#heartstopping. i can stare at them forever | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cakepopple · 5 years

Note

For the prompt thing—how about a kissy klance? A rare moment of downtime for the busy boys. Thanks so much!!❤️💙

I'm like!! 90% sure!! This isn't quite how you wanted this fic to go ahaha... but it's soft and mostly smooching and I'm fairly satisfied with it :) also tbh... if you want good kush kiss fics, check out @nisekoi !! Nothing I write could ever live up to those tbh :P Anywho, here’s my best go at it!

Stay, Don’t be Busy (Klance Request - 2)

— (word count: 2247) —

Lance finishes his class at noon. He’s been teaching fighter pilot courses at the Garrison since the war ended, and while he loves it, he’s happy when his lunch break finally arrives. More so today than usual, since after his students have all filed out to the hallway and mumbled their tired goodbyes, there’s still someone leaning against the doorframe. There are enough stripes on his uniform to tell Lance he’s not a student. Not that he’d need the help anyway; he knows who’s standing there, even when he’s only seen him in his peripheral. His legs cross at his ankles, his elbow bends and presses against the door to hold it open, and his fist knots so he can hold it against his cheek in an exaggerated show of false nonchalance. The genuine and smooth lines at the ends of his smile show he’s not as indifferent as his body language would suggest, though.

“Hey,” he says, and Lance realizes he’s missed Keith’s voice than he’d previously thought. Hearing it now is like the first bite of a food you haven’t had in months, the one that brings all the flavors and cravings back so fast you get a chest ache. Lance had known Keith would be back from his Blade mission today, but part of him had thought the man wouldn’t come to visit. They’re not dating, as much as Lance wishes they are, so there was never any obligation for Keith to stop by.

Every ounce of blood in his veins had been coursing with the hopes that Keith would come visit him anyway.

And here he is.

Keith’s got his Garrison uniform on, the one with the red sleeves and gold stripes, and Lance’s eyes snag on the way the colors broaden his shoulders. Or maybe it’s the way he’s standing, tall and confident, with that smug, little smile on his lips. But he looks so genuinely happy to see Lance, and that ties the whole image together. It’s something Lance will stare up at his ceiling thinking about until the next time Keith comes home. The next time Keith gives him something he can’t sleep over. Keith licks his lips, and the taunting image scrawled through Lance’s mind shifts. A shudder passes through Lance’s spine. He knows exactly what triggered it.

He nods at Keith, hands fumbling for the papers on his desk as a source of distraction. Quietly, he clears his throat, “Hey, Keith.” And there’s a smile in his voice, warm and fizzing, as he flashes a smitten look at his shuffling hands. Too stubborn, too apprehensive to let Keith know how profoundly giddy he is, but too pleased to keep a smile away. The pages click twice against the desk as he straightens them. Calculated. Nervous. “Didn’t think I’d see you during my lunch break today.” Lance flickers his eyes up and away from his work, and Keith’s grin in response is irrepressible. As if Lance just looking at him is enough to satisfy everything he’d ever wanted. Doesn’t he know how much Lance looks at him? It isn’t that special. But the way Keith smiles at him definitely is, and Lance feels his stomach roll in gratification, so he hides himself in his work again. His ears are hot.

Keith strolls in from the entrance and the door clicks back into place behind him. “Where else would I go?” He sounds so sincere. Lance smiles, the bunches of his cheeks burning from how wholly he feels the emotion behind his grin. His body sways, only slightly, with a drunken buzz of delight, and he presses a hand to his desk to keep himself steady. The papers he’d stacked so neatly only a second ago wrinkle under his hold, retaining the creases because of the sweat on his palms. God, was he always this blatantly skittish around Keith? The flush of his cheeks is so irredeemably nervous. He hears Keith flop onto the swivel chair behind him. His heart pools and bubbles in his stomach when Keith laughs at the way the seat skids back and squeaks. “You’re my favorite person to spend time with, Lance.”

“Is that so?” Lance wheezes as he asks that, playing it off by laughing in short spurts after the fact. He turns around slowly, squatting on his desk where his papers aren’t. “Never would have guessed.” And he means it. Him? Keith’s favorite? He bites back the urge to sigh at the weight such an assurance takes off his shoulders. Pleasure burns at his nape; he lifts his hands there, as though to swat it back down.

As he slides himself farther up his desk, so the crooks of his knees hook on the edge, he watches Keith make up for the distance. Hands close around the desk, one on either side of Lance’s thighs. “Absolutely.” Lance loses his voice at the certainty in Keith’s tone. The glint in Keith’s eyes turns wicked as he stands up and leans closer, shrinking the distance between them to something so small, Lance knows he’s not imagining Keith’s body heat swarming his own. “I heard something interesting from Pidge and Hunk when I came in this morning,” he says, bringing his hands closer to Lance’s legs, an inch away from touching. Lance dizzies at the thought, wonders what his hands feel like when they linger for more than a fleeting touch.

“What did you hear?” Lance has to restart the sentence a few times, emotions too thick in his throat to allow words passage. Keith smiles something tender at the jolts in Lance’s voice. One of his hands releases the desk and instead, it drifts to Lance’s cheek. Though he puts infinite effort into an attempt, Lance can’t seem to keep his eyes open. He can’t see it when Keith swoops in to smother their lips together, but he feels it so perfectly, so completely, he swears the image is right there, on the backs of his eyelids. Surely on his ceiling tonight, too, as he’ll be kept up again. One of Lance’s hands grips to ground himself on the desk, while the other reaches for the hand Keith kept beside his thigh.

When Keith straightens his spine and thus places distance between them once more, it becomes painfully clear the sort of thing he’d heard. “Pidge said she was tired of watching you ‘stare at’ and ‘pine’ over me. Hunk begged me to make the first move.” Twitching his nose, he pauses, and the hand along Lance’s cheeks trails downward to his neck. Keith looks concerned. “How long?” It’s fragile, the way his face seems to fold in the middle, where his eyebrows wrench together, as though trying to meet. A welt of sadness taints Lance’s throat.

“Do you mean how long I was going to wait to kiss you? Or how long I’ve already been waiting?” Lance’s fingers begin to slip away from where they’re nestled over Keith’s, but they’re stopped when Keith desperately draws them back, pinning the hand under his own. Shyly, Lance admits, “Either way, the answer is pretty close to forever.” A sour note wrenches from Keith’s throat.

Pressing closer, touch hot enough on Lance’s neck to scar, Keith weakly ponders, “Why?”

“I’ve been busy, and you’ve been busy, out with the Blades—”

“You’re not busy right now,” Keith says, tone sharp with urgency, but countenance a heartstopping mild. His eyes are scalding, a swirling grey like thick, stifling smoke, and Lance is suffocating in them, how they lock onto him. Stern, gentle, intoxicating. Those eyes dip to Lance’s mouth. A tongue darts over Keith’s lips when he brings his eyes upward again. “I’m not busy with the blades, either. What’s stopping you now?” Lance feels Keith’s hand on his neck crawl around to his scalp. He lets it happen, leans into the cup of gentle touches.

Lance whimpers, “But you will be busy. When you leave again in a few days.” After hearing that, Keith tugs Lance closer by his hair, so he can kiss him again. Longer, deeper, and this time, Lance kisses back. He doesn’t care that the discussion has been paused, doesn’t mind postponing it, if it means he gets to taste more of Keith’s lips, circling and pushing along his own. Keith’s leaving, he tells himself. It isn’t a good idea to indulge in something that’s doomed to crash and burn, he reminds himself. But, ultimately, he admits that it feels too right to ignore. Lance curls into Keith, so indescribably satisfied he feels he might fall down onto his desk. His back shudders at the thought, like it’s about to give out under the affectionate assault, as though to confirm such a thing would be fitting. He wraps his arms around Keith’s neck to hold himself together.

The hold Keith has on Lance’s scalp falls away. He’s at the bottom of Lance’s shirt, now, and searing fingers swipe a patch of skin on the small of Lance’s back. It makes Lance arch closer. Keith eagerly takes the invitation, sliding his whole hand up under Lance’s shirt, just to cradle his shoulder blades. All his actions, all his motions whisper, caress, sing, I’ve waited too long, over soft skin. The drag of his tongue along the roof of Lance’s mouth says the same. So do the scribbled circles that loop around to Lance’s stomach, because Lance finally leans his spine down against his desk. He’s taking Keith’s cheeks, his addictive lips, with him. Keith swirls the nails of that one hand over Lance’s middle, and his other hand hastily moves from the edge of the desk to the space beside Lance’s head, where his fingers curl into the wood.

Meanwhile, Lance grapples Keith’s cheeks like he’ll fall right into oblivion without Keith and his lips holding him in the present. His fingers wind through, and undo, Keith’s ponytail, so the hair tie clicks against the classroom floor. He doesn’t spare a thought in its direction; he’s waited too long to have Keith pushing, prodding, brushing teeth against his lips. Waited too long to kiss and be kissed by someone he feels so strongly for. To kiss and be kissed by Keith. When Lance whines, low and pleading in his throat, Keith lifts from Lance like he’s out of breath. Like he’s been drowning in something, and Lance feels the same. He can’t pry his eyes open, his lungs heave, and he feels Keith’s pulse from where he’s holding him by his cheeks, telling him Keith’s as antsy, as excited, as he is.

As Lance’s eyes squint open, he sees Keith’s cheeks are flushed. And Keith looks self conscious. Worried. He pulls his lips apart, huffs a few airless breaths, and then he suggests, “What if I don’t leave again? What if I stay here, not busy, with you?” He thumbs Lance’s bottom lip, he watches himself do it, as if he’s about to dive back in. If he went for it, Lance would let him. Lance would let him do anything. There’s no one he trusts more. In fact, he indulges the selfish look in Keith’s eyes, lifting his torso up to Keith’s so they can kiss again. Keith sighs against him, and Lance can feel the relief as his tense shoulders relax.

They kiss until Lance is too overwhelmed by the heat behind it to breathe, and he pats Keith’s cheek. Instantly, Keith unlatches from Lance. They lock eyes for a moment, before Keith tickles his nose against Lance’s jawline experimentally. When Lance opens the spot to him, humming, Keith pecks a couple kisses down his neck. Fingers clutching into fists, Lance knots them together at the wrists, behind Keith’s head. His mind is fuzzy, his words slur as he quietly questions what Keith had proposed. “You’d do that for me?”

