitely not all I want to do. You live in a small village, maybe you’re happy with how simple that is. But come on, you can’t tell me that you never thought about it.”

Kyl shifts his weight absently, not sure what to say. “We better get going, don’t you think?” He didn’t wait for a response, already turning and walking off.

Forgetting about one minor detail.

🔥

Kyl groans, berating himself. He forgot that he had no idea where to even look for this Kean fellow. These were the moments that Dru could be justified for calling him simple. Even having a vague description of this guy might’ve been helpful, seeing as those he was asking didn’t care much to give him any useful leads. All he got so far for his efforts were either questioning looks or scorn. He gave up asking when he got the latter, and settled for just winging it. Stopping once more to rest, he leans against a wall of some random home. He’s pretty sure he searched the entire town, at one point he even got lost because some of the houses look the same: two-storey, beige cedars with mahogany doors and red roofs. He had to back track towards the main square to get his bearings.

At the moment, all he can assume was that this guy was homeless with the lack of address, maybe even a hermit if he was the only Mana user in town—or out of town, if that were the case. Kyl definitely wouldn’t want to stay in a place where he was treated poorly. Earlier, somebody did suggest that he ask the last people to have an encounter with him, but the boy had suspicions that they were the cause for his aunt Myrah's condition in the first place and also made her concerned for the guy’s well-being and he definitely didn’t want to have a run in with those types himself.

Therefore, he settled for walking all over town and hoping he gets lucky.

The sun was setting and each step Kyl took was getting heavier. He wasn’t any closer to finding his priority assignment than he was hours ago and it was already passed supper. Certainly, he could’ve just taken some of the bread from the leftover basket but since it wasn’t meant for him, all the more for someone less fortunate than him, it didn’t seem right to Kyl to do that even if he was feeling rather unlucky at that moment. Yet he was exhausted. Still, he didn’t want the bread to go to waste but he wasn’t going to consume them himself. He figured he probably had time to search for someone else before it got too dark.

Just when he turns to the next corner, he finds himself falling forward. Kyl yelps as the contents of the basket were sent flying. The boy groans, pushing back brown fringes from his eyes. He huffed, brushing his hair back.

“Ow…” He winces, getting up slowly. He’s pretty certain he had a scratch or two. ‘I should really watch where I’m going.’ He thought. He gets back on his feet and pats what dirt he can from his trousers. ‘what did I even trip on? It felt thick…’ he muses. He scans the area and a scream catches on his throat. “AH!” Kyl breaks into a cold sweat under a second, and he was legs suddenly felt boneless. Nevertheless, he was about to make a run for it when his conscience caught up with him.

It was a dead body.

As much as he was tempted to do so, he couldn’t just leave it there. Slowly, he approaches the body, making sure there were actually no wild animal that, in hindsight, his uncle might not have been completely joking about. As he got nearer, he realizes that it wasn’t a corpse. At least, the body still felt warm. It was easy to think the person was dead, though. The guy, as it seems to be, was completely motionless that even his chest seemed like it wasn’t moving. The indication that he was, in fact, still among the living was the low moans that escaped his mouth.

Kyl sighs, running a hand through his hair. ‘Well, he’s alive. Now what?’

He couldn’t very well leave this person lying here. He could take him to the nearest clinic but that was right across from the East side square, which was on the other side of town. He considers taking him back with him. His aunt was almost fully recovered so he wonders if his uncle would appreciate another patient to care for.

‘Well… as dad always say, "you’re not a Hearth if you’ve got no heart…."’

Decided, Kyl hefts the guy up, slinging his arm carefully over his shoulder, and wraps his own arm around the stranger’s waist. There was a sound of thunder and the skies grew darker by the time he saw the roof of the bakery.

🔥

Despite their collective surprise, and forgetting their worry on why he was late, they didn’t make much of a fuss when Kyl brought in the guy he found. Teodor didn’t mind caring for another infirm but he was a bit upset about the bread but he eventually got over it.

“Can’t do anything about it anymore, after all.” He says.

Dru was fine with it as long as he didn’t have to share his bed with the guy. Kyl figures it was only fair and he wasn’t oppose to sharing. The guest room wasn’t his own room, after all. After that matter was settled, Kyl went to take a bath and have something quick to eat since it was late and he didn’t want to sleep on a full stomach. Myrah was finished giving the stranger a sponge bath by the time Kyl returned to his borrowed room.

“Hasn’t he woken up yet?”

Myrah shakes her head, “No, but I've taken care of his injuries. No broken bones, which is a relief. He’ll be fine after some rest.”

Kyl smiles. “That’s good to hear,” he sighs. “I’m just glad it wasn’t a dead body mangled by some random wild animal.”

“Your uncle said something again?”

Kyl blinks, “Again?” he repeats. Myrah just chuckles in response and the boy decides to drop it. “Anyway, I’m sorry to have bothered you with this while you’ve just recovered, auntie.”

“Oh, it’s nothing.” Myrah says with a careless wave of her hand, “my back doesn’t even hurt anymore, and I couldn’t leave this to your uncle or Dru. Those two are hopeless when it comes to tender care.” She rolls her eyes.

Kyl smiles slightly, “Is that why you keep calling me specifically for those massages?”

“Bingo.” Myrah winks, “You know, it’s a bit funny that I had your uncle make sure you get Kean some bread and you ended up bring him home without the bread.”

Kyl cringes, thinking that his family really valued their bread. Then, he starts. “That’s Kean?!”

“Oh goodness, you didn’t know?”

Kyl shakes his head, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah… not at all.”

“Didn’t the hair tip you off? I mean, it’s blue.”

Although there was no explanation, at least none publicly known, all Mana users seemed to have unnatural hair color. In the back of his mind, Kyl did question it once he returned. But since it was dark out earlier, he didn’t notice it at first. He thought the guy had black hair, because the hue was of a darker shade, almost like cobalt. Still, that was the notable difference. When it came to physique, they were similar except Kyl may be more well-toned in comparison, as a result to hours baking.

“I’ll remember that next time.”

“Nnh…”

Kyl and Myrah turns toward the bed. “Oh, he’s waking up.”

Eyes opens slowly, and Kyl understands now what Dru meant earlier. Their eyes really did have an eerie feeling to it, but for some reasons, this made the boy intrigued rather than scared.

“Where am I?”

🔥

Kean’s bleary eyes finds two individuals standing before him, and he recognizes the woman. She had been there when those townsfolk attacked him, but he has never seen the boy before.

“Miss Myrah, hello.” He sits up.

Myrah smiles, walking over to comb his hair back. Kean just continues staring, even while she examines some remnants of wounds that, he notices, were treated. He figures that those needed more time to heal. She didn’t seem to mind Kean’s lack of concern with that way she pokes around his injuries, already expecting the stoic response. Most Mana users, if not all, seemed to possess the quality.

“It’s good to see you awake, Kean. I wondered what happened to you after our last meeting.”

Kean’s expression remained blank. “I am sorry to have caused you worry.” He says with a curt tip of his head. “May I ask how I was brought here though?”

“Ah, that would be my doing, mate.” Kyl answers, “I found you passed out and decided to bring you home.” He grins. “Perfect timing, too. Just before you got caught by the rain and end up sick with the cold.”

Kean replies, “Oh, Mana users do not get sick the way humans do. So it did not really make a difference,” he says. “you could say it was pointless.”

Kyl stares at the Mana user, not having a response for that take on his act of kindness. Myrah watches her nephew, trying not to smile. She may have an idea what was going through his mind.

“Thank you, anyway.”

“Um, wow. Okay,” The boy feels like he should be irritated or something akin to that. However, he found himself just wondering what was the matter with the guy. “Can you say it like you mean it, at least? I mean, with more... conviction.”

Kean’s tone remained as is when he responds. “Oh, okay. I am truly grateful for the unnecessary aid to my predicament even while I was unaware of the needless attempt.”

“Er,” Somehow, Kyle felt even worse than he was with Kean’s first response. “‘Truly grateful’ is not shown on your face at all…” his shoulders sags.

Myrah couldn’t help it this time. She laughs.

🔥

The following day was definitely an interesting one.

During breakfast, Kean was refusing a big portion of the meal Teodor was insisting on him because the man found Kean simply too thin for a boy his age. The Mana user reminded him that they don’t age the way humans do. In addition to that, they did not require an intake of nutrients gained from food consumption since, according to him, 'Simple meditation to be one with nature' was sufficient to keep them going. Both Kyl and Dru shared the same expression; their eyebrows were furrowed, and they had creases on their forehead, staring at Kean first then at each other as if trying to make sense of that explanation. Nevertheless, Teodor still made Kean eat with the notion, 'As long as you can eat, eat. We get food from nature, too.'

Kean had no argument for that.

Afterwards, when Myrah found the poor condition Kean’s clothes were in she had him try on some of Dru’s old clothes. The one closest to his size and proportions was still slightly big on him so she had it adjusted. After putting it off long enough, they finally opened shop an hour later than usual. Teodor said it wasn’t really a problem since the month was almost up and they already made their quota. Kean offered his help since they did delay on his behalf.

That’s when things turned eventful.

Kyl knew that Mana users had strange abilities, but like most things about them, he never really understood exactly how strange. While he didn’t have to mention it out loud, Dru wasn’t wrong in his thinking that living in a small, almost secluded village tended to result in a certain degree of ignorance. Kyl’s first time witnessing these abilities happened by watching Kean all throughout the day.

