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ladysenaysays · 3 months

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✎ Journal || 02.16.24

Lonely, ain't it? Yes, but my lonely is mine. Now your lonely is somebody else's. Made by somebody else and handed to you. Ain't that something? A secondhand lonely.

Toni Morrison, Sula

Was it always so big?

If the size of the box in the back of our guest room closet wasn't enough on its own to be intimidating, I knew its contents were. I knew that it was taped and tucked neatly away in a space Sam and I hardly touched in our converted firehouse home, forgotten and buried as our lives expanded in all of the ways we planned. As we shifted, moving all of us and adding more to us, that big box followed, nestling in the same way we did.

Cozy, only rustling when we did. Comfortable, only transplanting when we did. Stuck, only budging when we did.

I've weaved through nearly a decade with Sam, none of us making it into the box. And as we inch toward that full 10 years in April, I know why. He's always made sense of me, always been able to smooth out friction, and tempt me to be someone who doesn't hide from him, doesn't need to, and couldn't if she wanted to. He'll be 34 in a few days and we've been celebrating him all month--because February is his month, after all. My young thing grew up on me. I sprouted right alongside him, and now I'm waltzing my way to 35, having finally housed so much of what I thought I'd never find a home for.

Was it always so heavy?

If the box had been harder to get at, I probably would have given up, waited for the next move to let Sam lug it to a new home. But it eased out of the closet without a fight, parted its flaps at the suggestion of a sharp pair of scissors, spreading in a deep exhale to sigh over a decade of my life into the room.

Zuri said I should open it. She saw me once a week for an hour for so many months I lost count. Listened, took notes. She saw me on the heels of an emergency room visit, the cause of which was pegged as "exhaustion", earning me a place among all those late 90s/early aughts starlets whose lives I thumbed through worlds away from the concrete constructed housing projects in Philly I called home. She saw me within a week after a long search for a black feminine mental health professional that actually did feel...exhausting. She saw me, unpacking in that painfully slow way I'd always been accustomed to.

Cortisol plateau. Burn out. Fatigue. Irritability. Horrible sleep. Blood pressure spike knocking my noggin with a headache so bad I could barely stand.

Took me weeks to calm, to land on real therapy (not using Sylvia and Sam to wade through all my problems) as an alternative treatment to the listlessness I tried to treat with quitting my day job and immersing fully into a schedule of dominatrix work that was...a bit much. But she saw me, waited me out once we'd started, sat dutifully through a slow mental striptease that satisfied nobody.

She still sees me every other month--virtual now since Sam and I left San Fran for the farmhouse not far from Houston. There's so much more to us than I ever imagined there would be. We've spread out and spawned, got land and a little one, but stayed so close I can tell when he's hungry just by looking at him. And I swear that that little green-eyed, curly-topped version of him and me running around makes the same faces when it's time to eat. I see them, chasing chickens and playing in paint, one of them designing my tattoos and both of them fascinated by each one, loud and happy and silly and sweet. My adventurers. My big one and my little one getting all the best parts of me I never needed to pack away.

Was it always so full?

If I didn't know myself, I'd be surprised that the box was in order, arranged from the newest things I'd stashed all the way down to the oldest. Scribbled moments, most dated to confirm their place in my timeline, others bearing names that told me exactly where they belonged.

Took Zuri and I months to get to the box. When I finally mentioned writing as a former outlet and let slip the existence of my written stored memories, I could practically hear the click in her mind, something locking firmly into gear and ensuring that we would go as far down that road as we could.

Jordan was at the top. Didn't give her a second thought after I moved out of our shared complex and ended a friend/client relationship that shouldn't have ever started, but she was represented in the notes I took after my meetings with her; a few filled pages of desires unfulfilled. I had every intention of fulfilling them, too--wanted to mold myself into both friend and fantasy and be whatever she wanted.

Owen was underneath. Our old schedule--what tools he wanted and on which days, cards he'd sent--most of them hand-drawn, wishing me happy holidays and the like. As of his last update, he was lawyering in LA and he'd found someone local to satisfy that part of him that needed to be disciplined. We drifted after I left the Haight, after he brought me out of retirement post San Fran relocation, after a lengthy goodbye session that included our usual everything but the one thing I never gave any of my clients. He got close. I touched him, trespassed over the line that was meant to keep our relationship professional because he wanted me to and I wanted him to have what he wanted.

Ian was all throughout. I wrote about him most of all, several silly poems and stories about the way my hands would sweat when we clung to one another on the walks home from middle school, about the first kiss we shared in a coatroom, about lying on my back for him for thirty seconds of something we were both too young to understand or appreciate but would get plenty of practice perfecting with each other over the years. I don't know if he still exists. I recognize that thought as a luxury. He wanted me first and seemingly most of all, wanted me as Senay and even more as his very own Vixen once I started dabbling in domme work. He picked outfits for her, helped her practice her swings, remained just enough of an asshole to turn that sweet, soft girl into something dangerous. I wanted to be each edge of his entire universe because for so long I believed that's what he wanted of me.