Keith chuckles against his pulse. Every exposed patch of Lance’s skin smolders, every one of his brain cells is stolen to play the sound and the feeling on repeat. God. God. He could keep Keith there forever, ask him to say every little thought he has there, and Lance still wouldn’t tire of it. He’s certain. It feels too good. Too perfect. So much so, he almost wants to ask Keith to stop, before he’s too drunk to teach later. Worst of all is how he knows, if he were to ask Keith to keep kissing and whispering along his neck, the man wouldn’t hesitate to do it. He’d probably smile and rumble with laughter and—

“Would I? Oh, Lance,” he breathes, then he’s leaving a kiss that’s longer than the rest, one that lingers after he’s pulled away again. “As if there’s anything I wouldn’t do for you.”

“Then stay,” Lance says hastily. Now that Keith’s suggested it, Lance can’t get the thought out of his head. How badly he wants Keith to stay with him. To kiss him every day, to laugh with him, to visit him during his lunch breaks. His heart revs up at the thought, his eyes swell with tears. Lance begs, “Please stay. Go on a date with me, keep kissing me, do whatever you want. Just please do it here, on Earth. Stay.” His breath is shaking. Now he’s crying. “Please, Keith. Stay with me.”

One last time, Keith kisses him on his mouth. Sweet and brief. Lance’s whole body shivers.

“For you, Lance…” Their eyes meet again, and Lance notices Keith is crying, too. “Anything.”

#klance #kick #kl #kl fic #kiss fic #lance mcclain #keith kogane #ask cake #request #i forgot to add the italicizing jshdjdjdj i didnt rememver tumblr removes them oof

851 notes · View notes

vexedtonightmares · 5 years

Text

La Fin Des Temps Chapter 11 (Elu Hogwarts AU)

Mardi 10:40 - “I have to take care of something”

Lucas couldn’t stop staring at Eliott, and Eliott couldn’t stop staring at him. If he wasn’t careful, this was really going to get in the way of his studies. He glanced down at his empty worksheet. Well, more than it had already. Neither of them had left the Room of Requirement until Monday morning, when they’d had to because of classes. It had been painful, leaving the haven Lucas knew was going to disappear the minute they left. Even more painful was the fact that they hadn’t been able to sneak in any alone time all day, friends asking too many questions and not leaving them for even a moment. Fortunately, and surprisingly, none of them had even considered the possibility that Lucas and Eliott had been together all weekend. Actually, now that he thought about it, none of them had said anything about Eliott being missing at all. Yann nudged his side, not for the first time during their lesson, concern shining in his eyes.

“I’m starting to understand Imane’s issues with your work ethic, man. I thought you were in the library working all weekend?” he asked. It wasn’t accusatory, but he wasn’t going to let Lucas get away with the same lie he’d been telling since Lucas arrived back in the dormitory Monday morning.

“I was working,” Lucas argued, “Just not on Charms. I had so much shit to do for Potions and Arithmancy.”

“I still don’t understand why you chose Arithmancy over literally any other subject. It’s math, dude.” Yann shook his head incredulously. Lucas shrugged. He really didn’t mind math all that much. The numbers made sense to him, much more sense than pretending they could see the future with some tea leaves like the girls did in Divination. Though, he suspected the only reason they’d all continued Divination was to be in the same class together.

“Where’s Arthur?” Lucas realized suddenly, looking around the room before his gaze landed on Eliott’s again and he blushed involuntarily.

Yann simply looked at him like he was insane. “Dueling club captain? Remember? He had some meeting with the headmistress or something. I swear, Lucas, what’s up with you these days?”

Lucas had to try very hard to pay attention to Yann, eyes moving away from Eliott reluctantly. “What do you mean?”

“This, Friday, everything.” Yann rolled his eyes, snapping a finger in front of his face to get his focus. “Where’s your head at?”

“The same place it’s always at,” Lucas said defensively, but Yann pushed on.

“I’m not buying that. For weeks you’ve been in some sort of a daze. You ditch us all the time without excuse, or say you’re going to the library and don’t show up again for hours, even days. Friday at the meeting you just disappeared and I didn’t see you again until Monday morning. You didn’t respond to texts, Instagram messages, anything.”

“I’m sorry,” Lucas tried.

Yann shook his head. “I don’t need an apology, I just want to know what’s going on with you. You know you can tell me anything, right?”

“Of course,” Lucas said without hesitation. Because he could, he just wasn’t sure he was ready. He didn’t even know what he and Eliott were, if they were dating or what, and he didn’t know if Eliott wanted everyone to know about them. Yann waited for Lucas to continue, so he did, just maybe not with the words Yann wanted. “There’s nothing, though. I swear. I’ve just been a bit out of it, I guess.”

Yann looked determined to press the subject further, but Lucas was saved by their professor asking them to pair up to practice jinxes. As much as Lucas wanted to pair up with Eliott, it would be odd for him to ditch Yann, so he watched helplessly as Eliott and Ian, another Ravenclaw in their year, moved to the other side of the room to practice. Yann followed his gaze.

“Did Arthur tell you that Eliott pulled another disappearing act?” Yann asked as they got in position. Ah, there it was. Frankly, he had been beginning to worry they hadn’t noticed. Lucas fired off a jinx, which Yann blocked with ease.

“No, he didn’t.” Lucas tried to sound uninterested, hoping Yann wouldn’t draw the connection between his and Eliott’s disappearances.

Yann sent a jinx Lucas’ way, just barely missing him and hitting the chair behind him. “Yeah, no one heard from him this weekend either. Did you?”

“Hmm?” Lucas asked. “Did I what?”

“Hear from him?” Yann prompted incredulously.

Maybe if he played dumb Yann would stop talking about Eliott. “Hear from who?”

“Eliott?”

“What about Eliott?”

“Dude, have you been listening? He was missing all weekend, even at the Quidditch match.”

“Huh, weird.”

“So you didn’t hear from him then?”

“Hear what?”

“Where he went?”

“Who?”

“Jesus, Lucas,” Yann nearly yelled in exasperation. This gave Lucas a great opening to hit him with a Jellylegs jinx, one that he’d perfected nonverbally. “Fuck!” Yann exclaimed as Lucas grinned victoriously.

“Sorry,” Lucas shrugged, not sorry at all.

“You little shit, that’s why you were acting so dumb,” Yann laughed, “You were trying to distract me, huh?”

Lucas looked around the room innocently. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Yann smiled at him and it was like everything was normal again, like it had been before Eliott had come in and turned Lucas’ life upside down. He never wanted Eliott out of his life, but it was nice for that moment to remember how to be friends with Yann without feeling the weight of things he was hiding from his best friend. The weight came back a moment later, of course, but Lucas ignored it to the best of his ability, focusing instead on blocking Yann and sending more jinxes his way.

A half hour later, when they left the Charms room, Lucas felt Eliott slip past him and put something in his hand as he passed by. Smooth fucker.

“What’s that?” Yann asked, and Lucas’ hand clenched on the small piece of paper he held until he realized Yann was looking curiously at his neck, right behind his ear. His other hand flew up to the area, hoping Eliott hadn’t left any visible marks there. Yann blinked a few times and then shrugged. “That was weird, I could have sworn there was a hedgehog…”

Lucas nearly breathed a sigh of relief. He’d forgotten about Eliott’s magical drawings. He didn’t know what Eliott had used to draw them on, but they avoided him every time he tried to wash them off, moving across his body whenever he got close. With his luck they’d be there forever, not that he minded. Lucas laughed and raised his eyebrows. “And I’m the one being weird?”

Yann rolled his eyes and waved him off. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever, I’ve gotta get to Muggle Studies. See you at lunch?”

“See you at lunch,” Lucas repeated before heading off in the opposite direction, waiting until Yann was out of sight before unfolding the piece of paper in his hand. It was a two part drawing, the right side showing a raccoon alone in a bathroom, the left side showing a raccoon and hedgehog holding hands together in the bathroom. Lucas almost scoffed at how small the hedgehog was-- he really wasn’t that small-- but was more overcome by appreciation for Eliott. On the back of the paper Eliott’s unique and untidy scrawl had written out ‘Lucas no. 1040 skips potions with Eliott no. 1432’.

Would Imane kill him? Yes, undoubtedly. Did he care, in that moment? Not one bit.

But where did Eliott want to meet him? He flipped the paper back over to look at the drawing, grin spreading over his face as he realized where to go.

As predicted, Eliott was leaning against one of the sinks casually as Lucas entered the bathroom Eliott had followed him into weeks prior. Eliott was smoking a cigarette, changing its smell with his wand every second or so. “Fancy meeting you here,” he said, blowing out smoke.

Lucas took his first few steps slow, then, unable to help himself, closed the rest of the distance between the two of them in a few long strides, smile so wide he thought his face might crack. Eliott cupped his face the instant they met, bringing their lips together in a heartstopping kiss.

Lucas wrapped his arms around Eliott’s neck, rising up on his toes to reach Eliott better. Eliott, ever the quick thinker, flipped them so Lucas was pressed against the sinks and lifted him up onto the countertop, positioning himself between Lucas’ legs. “This works,” Lucas murmured against Eliott’s lips, pressing their foreheads together.

“You know,” Eliott began, playing with Lucas’ tie, “This looks really great on you, but it’s getting in the way, don’t you think?”

“Funny, I was about to say the same thing.”

Eliott grinned and undid his own tie, leaving Lucas to do the same, discarding his robes and jumper as well. Naturally, this was the one day they both decided to wear full uniforms. Eliott unbuttoned a few of the top buttons on Lucas’ shirt as well, placing his palm against Lucas’ chest before leaving a trail of kisses from his neck to his heart. Lucas was barely breathing, breathing in gasps, one hand clenched in Eliott’s hair, the other gripping the sink beside him.

He lowered his head and brought Eliott’s face to his, letting their mouths meet once more. Nothing would ever compare to this feeling, to the taste of Eliott’s lips, his tongue, his everything. If it wasn’t a completely reckless and terrible idea to strip down right then and there, where anyone could walk in, Lucas would have in an instant.

Blinking at the thought, Lucas pulled back, muttering as Eliott moved his mouth back down to Lucas’ collarbone. “Eliott, Eliott, stop for a minute.”

Eliott stopped immediately, looking at Lucas with the expression of a confused puppy. It was adorable, but Lucas didn’t have time to appreciate it fully. He pointed to the door. “We should… I don’t know. Anyone could walk in.”

Eliott’s brows creased further. “Didn’t you see the out of order sign I put on the door?”

He hadn’t paid attention to much of anything as he’d hurried to the bathroom, tunnel vision on Eliott, even from corridors away. “Um… no,” he admitted.