First, it was with the wooden stove they used for baking. Since it rained last night and they forgot to cover their firewood, Dru and Kyl had a difficult time getting a fire going. Kean decided to lend a hand and ended up overdoing it. Dru and Kyl did stand a little too close, curious to see what Kean would do. He burned the wood a little more than what was necessary, and the fire quickly rose. It consumed the stack of wood and due to the water, the crackling of wood also came with bursts of ashes. Fortunately, no one was hurt and Dru managed to close the steel door to tame the flame before it could escalate. Because of that though, he ended up covered in ash himself. Kyl couldn’t help but laugh even while he was a mess himself, since it wasn’t compared to Dru who almost resembled some kind of gigantic charcoal. The older Hearth didn’t know whether to be more upset with Kean or Kyl. But since the Mana user was giving his apologies, no matter how bland the tone, while his cousin was just laughing his head off he decided that Kyl would be doing most of the dough kneading for the day.

After the initial rush hour, they took a break. While Kean and Kyl were passing by the foyer when they saw Myrah frowning and nagging Teodor over some Orientalis out the back door. Apparently, the flower patches were all wilting because, according to her, Teodor didn’t water them as constantly as he was supposed to. Seeing her distress, Kean steps forward and, with a wave of his hand, he revived the dead flowers, regaining their pinkish vibrancy along with a translucent glow, as if they were freshly bloomed. Myrah widened her eyes before running towards Kean to embrace him in gratitude. Teodor sighed in relief, mouthing his own thanks.

The next event transpired shortly after Teodor declared that they no longer have to bake more bread to replenish their stocks for the day. Kyl and Kean was given the task of organizing the kitchen and take inventory of the remaining ingredients while Dru helped his father in the shop. The ladder was misplaced when the boys went into storage so Kyl had no way of checking the top shelves. Before Kyl could ask Kean to look for it while he double checks the lower shelves to make sure their listings were accurate, the Mana user brought his palms together and blew on them. Kyl eyed him questioningly before he felt light all of the sudden and the next thing he knew, he was floating weightlessly off the ground and higher into the air. Kyl freaked out when his hands reached the ceiling and forgot all about taking inventory; when Dru went to check what the noise was about, he almost had a heart attack. With his attention diverted because of that, Kean ended up dropping Kyl on his cousin.

Finally, Kean and Kyl were sent out to give the day’s leftovers to the chosen priorities. As a precaution, Myrah gave Kean a cloak to wear so those fellows who beat him up before wouldn’t be able to recognize him. Just when they were on their way home, it started to rain once more. Kyl managed to find a tree to stay under, and while they were still being rained on, it wasn’t as bad as when they were out in the open. He suggested waiting it out but then, he saw Kean out there and on the spot he stood, the rain seemed to go around it. He beckoned for him to step out, and after a brief moment of hesitation, he stepped out. The hand outstretched towards Kyl glowed and now, the rain avoided Kyle as well. With that, they made their way back.

However, Kyl was certain that the cloak didn’t serve it’s purpose of concealment after that stunt.

🔥

Kean and Kyl were resting up when they got home, just waiting for supper to be ready. Kyl decided he would work on his swordsmanship since he was returning home tomorrow.

Arriving was simple, since he had a special transportation to get him there directly. At home, despite not having much to brag about, they did have farms that specialized in breeding Aero Aves, large birds that have a gentle nature and have impressive homing instincts. Licensed agencies train these birds to carry passengers along with their packed belongings to long or short distances. But at the time, they only had money for Kyl to take a one-way trip service. There were additional fees if the traveler wanted to have the Aero Aves to come back for a return service. Furthermore, since he was journeying home on his own this time around, he would have to leave town. In spite of it’s large size, the town didn’t have its own port. Therefore, he would have to travel on foot first to the nearest town his uncle said had one so there was a chance Kyl would be running into some trouble.

Myrah wanted to request for an adventurer escort from the local guild, but Kyl refused. For one moment in this trip away from home, he wanted the accomplishment of doing something independently. Still, he did hope that the road to the next town didn’t have wild animals or, worse, strong monsters. He knew that monsters do not normally attack humans unless provoked. As long as he kept to the main road, he would be okay. However, he also needed to consider robbers. Although, in between baking and deliveries, he couldn’t find time nor energy to train regularly so he hoped he wouldn’t be having any of those encounters at all.

“Kyl, are you heading outside?” Kean speaks up just as Kyl was half way out the door, “has the rain stopped?”

“I think so,” Kyl replies, “I just wanna train a bit to prepare for traveling tomorrow. But auntie would kill me if I use my sword inside.”

Kean tilts his head to the side, “I do not believe miss Myrah is capable of such atrocious acts, such is not compatible to her kind nature.” He says flatly.

“Atro…” Kyl frowns, brows creasing before shaking his head. “No, uh, I mean… well, it’s cramped up in here as it is. I’m gonna need more space to move around better.”

Kean nods in understanding, “I see. An open area is optimal for such actions. I’ll accompany you since, yes, I agree. It is cramped inside.”

“Uh... huh?” Kyl was lost for a moment, giving the Mana user time to walk pass him and towards the back exit of the house. “Well, okay then.” He shakes his head before following Kean out.

When they got to the back of the house, just a few feet away from the storage. Kyl starts by working on his stance and repeating basic movements to warm up. After which, he tries to envision possible scenarios, recalling the common wolves that would attack travelers and thinking of the tips his dad gave him on how to handle such an encounter. When he was satisfied enough, he went on to wielding his sword and hitting his imaginary enemy with the blunt side. If he ever did encounter robbers, he didn’t feel good about killing them. He did not believe it was his place to decide who should die. He keeps this up until he his attention was finally drawn by Kean, settled on top of a water barrel. By his still position, Kyl could guess that this was him in meditation, the breathing seemed to follow a rhythm as well. That was when he recalls the conversation from breakfast.

“Is that really filling for you?”

Kean pauses, mid-exhale. He slowly blinks his eyes open, finding where Kyl stood.

‘Er, maybe I shouldn’t have interrupted?’ Kyl winces, rubbing the back of his head. ‘It is meditation, after all…’

If Kean was perturbed by being broken out of his concentration, it didn’t show. “For something to be filling,” he starts. “there must be a containment variable. I am not a container.”

The boy finds that he was getting used to the way Kean spoke, “No, I mean…” he pauses to think, “does it make you… well… not hungry?”

“Mana users do not really experience hunger.” Kean replies, “For humans, food is necessity for the recuperation of energy and nourishment along with water. Internally, my body does not require those intake. However, similar to you, I do require hydration as do all living things in nature. What I am doing now is sufficient in terms of sustenance, if in any circumstances I neglect my meditation practice I would feel sluggish till I am able to do so again.”

Kyl frowns, scratching the lower part of his chin. 'Isn't that similar to hunger in essence?' he wonders, “But then, you're still able to eat food, so...”

“That's because, as sir Teodor stated, food came from nature after certain alterations so I am able to consume them, similar to how I can consume water the way you do. In addition, our anatomy are similar except we do not possess cells and the like.”

“You really need to use small words, Kean.” Kyl sighs, suddenly losing energy to train. “It's hard to keep up with you. How are Mana users different from humans when we look the same?”

Kean pauses, as if in thought, before responding. “You know what Mana is, right?”

“Uh,” Kyl thinks about it, “it's like magic, right?” he says, sheathing his sword.

Kean shakes his head, “No. Mana is considered the power of the elemental forces in nature. Fire, water, wind, and Earth. It is easily understood that Mana users are able to manipulate this power. But what is not known by most humans is that Mana users are Mana themselves.”

“Huh?! You're Mana?”

Kean nods, “Humans possess a certain type of acid that connects them to their roots. Consequently, as we do not possess the same substance, the concept of family does not exist in our kind.” he explains.

“No family?” Kyl frowns, “Then how were you born?”

“I was not born, as such would require a mother and father role. I was formed.” Kean corrects, “Mana users come to be when there is a large amount of Mana force in a given area. Sometimes, we rise from the sea. If that happens then the user would be limited to manipulating water elements. Alternatively, if we come from a volcanic area, then fire elements would be the limitation. In addition, we would have corresponding nullifying effects to their elemental adept. A fire adept are incapable of being burned, and a water adept would be capable of breathing underwater.”

“Huh, well, I guess that makes sense... somehow. I mean, I got the gist and all.” Kyl hums, “But wait, how are you able to control all four elements?” he questions, recalling the events of the day. “Are some specialized Mana users like that? Is there a name for that?”

At this, Kean says nothing. Instead, he looks down in contemplation.

“Uhm, did I say something wrong?”

Kean shakes his head. “No, I just do not have an immediate answer so I was thinking how to respond,” he says, “To be honest, I cannot know the exact area where I came to be. This is one of the things about myself I do not have knowledge of. Most Mana users are able to recall where and that is usually the optimal place for them to meditate. Considering what I told you earlier as well, I do not possess any nullifying qualities either. On some occasions, some areas produce Mana users quite often. If they so wish, those users reside there therefore making themselves into a tribe.”

“Oh,” Kyl mutters, frowning. “does this bother you?” He would be worried himself if he didn't know where he came from, or if he was different from others to that extent; the way Kean seemed set apart from his kind.