Was it always mine?

If I had to disturb the box--and I absolutely had to once it was locked in with Zuri--I had to settle up with everything inside and still had to live outside of it while I worked my way through. So I lined up what I could, what I felt like I needed: long talks with Sean without any of the other 8 kids around, a few lines to Stacy to let her know I'm breathing, blocking Ian in every way imaginable, and continuing that months-long search for a way ahead and out of my own.

My mother was further down and everywhere I looked. Mother's day poems, birthday cards, stories that all put my need for her attention on full display. Her letters and the responses I never sent are near the top, angry first drafts that prove that I didn't always understand her addiction as a disease, all detached from the sobriety chips she sends each time she gets a new one. First, the chips came every couple of months, then each year. Last one came at the seven-year mark--she sent her six-year chip when she received her seventh right before we moved. I started writing her back after the second year, months after I started seeing Zuri. Nothing lengthy and we never call or text--just enough to know the other is alive. No money, no gifts. I sent her my address in Texas and let her know that she's a grandmother now. I'm waiting on that seven-year chip. I want her to be good for herself in the way she never could be for me.

My dad was lowest of all. A letter from 6-year-old Senay anchoring the paper pile, an apology for not being able to attend his wedding, like that was her fault and not the result of the machinations of a woman helplessly steered by an addiction. In the box, I spent time asking why Sean left, contemplating what I needed to fix to bring him back, and imagining my life if he returned. I could see the point where I found out that I'd basically written the new version of him into existence, when I saw just how good of a father he could be to Imani and Jaycen and the rest. My jealously is all over those pages, teen angst that I channeled into self-loathing sonnets. Sean is good. Always has been. And when I think about my munchkins or the beautiful being I popped out who he is the epitome of a doting grandfather to, I am so glad that he is.

I spent too much of my life twisting into everything I thought Stacy and Sean wanted me to be. And I never got it right in a way that would give me back the family I longed for. So I packed. Jordan, Owen, Ian, Stacy, and Sean. All of them, all packed up. Waiting. Bound tight and staying exactly where I put them.

I had to talk about boundaries with Zuri. We stumbled there somehow when I tripped my way through the story of how I began my life as Mistress. Tamara and Arthur sat between Ian and Owen. They were a very detailed account of the rush I felt after ordering Arthur around that first time and many follow-up chronicles all related to the job I fell into (and in love with) because the word no always eluded me.

I couldn't pinpoint too many boundaries I'd set--with anyone. There were so few things I asked for, required, expected, and actually held fast to upholding. I took what I got--polished it up, dressed it, made it mine, then penned my experiences so they didn't have to live in my head.

Thought I got it all out of me, shed it once and for all. But there it all sat, written but never digested, never aligned up with the life I ended up living outside of that box.

Was it always with me?

If I was in a rush, I wouldn't have read a thing in the box. But slowing down and eventually ceasing domme work after my emergency room visit left me with plenty of time to peruse. I read deeply, hours at a time, the highlights of which I took back to Zuri, laying out for her all of the things that nicked at my brain the most.

Over time, we settled on a few:

Sean and Stacy colliding the way they did. Sean leaving the scene and never stopping to survey the damage and Stacy too preoccupied to realize just how banged up I was. All the roadblocks I've hit in trying to be my whole self instead of straddling between wholesome community work and a deep, fulfilling enjoyment of physical pleasure. Something in me that only saw my purpose as serving others. I'm happiest when I'm helping, even if the help depletes me because if I'm useful, I won't be alone and feel that ache of a loneliness settled so deeply it sometimes felt tangible.

I ended up online at Zuri's suggestion, when I could feel the loneliness breathing in me whenever Sam wasn't around. I found forums first, eventually working my way toward avidly followed profiles, channels, and then a podcast where all those pieces I used to hide could get laid out in segments I research, plan, and write. The podcast started as just another way to climb out of the box but grew into a community I cultivated when I quickly realized there were so many folks in the world just like me in search of a place to put all those things they packed away. We talk relationships, and sex, and love, and trauma, and mistakes, and anything else we pull out of our boxes. Now the subscribers and followers are loyal and engaged and in the tens of thousands and I don't plan to part with any of my life online, despite the ocean of opinions breathed into microphones these days. My space is still there, bound or unbound as I want it to be.

Cozy, a place I can put all of me. Comfortable, a world with borders I've designed. Stuck, a part of me that I'll never put away again.

#ladysenaysays #memoirs of a lady #ooc: if it's not longer than it needs to be did molly even write it???