“Well, I put one there,” Eliott laughed.

“Do you really think it will work?”

“Let’s find out.” He pulled Lucas in by the neck and crashed their lips together. Any worries Lucas had were immediately obliterated from his mind. Eliott’s out of order sign was sure to do the trick. Eliott unbuttoned Lucas’ shirt a bit further, sliding the sleeves off his shoulders so he could kiss them. As he did so, Lucas repeated the gesture, leaving a kiss on Eliott’s chest with each button he undid.

Eliott let out a soft gasp. “You’re gonna fucking kill me if you keep doing that.”

“Do you want me to stop?” Lucas’ lips twisted into a cocky smirk.

“No. Not now, not ever.” Lucas grinned as Eliott brought Lucas’ face up to his, exploring each others mouths like there was nothing else in the world left to explore. To Lucas, there wasn’t. Except perhaps the rest of Eliott’s body, the few lines and muscles he had left to commit to memory. Eliott’s hand brushed his cheekbone and Eliott pulled away from him just enough to exhale a small, breathy laugh.

“What? Do I have something on my face?” Lucas teased.

Eliott laughed a bit harder. “Yes, actually.”

Lucas spun around from his seat on the countertop, glancing into the mirror. “Wait, really?” He studied his reflection, catching a glimpse of a raccoon taking the hand of a hedgehog and pulling him out of view. Lucas couldn’t help but laugh himself.

“These little guys are never going away, I hope you know what you’ve done,” Lucas said seriously. Eliott leaned down to brush his lips against Lucas’ shoulder, the hedgehog resting there blushing as he did so.

He tilted his head back up, supermodel eyes full of humor and searing into Lucas. “You think I didn’t do that on purpose? You’ll be old and wrinkled and gray and these two will pop up on your bald head when you least expect it.”

“Bold of you to assume I’ll ever go bald,” Lucas scoffed.

“I mean, with all that hairspray…”

“Shut up!” Lucas pressed his hands to Eliott’s chest. “Besides, you told Yann you liked it.”

“I mostly just like you,” Eliott confessed. “Everything about you.”

Lucas blushed against his will. Eliott really needed to stop feeding his ego. At the same time, he hoped Eliott would never stop. “Wait a minute,” he giggled, “Your amortentia… the last thing was my hairspray wasn’t it?”

Now it was Eliott’s turn to go red. “No.”

Lucas laughed harder. “It so was.”

“I don’t know where you’d get that preposterous idea.”

“Mmmm, sure.”

Eliott looked down with a smile, glancing back up at Lucas through his eyelashes. “Besides, you with your cigarette smoke, ink, paint, rain… not very subtle.” Lucas pretended to be offended, hands dancing up and down Eliott’s mostly bare chest.

“So what, I had a crush on you. Turned out all right for me, didn’t it?”

“Awww, you had a crush on me? That’s so sweet.” Eliott’s eyes crinkled at the sides the way Lucas loved.

He shoved Eliott away playfully. “Oh shut up, you had a crush on me too.”

Eliott grabbed onto Lucas’ hand, and Lucas pulled him back in close. “You’re right,” Eliott admitted, “You’re just either the world’s most oblivious person, or I need to up my flirting game.”

“I’m not oblivious,” Lucas huffed.

“Then why did I have to wait four whole weeks to kiss you?” Eliott wasn’t whining exactly, but there was a neediness to his playful tone that Lucas was getting very turned on by, if he was being completely honest with himself.

“Maybe you were the oblivious one,” Lucas suggested. Eliott wrinkled his nose, shaking his head. “Me? Oblivious? Never.”

The look he gave Lucas reminded him of Ouba’s face when she wanted treats, and it was more endearing than Lucas cared to admit. “Fine, fine, we’re both oblivious, useless, disaster gays, blah blah blah.”

“I’m pan, technically,” Eliott pointed out.

“Oh, just shut up and kiss me.”

Eliott didn’t wait a single second longer, kissing Lucas again. And again.

And again.

Lucas wasn’t entirely sure how long they sat there, him on the counter, Eliott between his legs, kissing like the world was about to end. They only stopped when Lucas’ phone buzzed, jarring them back to the present. He was stunned to find that he had multiple messages from his friends through Instagram.

monvoisintuturo: Lulu, at least give a heads up if you’re going to skip potions

basile_simple: He’s missing again? We need to put a bell on him or something

y4z4s: What are you guys talking about? I saw him going to class after Charms

monvoisintuturo: Well he clearly didn’t make it…

y4z4s: Should we still wait for you for lunch, Lucas?

monvoisintuturo: I wonder if Eliott knows where he is

basile_simple: Oh yeah, man, add Eliott to the chat

monvoisintuturo: I can’t, he doesn’t follow me. Only Lulu can

basile_simple: I’m still confused by that

y4z4s: By what?

basile_simple: Eliott following Lucas!

y4z4s: Oh, Lucas said it was some sort of bet or something

basile_simple: That’s anticlimactic

Lucas checked the time quickly and realized lunch was about to start. Fuck, he really needed to go. Had he and Eliott really spent the entire period kissing in the not-so out of order bathroom? It wasn’t the worst way to spend his time, he supposed.

He started buttoning his shirt back up in a rush, catching Eliott’s confused gaze as he hopped down from the counter. Shirt, jumper, robes, tie, fuck, where were all his clothes?

“Lunch,” he said by way of explanation.

Eliott still looked confused. “And…”

“The boys will kill me if I go MIA again. I’m sure Imane is about ready to kill me already.” He shivered at the thought, hoping Imane and Harriet had at least been able to vent to one another about their respective potions partners.

Finally dressed, he rushed to the door, turning around when he realized Eliott wasn’t following, hadn’t even redressed himself yet. “Are you coming?”

Eliott blushed a violent shade of scarlet. “I have to take care of something.”

“What-- oh,” Lucas began, faltering when he saw the awkward way Eliott was positioned. He laughed a little bit and Eliott rolled his eyes. “Unless you want to take care of it for me?” Eliott suggested, and it was Lucas’ turn to blush. In truth, he did want that, more than anything, but he also wanted to live long enough to do it again, so he really had to go.

“See you in the Great Hall,” Lucas said a bit breathlessly. Eliott smirked, knowing exactly what he was doing to Lucas.

“See you in the Great Hall.” Eliott didn’t move, gaze still fastened onto Lucas’ face. Lucas didn’t move an inch either, wishing to stay in the bathroom with Eliott for just one more second. His phone buzzed again, and they broke eye contact.

“I’m going to go now,” Lucas said, unconvincingly, but he willed his feet to carry him the rest of the way to the door and they did. He cast one more glance back at Eliott, memorizing the way he smiled back at Lucas, tucking the memory away to think of when they inevitably had to part for the day.

Before he could lose all his self control and run back into Eliott’s embrace, Lucas pushed the door open, tearing away the out of order sign as he did so, throwing it into a bin as he rushed to the Great Hall.

Luckily or unluckily for him, all his friends were already seated when he walked in. Eliott and Daphne’s seating arrangement protest had been embraced by nearly the entire school, though both the girls and the boys were sitting together at the Gryffindor table today. Arthur was the first to notice him walk in, scooting over so Lucas could take a seat between himself and Manon.

Imane wasn’t glaring daggers at him as he approached, but analyzing him carefully through narrowed eyes. Her stare was so intense that he couldn’t meet her eyes, feeling a bit like she was drawing some conclusions about him that he wasn’t sure he wanted her to draw. Thankfully, she didn’t say anything, just kept staring.

He tried to act casual as he sat down, but he couldn’t help but notice everyone had stopped talking, eyes on him. Manon was the first to speak, bless her, not even mentioning his lateness or anything out of the ordinary. “So, Lucas, did you hear about the--”

She was cut off by Daphne, who smiled at Lucas apologetically. “You know that the opposite house dress week isn’t until next week, right?”

Lucas furrowed his brows. He did know this, why was she bringing it up? He nodded slowly, carefully.

“Oh, cool, well then, um,” she continued, glancing briefly at Emma out of the corner of her eye, “Why are you wearing a Ravenclaw tie?”

Putain.

He tried not to look down at his tie-- or, Eliott’s, rather-- as he floundered for an excuse. “Obviously I know that your dress thingy isn’t until next week. But I thought, hey, what if some people don’t know about it yet? If I wear the wrong tie, people will ask questions, and if they ask questions, I’ll get to explain to them the inter-house unity club dress challenge, or whatever you want to call it. That way more people will participate.”

Daphne squealed and leaned over to him, pulling him into an awkward hug over the table. “Lucas! You’re the best! Why didn’t I think of doing that?”

Everyone else seemed less enthusiastic about his response. Manon and Imane exchanged a glance,-- he didn’t even want to know what that meant, though he could probably guess-- Emma narrowed her eyes once before shrugging and accepting his excuse without argument, Basile and Alexia simply looked confused, Yann looked like he wanted to believe him, and Arthur seemed to be moments away from solving a puzzle. Lucas hoped Arthur’s puzzle wasn’t close to the real reason he was wearing the wrong tie. Eliott’s tie.

Fuck, Eliott would be there any minute. Lucas had to find a way to head him off before he could make the situation worse. He pulled his phone out of his pocket to message Eliott, thankful his friends had mostly gone back to their own conversations.

lucallemant: Don’t come to the Great Hall

srodulv: i’m almost there… what’s wrong?

lucallemant: Look at your tie

Lucas bounced his knee under the table as he waited for Eliott to respond. Just their luck. He wasn’t totally opposed to the idea of telling his friends about them, but they didn’t even know he was gay. Plus, this wasn’t the most ideal setting, and he didn’t know what to call his relationship with Eliott, if he could even call it a relationship. In all their talking, somehow it hadn’t come up.

“Where did you get the tie?” Arthur asked, and Lucas bumped his knee under the table in surprise, flipping his phone over.

“I, uh, found it,” he mumbled distractedly, trying to appear nonchalant.

Clearly, neither Yann nor Arthur were convinced. Yann pointed out, “You were wearing your Gryffindor tie when you left Charms.”

“Yeah, where did you go, anyway? Imane looked ready to kill when you didn’t show up,” Arthur chimed back in.

“I felt… sick,” Lucas tried. The boys raised their eyebrows.

“Sick?” Arthur repeated slowly. Lucas nodded.

“I think something didn’t sit right with me during breakfast, and, you know.” He shot them all a meaningful glance. Arthur choked on his food and looked Lucas up and down once.

“Dude did you shit your pants?”