“To be bothered implies that I feel apprehension or discomfort, which are somehow manifestations of fear. I am not inclined to emotions so no, I am not bothered.” Kean replies, “I go by survival instincts alone, so I suppose it does not matter where I come as I do not possess that knowledge yet am still be capable of living.”

Kyle frowns, not certain he would actually call that living. His uncle was right when he said that Mana users seemed to exist for the sake of existence alone. He couldn't wrap his mind around it.

'What was it like,' he wondered, 'to be without emotions?' Before he could think up a response, Dru calls them for supper.

🔥

Later, Kyl was preparing for bed when Kean mentions something.

“Huh? You're leaving?”

Kean nods, “I decided to stay here for this day to help out, to give my thanks for their kindness. I would like to leave right now, but miss Myrah insists I stay one more night. I do not really wish to trouble them, but I agreed,” he says in his usual manner. “I will depart come morning, I apologize in advance if I am gone before you wake.”

“Uh, no, well... You don't really have to apologize for that.” Kyl says, “But... you mentioned not having a family, or a tribe. So that means you don't really have any home to return to,” he frowns. “where will you go afterwards?”

Kean shrugs, “Mana users do not require a dwelling. It is inconsequential, as the weather do not normally bother us as much as it does to your kind. Even those in tribes usually do not establish such things.” he tips his head slightly. “I thank you for your concern on my behalf, however.”

Kyl scrutinizes this individual that he has come to know, and he doesn't know how to respond. For some reasons, he didn't want to see him go and never know what would become of him afterwards. Kean seems like a nice guy in spite of his somewhat detached tendencies, which was now explained to him. Still, it didn't seem right to him. It was like having a nice feeling after doing a kind deed that makes it all the more worth doing. For that reason, Kyl always wanted to offer his helping hand whenever he can. But for Kean, it seems like he only saw every single act he does as a form of obligation or the like.

Then, something occurs to him. “You said that you're not inclined to emotions, right?”

“That is correct, yes.”

“But does it also mean you're incapable of it?”

Once more, Kean didn't respond immediately. “I never considered the thought. I suppose it is possible, but it seems inconsequential to surviving.”

“And you're just fine with that?”

Kean tilts his head to the side, “I apologize, may you be more specific?”

“It's just...” Kyl hesitates, “I think it would be better if you were able to feel something every now and then, you know?”

Kean replies, “No, I believe I do not. As I said, such is irrelevant to my kind.”

“It's got nothing to do with relevance.” Kyl says, “I know, I'll show you how it's done!”

Kean just stares blankly, “Show me… How to finish what?”

“No, no that kind of 'done.' I'll show you what it means to feel, how to say 'thank you' with conviction.” Kyl grins, “maybe even teach you how to use simpler words, too.”

Kean continues to stare. “I do not comprehend.”

“Yeah, now you know how it feels.” Kyl rolls his eyes, smirking. “I figure since I'm also leaving tomorrow and you don't really have anywhere to go, why not we just go together?” He beams, “Believe it or not, even if I live in a smaller area, we have more to do since we also got a farm to manage along with the bakery.”

Kean nods, as if in understanding. “I see. So, you require my company for temporary assistance in this endeavor. Very well.” he says.

“What? Wait, no. I mean, I guess your help would be appreciated. But no,” Kyl shakes his head, gesturing with his hands as if to dismiss the idea. “I just... I enjoy your company, I guess you could say, and it would be nice if you could get something out of it as well.”

Kean tilts his head once more, “I have. The quaint accommodations here is well appreciated.”

“Er, not exactly what I meant.” Kyl sighs, “But this is why you're coming with me. Just... Stick with me, okay? Like a 'from now on' thing than a temporary one.”

“Hm,” Kean hums, “I must decline.”

“Huh?”

“This is what you humans call a 'proposal', is it not? I understand that it is something done between a man and a woman, also with the binding emotion of love. I am neither a woman, nor do I feel any such emotion towards you. Also, are you not a little to young to engage in such a thing?”

Kyl’s face feels warm, and he waves his arms dramatically. “No, no, no! That is not what this is!” he protests. “Sheesh, why do you have to make it weird?”

“I see. Sorry for the misunderstanding.” Kean tilts his head forward, “You are red."

Kyl gives him a certain look, "Wow, wonder whose fault that is..."

"I believe it's mine; I apologize if I made you feel uncomfortable." Kean said, "I am not accustomed to any human asking for a long period of companionship with me; you are quite strange, Kyl.”

Kyl glares at him, “You're the last person I want to hear that from, mate.”

“All the same, I must decline.” Kean tells him, “I do not wish to trouble you, and a long term connection, which you are requesting, can prove bothersome.”

Kyl raises a brow, “What do you mean?”

Suddenly, they heard some vague noise that later turned into disturbing racket. “This is what I mean.”

🔥

“What on Gaea...” Kyl trails off as he and Kean reach the ground floor, the noise only getting louder.

They follow it, and head towards the bakery kitchen then through the threshold leading to the shop's counter. Kyl walks towards the windows and find a group of men swarming their main entrance, their outsize arms flexing as they visibly attempt to push pass the double, oaken doors. He even notices that they were the same guys who messed with him the day before. Dru pushes against the force to keep them at bay, his corded muscles ripples under the strain.

“Hey, what’s going on?”

Dru's head jerks in reaction, but he keeps his focus on the door. “Maker's name... Kyl?! Please tell me Kean's upstairs!” he grunts.

“I am here.”

“Damn it!” Keeping his weight against the door, he turns around in favor of looking at the other two, “you're the last people I wanted coming over. Where's dad?!”

Before Kyl can answer, Myrah steps in the room next and Dru almost cries in dismay till she opens her mouth. “Your father's making sure our other entrances aren't being broken into. He escaped afterwards to look for the local knights.” she says.

“What's going on?” Kyl repeats, frowning. “Why are those men trying to get in at this hour?”

Dru glares, not in the mood to be answering any questions. “Search me! Whatever it is, it's definitely not for our bread!” he grumbles. “Now get back in your room with mister magic there!”

“That is not my name.”

Dru lets out a long-suffering groan.

“Are those the guys who beat Kean up?”

Dru huffs and in-between grunts, answers. “Kyl, for eternia'sake, you really are simple. Can you not understand the situation?! Now, help me or shut up!”

Kyl huffs indignantly, but goes over anyway and helps Dru push back. Kean raises a hand and ask if he could do anything to help, to which the cousins collectively responds with a loud, 'No.' Kean puts his hand back down and walks away, most possibly back to their room like earlier instructed.

Eventually, the weight on the door suddenly lessened, and the shouting ceased while a stern, authoritative voice was heard. A knock comes from the door, along with the familiar voice of Teodor.

“It's me, Dru. Open up.”

Sighing in relief, Dru rolls his shoulders to stretch out the kinks. Kyl opens the door in his stead, revealing his uncle on the other side speaking with an unfamiliar man. His hair was slightly below shoulder length tied back by a black cord, its pale golden color shines against the dim light of the bakery, he was also dressed in an Adventurer's garb; he wore a long, deep blue inner tunic, a scarlet sash wraps around his waist with a scabbard secured against it. There, the man sheaths his weapon, a two-handed Claymore, which may indicate that the adventurer was left-handed. Kyl wonders if he actually used it earlier, or if it was just to intimidate the men.

The man exchanges a hand shake with Teodor before he pauses, and looks over to Kyl who stiffens at the sudden attention but he relaxes at the stranger's easy smile. His jaw was defined, almost as well as Dru's, maybe even more so. It was also clean-shaved, as if the man grew a beard frequently and had to shave as much.

“I couldn’t find any knight,” Teodor explains, “Thank the reapers, I ran into this fellow.” He says, gesturing to the man.

The adventurer bows his head, “Always a pleasure to lend my services,” he says, “My name is Lyxander.”

“Thanks for your help, sir.” Kyl says, “I’m Kyl.”

The man nods towards him, but diverts his attention to Dru. “And your name is?”

“Me? I’m Dru, short for Druant.”

Lyxander hums, sizing him up carefully. “You seem to have the makings of a great swordsman,” he muses, “How’s your training, Druant?”

Something about that catches Kyl’s attention. It wasn’t any doubt that Dru had an impressive built, but most men didn’t necessarily acquire that physique only through the training of a knight and such, all the more was it how one would be identified as a swordsman.

“Actually, he’s a baker.” Teodor interjects, “What he knows of such a thing is enough to get him by a journey from one town to another.”

Lyxander looks between Dru and his father, the former seems be fidgeting quite a bit. “Oh, I apologize. I didn’t realize that…” he pauses, “well, never mind. If you are ever interested, I am looking for companions to accompany me in a… well, let’s call it an undertaking for now.” He smiles, “I will share more, should you choose to express interest; I will be at the guild. Have a good night, now.”

“Well,” Teodor hums, scratching his backside. “that was an odd exchange.”

Dru takes a breath before speaking, “Dad,” he starts, “can we talk?”

“Hm?”

Kyl looks at his cousin, and understanding dawns on him. “I’m going to check on Kean.”

🔥

A few minutes later, the conversation moved inside with Myrah now included. Dru explained his intentions of exploring the world, as he did not find the fulfillment in being a baker all his life. Teodor listened all through his ramblings, which Dru didn’t expect at all. Finally, the man sighed when his son promised he would remain long enough for them to find a suitable replacement.