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gazrgaley · 1 year

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Manifestation of a Monster (chapter 43)

The night was spent poring through the documents by Milo, Richard, and even Grendel on occasion. It was like trying to put together a puzzle with simply the pieces, with no box to guide them. Eventually, it began to feel as if the pieces belonged to other puzzles.

"I'm just going to give up now." After much struggle, Grendel gave up and held out his hands. Nothing here makes any sense at all.

It wasn't just him who felt this way, either. It seems that Milo had given up hope that anything would eventually make sense. Even if his anger wasn't showing on his face. Richard was the only one who appeared to care about uncovering the truth.

At the last minute, before Grendel gave up to find something more interesting on TV. Richard had received a text message, and his face turned pale.

He seemingly ignored the message and resumed his frenzied search through the files. "This, right here." He indicated one of the documents they had all read extensively. I think Milo was onto something there.

Milo reviewed the priest Malachi's paperwork. "How did I miss that before? He seems to have had ties to the group CROW... a group of vigilantes that..." Richard halted, an expression of grave worry on his face. "It seems they are vampire hunters."

Grendel jumped to join the other two. "What, I didn't see anything about vampire slayers. Where does it say that?"

He met Richard's annoyed gaze. "Clearly, they don't go around shouting that they are what they are. This is only a rumour at this point. However, if our suspicions prove correct." Richard thought about that for a while. "No, it doesn't make any sense at all. In theory, I could face off some posable vampire slayers, but I'd rather not." Richard gave Milo the impression of asking if the latter shared his thoughts.

Are you implying that we should take a field trip?" Milo inquired

***

Upon arriving at St. Ivie's Cathedral, Richard briefed Milo and Grendel on his attack strategy. Meaning force would only be used if absolutely necessary. Richards's intention for that evening wasn't to fight his priest. After all, he was still an upstanding member of the church and didn't want to tarnish his reputation.

He did, however, say that Milo and Grendel remain vigilant. For the reason that he may be connected to vampire hunters.

"None of them seemed like a safe bet to me," Grendel said mockingly.

"Well, that's why we have a plan," Richard replied. "We need to be careful and not let our guard down. We don't want to cause any unnecessary problems, but we also need to protect ourselves if we are attacked."

Milo nodded in agreement. "I understand. We'll be ready for whatever comes our way."

"Good," Richard said, "Now let's go inside and see what we can find out."

The three of them entered the cathedral, their footsteps echoing on the stone floor. As they walked down the aisle, they noticed that the place was empty except for the priest, who was sitting in a pew near the altar.

"Father, we need to speak with you," Richard said, approaching the priest.

The priest looked up at them, his face a mixture of surprise and concern. "What is it that you need to talk to me about?" he asked.

"It's about the recent attacks on the town," Richard said. "This may sound crazy, but there are some who think they might be connected to vampires, and we need your help to stop them."

The priest's eyes widened in shock. "Vampires? Are you serious?"

"I'm afraid so," Richard said. "We have reason to believe that there are vampires in this town, and we need your help to stop them."

Milo and Grnedle exchanged looks. Not sure where he was going with this. Both thought he wouldn't have been so blunt about the talk of vampires.

The priest hesitated for a moment, then stood up and led them to his office. "I will do what I can to help," he said, "but I must warn you, the church does not condone violence. We believe in redemption and salvation for all beings, no matter how evil they may seem."

Richard nodded. "I understand, Father. We don't want to resort to violence if we can avoid it. But if it comes to it, we will do what is necessary to protect ourselves and the town."

The priest nodded, his expression serious. "Very well. Let us see what we can do to help."

As Richard spoke to the priest about his concerns Milo felt a strange heat wave come over him. He wasn't sure what he was feeling but he somehow knew Justin had gotten himself into a tight spot. Furthermore, he was in the church right now. He got a glims of Justin's view before everything went black.

Milo felt an odd rush of heat wash over him as Richard shared his worries with the priest. Without being able to explain it, he knew that Justin was in a jam. Forthwith, he knew Justin was in the very church they were in right now. Momentarily being able to take control of Justin's sight he could see the room he was in and Ma'at before passing out.

Richard followed Milo out of the room as everyone stared at him. Outside the priest's office, Milo whispered, "Justin is here someplace. I believe the priest is aware of more than he is revealing. I have reason to believe Ma'at is here as well."

Richard sighed in concern as he turned back to the entrance. "Are you sure?"

"I require freedom of movement and observation," Milo said, hoping Richard would understand what he needed from him.

Say no more," Richard typed in."I'll take the priest upstairs. Logic says he'll be in the basement. I'll give you and Grendel time to look around."

Milo nodded gratefully. "Thank you, Richard. We'll be careful and try to find Justin and Ma'at as quickly as possible."