“What? No!” Lucas exclaimed incredulously, breaking into nervous laughter. “But you can see why I skipped potions, then.”

Arthur snorted. “Yeah, yeah. Do what you gotta do, man. Although, it would have been funny to see Rigaux’s reaction if you shit yourself in her class.”

Lucas couldn’t help but laugh along with his friends, shoving Arthur playfully. This explanation seemed to do it for them, though, and Lucas took their new distraction with Basile’s weird eating habits as an excuse to check his phone. He had three new messages from Eliott.

srodulv: merde

srodulv: i’m guessing our friends noticed?

srodulv: what did you say?

It warmed his heart a bit, to see Eliott say ‘our friends’ instead of ‘your friends’. He was glad that Eliott considered the girls and boys to be his friends as well. He knew they felt the same about Eliott.

lucallemant: I made up some bs excuse about helping raise inter house unity club awareness. Not sure if everyone bought it, but they let the subject drop

srodulv: oh

srodulv: not that now is the best time to… explain things, but do you not want your friends to know about us?

Lucas noted the shift from our to your. Did Eliott really think Lucas would be ashamed of him? It was too absurd to even consider.

lucallemant: No, it’s not that, I just didn’t know if you did

lucallemant: Plus none of them know I’m, you know…

srodulv: gay?

lucallemant: Ha ha, yeah, that

srodulv: no rush or anything, i don’t want you to feel pressured…

Lucas chewed on his bottom lip. He didn’t feel pressured at all, and maybe that’s why he made a split second decision.

lucallemant: I think I want them to know

srodulv: really?

lucallemant: I mean, maybe not today, but soon. This weekend…?

srodulv: :)

lucallemant: Yeah?

srodulv: yeah. does this mean i get to call you my boyfriend?

Lucas had to try very, very, hard to keep from reacting in the slightest, but he was almost positive a bright blush had spread over his face. Boyfriend. That was new, but Lucas found that he quite liked it.

lucallemant: Boyfriend, huh?

srodulv: …?

lucallemant: I think I’d like that, mon mec

srodulv: yeah?

lucallemant: Yeah.

srodulv: <3

lucallemant: Stop that, I have a reputation to uphold

srodulv: <333333

Lucas rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help the smile working its way over his face. Eliott would be the death of him. Manon nudged his side gently. “You good?” Her face looked more concerned than a smile usually warranted. Did he really smile so little that this sign of happiness made her wary?

“I’m great,” he answered truthfully, slipping his phone back into his pocket.

Her brows twitched. “Ouais?”

He nearly laughed. He’d gotten so used to only speaking French with Eliott that he’d nearly forgotten it was his and Manon’s thing first. “Ouais,” he assured her.

Lucas tried to turn his attention back to his other friends, avoiding the small smile that twitched at the corner of Manon’s mouth, basically confirming she knew more than she was letting on. “Justin Bieber? Seriously? Where is this kid, I need to have a word with him about his music taste,” Arthur was ranting.

“What?” Lucas asked. Yann showed Lucas his phone screen and Lucas nearly choked in surprise.

That was how they were playing this, then? Lucas tuned out the rest of the conversation, searching for a different song. They really were going to be the most annoying couple ever, even if no one knew it yet. Lucas really couldn’t find it in himself to care one bit, because Eliott was his boyfriend. Eliott Demaury. His boyfriend. God, he was so happy.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10

AO3

Weekly Instagram Roundup: Week 1 Week 2 Week 3 Week 4

#skam france #elu fic #elu hogwarts au #elu #lucas lallemant #eliott demaury #la fin des temps #skamfr

58 notes · View notes

quinzelade · 5 years

Text

Making One’s Bones (chpt 6)

Chapter List

Porter Gage is in a pickle. Nuka-World needed a new boss and some woman just killed her way to the top. But a pre-war Mafia boss on the theme park's throne? Well...at least she'll have experience.

History Lessons

The night in the Primate House was a long and uncomfortable one. Gage shifted in his spot on the floor, slowly became aware of a damp spreading through the seat of his pants, and made a noise of disgust. He'd been trying to put off his next wash for a few more months, and didn't want ape shit speeding up the process, but what could he do—sleep standing up? The whole place was covered in muck. Still, it was worth a shot, and so Gage got to his feet, testing the ground for a less soggy place to sit. Bossanova watched him silently from her own corner. Perhaps she'd noticed his pants sticking to the back of his legs.

The ghoulrillas were snoring all around him, Cito snoring loudest of all. He exclaimed loudly when he'd realised his little nest had been disturbed, but thankfully decided it must have been 'one of the monsters' sneaking in and disrupting his things without trying to eat any of his family in the process. Gage was happy to let him think that. He didn't want to be on the receiving end of Cito's piece of pipe.

As the combined rumblings of the sleeping idiots filled the air, Gage considered their new enemies. The gatorclaws were no laughing matter. He'd fought one or two deathclaws in his time, each battle a close call. But a park full of them? Not to mention the gatorclaws seemed even more vicious than their horned cousins.

Gage shifted around a little, noting with some relief his pants had dried off a bit. Not only that, but this spot near Bossanova seemed a little less damp than where he'd been before. Gage dropped down with a soft flump and watched a ghoulrilla scratch its ass in its sleep. The boss had been playing on his mind all night. Not the way she'd held a knife to his throat—he'd deserved that, he knew it—no, what bothered him more was their first gatorclaw fight, when she'd saved his life by pushing him out of the way.

Raiders, he understood. Kill or be killed. Loyalty only carried you as far as where the next meal came from, and if shit got bad, you took care of yourself first. Gage knew this. The only certainty about a raider was the fact they would turn on you.

Gage stared down the enclosure, watching Bossanova. He could see the glint of her eyes in the darkness, could just make out her hand resting on her sword, which she'd finally stopped trying to straighten out.

The stupid woman hadn't even hesitated.

"Boss…?"

"Yeah?"

Several seconds passed before he realised he'd spoken. Bossanova was sitting up straighter now, her head turned to him. He looked away from her, his heart quickening. When the gatorclaw grabbed her, he could have turned tail. Left Nuka World forever. He wanted the park working more than anything, but the situation was fucked long before Bossanova arrived. It wasn't worth his life. If Cito hadn't caved the thing's head in, he'd have died there and then. It shouldn't have got to that point. Gage knew when to cut and run.

So why hadn't he?

"Gage?" Bossanova tilted her head to the side. "Is everything okay?"

"Why the fuck do you care?" Gage snapped. He regretted it instantly. He sounded like a kid. He quickly changed tack. "Just...about Colter," he lied, finally looking up again. "You mentioned him back in the Welcome Center. It's...I can tell it's gonna be a sore spot."

"Maybe. Depends if there'll be a repeat performance." She gave him a wry smile just visible in the dim light. "Feeling guilty?"

"No, ain't no guilt over that call. Colter was a piece of shit. I've been real clear with you."

She glanced up at the ceiling, now concealed by darkness, and then dug into her pocket, producing a small candle and a packet of matches. She lit one of the matches, the surrounding ghoulrillas stirring in their sleep, and cleared a circle in the grime and straw, setting down the candle. She put the match to the wick, and the room filled with warm, flickering light.

Bossanova blew out the match. Then she drew her knees to her chest, rested her chin on them, and said. "How do you know I'm better?"

"I don't," Gage said, frowning at her. "But I ain't got a choice. After Colter, I'm livin' on borrowed time."

"Smart man like you, you should have seen him for what he was."

"Hey, I don't know what it was like in your time," Gage snapped, sitting up straight and glaring at her, "but out here, Colter had the qualities that mattered." She'd hit a nerve, and goddamn if he didn't know it. "He was big, strong, and didn't take no shit. So I talked him into being overboss, thinkin' he'd listen to me, let me help him. I thought...I thought I'd be able to keep him in line. But..."

Bossanova's expression shifted into something painful. Her voice sounded strained as she said, "It went to his head?"

Gage tried to reply, but the words caught in his throat. He settled for a single nod. She knew. She knew.

Bossanova gazed past him, her expression distant. "People like Colter... you trust to do as you ask, as they're expected." Her tone grew harder with every syllable. "But greed, power, drugs—it twists them, strips them of the person you knew, until all you're left with is a shell. A shell you have to put down yourself…" She breathed heavily through her nose cavity. "Because you created them."

Ringing silence followed. Gage was at a loss for words. Eventually, he managed a weak, "Shit, boss."

Bossanova shook her head, still not looking at him. "I know how gangs work. I know how they end. And I know why you're making me the target instead." Their eyes met. "I'm fine with that."

Gage wanted to know more, but something in her stricken expression told him it was a bad idea. She hadn't meant to say it. He swallowed, dragging the subject back into familiar grounds. "You ain't like Colter. That's what I'm getting at. You ain't like the other raiders I've run with. This place is about to go off like a goddamn grenade, but so long as you don't pull another stupid stunt like you did with Mags, we could make this work." Gage hesitated, aware he was getting a bit too sentimental. But the fact they were even in Safari Adventure at all spoke volumes. He swallowed his pride and charged on. "You've got the smarts and the drive to make a pretty damn good overboss."

Bossanova snorted with laughter. "I've barely done anything yet."

"More than Colter."

"God, he's made your expectations low."

It was Gage's turn to laugh. "I'm just saying, I'm...I'm starting to be glad we teamed up, is all."

The odd thing was, despite their earlier fight, he wasn't lying. Gage sat in stunned silence, his brain blank. Where the hell had that come from?

Bossanova didn't seem to notice his sudden apprehension, because she smiled broadly and settled back in her corner. After a moment, Gage did the same. As soon as her eyes shut, he scowled. Yeah, he was impressed with the way she'd taken charge, and she clearly knew what she was doing. But he couldn't quite wrap his head around what was bothering him.

It kept coming back to the fight. How Bossanova pushed him aside, took the blow instead. And how he, Gage, then followed her example.

She's no raider.

The realisation hit him like a gut punch. Bossanova didn't do things the raider way. She didn't just slit his throat when he overstepped his bounds, or abandon him in a sticky situation to save her own neck. She kept him for his usefulness, yes, but seemed to enjoy his company as well. Why else would she be making fucking breakfast in the morning for him?

But whatever she was doing, it was working. He'd never thrown himself at a deathclaw—Gatorclaw, Bossanova's voice corrected inside his head—for anyone before. Gage's scowl deepened as he remembered the talk she'd given him about trust the previous night, a strange anger bubbling away in the pit of his stomach.