“No, son.” Teodor says, “there’s no point, the Hearth bakery is run only by the Hearth family, and those married into it. That’s how it’s always been. We’ll keep the shop going as long as we can manage, but if it’s time, then we’ll close it down.”

Dru widens his eyes, “You don’t have to do that,” he says, “I won’t be gone forever, I’ll come back, once I’m ready to settle down.”

“Are you sure?” Myrah asks, her tone mild, “you just said you do not find fulfillment in being a baker. If you don’t find it fulfilling now, it can’t be certain that you will later on.”

Dru frowns, his eyes now downcast. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”

“Don’t feel guilty, son. I’m not doing this out of spite,” Teodor promises, “All things must reach its end, even those things that we’ve found solace in for so long. Such is the nature of life.” He says, “what’s important is that you find what it’s worth. May the Maker guide you in this path, son.”

Dru looks back up, smiling at his parents. He stands and goes over to wrap them in his arms, “Thank you...”

The small family remains that way for a short while, when Kyl comes running into the room in haste. The three breaks contact, and turns towards the young lad who seems out of breath.

“What’s up?”

Kyl frowns, shaking his head. “I think Kean left.”

🔥

Kyl and Dru made preparations to leave the following morning. All the while, Kyl couldn't believe Kean actually left without a proper good bye. It may have something to do with him being a Mana and not having the courtesy to do so, but he had enough of that to return the favor by helping them run the shop yesterday. Plus, Kyl did say he wanted Kean to accompany him when he returns home. It's true that they were still talking about the matter, and Kean had yet to give a confirmation. In fact, the Mana user did imply that it would be an inconvenience for Kyl if he were to keep him company. However, since it wasn't settled Kyl had hoped Kean would reconsider.

"Why do you even care so much?"

Kyl looks towards Dru, pausing in his task of checking if he was all packed, "Huh?"

"About Kean," The older Hearth clarifies, "You said you guys got interrupted before anything was settled, but the guy did say it wasn't a good idea. That's pretty much his say on the matter. Taking it in face value, he declined."

Kyl frowns, shaking his head. "But it wasn't going to be any trouble for me, and he left before I could explain that to him."

"Kyl, he's a Mana user." Dru reiterates, "He managed this long without emotional attachments, he can do without it. Now come along, I need to walk you out town before heading to the guild."

Kyl frowns as he watches Dru making his way out. He should've known better than to explain his case to him. While they were as close as they can be, considering their age gap, they didn't share the same ideals most of the time. Moreover, Dru did give his sentiments regarding Kean's kind and while he didn't detest them to the extent of wanting to hurt them he also didn't sympathize with Kean the way Teodor and Myrah do, the way Kyl does. Resigned, Kyl double checks his things before following him out.

Dru walked Kyl out town before heading to the guild to talk with Lyxander, and most probably get his adventurer certification. With a backer, he would be able to acquire it within the day. Kyl wished him good fortune even as he didn't know how to feel about his cousin's decision; that it could mean the Hearth Bakery closing shop in this town in the later years. He considered talking to his parents about moving in with them officially; his relatives weren't getting any younger and while Dru promised to visit whenever he was nearby Kyl wanted to make sure they're checked on regularly.

Before that, he needed to get home.

So far, staying on the path was working well for him. The only encounters he had were the regularly rabbits and fawns, who scurries away at the mere sight of him as he was more likely to predate on them than they were to him. Before he could think he would arrive to the next town with no trouble at all, he encountered said trouble though not in the form he expected.

There was a creature caught in a net, suspended off the ground. It growled, trying to claw its way out. Kyl notices that its tail was short, its hind legs were longer than its front legs. With this, he figures it was some kind of lynx. But it was strange because, as far as Kyl knew, this region of Gaea didn't have packs of wild felines roaming around. Bears and wolves were more common if he wasn't mistaken, and while he usually is, his father made sure he knew and remembered what kind of wild animals he would most likely run into heading back home. The second thing that bothered Kyl was the fact that it wasn't hunting season, so it was only tolerated to attack wild animals if they attacked first, making this lynx a victim of poachers considering that it was caught and now hanging in a net.

This brought Kyl to his third problem. 'How do I free it without getting attacked myself?'

He frowns, wondering if he should return to town and report the issue. But then if the offenders were on their way back to collect their prize, they would be able to get away before the local knights would be able to do anything about it and take the lynx with them. Then, Kyl remembers the packed lunch his aunt gave him before he left.

"Okay, here goes."

Kyl walks towards the trapped lynx. As expected, once the creature sees the brunette approaching, he starts to growl and snarl at him. Kyl flinches a bit, his hands going up instinctively. He bends over and lays a pair of underwear—one he was looking for a reason to get rid off for a while since he really didn't like how itchy it was. He places pieces of meat on top of it and looks up at the lynx.

"All right, I'm not going to hurt you. See? You can even have this after I free you."

The lynx stares back at it, and for some reasons, Kyl thought it was giving him an a certain expression and he could picture Dru giving it to him. He shakes his head and climbs up the tree and the lynx actually stops snarling, and was just observing him. He sat on the branch that the net was tied on before cutting it with his sword. He hasn't sharpen it in a while, so it took a few seconds before breaking through completely. The lynx drops to the ground and, with remarkable precision, untangles itself from the net easily enough. It walks towards the offering, swiping it off the garment before devouring the meat and jumping towards the bushes and away from the area.

Kyl narrows his eyes and jumps to the ground, picking up his underwear with the tip of his sword. "Guess it didn't like you, either." he places it back inside his bag, before turning and continuing on his way.

When he saw a group of men running towards him; familiar men, at that.

"You—" The one at the front, the self-proclaimed leader whom Kyl thinks goes by the name of Jinn aims a glare right at him, casting side glances at the ruined trap. "a scum-lover, now a rotten vandel? You just love pissing us off, don't you?"

Kyl frowns, "Scum lover? Are you talking about Kean?" he grumbles, clenching his fist. "a scum for something he is, as oppose to hunting animals off season and going against the law?"

"You really love to test my patience, don't you?" Jinn glowers, stepping forward.

[Narrative plot of Kyl being rescued by the lynx, now in a humanesque form. I haven’t written it yet lol. I’m bad at action scenes.]

"You're welcome, and before anything else I would like to highlight that when you're offering food, don't put it on top of your underwear."

Kyl cringes at that, "It's clean."

"Not the point," Lynx made a look, "How would you feel if someone served you a meal on their underwear?"

The brunette rubs the back of his head, "Well, I thought you were an animal so..."

"That's an offense to animals everywhere; most pick their food off the ground, not where your genitals have been."

Kyl's cheeks turns flush, and he decides not to reiterate that it was, in fact, clean.

#Myart #OC #Original story

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trash-the-tozier · 6 years

Text

The Disappearance of Georgie Denbrough (7/10)

Title: The Disappearance of Georgie Denbrough

Length ~60.8k (~5.9k for this part)

Summary: The summer between junior and senior year of high school, Bill’s little brother Georgie goes missing.

Warnings: It’s relatively canon-typical in terms of content. For this part there’s explicit language, underage smoking, mentions of abuse, and some flirty richie

Pairings: Richie/Eddie and eventual Ben/Beverly

A/N: Sorry that it's been forever since I last posted!! school + work + my 21st birthday all combined to completely kick my ass. But I'm still alive, and it shouldn't be as long between this chapter and the next. This chap feels like it's got a lil too much fun fluff and not quite enough plot, but character bonding is important, right? I hope you all enjoy it <3 also posted to my ao3 here (much more readable tbh) Previous Parts: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

“Shit!”

The exclamation was hushed but it still made Beverly jump horribly, turning to the source of the noise. It was Richie, gripping the doorframe with one hand to steady himself, the other on his chest.

“Jesus Christ, Bev. You gave me a heart attack.”

“Sorry.” She mumbled. Richie walked over to her, confusion in his expression, and Beverly realized for possibly the first time how strange this must be. She'd entered Richie's house while he'd been out and was now in his room, standing by the open window and smoking a cigarette, and it was nearly four in the morning.

“You're in my house.” He said. She smiled hesitantly.

“I mean… you did say I could just come on over. For those midnight ragers.”

He laughed a little when he remembered what she was referring to, asking for a drag on her cigarette. She handed it over.

“We missed midnight.” He remarked, blowing a cloud of smoke through his window. “We can have a four a.m. rager, if you really want. Though I think I'm out of Cheetos.”

She shrugged a little. “As long as we're following the underwear dress code.”

Richie shook his head, handing the cigarette back.

“No can do, Your Majesty. Sorry to disappoint, but I'm a taken man now.”

The most smitten smile Beverly had ever seen bloomed across Richie’s face, and her mouth fell open in happy surprise.

“You kissed Eddie!”

Richie laughed, cursing.

“I did. A couple of times, actually. How did you know it was him?”

“I have eyes.” She answered matter of factly. “All the flirting between you two really was getting disgusting.” She pointed at him accusingly with the cigarette between her fingers. “He was convinced you didn't like him, you know.”

“You guys talked about me?” He asked, continuing before she could answer. “And I didn't know, honest!”

Beverly shook her head in disbelief, putting out her stump of a cigarette.

“I know.” Richie shook his head too. “I've been thinking back through all these dumb things I did and I can't believe it either. I went to his house in my underwear a few days ago. Why the hell did I do that?”

Beverly laughed out loud, lighting up another stick.

“I'm happy for you.” She told him. Richie gave her a smile.