She's no raider, Gage thought bitterly. But then he paused, his agitation calming down to a simmer. Was that really a bad thing?

For the first time in years, his thoughts drifted back to Connor.

Connor, who relied on him for advice. Connor, who said he trusted him—that he, Gage, was an important part of the gang. Connor, who took what he needed and then tried to kill him.

A raider through and through, and Gage had learned the lesson well. Never trust, never linger if shit hit the fan. And if Bossanova didn't play by the raider rules, both she and Gage were in for a world of trouble.

Maybe she was more raider than he realised; trying to lull him into a false sense of security, make him weak and complacent. Just like a slaver, before they snapped the collar on. Well, she was in for a nasty surprise if that was the case.

But...why risk her life just to trick me?

Gage massaged his forehead with his knuckles and decided to shelve the worries for now. There was nothing he could do about it here, surrounded by gatorclaws and ghoulrillas and the idiot Cito. Get the job done, go back to Nuka World, reassess. He'd used up all his chances with the other gang leaders—there was no way he could bring in another overboss now. But maybe he could still leave, before Bossanova ran him or the entire operation into the ground.

Sighing, he shut his eyes, hoping the morning brought a better day.

It did not.

Gage spat out a mouthful of blood as he staggered to his feet. A tremendous roar echoed from the dizzying heights of the Angry Anaconda track above, and he glanced up in time to see the snapping jaws of the gatorclaw miss Bossanova's heels by inches.

She lost her footing, and for one heartstopping moment Gage thought she would fall. But Bossanova clung on, scrabbling up again and ducking to avoid the beast's claws. He wondered whether he could shoot it without hitting her, but as Gage stepped forward, his head spun and he struggled to stay standing. The sixth gatorclaw fight was taking its toll.

Bossanova climbed higher and higher, every slip of her hands and feet sending a jolt of panic through him. She reached the peak, a wide chasm of collapsed track, and edged back, her arms flailing. The overgrown lizard pulled itself up, causing the whole structure and Bossanova to wobble dangerously.

The gatorclaw stared at her as it struggled to stay on the narrow rails, its huge, clawed feet sliding around, rattling everything further. Gage could hear its low, guttural growls all the way from the ground, and held his breath as he watched the teetering standoff.

The gatorclaw lunged.

Bossanova dropped through a gap in the track, catching hold of a bar at the last second. The gatorclaw barrelled on, throwing itself into open air and plummeting, while Bossanova held on with one hand. It seemed to take an age to fall, its muscular limbs flailing as a long, shrieking howl escaped its terrible jaws, before hitting the ground with a sickening thud. Bossanova dangled precariously over the drop by one hand, swiping up to the rails fruitlessly with the other.

Gage swore, setting off at an unsteady run. Would he be able to reach her in time?

Two figures streaked past him before he'd taken more than two steps; Cito and Chris the ghoulrilla leapt onto the metal structure, climbing with fluid ease. By the time Gage put his foot on the first rung, the ghoulrilla scooped Bossanova under one arm and swung casually back down. As Cito followed, Bossanova was dumped unceremoniously at Gage's feet.

"You alright, boss?" he said, ignoring both his racing heart and her two idiotic saviours.

"Fine," wheezed Bossanova, massaging her chest and standing up. She looked paler than usual, a slight tremble to her hands. But then she shot him a mischievous grin. "Still looking out for me?"

Gage scowled and turned away, his cheeks hot. Fuck her then. He stomped off, making sure she knew his displeasure, before stopping at the gatorclaw. It was impaled on some old pieces of track sticking out of the ground, its yellow eyes blank and unseeing.

He kicked the dead beast fiercely with his foot. How many more of these things would they have to fight?

Gage forced his attention to the Angry Anaconda. Somewhere in this mess of metal and dead greenery was the password for the Welcome Center—their only chance of dragging this hellhole under raider control.

He paused, wondering what would have happened if Cito and his 'family' hadn't been with them. Gage shivered, thinking of Nisha's well-used knives. He stole a glance at Bossanova when he was certain she wasn't looking, and then at Cito and the ghoulrilla. He would have killed them to make sure the park was clear for the gang. Bossanova talked them round instead.

Maybe Old World tricks had their place after all.

"Boss," Gage said, suddenly reminded of their first meet with the Blacks. "What was that shit you were talking about with Mags?" Bossanova paused, looking up from the decaying roller coaster cart she'd been sifting through. Gage took this as a sign to continue. "You said 'Cozy Nose...Tra.' And then 'mafia.' The first bit I don't get, but the second—"

He broke off as she erupted into a fit of giggles.

"What?" he snarled, nettled.

Bossanova shook her head, still laughing. "Cosa Nostra was an Old World Italian phrase adopted by the American Mafia. It roughly translates to, 'our thing.'"

She might as well have been speaking another language for all the sense this made to Gage. Or maybe she was? He stared at her, and she smiled.

"You want a history lesson?"

"Well…" Gage frowned at a dirty old skeleton on the floor. He was interested, despite himself. "Fuck it. Sure. It'll pass the time."

Bossanova nudged an upturned trash can with her foot as she unsheathed her sword, fussing over the bend in the blade again. Cito and the ghoulrilla licked each others wounds, apparently disinterested in the conversation. After a moment, Gage kicked aside an old skull and picking his way through the skeleton, deciding he might as well keep looking for the stupid passcode while she talked.

"What do you know about the Mafia?" she asked, not looking up from her sword.

"As far as I know, they were some pre-war gang who rolled in caps and did whatever the fuck they wanted." Gage stared off into the distance, lost in visions of wealth, luxury, and power. The raiders talked about them like the religious talked about Atom. He was brought back to earth by a loud sniffing in his ear. Cito was picking bugs out of Gage's hair and eating them. "Fuck off, Loincloth!"

Bossanova looked up as Gage waved Cito away with a hiss, and laughed again.

"You're right," Bossanova said, returning to her weapon, "for the most part. They had wealth and power, but they still had to navigate around the law, like I said. And they were mired with toxic tradition—only allowing Italian men into their ranks for most of their existence. By the time I joined, they realised they needed change to survive. In the end, if you could prove you had Italian heritage, it was irrelevant what was between your legs."

Gage frowned. Why would that matter to begin with? So long as you were good at killing, raiders didn't give a shit.

Bossanova gave a knowing smile at Gage's confusion, which must have shown on his face, and went on. "But non-Italians were still taboo. My attempts to bring the Irish Mob under mafia control were disastrous, and as a result I...retired. Organised crime floundered in the years after my departure. Only had a resurgence when the bombs fell."

Gage frowned. "You make it sound like you were old."

"I was old. Had my pension when the world ended, much to the annoyance of the cops. Being a ghoul does wonders for creaky joints."

Gage wasn't sure what 'cops' or a 'pension' were, nevermind whether he believed her claims or not. He decided it didn't matter.

"The Mafia was weak after I left. Turns out letting the Irish Mob butcher your leaders doesn't do much for keeping your hold on the city," she said bitterly. "Eddie Winters carved his way to the top of the Mob and put a puppet in my place. I changed my name and moved to the suburbs. Made friends. Kept my sword collection sharpened, just in case. By the time Raymond Patriarca got things back under control, the bombs dropped."

Bossanova shivered, her black eyes staring off into the distance, and for a moment it looked like her mind had been transported far away, swallowed by the horrors of her past. "I'll...I'll never forget it. The sky choked with dust and debris and radiation. I was miles from the epicentre, but I still felt my skin bubble and peel away. My neighbours melted in front of me. And the pain…"

She went quiet, gripping tightly at her sword. "Buildings were crumbling at random, people trapped beneath the rubble. Craters in the sidewalks. Bodies everywhere. The city reeked of the dead, and the living…" Bossanova motioned to her own face. "Most looked like me before they passed. Rotting from the inside out. I took refuge in a burnt out building. Too hurt to do much else, really."

Gage paused, his hand half in the pocket of the ragged remains of the clothes still clinging to the skeleton, listening intently. He'd never been one for the past. It was old and dead, and no use to anyone except scavenging. But this was...different.

"Old Ray became a ghoul, along with a good chunk of the family and the Irish Mob. Winters was nowhere to be seen, so the family took back its city." Bossanova smiled, holding the sword loose by her side. "They brought order to the apocalypse."

"Wait, what?"

Bossanova nodded. "Ray kept the chems out, and set to work on food, water, and the injured. People flocked for miles when they heard, all bending the knee to the wasteland's first godfather. Even the remnants of the police fell into line when it became obvious the military wasn't coming back."

"And where were you?"

"Kept out the way so I wouldn't waste their precious resources. Every day, lying in a burnt out building, waiting for the pain to just kill me, or the ceiling to collapse on me in my sleep. Every day I waited, and every day it never came." Bossanova bowed her head. When she looked up again, her gaze was sharp. "I got over myself quickly. Stopped being so pathetic—"

Glad we agree, Gage thought.

"—and went to see what I could do. If there was a price on my head, I'd make them remember who I was, and what happened to those who crossed me. I was reborn. But..."

Gage snorted. Always with the 'but.' "Lemmie guess—the guys with the guns weren't scared of a sword?"

Bossanova tilted her head and gave a strange smile. "You'd be surprised how many people hesitate when you run at them screaming and swinging a sharp bit of metal around. But no. By the time I'd pulled myself together, everything had fallen apart."

"Even by raider standards, that's impressive."

"Well, not everyone in the city was a ghoul. And those lucky enough not to be a walking corpse began to…grow suspicious of us. Didn't help that the first cases of ferals were cropping up. Ray was assassinated. Any ghouls not quick on the uptake followed him. The lucky ones went into hiding near the foundations of Goodneighbor. Today they are the Triggermen."

"No shit?" Gage mulled this information over in his head. He'd never really thought about where the Triggermen had come from before. He knew they were separate to the other ghouls in Goodneighbor, but…

He was snapped out of his thoughts as Bossanova went on with her tale.

"Frank Salemme was the one who whacked Ray," she said darkly, her expression sour. "He was nasty, even by Mafia standards. A pain to deal with in my day—making everything bloody, messy—bringing down the heat through his carelessness. He took over after he murdered Ray, and that's when things really went south.

"Frank decided the old ways weren't good enough anymore. If you wanted to be a made man, you played by his rules."

"What's a made—?"

"Mafioso. One of the family." Bossanova glanced over at Cito and the ghoulrilla, the former of which was stuck from the waist upwards inside a park trashcan. "Used to be you just took someone—almost anyone—out. Simple. Effective. Stopped the cops sneaking in, like Donnie Brasco near did. But this wasn't good enough for Salemme, oh no. Making one's bones was pointless in the new world. Anyone who wanted in had to kill a ghoul, and they had to bring proof. And if you weren't in Selemme's gang, you didn't get food or water or nothing."