“Yeah, I'm happy too. Got any tips for me?”

“Tips?” She echoed, confused. “What, like how to make out with your boyfriend? Because I can't help you there.”

Richie got adorably flustered at the word 'boyfriend’, stuttering out a few incomprehensible phrases, and even in the dark Beverly could see a blush on his face. She spoke again, simply to give him more time to collect himself, but wasn’t able not to grin at him.

“What makes you think I could help you?”

Richie shrugged.

“I mean, I’m a lot of talk--fuck off--” He said quickly when Beverly laughed “--but I’ve never… I don’t know anything about this stuff. But you…”

“Me?” Beverly asked hesitantly. “What about me?” She had a terrible feeling she knew where this was going, remembering rumors that had followed her around for years throughout the school. Richie seemed to realize he’d touched on something he shouldn’t have, taking a step back from her, just out of arm's reach.

“I’ve just… Heard some things. That you’ve been…” She raised her eyebrows, and he finished weakly, wincing as though she’d already hit him. “...around.”

Richie waited for her to react, but when she did no more than stare at him, he began floundering.

“It was just talk, just rumors and stuff, I know it’s not… I don’t--”

“None of it is true, alright?” She said sharply. “Gretta just lives to make my life hell.”

“Alright.” She appreciated how immediate and steadfast his response was. “Sorry Bev.”

He was still looking at her warily, so Beverly sighed and offered her cigarette out as a peace offering. He took it.

“Anyone you like now, though?” He asked her. Her mind went immediately to the postcard stashed away in the tampon box in her bathroom, and she shrugged.

“I don’t know.”

“Really?” Richie raised his eyebrows skeptically. “I could’ve sworn you had the hots for Bill.”

“Yeah, I thought I might.” She confessed. “We kissed, but it wasn’t really…”

She trailed off, unsure of how to explain the lack of romantic tension, the pure comfort behind the action with an absence of everything else. Richie's eyes widened a little behind his glasses, amusement playing on his lips.

“Big Bill is a bad kisser?” He asked in excitement. Beverly shook her head.

“No, nothing like that. It was nice, but…”

“But it takes a lot more than ‘nice’ to please a girl like Beverly Marsh.” Richie winked and made a growling sound in his throat, grinning, and she punched him in the arm.

“Beep beep Richie. It just didn't feel right, I guess. And it wasn't just me; Bill felt it too.”

“Ah. Shame. Bill has a really cute ass.”

Beverly looked over at him, feeling slightly astonished.

“Honestly, how did you not know you were into guys?” She asked, and Richie just shrugged uselessly. “Is his butt cuter than Eddie's?”

“Nah.” The word came out like a sigh, Richie folding his arms and resting against them on the open window. “Eds has the cutest everything.”

He stood there for a moment before he caught the look she was giving him, straightening up and telling her to shove it before burying his face in his hands.

“Hey.” His voice was a little muffled. “If I ask you something embarrassing, do you promise not to tell anyone about it?”

She considered him for a second before shrugging.

“Depends on how embarrassing it is.”

Richie laughed, lifting his head back up.

“That's fair.” He allotted.

“What's your question?”

Richie fidgeted with the collar of his shirt.

“So… How lame is it that I…” He scratched the back of his neck, obviously hesitant, and she raised her eyebrows, prompting him to continue.

“Lame that you what?”

“How lame is it that I cried when Eddie told me he loved me back? Not a lot, you know, like…” He mimed something gushing from his face. “...but a little.”

That was probably the sweetest thing Beverly had ever heard, and once she started smiling she couldn't stop.

“Really, really lame.” She said, but she knew he could tell what she meant by the smile on her face. He smiled back, letting his head hang.

“I'm fucked, Bev.”

“Yeah.” She agreed, offering over the rest of her cigarette. “You like it though.”

Quiet fell over them, and Beverly felt herself relaxing for the first time all day. She glanced over at Richie, who was tapping his thumbs absently against the window sill as he stared quietly out onto the dark street below them, and felt a rush of gratitude towards him. He was allowing her to simply be here without question, and keeping her company. It was as though after the events of the day he knew she needed a safe haven, and while Richie's room wasn't exactly her perfect idea of safe, it was better than her own house.

Richie pulled out his own pack of cigarettes despite Beverly insisting that she didn't mind sharing, flicking open Patrick Hockstetter's lighter.

“Is it weird?” She asked. “Using it?”

Richie shrugged.

“I don't know. How's Bill?”

She didn't ask why he assumed she would know.

“He's okay, I guess. He does feel really bad about what happened to Eddie and Ben, even though it really wasn't his fault.”

Richie murmured something on the contrary to her statement, but she decided to ignore it.

“He understands why you got angry. He's not an idiot, Richie. He knows it's dangerous, he just… He not going to give up on Georgie until there's a body, dead or alive.”

“Yeah, I know.” Richie gave a long, slow exhale. “He's so stubborn it's stupid. And I get it, I do, but…”

“But we're in over our heads and our lives are in danger?” She supplied. He glanced down at her, laughing a little.

“Something like that. Bill's usually a lot more fun than this. You met him at a weird time.”

“Weird is one way of putting it." Silence settled comfortably between them again, and together they finished the remaining three Winstons in Richie's box. When five o’clock rolled around, Beverly started for the door.

“I should get home.” She explained. “My dad will be up for work in an hour.”

“I'll walk you.” Richie offered, going down the stairs with her, but she declined.

“I'll be fine. Thanks though.” She paused in the doorway, wondering if she should hug him farewell when he fixed her with a curious expression.

“Hey, Beverly?”

“Yeah?”

“Don't get me wrong, I love your company.” He paused for moment before continuing on. “And you don't have to answer if you don't want, I completely get it, but... Why are you here? Are you alright?”

She frowned a little, debating how to answer. Richie misread her expression.

“No, forget I asked, don't worry about it.”

“It's okay.” She felt as though Richie deserved at least some sort of explanation. “I couldn't sleep. I couldn't calm down after what happened today. I didn't… I don't know. I didn't feel safe.”

He nodded a little, but his eyes still held that curious expression.

“You didn't feel safe, so you left the warmth of your own bed, trekked through town in the dark while a killer clown is on the loose, and broke into my house? Me, of all people?”

It sounded strange when put that way, she had to admit.

“Your parents don't ask questions.” She explained.

“Sure, but still. You didn't feel safe in your own house?”

“I never do.”

The bitter words were out of her mouth before she realized she was going to say them, a bolt of fear coursing through her stomach. Richie was looking at her with worry, but the hesitancy in his expression told her that she hadn't broken any disclosure agreements; she could still declare that she didn't want to talk about it, and he would accept that. But seeing the concern on his face made her chest ache with the desperate urge to just tell someone, and maybe it was because it was five in the morning on a sleepless night, but she gave in.

“My mom died of cancer when I was really little, and my dad is a piece of shit.”

Richie's eyebrows went up his forehead, and he began tapping his fingers against his thighs.

“Okay. What flavor of terrible is he? Terrible like my dad, or more like Eddie's mom?”

Neither comparison felt right, Beverly shaking her head. The words got stuck in her throat for a moment, but she forced them past her lips anyways.

“He… He abuses me.”

Richie's tapping stopped. Beverly heard the words as she said them and felt queasy, clenching her fists. Richie's eyes traveled over her, incredibly wide behind his glasses.

“But you never have any bruises, or… Oh.” The word came out small, but the horror on his face was enough for Beverly to know he understood. “Beverly…”

“That's why, why…” She swallowed, steadying her voice. She'd never confided in anyone before, feeling shaky and off-balance. “That’s why I hit you the other day, when you called me Bevvy. That's… It's what he calls me. I'm sorry.”

Richie shook her apology off, pulling her in for a bone-crushing hug, and she clung to his shoulders. She felt his heart hammering just as her's was, and when she let him go he was past her and out the door, his feet quick and strides so long she had to run down the front steps to catch up to him.

“Richie, what’s wrong? Where are you going?”

“I'm going to fucking kill him.” The vehemence in his voice surprised her, and she grabbed his arm, pulling him to a stop.

“No--”

“You can't tell me about this scumbag and expect me not to do anything!” He protested. “Beat the shit out of him, or at least call the police, or--”

“If he finds out that anyone knows he'll make us move again. I don't want to lose you guys. Please.” Richie didn't look convinced, but he didn't start off again when she released his arm. “I'm okay.”

“Bev…” He looked at a loss for words, and for someone as incessantly talkative as Richie to be this distressed and concerned on her behalf made her feel like crying.

“I'm fine. I promise to be careful. I'll stay safe. If anything happens, I'll get help.” The promise was something she'd told herself for years, but never truly acted on. Now that she was saying it aloud it felt real, and it terrified her. But it was what she wanted, more desperately than anything. “I promise.”

The fight left Richie's limbs, but the fire hadn't faded behind his eyes.

“Please don't tell the others.” Beverly requested. He sighed, putting his hands on her shoulders.

“Of course. It isn't my place to tell them something like this.” He searched her eyes, looking conflicted. “But anything you need, my door is always open, alright?”

“I know it is.” She tried to smile at him, but it was shaky at best, and he didn't return the expression. “The door wasn't locked. I walked right in.”

“Just for you.” He smiled then, just a little. “Are you actually going home now?”

“Yeah. Talk to you later, Richie. Thanks.”

“Sure.”