"Smart," replied Gage without thinking. He shot Bossanova a sharp look, wondering how she would react, but she nodded thoughtfully instead.

"Yeah, it was smart. Made me prey for a while, though. Or so they thought. I hunted them down instead—slit some throats, skewered the rest, depending on who they were." Bossanova grinned. "Kept me on my toes and got me back into shape. In the end, Salemme was running on borrowed time anyway."

"Killed by a ghoul?"

"Killed by one of his own." Bossanova's grin widened. "Radiation gets everyone eventually. He rotted, and when his skin peeled away and his eyes blackened and his fingernails fell out—when he stood there, rasping like the rest of the ghouls—someone put a bullet in his head."

Gage snorted. "I'm sure that went down well."

"Naturally," Bossanova said with a mirthless laugh. "They'd had the power to keep things in order and they messed it up. Soon as they killed Ray, the city was doomed." She stretched her arms, and then turned her sword over in her hands. "Once Salemme got what was coming to him, the in-fighting began.

"New leaders declared every other day, food becoming scarce, and the water so irradiated people were dropping dead or turning to ghouls left, right, and centre. Finally, it all collapsed. The survivors splintered off into factions and began attacking anyone who crossed their paths." Bossanova paused, her gaze boring into Gage. "They were the first raiders."

Gage stared back, lost for words. Eventually he managed, "Raiders?" Bossanova nodded, and he hesitated before saying, "Raiders came from the Mafia?"

She nodded again.

"Well shit."

Bossanova burst out laughing. "Profound as ever, I see."

Gage grinned and shrugged. "What you want me to say? Ain't never expected raiders to have grand beginnings. I thought people were just good at being shitty to each other."

Bossanova shook her head. "That's all the Mafia has ever been." There was a moment's silence, then she strolled away.

Gage remained where he was, thinking. He watched Bossanova approach a rusting trailer and begin rattling the locked door. Gage had never thought about the origins of raiders before, and in all honesty, he'd never really cared. History wouldn't keep him alive. But when Bossanova spoke, he'd found himself enthralled. There was something about her that compelled him to listen.

Picking through the clothes again, he contemplated the power of her charisma when she'd had a nose.

A bang made Gage look up. Bossanova had apparently kicked the trailer, judging by the large dent in the door, and a bag had fallen off the roof. The contents were scattered all over the ground. She crouched down, picking through the debris, and then held up a small, silver something.

Gage got to his feet and drew closer. It was a key. Bossanova turned back to the trailer and tried the lock—the door swung open with a horrible, drawn out metallic scrape that set Gage's teeth on edge. Apparently unperturbed, Bossanova went inside leaving Gage to follow her. Amongst the debris was a skeleton in a lab coat and an orange toolbox on the side. Bossanova began patting down the skeleton, rooting through all the pockets—meanwhile, Gage was drawn to the toolbox. He flipped open the latch and threw back the lid while Bossanova continued her search, and spotted a holotape sat neatly on top of the tools inside the box. He picked it up, looked at the label, and smiled. "Boss?"

"Yeah?"

Gage held up the tape and tapped the peeling label so she could see the spidery, looping handwriting. "It's the Welcome Center passcode."

Bossanova stared from Gage to the tape and back again, her mouth slightly open. She blinked several times, as if hardly daring to believe what she could see. Then she said in an awed whisper, "You can read?"

"Yes, I can fucking read!"

"But...you can read cursive?"

"Oh fuck off."

They returned to the Welcome Center with no more interruptions. Gage watched as Bossanova tapped her way through the console outside the sealed door. She propped the scrap of paper she'd scrawled the passcode on against the screen and copied out the digits carefully, glancing around as she did. The terminal beeped and the door slid open.

The darkness beyond waited like an open maw. Gage shivered, staring into the heavy, compressing blackness. Bossanova hesitated, her sword at the ready, and held out a hand to keep Gage and the two idiots in their place. She stepped forward, each slow step barely making a sound, her weapon raised.

The source of the monsters were in here. For all they knew, they were walking into a teeming nest. If that was the case, Gage doubted they'd be able to clear them out alone.

Bossanova continued through the door, glancing from side to side. The darkness swallowed her whole.

Gage shifted on the spot, gripping his gun tight. A terrible, heavy silence was smothering him, raking at his nerves. She'd given clear instructions—stay here, keep watch while she scouted ahead. He'd argued Cito could do the honours, but Bossanova had cut him off with a, "Do you trust him to be our scout?"

No. No, he did not.

But the few seconds of silence were torturous. He wondered if the gatorclaws had caught her with no time to scream, or even—

"Gage," Bossanova's voice whispered, and he sighed with relief.

"Yeah?"

"There's a gatorclaw ahead. You ready?"

Gage aimed his rifle down the tunnel. "Nope."

The only positive of the battle was its shortness.

Gage contemplated how quickly it would take for a gatorclaw to shit him out, before the thing's tail hit him in the chest and sent him flying through a set of double doors.

He stared up at the ceiling, dazed, when he felt the crushing grip of the gatorclaw at his ankle, and yelled in pain as the back of his head scraped along the ground. Then Gage was dangling in the air, the beady yellow eyes piercing him as the thing opened its mouth.

Gage grabbed a grenade from his belt, primed it, and tossed it down the gatorclaw's throat.

The eyes widened, and it made a choking noise before dropping him. Gage anticipated the fall just in time, crashing painfully onto his shoulder instead of his head, and quickly scrambled away. The blast flung him off his feet again, and he felt something hot and wet splatter all down his back.

"For fuck's sake," he muttered, peeling himself off the ground and gingerly sitting up.

Bossanova ran over sporting a bloody lip and a tense expression. "You alright?"

"Yeah," Gage muttered, batting away her helpful hands. "I'm fine. Jus' gimme a minute, damn." She crouched down next to him, worry etched into every line of her features, and he felt his anger simmer. "I appreciate the concern, boss, but I'm okay."

He stared at his stinging hands, which were raw and grazed, and then waved her away irritably, and she stood up, wandering over to the terminals in the back of the room. Cito and the ghoulrilla—both unscathed—were sitting near the entrance of this dingy, underground atrium, eating the glowing plants in the dilapidated flower bed. Gage was surprised they weren't poisonous.

Bossanova disappeared through the set of double doors he'd been thrown through, and came out a few minutes later clutching Gage's gun and a couple of holotapes. She thrust the gun into his hands and walked over to the terminal, inserting one of the tapes into the machine.

Seconds later a voice filtered out of the sputtering speakers. Gage barely paid attention, checking his gun wasn't damaged instead. It was the same guy who had created the gatorclaws—McDermot or whatever his name was—and he liked to talk. But then something caught Gage's attention.

"...continuing to modify the Nuka-Gen Replicator to provide a source of food."

"Gage," Bossanova said from across the room, her face lighting up with delight, "do you know what this means?"

"Mm?"

"Weren't you listening?"

"Nope," Gage lied. He took a strange delight in annoying her.

"This could mean food for Nuka World forever," Bossanova snapped, glaring at him. "The amount of trade we could generate with this alone—"

"—as long as the Nuka-Gen Replicator continues to function, I'll have an endless supply of food for—"

"An endless supply of food so long as the power supplies hold out," Gage interrupted lazily, earning himself an irritated scowl.

"So you were listening!"

"Don't matter whether I was or I wasn't, if we can't control what this thing makes, and if it ain't got no power."

"—Dr. Hein would be proud of my accomplishment. It's sad—"

Bossanova opened her mouth to argue, when she froze. Her entire body stiffened, her hand gripping her sword once again.

—it's been so long, I've almost forgotten what he looked like. My God—it's been decades now, maybe even a century or more, hasn't it? Has it been so long? I...I'll...I'll continue recording later."

Bossanova slowly looked down to stare at the terminal, as if lost in another world. Gage gave her a good ten seconds out of bewilderment at her sudden silence, and then said, "Boss?"

She turned to him, blinking as if surprised to see him there, and then slowly shook her head. "I've never thought about it before," she said weakly, gazing at a distant point over Gage's shoulder, "but I don't remember what...I don't...I never had photos after the bombs…"

"Nicky?" Gage asked, startling himself that he'd remembered. Bossanova looked equally taken aback, but she nodded.

"Yes. Nicky." Her face became blank, and she shook her head. "Hurry up with your weapon checks. This place won't clear itself out." She strode off, her gnarled hands clutching tight around the hilt of her sword.

Gage sighed. He was almost getting used to her mood swings now. But he decided to sit and glower a bit longer to emphasise his displeasure.

After a few minutes of being sufficiently grumpy, he got to his feet, wincing. Everything ached and stung, and they still had plenty to do. Not for the first time, he suspected they wouldn't be finishing this job in one go. But at least if they figured out where the gatorclaws were coming from the rest could fall into place later.

He poked around the atrium a little, using a console to unlock an old cold storage room. All the fridges inside were empty, but he noticed an open vent near the top of the room, its grate hanging on by one rusted bolt.

All in all, not much loot to be had.

Disappointed, he made his way back down the stairs and towards Bossanova, who was reading through something on one of the other terminals. She didn't say what it was, and Gage didn't trouble himself to ask. Instead, he whistled through his teeth at Cito and the ghoulrilla, Chris. They loped over, alert and ready, and Gage begrudgingly admired their tenacity. Bossanova straightened up, glancing towards the doors leading to the next room, and caught his eye. She gave a slight nod, an unspoken agreement passing between them as they hung back and let Cito move ahead. Best to keep the meat shields up front.

Just in case.

#nuka world #porter gage #fallout 4 #fallout #mob #Making One's Bones

5 notes · View notes

chwepen · 7 years

Text

share it all

↘︎ pregnancy au, domestic/marriage au ○ pairing: vernon | reader ○ genre: fluff ○ word count: 2.9k ○ summary: kids weren’t in the plan so soon, but the love you share makes any beautifully unexpected circumstances faceable with him.

Lay your head down on my shoulder, honey I won't ever let go. Because you pulled me like a magnet, now I'm right where I belong. I'm gonna love you the same for the rest of my days, and on and on and on.

A pregnancy test on one end of the kitchen table with day-old takeout on the other makes you question how you came to this Saturday morning.