Beverly began home. It felt strange now that someone else knew the secret she’d kept to herself for so long, but it felt better, somehow. She remembered the look on Richie’s face when she’d told him, and hoped she hadn’t ruined his night. Either way, she was grateful to him.

She snuck back in through her bathroom window as the sky was beginning to lighten, not wanting to chance going through the front door. She retrieved the postcard and hid it under her shirt as she crept into her room, her entire body tensing when she heard shuffling around in the front of the house. She hurried to change from her street clothes back into her nightgown, hearing footsteps coming down the hall. Her underwear drawer was slightly open so she shoved the postcard inside and all but jumped into bed, about to pull the covers over her when the bedroom door opened.

“Bevvy?” Her father stepped inside. He was dressed for work, a still-folded newspaper in his hand. “You’re up early.”

Beverly pulled the covers up to her chin.

“I just went to the bathroom, that’s all.”

She knew she didn’t look bleary-eyed or sleep-tousled, but maybe the fatigue on her face from a sleepless night was convincing enough, because he didn’t ask any questions.

“I just wanted to tell you that I’ll be working late tonight, but the sundown curfew still stands. It’s dangerous out there.” He tossed the newspaper onto her bedspread. It had the headline BODY FOUND above a picture of Patrick Hockstetter’s missing poster. “Stay safe.”

“Yes Daddy.” His concern made her feel sick, but she kept the expression off her face. He turned, closing the door behind him.

“Bill…” Stan sighed, nudging the phone into the crook of his neck to hold it in place with his shoulder, twirling the cord around his finger. “Don’t worry so much, okay? I’m sure Richie knows that.”

“But are you r-really sure?”

Stan paused. “No, Bill. I haven’t seen or spoken to Richie in the past three days. But he knows how much you care about us, okay? He must know you feel bad. And it wasn’t your fault, really.”

Bill was silent on the other line and Stan got up to pace a little bit, the phone cord coiling and unwinding as he walked across the room and back. He glanced out the dark window, night having fallen a couple of hours ago, the bright moonlight making its way through the trees in his front lawn.

“Just call him, if you’re so worried. Hang up on me and dial his number right now.”

“B-b-but--”

“You pushed first.” Stan pointed out, and Bill began mumbling something Stan couldn’t decipher. “You have to reach out to him.”

“But h-he…”

“I know. He said a lot of shitty things. But those are the rules. And besides, he probably feels bad too.”

While he said it, Stan wasn’t sure about the truth behind his last statement. Stan hadn’t seen or heard from any of the other Losers since the Neibolt house disaster until today, when Bill called him. He was sure though that Richie was bound to be wherever Eddie was, and that was probably Eddie’s room, and that probably meant he didn’t feel too down in the dumps.

Stan had called Eddie’s home the day after Neibolt to make sure he was okay, but Mrs. Kaspbrak had declined his request to speak to her son. She was rather irate, insisting that they leave her alone, because apparently he’d been the third person to call that day asking to talk to him. The anger had surprised him a bit; he wasn’t used to Mrs. K being angry with him. Between all of Eddie’s friends, she seemed to like him the best, with Bill being a close second. He supposed recent events had changed things, and now Stan didn’t know when he’d be able to see Eddie again. He couldn’t imagine Sonia Kaspbrak was letting her precious daffodil of a son into the scary outside world with a cast on his arm.

“How are you?” He asked Bill, to break the silence. “Are you okay?”

“...I d-don’t know.” Bill admitted after a moment. “I’m alive. I’m not hurt, or sick.”

“I wasn’t asking about the bare minimum for ‘okay’, Bill.”

Bill was quiet for a long moment, and Stan wished he were here, so he could read his expression instead.

“Hey, Stan?” His voice was soft.

“Yeah?”

“I went back. To t-the Neibolt house.” He said it like he was admitting a secret, the words taking a second to register.

“What?” Stan sat up fast, nearly choking on his inhale. “Bill, what the hell--”

“I’m f-fine!” Bill said quickly, and Stan tried to believe him, but it was hard to really think that Bill had gone into a place like Neibolt alone and come back out unscathed. “I’ve gone back twice. Yesterday, and… And earlier. I was quiet, a-and I didn’t spring any of the traps. I tried to get t-t-the manhole cover off, but I can’t. It’s stuck somehow.”

“Are you crazy?”

“I didn’t see the clown.” Bill said. “I didn’t s-see Pennywise. I… I didn’t see anyone.” Bill sounded hurt, his voice small, and Stan regretted how harsh he was sounding. All the same, he was having a difficult time reigning himself in. It scared him for Bill to have done something so reckless.

“Bill, maybe that’s not such a bad thing. We could have scared him off, or something.” He wanted to think that driving a metal spike through Pennywise’s thigh was enough to get him to leave them alone. Regretfully, that probably wasn't true.

“What ab-b-bout Georgie? He’s still alive down there, so I need to find a w-way in.”

“I don’t know, Bill. I just… I’m sorry, but I really never want to see that damn clown again.”

A shadow moved slowly across Stan’s front lawn. Confused, paranoia creeping in, Stan walked to the window to look. When he did his heart stilled in his chest, clutching at the phone.

“Stan?” He must have made some sort of noise, because Bill sounded concerned.

“He's here.” It was the clown, it was Pennywise, standing just outside his door, his hand on the doorknob, visible only by the porch light. “He's here, my parents are out, I forgot to lock the door, he--”

Then the front door clicked open, and fear had Stan's throat closing up.

“Hang up and hide.”

Hands shaking, Stan slowly put the phone back on the receiver. He was about to take a step to the door when he heard a deep, disgusting voice passing the living room.

“The one that lives nearby is too damn fat. The black one lives too far away. The brother would be convenient, but he’s the one I need… This one’s small enough. I can take him.” The clown made his way down the hallway, towards the stairs. “I would hate to think I scared all the little boys away.”

It wasn't until Stan was sure that Pennywise was all the way on the upper story of the house that he was able to struggle his limbs back into motion. He was quiet on sock-clad feet, making it across the hall to his father's study, telling himself periodically to breathe, because he felt so lightheaded that it was hard to remember.

He wasted no time, slipping in through the crack of the barely-open door and ducking under the desk. The study room had been a prime hide-and-seek spot when Stan and his friends were still young enough for that game, making it the first place he thought of. The door creaked loudly whenever it was opened or closed, letting the hider know that it was time to be extra quiet without even looking, in case the seeker was in the room too. The desk was nearly a box, with three wooden panels going down in lieu of table legs, much of it ornately carved. It had been a gift to his father, and Stan wasn't really supposed to touch it, but he figured this was a circumstance that could be excused.

He pulled the chair in as close as he could and sat stock still, wiping at his tear-streaked cheeks and covering his mouth and nose with a hand to keep his breathing as quiet as possible. He could hear the clown tromping around upstairs and realized he'd never been more grateful that his parents weren't home. They were safe, even if he wasn't.

Slowly, ever so slowly, the clown turned back and began descending the stairs. He grumbled as he walked, Stan unable to make out the words until he was near the study room door.

“I thought perhaps just the parents went out, but no, it was a fancy dinner for everyone! A waste of time. But perhaps I should leave him a balloon.”

The door creaked, and Stan held back a gasp. But it didn't swing open, and the clown didn't come in. There was a jostling of the doorknob, then silence. And then the clown was gone, first down the hallway, then out the front door, the echo loud as the door was slammed shut. Stan sat and waited, waited until he was sure beyond a doubt that he was alone before convincing himself to move. He pushed the chair back and crawled out from under the desk, only allowing rest for a moment before pulling himself up, pressing one hand against the desk top to keep on his feet, using the other to take his father's phone and call the Denbrough household. Thankfully, it was Bill that answered.

“Stan?”

+*-“I'm okay.” As he said it, he felt his eyes welling up in relief. “He left. He didn't find me.”

“S-s-s-stay where you are.” Bill said, and he sounded shaken too. “I'm coming.”

Bill hung up and Stan let himself sink to the floor, hugging his knees to his chest and fighting in breaths through tears. He felt himself near hyperventilation when the front door opened and slammed again and he jumped horribly, but it was just Bill. It was Bill, running in and looking breathless, falling to his knees and pulling Stan into his arms. He held on tight and Stan clung to him, pressing his face into Bill's chest, wanting desperately to feel safe.

“I've got you.” Bill murmured into his hair, rocking slightly on the floor. “I'm h-here. He's gone. You're okay now. I-it's okay.”

All Stan knew as he began to calm down was that he didn't want Bill to go. He couldn't be in this house alone. Thankfully, Bill seemed to understand that too.

“You're spending the night at my house.” He declared. He pulled back to look Stan in the eye, his arms relaxing from tight around his shoulders to loose around his lower back. His voice was so insistent that Stan couldn't have declined even if he wanted to. “Tonight, and tomorrow night, and as many nights as you need to.”

“Thanks.” Stan murmured, and together they got to their feet. Stan turned to the desk for a pen and paper to leave a note for his parents, and Bill turned to the door.

“Uh, Stan…?”

“What?” Stan asked, turning. Bill was giving him a hesitant, questioning look, and next to him, tied to the study room doorknob and hovering barely an inch below the ceiling, was a red balloon.

“What’s this?”

Stan didn’t know. But then he remembered Pennywise’s words--perhaps I should leave him a balloon--and realized it was from the clown.

“He left it there, I think.” Stan said, Bill nodding a little. “I never actually saw him. Does it say anything, or is it just…?”

Bill turned the balloon all the way around to look at it, and they both saw I ❤ DERRY in large white lettering. Bill took the pen from Stan’s hand, stabbed the balloon with a loud “pop!”, then untied it from the doorknob and stuffed it in his pocket.

“Your p-parents don’t need to see t-t-that. Come on, let’s go.”

Nodding, Stan wrote that he was at Bill’s, that they could call if they needed anything, and that he loved them, signing his name at the bottom. He looked around cautiously as they exited the house, but it was only a short walk down the driveway to Bill's car, Stan letting out a breath of relief as the key turned in the ignition and the car grumbled to life.

“You have cute elbows.”

At the words, Eddie paused. He was in the middle of changing into a clean outfit for the day, up to his elbows in a t-shirt that he had yet to pull over his head. He leaned out of the closet to look at Richie.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Richie was lying upside down across his bedspread, his head dangling off the edge of the mattress, his curls nearly touching the floor. He shrugged, reaching an arm out.

“And the dimples on your back. I like those.”

Eddie was beginning to blush a little and Richie liked blushing Eddie very, very much, beckoning him over. Eddie had been trapped in his room for a solid three days now, and Richie had decided he was going to keep him company. He’d brought over a change of clothes, hiding in Eddie’s closet whenever Eddie’s mother came up the stairs. He’d thought that maybe Eddie would get tired of him, ready to leave at the smallest sign of exasperation, but instead Eddie was smiling, and kissing him quite a bit. Richie knew he should probably be worrying about what his friends were up to, his fight with Bill coming to mind every once and awhile, but for the most part he was too over the moon to care.

Eddie complied to his silent request and walked over, Richie sitting up, reaching up to run his hands down Eddie’s sides. He settled his hands comfortably around Eddie’s waist, revelling in how soft his skin was.

“You have to let me get dressed.” Eddie told him, his voice barely a murmur, his face still pink. Richie hummed a little.

“Yeah, but I don't want to.” He leaned forwards and pressed a kiss to the skin just above Eddie's navel, leaving his lips there and feeling Eddie shiver. Then he blew a loud, wet raspberry against his stomach.

“Richie!” Eddie shrieked, shoving him backwards and squirming away. Richie fell flat on his back on Eddie's bed, laughing, and Eddie pulled his shirt over his head with a huff, struggling around his cast as he grumbled. He was bright pink now, and Richie loved it. “You're disgusting, the absolute worst--”

They both froze when the sound of Sonia Kaspbrak tromping up the stairs became audible. Richie scrambled to his feet, still giggling as Eddie shoved him in the closet and closed the door. Then Eddie's mother burst in.

“Are you talking to someone? I heard your voice.”

“Just, uh… Just myself.”

“I heard a name.” It was obvious by her tone that she knew which name it was, and didn't approve. Maybe she trusted her son too much, because she didn't try to look around the room.

“Oh, yeah. Richie. Just thinking about how much I hate that guy.”

Richie smothered a choked laugh in a handful of Eddie's sweaters. Mrs. Kaspbrak was quiet for a little while, but seemed to buy the excuse.

“What are you doing up?” She asked. “You should get back in bed.”

“Mommy, I only broke my arm. My legs still work.”

“But it weakened your immune system, remember? I told you. Now you have to fight off your sickness.”

“What sickness? I feel fine.”

Richie had always noticed this voice Eddie used with talking to his mother, slightly babied with placating sort of tone to it. It was gone now though, and he found himself wondering when the change had happened.

“That's because you're on your medication right now. It would be terrible if the drugs wore off.”

Eddie was quiet for a long moment.

“Is it contagious?” He asked finally. Mrs. K was quiet too before answering.

“Of course it is. Why else would I keep you away from your friends? Now get in bed.”

Eddie's door swung shut. A few seconds passed, then Eddie opened the closet door. He looked troubled, and they sat together on his bed.

“I don't know what you mom thinks the doctor told her but you're not sick, Eds. You look healthy, you act healthy, and with all the spit swapping we've been doing--”

“Beep beep, Richie.”

“I'm just saying! I would have gotten super infected by now, so… She's lying to you, at least a little.”

The fact that Eddie didn't seem to think of this as new news was a bit scary. Richie scooted closer, offering up his shoulder, and Eddie rested against him with a sigh.

“What kind of disease are you supposed to have, anyway?”

“I don't know. Something chronic, I think. My monocytic cells keep it away unless my immune system gets weakened by something.”

“But what's it called?”

“I don't know.”

Something about it all didn't seem right, and Richie couldn't figure why he hadn't realized it until now. Eddie had carried an inhaler around since he was five, but was much less wheezy than the only other asthmatic kid in town, and could run so well that Richie supposed he could be a track star if his mother hadn't stopped him from signing up for the team. Eddie was supposedly sick all the time, but between himself, Richie, Bill, and Stan, he actually looked and acted sick less than the rest of them by a significant margin. Eddie was supposed to be a weak and fragile boy, but Richie knew those words didn’t fit him at all, more sharp-tongued and tenacious than anything else.

But at the same time this was Eddie, who swabbed down his desk and section of cafeteria table with antibacterial wipes every day, who always cleaned under his fingernails, who took every pill dutifully and without question and still believed that mothers always wanted what was best for their children. Richie got to his feet.

“I'm busting you outta here, Eddie Spaghetti.”

Eddie gave him an exasperated look.

“I've told you, I refuse to skip town until we finish high school.”

“First of all no, you have not told me that and we are totally revisiting that topic later, but that’s not what I meant. Just out for the day! A good ol’ fashioned jailbreak. You've gotta be tired of being cooped up in here.”

Eddie didn't deny it.

“I can't climb down the trellis with a broken arm.” He finally said.

“True.” Richie frowned for a moment. “Hop on my back, I'll get us both down.”

“No, we'd be too heavy. It would break.”

“Yeah, then I’d have to use your front door like a normal person, and that just wouldn’t do.” Richie scratched at his chin thoughtfully. “Alright, no two ways about it. I’ll distract the wildebeest downstairs, and you make a break out the back door. Sound good?”

“Don’t call my mom a wildebeest.” Eddie reprimanded, though he looked amused. “I dunno, Richie. She checks on me every three hours; she’ll know I’m not here.”

“C’mon!” Richie took Eddie’s hands in his and swayed them, giving what he hoped was a convincingly pleading expression. “You can only kiss me so many times before you get bored.”

It was meant as a joke, but got very not funny very fast when Eddie didn’t even crack a smile. Eddie caught the look Richie was trying to keep off his face and got to his feet too, sighing a little.

“Trashmouth, listen to me. How many times do I have to let you crawl in my window at two in the morning before you get it in your skull that I’ll never get tired of you?”

Richie offered up a weak grin, tapping his temple with his pointer finger.

“Can’t help it, Eds. Got a little bit of built up trauma in there, you see.”

Eddie gave a small laugh and smiled, leaning in towards him. His gaze rested on Richie’s lips for a moment, something Richie had begun to notice that Eddie did just before he kissed him, as though placing where Richie’s lips were so as not to miss once he closed his eyes. It was adorable, and though Richie knew he should be leaning into the kiss as well, he couldn’t help just standing there and smiling stupidly. Eddie paused.

“What?” He asked.

“Just, isn’t it exciting to be about to kiss the cutest boy in the world?” Richie asked him. Eddie was mid eye roll when Richie continued. “I mean, not that you would know because that’s how I feel, but can you imagine?”

The words took a moment to register, but when they did Eddie blushed so badly Richie worried for a moment that he might catch fire.

“If you say cheesy bullshit like that to me again you’re sleeping on the floor.” He threatened.

“I can stay over again?” Richie wasn’t sure why it surprised him, but it did. Eddie, already flustered, floundered a little.

“You have the past few days, so I just, I just assumed--”

“Come here.” They were close already, but Richie tugged him in the rest of the way to close the distance. But the kiss didn’t last long, Richie unable to get the smile off his face, a smile Eddie took as teasing and leaned back to hit him lightly in the chest. Richie didn’t mind.

“Alright.” Eddie fixed him with a serious look. “How are you planning on distracting the wildebeest?”

Richie beamed.

#it 2017 #reddie #reddie fic #benverly #benverly fic #bill denbrough #beverly marsh #ben hanscom #mike hanlon #stanley uris #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #myfic #tdogd

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a-flower-that-writes · 6 years

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Klance 2018

Finally able to post my Klance week! This is my fic for @sunflowerscientist picture!

If you like what I do, buy me a coffee!

Read on Ao3

He had been looking forward to this break for a long time now. It was seriously overdue and now he basked in the warmth of a star that he knew. A star he never thought he would come to miss. There was the sounds of cars down on the street, children laughing without a care and a parent warning them to mind the other people walking. It was...peaceful. These people and their simple lives that went on like a slow stream below him.

It had been a really long time since they could properly relax. Between keeping the castle battle ready, training both on foot and in the lions (and that was not even counting the political stuff!) they had all been looking forwards to a nice break from it all. Even Coran and Allura had been looking forward to a relatively safe planet to recoup their energy on, one that still existed.

Keith took a slow breath and held it, letting himself relax against the balcony railing with a content hum. Smelled like they were going to get rain. He liked the rain here, no risk of it melting anything important or smelling like rotten eggs. Just simple sweet rain that would feel soothing on his face when he turned it up into the drops. He could also smell the plants nearby, they were blooming soon. He made a note to take a few clippings with him when they went back but for now he just...basked.