Getting married almost a year ago took your relationship to a new level of possibilities, but having children so quickly wasn’t in your sights. You wanted more time before any kids came into the picture, partly because having Hansol to yourself was something you wanted always. While it was amazing imagining being parents in the future, it was the future. Not the now.

Minutes pass before you look down at the stick, two horribly pink lines sitting inside the plastic, confirming your fears, and giving them a new face. It leaves a dark twist in your stomach when one of the faces taking shape is of your husband. Your cheeks aren’t wet and you don’t feel the need to cry, and your mind knows you’re saving the feeling for when you tell him the news.

Despite the fear, you’re happy. Over the moon, schoolgirl crush happy. Marriage was one piece of proof of how much you loved Hansol, and another physical representation of that love grows from the two of you. Even if it’s a new turn, sharp and out of the blue, you’re ready to take the journey and find something beautiful on the other side.

Like clockwork, he comes home with music in his ears and a grin on his face. The slight gleam of his wedding band catches your eye, and he pulls you in with a kiss to your lips once he takes the ear buds out and greets you. In that instant, he feels every nerve in your body burning with something he can’t place, almost like each one is his own. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

You’re mouth opens slightly, and you hope the words come out without hesitation. Unfortunately, your fears keep them all in.

“What’s that,” he asks while sitting his backpack down on the kitchen countertop. You hold the stick in your hands like it’s a hot coal, wanting to chuck it and forget it exists. It would be easier that way, but it’s not just a test. It’s a new truth, a fact that can’t be hidden, erased, or thrown away.

“I thought I would get my period two weeks ago, but it never came. Then I threw up this morning,” you start quietly, unsure how to give him the answer he wants without the fear he’ll react in the worst way possible, “and I drove to the pharmacy because I thought maybe it wouldn’t be bad to check. I would’ve called you, but you were working and I didn’t want to bother you. So, I took this test and...I’m pregnant.”

The pause in the room leaves a bitter taste on your tongue, every limb shaking from the inside out. Your bottom lip stays between your teeth while your nostrils flare, readying the tears as you stare at him, unsure if he’s ecstatic, terrified, or both.

“I know it’s fast, and it feels like we got married only seconds ago, but I hope that you’re okay with it because I’m really really okay with it. But if it’s too soon to even think about I understand. I just know this is something I want with you and—”

He silences you with a soft clutch on your hips and the press of his mouth to yours, flooded with emotions you thought he might not feel at the surprise. He smiles between your lips and gives an expression that says your existing doubt was ludicrous.

“Are you kidding me? Having this with you is completely okay and incredible. Yes, it’s a bit sudden, but I’m so happy. We’re gonna be parents.” His joy is unmasked and palpable, stuffed to full capacity and meant for the two of you. It tells you the news is an absolute reminder you both created something worth all your happiness.

“We’re having a baby, baby.”

You come to find the worst part of pregnancy is the incredibly early morning sickness. Almost every day of the first two months, you’re attached to the bathroom in the mornings and feeling early bouts of nausea at night. You already love your child wholeheartedly, but the hell of eating and having your food come back up is unavoidable thanks to the baby.

Hansol pats your back through it all and never leaves your side, always keeping a bottle of doctor-recommended stomach tablets nearby so you don’t feel completely awful. Even though he worries, he tells himself it’s normal and it won’t last the entire nine months.

The weirdest thing to take in is the weird cravings you have. Ice cream and crackers, mustard and eggs, and marshmallows with peanut butter are only a few combinations he thinks of to show how random your tastes are with the pregnancy.

Ready for breakfast and glad you don’t feel like running to the bathroom, you grab a box of cocoa cereal and fill your bowl until it’s full. Suddenly, the desire to grab some ice and plop it into the milk makes you hungrier.

By the time the third ice-cube goes into the bowl, Hansol’s at the end of his rope with your weird tastes and mixtures. “Ice in cereal? What has our baby done to you?”

You laugh and stir your spoon into the milk before grabbing some cocoa chunks. “I wanted ice cubes in my cereal, so they’re in my cereal, and you’re just gonna have to deal with it. And babe, could you buy more marshmallows? We ran out.”

While Hansol heads to the store with a carefree chuckle, the words our baby leave a flutter in your chest so big you can’t miss it, and you beam as you dip your spoon into the cereal again, mixing the milk with the ice cubes.

Scheduling your appointment for the ultrasound, the topic of gender comes into conversation once you realize you’ve never discussed the topic before. “Do you wanna know,” Hansol asks while you type “nursery colors” in the browser’s search bar. Maybe it’s cliche, but you love surprises, and your first child shouldn’t be an exception.

“Not really. I mean, we’ll find out the day the baby comes, and won’t it be fun to know that second instead of being boring and already planning for it?” Maybe it would be too many reveals at one time, but the thought of revealing the day of delivery gives you a small sense of excitement.

“But how are we gonna paint the room when we don’t know, baby?”

“We’ll go purple! Who could hate purple,” you wink, looking through paint colors and names on the website you clicked, glad to see a few shades that catch your eye, Skimming them, you find a color that’s not too light or dark, and you envision the guest-room-turned-nursery painted with it and feel satisfied. But, like your husband would, Hansol searches for green samples and points to one that he likes.

“Oh, but I love Forever Lilac!”

“I like Kiwi.”

“That’s too green, Han.”

“It’s a nice green, though!”

The arguing doesn’t go past cute banter, but you agree Forever Lilac is the best shade for the baby’s room. While bickering about colors ends, you continue talking about names and other minuscule things, all until the baby’s gender comes back into question.

“Han, if you had to choose, what would you want the baby to be?” You stare as he rubs the bottoms of your feet, calm and relaxed before thinking of his answer.

“Having a baby with you matters more to me than the gender. But if I had to be honest, I want a girl. Just as breathtaking as her mother.” A shy smile accompanies his words that makes your heart flutter in your chest, not surprised he still finds ways to make you blush. “What about you?”

“A heartstopping boy,” you reply in response with a mirroring smile, “just like his father.”

He laughs and pulls you closer, thighs now resting on his and your faces close together, forehead to forehead just how you like it. “Let’s save a boy for the second try,” he whispers before kissing you with all the love he has, newly spaced for three. Second.

Kids were never in the forefront for the next year or two, but this new life inside of you changed your plans so much that picturing two kids with Hansol sounds like a delightful future.

Hansol didn’t expect you to explode in anger over one mishandle of a fake baby, and neither did the couples instructor. She told you it was normal to get it wrong on the first few tries, but it felt like the end of the world. If you couldn’t hold a mechanical baby properly, how could you hold your own child without doing it horribly?

Coming home, you storm into the bathroom and close it hard, angry at your husband for the same confusion the instructor experienced. Maybe you’re overreacting, but you’d yell at a thousand inanimate objects if it meant you were assured you’re doing everything right, especially as a mother. Feeling inadequate makes the waterworks come, knees sinking into tile and soft whimpers reminding you of all you’re terrified of and what you’re worried you’ll become.

“Baby, can I come in?” The softness in his voice tugs at your heart, and while only a high-pitched sound comes out of your mouth, he excuses it as a “yes” and sit downs next to you against the tub once he comes in, placing your hands in his on his lap. “You cry too much. I don’t like it.”

“My hormones are all over the place, Han. I can’t help it.” There’s light humor in your voice, but it’s washed away by the sinking in your chest at the thoughts telling you every worry will come true.

“What if I can’t do this? What if people say I’m a bad mother, or I feel I’m messing this up, or I ruin our kid’s life all because I didn’t know what to do,” you sob, hands now resting on the new curb of your belly as he pulls you to him, your head on his shoulder.

“Who cares what anyone else thinks? You’ve read every parenting magazine man could create, you’re always mindful of your health and making sure we go to those parenting classes, and I think you’re dying without caffeine but you gave it up for the baby. Just because you didn’t hold that machine correctly or maybe you won’t change a diaper right at first doesn’t mean you’ll be a bad mother. Parents always hit roadblocks. That’s inevitable, but I have no doubts our kid is gonna think the world of you whether you mess up or not.”

You sniffle and wipe your eyes, feeling better after your husband’s declaration, but he knows he can do better. Placing his hands over yours on your stomach, he comes so close to your belly his mouth is practically brushing the cotton of your shirt. “Hey baby, can you do daddy a favor? Tell your mommy it’s okay she didn’t hold that hunk of junk right.”

Before you can joke about the baby’s inability to answer back, a sharp kick to your stomach makes you sit upright and gasp, unsure if it was an accident or not. Another kick comes in the same place, leaving the two of you mesmerized and delighted by your child’s physical response.

You weep happily at the sudden jolts, already knowing your baby will love you regardless of the slip-ups you might make down the road. The encouragement from both your husband and child bring the assurance you need to soothe your worries. Hansol grins at the movement against his hand, kissing the spot between your eyebrows. “We’re gonna be great at this. I know it.”

Six months in, seeing your baby’s ultrasound brings a new overflow of happiness, as though you’re a child again sitting under the Christmas tree and anticipating a new gift. The surprise doesn’t ween the day of, but it only builds when the machine starts and reveals an unexpected turn of events: two tiny bodies. You feel yours floating, eyes lit up as the outline of your children ground you to the exam table. Twins. Twins to love, care for, and share with the man you love.

You don’t ask to know the sexes, sticking to the original plan you two had, but the possibilities leave you in lighthearted suspense. Hansol’s hand doesn’t let go of yours until you come home. He’s quiet, a bit too quiet for your taste, but his eyes zone in on the nursery and take his feet to the door. You waddle behind with all the strength you can, ankles aching in protest.

The lilac of the walls makes you smile, amused in recalling the months-old memory and your talk about what the baby would be. Who knew you would have another baby to fit inside the purple room.

He touches the pieces of the crib in the center of everything, colored white and made of solid wood, matching the rest of the furniture and decorations you picked out together. Although he’s shocked, the still glee in his eyes and deep love in his heart, now built for four instead of three, gives you comfort in the happy reveal. “Two babies.”

You trail behind him, your arms wrapping around his front as best you can, your stomach making it difficult to hug him completely. But it doesn’t stop you from embracing him softly and nuzzling his back. “Having cold feet, Han?”

He laughs softly and turns around, cupping your face with tenderness. “Nope. They’re toasty warm.” The first time you saw him cry was the day he proposed, nervous hands and promises of a love you wanted to give to him the same way he gave it to you. This time, watching him fall apart with tears in his eyes over your children makes your heart double in size for him and how far you’ve come.