Everything was so calm here, hard to believe it was chaos anywhere else. Is this what it was like to live in a bubble? Had this been everyone, before? Before Zarkon, before Lotor, before…...everything. He could feel the sun warm his skin and hair and wondered if he’d tan at all. Lance would be happy at that, he always did think Keith was unhealthily pale. ‘You turn red in harsh artificial light’, he’d teased. ‘I’d love to see you on the beach.’ Rolling his eyes, the paladin shuffled his weight from foot to foot. Keith thought he was just fine thank you, not everyone needed to look like they walked off a magazine for skin that was ‘kissed by the sun’ or ‘made out of honey’ or some other equally silly title. Lips pulling into a smile, he muffled a laugh as he remembered Lance’s reaction to that comment. He loved making Lance laugh like that.

He wasn’t sure what alerted him, maybe a soft scuff of a foot or perhaps just the air moving but a smile crossed his face just before arms wrapped around him from behind with a body pressing against his back soon after. “Gonna rain tonight I think.” Lance commented, chin resting on Keith’s shoulder. No matter how many times it happened, Keith wouldn’t get tired of how easily Lance loved. He loved Keith, loved the rain, loved hugs and kisses and touching and just being. Lance loved the rain more than anyone did and could always be counted on to try and go out and just run around in it. No matter if it would get him sick or not. (The first few times, however, they learned that not all rain was created equal. A few embarrassing medbay trips and stinky ointments later, Lance learned to check out the atmosphere before carelessly running out into bad weather.) He was also king of trying to bait people into it as well, and it was hard to refuse him when he was just so excited about it. Even though it usually ended up with Lance tackling someone into a puddle. Usually, that person was Keith and usually, that turned things into a mudball fight. A big, messy, slippery, staining mudball fight.

Keith nodded without a word, hand going to lace through one of Lance’s as they stood on the balcony. “Where are the others?” He asked after just soaking in the rays for a little while longer. They had been cooking, which meant Hunk was cooking, and the other’s were loitering around and using the cover of ‘being helpful’ to steal bites and nibbles as if Hunk was not very aware that they were doing it. But no matter how many times they would be chased out of the kitchen with a spoon, like unruly kittens, they would eventually migrate back toward the smell of food to bother the chef some more.

Lance rubbed his cheek against Keith’s loose hair as he answered. “Got kicked out, it was Pidge’s fault.” He replied with a haughty sniff, which meant it was definitely Lance’s fault, and he just didn’t want to admit it. He took a deep inhale, nose tucked into Keith’s hair before speaking again. “Shiro went to go help the neighbor with her twenty evil giant dogs. What kind of crazy guy likes taking so many giant dogs for a run when on break??” he asked incredulously as Keith laughed.

“She has three, very sweet and not at all evil dogs and they are well behaved, they just do not seem to like you.” He replied, turning to kiss Lance’s cheek to soothe his pout. “I don’t see why not!” Lance couldn’t help the upward quirk of his lips, however. “Pidge go back to catching up on their forums?” He guessed, knowing how much the green paladin enjoyed trolling ‘alien hunters’ at this point. It had become something of a game for them, using various emails and usernames and a slew of images to get the forums all up in a froth. Only a small portion were any real photos of aliens, most were off center and blurry images of the team. ‘Cryptids’, they’d called them.

“Naw, went to go hit the pool. I think their last ‘cryptid picture’ broke the forum.” Keith could not help but start laughing, knowing damn well that the ‘cryptid’ was just a only somewhat blurry and out of focus Shiro after falling into what amounted to mostly swamp water but a weird shade of very gross purple. It took 6 hours to get the stuff out of his hair alone, nevermind his clothes.

His laugh was infectious however, and soon Lance was laughing as well, the two ending up clinging to each other as they recalled just how miserable Shiro had been when the picture had been taken! Covered in gross looking goop that also smelled so weird. Of course being laughed at most likely did not help their case when he decided that revenge was a dish best served with bear hugs. Sticky, greasy, funky, swampy bear hugs.

“I can not believe it actually smelled like hot dogs of all things!” Keith giggled when they finally started to calm down, rubbing at his eyes with a few remaining snickers. “Not even the good ones, either. Stale ones that have been left in the water for two hours.” Lance added with a grimace, tongue sticking out of his mouth. A pregnant silence filled the air, not uncomfortable as the sound of laughing children drifted up from below once more.“This is nice.” He sighed, hand coming up to comfortably rest his chin on, while Lance did his best octopus impression. He had to shift his very bony chin a bit before they could settle down for a good cuddle, that thing could be a weapon all on its own.

“I think I recall a certain someone wondering if Hunk could cook it.” Lance commented, as if that someone had not been himself. The elbow he got for the comment was worth the laughing oof it wrung from him. “It was worth a shot!” He insisted, backing up when Keith turned to swat at him again. “Abuse! Betrayal! I knew this inevitable day would eventually come!” He shouted, dodging Keith’s swats in the most dramatic fashion he could manage on the balcony. “I expected the betrayal to come in space though! Not here on Earth, a double betrayal! You devious fiend!” Lance would have kept going, he had a few more lines in reserve after all, but he hit a pot and went down on his ass with a thud. Only for Keith to follow, not having expected there to suddenly be legs flailing right where he had been moving!

Down he went with a yelp and a thud, followed by another thud as one of the plants tipped over. Likely due to a limb flailing into it at some point. “Ow…” Lance whined, blinking a few times and lifting his head carefully to feel the back. A little bump, his elbow hurt more where he smacked it against the surprisingly solid flower pot. “You okay?” he asked, looking down at an almost comically confused looking Keith.

“....pft..” Lance watched as Keith started to snicker, making a valiant effort to stifle it only for it to grow into full blown laughter that drew Lance in. They lay there on the wooden flooring, pot dirt likely getting into Lance’s hair and laughed until they were crying. Every time one of them started to calm, they would look at the other and off they both would go once more. By the time they managed to calm themselves, they were both very lightheaded and wheezing.

“Oh...oh my stomach...please…” Lance wheezed, clutching onto Keith as if he could squeeze the giggles out of them both. Not a likely outcome but the best he could manage after laughing so hard. “...there is so much dirt in my hair..” he added after a moment, tone almost nearly petulant and grinned as it set Keith off for another round of short snickers.

“Quit that, my cheeks hurt” He gasped as he sat up slowly, rubbing said cheeks but his eyes were still smiling. “...Yeah you’re laying right in the dirt.” he informed Lance without a shred of mercy just to watch him groan about his precious locks. “Come on, up. Let’s fix this.” The pot itself had managed to survive quite well but the dirt and plant itself needed some rescuing. “Go see if there’s an open bag of soil while i find the broom?” He suggested, looking inside and spotting it just by the doorway.

Sweeping the dirt was easy enough and Keith was done before Lance returned, lugging a half full bag of dirt. “So..do you have any idea how to do this?” Lance asked as he set the bag down with a slight oof. Who knew just dirt was so heavy!

“Do what? Put dirt in a pot?” Keith replied slowly, not sure if Lance was messing with him or not. He looked between the pot and partially uprooted plant, camomile he thought, and back to Lance with a shrug. “Put the dirt in..?”

“Yeah but how do we tuck the plant in right” Lance clarified, nodding as Keith made a low ‘ooohh’ of understanding. That left two Paladins of Voltron standing there, staring at the pot and bag of dirt. Heroes of the Galaxy, bested by a potted plant.

“Okay..weelll...let's stand it up at least” Keith eventually suggested, kneeling to start fixing the very lopsided plant, settling it more standing in the pot. “Maybe just pat dirt in around it?” he said, shifting over so Lance could bring the bag closer.

By the time they were finished, both of them had filthy hands and Keith needed to sweep again but the plant looked pretty rescued. Leaning on the broom, Keith grinned at Lance. “I think that’s a solid point for team Voltron, yeah?” Lance threw a small pod of dirt at him before standing.

“Ugh I have dirt under my nails.” he complained, leading the way to the kitchen so they could wash up properly. At least it started as a proper wash up, but Lance shook his hand and it flicked water at Keith, who splashed him back and it was only not wanting to clean up another mess that prevented a water fight.

The two wandered back to the patio to let the sun finish drying them off, not wanting to waste the last bit of it before the rain started. Lance waited till Keith settled against the railing comfortably before plastering himself against his back and letting Keith take his weight with a grunt. There was some grumbling but Keith didn’t shrug him off and soon they settled down. Not even Lance’s pointy chin could ruin the moment by jabbing his poor shoulder.

“This is nice” Keith commented after long moments, hand having moved to lace his fingers with Lance’s own to squeeze gently.

“Yeah...wanna go play in the rain tonight?” Lance asked kissing Keith’s ear loudly, grinning at the half hearted kick that got him. “C’mooon, you know you wanna run around in the mud. I’ll bet we can coax Shiro to come bring us towels and then nail him with mud balls..” he cajoled, knowing he had him when Keith perked up.

“....Only if you can convince Pidge to hide as our secret backup when Shiro ends up tackling you into the mud again.” he bargained, closing his eyes into the sun again as Lance gave a cheer. It was good to be home.

#Voltron #Klance #fluff #sfw #Klance Reverse bang 2018

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