“Guess we’ll need to buy another crib,” you comment, water in the corners of your eyes mirroring his. The thought of a future reshaped by another child, another one that is all yours, leaves a hole that will only fill and fall away once they arrive. Months before, you were terrified to imagine a child in your arms. Now, not having them is a distant thought you never want to consider again.

“Do we have the blankets? Pillows? Robes? Socks? Oh, and the camera,” Hansol stuffs all you essentials in the carrier at once, still rattled from telling his family and his twelve closest friends you’re heading to the hospital. The morning sun hits his hair as it ruffles in all directions, and you know despite his preparation he’s as tired as you are. Unfortunately, your babies aren’t patient enough to wait any longer.

“Hansol, yes. Let’s hurry please, my body feels like it’s gonna explode.” He pulls the bag over his shoulder before he puts one hand in yours and the other on your back. He’s both anxious and jumping from the ceiling, knowing by the time you come back to the apartment, you’ll have two new people living inside of it.

“Ready to do this, Chwe?” You’re still sleepy and ready to fall back in bed, but you still smile at him and the bundle of animated nerves living in him. He kisses the top of your head before opening the door and helping you through it. Even though you’re tired, knowing you’ll meet your children soon leaves you elated.

“Really ready.”

They come into the world after ten hours of worrying, pushing, and crying, a boy and a girl with all the love you’ve built entirely for them pouring out in little cries. Hansol paced the room hundreds of times before the delivery came. And once he held his children in his arms, leaving you to rest and finally saying goodbye to the many friends and family members who visited, his heart was so full and complete with two more people in his world to love.

“We’re parents, Han,” You grin, holding onto your daughter swaddled in pink and sleeping peacefully. Her fist is only a minimal fraction as big as yours, but she’s already strong and determined to stay dreaming. Hansol sits by your side, his son looking away in the distance but quiet and content.

“They’re gonna need us to tie their shoes, take them to school, pack their lunches, hold them when their hearts break,” you cry while nuzzling your daughter’s cheek, making sure the droplets don’t touch her beautiful skin. They’re both perfect, you tell yourself. Absolutely perfect and equal pieces of you and him, an example of the love you’ve created in the life you’ve built together. “They’re you and they’re me, and knowing we made something this special is the best thing I’ll ever know. I’m gonna love them always. And I’m glad I can share that love with you.”

You think you see a few more tears escape his eyes, but he wipes them away before you say anything and inhales a shaky breath, undoubtably filled with unshakable happiness. “Always. They’re ours forever,” Hansol smiles, red eyes and swollen cheeks painting his face while he holds you, your son, and your daughter, the three most precious things he’ll ever have.

They were never in the plan, but the plan changed to mold perfectly around all four of you, and you wouldn’t see your life any other way.

#svteditors #vernon scenarios #vernon scenario #seventeen scenarios #seventeen scenario #hansol scenarios #hansol scenario #vernon fics #vernon fic #seventeen fics #seventeen fic #am i still working on the fwb fic? yes #but i had one scene idea that became this entire thing and im emo #im all sap and emo because of this story okay bye #dad!vernon

153 notes · View notes

amyrichy · 7 years

Text

Robron Awards 2017

Sexiest Scene & Best Kiss - The Belt Grab Kiss - 14th October 2016 - I mean the sneaking off like a pair of horny teenagers, the belt grab, the grabbing of the faces, the pushing up against a wall...need I say more?

https://youtu.be/3IZlZt5V23o?t=198

Most Heartbreaking Scene - Saying Goodbye - 23rd February 2017 - Trying to be strong for each other while saying goodbye not knowing when they were next going to see each other? A brutal come down from the previous days festivities, They may not have cried but I certainly sobbed enough for the both of them.

https://youtu.be/xsSqymXScWc?t=161

Best Acting by Ryan - Robert And Aaron In The Woolpack Bathroom - 26th May 2017 - Ryan has been ON FIRE this year! He has been given a lot of extra content and has absolutely risen up to the challenge of that and tbh I could write a book on how talented he is and all the magnificent scenes he has had but I had to pick one scene. A difficult choice and i’ve gone with one some people might perhaps find controversial but honestly in that bathroom scene my heart broke for Robert as much as Aaron. You could FEEL the desperation coming off him in waves. You could see how terrified he was of losing Aaron and how he could feel his whole life with him falling apart. Just one of his amazing performances that has brought me to tears this year. BRAVO!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hEAKjUhnWko

Best Acting by Danny - Aaron Admits His Prison Abuse - 6th April 2017 - Again Danny is always amazing and I cannot think of a single time that he hasn’t brought it to the table but this scene just broke me. Aaron had held it in for so long, been strong for so long and it just all came out. He’s nervous at first but once it comes out he can’t stop, some of the things are so difficult to admit he almost struggles to breathe. Another fantastic heartbreaking performance from Danny.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2Y8cdAVM5Mg

Best Wordless Scene/Best hug - Prison Release Reunion - 6th April 2017 - Aaron is released from prison where he’s gone through hell for the last two months. He steps out into freedom and he sees a nervous Robert stood across the road. They stare at each other for a moment and then he runs, he’s running and running and he’s colliding into Robert, into his arms. You can see the relief, the emotion on both of them. So many things said in that one scene without either of those boys saying a word. A bomb could hit and I doubt it would’ve separated those two. In that moment where they are clutching onto each other like their lives depended on it, nothing mattered. They’d finally been reunited.

https://youtu.be/p26RRKmDnA0?t=152

Best Overall Episode - SSW 2016 (Monday) - 17th October 2017 - What can I say that hasn’t already been said about this masterpiece? It was the episode that made me fully begin shipping these two. It had it all, humour, drama, heartbreak, arguments and a heartstopping cliffhanger but what really came through in this episode more than anything was how much these boys loved each other, how they’d go to the ends of the earth to protect the other and make each other happy. I was going to pick the wedding for this award but how could I not pick the episode that made me realise how special the story of their relationship was?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xQeWKMTbTe8

Best Fight/Argument - ONS Reveal - 25th May 2017 - So I mean look, anyone who knows me knows I despise the ONS storyline with a PASSION! I will never understand HOW and WHY the writers would think it was a good idea to blacken such an amazing love story with something as LAZY, DISGUSTING and DISRESPECTFUL as a cheating storyline. However the reveal went a very small way of repairing some of the damage that the storyline caused to the Robron storyline. Maxine Alderton (Long live the queen) wrote the episode where Robert confesses to Aaron his infidelity and what an episode it was. Heartbreaking, emotional and downright beautiful at times, it was one of those episodes where despite them having a huge argument and their relationship hanging by edge of a thread, the love Robert and Aaron have for each other shines through.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PtZ-brdVubo

Best Family moment - Xmas 2016 - 25th December 2016 - They were not the major players in this episode so why have I chosen it? Because you see how much they FIT IN! Robert and Liv join the Dingles for the weirdest family Christmas I have ever seen yet! It was their first christmas together but if you didn’t know better, you’d say Robert, Aaron and Liv had been a family forever, not a few short months. I feel like i’m cheating a bit because there were SO MANY family moments in this episode! From Aaron teasing Robert for enjoying the drinks, to Robert joining in the charades with the dingles, to Aaron and Liv throwing snowballs at people (watched by a laughing Robert), to Robert parenting Liv and refusing to let her drink, to Aaron and Robert snuggled up on the sofa being all soppy and Chas giving Robert a big hug as well as Aaron. This episode was filled with moments that proved Roblivion had become their own little family unit within the Dingles.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YkyktE5xIfk&t=

Most Rewatched Scene - In The Forest SSW - 17th October 2016 - Aaron and Robert both build up the courage to be honest with each other when an upset Robert confesses to Aaron a dark moment from his past and Aaron responds by letting Robert know how much he really thinks of him and confessing his love for the first time in nearly two years.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1ECzsffn4nc

Sweetest Moment - First Dance - 21st February 2017 - With the craziness of their wedding day finally over, a tipsy Robert manages to persuade a reluctant Aaron to dance with him and surprisingly Aaron agrees. They clutch onto each other, wrapped in each others arms, ignoring the public audience. While they dance, Aarons grandma returns from prison but they literally don’t look up. No-one else matters, they are in their own little bubble. At the end of the scene, you see Aarons face and although he doesn’t say anything, you can literally see the thought in his mind. “I want this moment to last forever”

https://youtu.be/BiGTU60FH6E?t=46

Best I love you - Post ONS reveal - 25th May 2017 - They’re sat next to each other in the dark on the floor of their new home. Both still recovering in the aftermath of the bomb Roberts just dropped on their relationship but somehow...they’ve survived. They’ve spent the whole day fighting for their relationship and somehow they’ve got through it. Broken and messed up with their relationship having been through the ringer but they’re still there together and AGAIN you see the love these two have for each other shine through. “I love you” Aaron says sincerely and you can see it in Roberts face, he can’t believe it, never thought he’d hear those words again “Still?” He asks unsure, Aaron nods. “I love you more” Robert says and that’s how that episode ends. Both our boys broken and bruised but ultimately TOGETHER clutching onto each other in the dark...and that was so beautiful.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dq1RdwdRfzI

Best Robert Quote - “Don’t ever say I don’t love him, I never stopped” - September 2017 - Robert and Aaron aren’t together anymore and a heartbroken Robert is trying to distract himself by waging a villainous and slightly ridiculous revenge plot against the White family. Unfortunately this means getting close to Rebecca. When Liv returns and questions his closeness with her, he snaps and finally we see his true feelings about Rebecca and the baby come out, along with a display of raw honesty about his feelings for Aaron. A heartbroken Robert has given up all hope on a reunion but that doesn’t mean he’s ever stopped loving Aaron.

https://youtu.be/Kplpw1GDUx8?t=224

Best Aaron Quote - “You’re not a disappointment, you’re amazing” - 17th October 2016 - Anyone who knows Aaron Dingle knows he wears his heart on his sleeve and would do anything to protect his loved ones. Anyone who knows Aaron Dingle also knows he’s rubbish at expressing said feelings. He’s the type of guy who’ll go out and beat someone up because he’s heartbroken rather than admit it or would much rather kidnap someone to prove his love than actually say the words which is why this scene was so special. Robert was upset after divulging a painful secret from his past but an emotional Aaron was able to make him feel better by telling Robert exactly how much he thought of him and then dropping the “I love you” that Robert (and the audience) had been waiting for, for almost two years.

https://youtu.be/1ECzsffn4nc?t=121

#robron awards 2017 #robron #emmerdale #robert sugden #aaron dingle #ryan hawley #danny miller #ed

18 notes · View notes