Grendel, who had been standing nearby, spoke up. "What's the plan? How are we going to find them?" Both jumped as neither of them heard his step outside the office.

"We are heading to the basements to find Jusitn and Ma'at," Milo said. "Richard will distract the priest."

Grendel nodded. "That makes sense. We'll meet back at the hotel in an hour."

Milo nodded, and the two of them set off in opposite directions. As Milo made his way to the basement, he couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. He didn't know what they were going to find, but he knew that they were dealing with dangerous creatures. He just hoped that they would be able to find Justin before it was too late.

Up until this point, it was as if all computation and contusion between Justin and Milo was none existent. But now, it seemed as if the kid was in danger, and that damn was open. Milo easily navigated threw the many halls. Not quite knowing where he was going, but instantly picking the right doors. It seemed as if they had to have gone miles with no sign of anyone or anything.

"Where are we going?" Grendel asked in a whisper. Though he doubted that was necessary.

Milo didn't answer but kept moving forward. He himself wasn't quite sure where they were going. As he opened another plan door an odour washed over them.

"Oh, what the hell is that? It smells like a hundred Netopuri all piled on one another after not bathing for ten years." He covered his face as looking around the empty conference room.

There had not been anything there. But both of them spotted the door at the end of the room. "It's coming from there." They both said at the same time.

Until now, it seemed as though Justin and Milo had never had any sort of connection. But now, it seemed as if the kid was in danger, and that damn was open. Milo had no trouble finding his way around all of the different corridors. He picked the appropriate doors, despite having no idea which ones led where. They appeared to have travelled for what felt like an eternity, never coming across any others.

"What are our plans?" Grendel asked softly. Although he didn't think it would be essential to do so, it was clear the silence was killing him.

Milo didn't answer but kept marching forward. As he unlocked the next compartment door, a pungent odour filled the room.

Grendel violently reached for his face, blocking his nostrils from the sent. "What the fuck is that? A hundred Netopuri were heaped on top of each other and then left there for ten years without washing would smell better than that." But there was nothing in the conference room.

The area was devoid of any previous inhabitants. However, they both noticed that there was an exit at the far end of the chamber. "That's where It's coming from." They both said at the same time.

When they looked closer, they saw that the door was far thinner and weaker than the others that lined the corridors, which explained why the odour from whatever was inside had only been noticeable now.

Milo and Grendel exchanged a glance and then approached the door cautiously. Milo reached out and slowly pushed it open, revealing a small, dark room beyond.

The stench was overwhelming, and Grendel gagged, covering his mouth and nose with his hand. Milo, on the other hand, was more focused on what he saw in the room.

It was a lengthy corridor, Lined with half-decayed Kaw-Sekhmu. He had never seen anything like that. But I'd heard of this happening when a wrong turn went wrong. The victim is neither human nor Kaw-Sekhmu. He felt sympathy and disdain for the creatures in front of him.

The room burst into flames with a single snape. A fierce, spiteful fire spread around the room and destroyed everything in it. It was put out almost as quickly as it had started.

The stench was overwhelming, and Grendel gagged, covering his mouth and nose with his hand. Milo, on the other hand, was more focused on what he saw in the room.

It was a lengthy corridor, Lined with half-decayed Kaw-Sekhmu. He had never seen anything like that. But he had heard of this happening when a turn went wrong. The victim is neither human nor Kaw-Sekhmu. He felt sympathy and disdain for the creatures in front of him.

The room burst into flames with a single snap of Milo's fingers. A fierce, spiteful fire spread around the room and destroyed everything in it. It was put out almost as quickly as it had started. Milo and Grendel began to walk threw the smouldering room.

#warm blooded vampires series #oc vampires #gothic horror #wattpad #chapter 43 #gaz042

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joaquinwhorres · 3 years

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gazes (joaquín torres x reader)

SUMMARY ››››› It's become increasingly apparent to Sam and Bucky that you and Joaquin cannot take your eyes off each other. Unfortunately for them, you two have decided to be Professionals and that means keeping your eyes, hands, and lips to yourselves. No matter how difficult it is.

WORD COUNT ››››› 3,716

WARNINGS ››››› sexy times implied

A/N ››››› Ok so these headcanons y'all have been sending me are incredible. I read these two back to back and I just had to write something connecting them.

The kid had no tact.

Sam wasn't exactly sure why he expected more from the guy who'd led into his theory that Steve was on the moon by referencing vague internet rumors, but even despite that, he'd assumed Joaquin possessed some sense of subtlety.

Instead he was over at the leg press trying and failing not to stare at Y/N as she bent over at the middle to help Bucky push deeper into the stretch.

"You know she could hit you with a harassment claim for staring at her like that."

Joaquin jumped, the weights dropping suddenly with a loud clang. Across the gym, Bucky laughed as Y/N whipped around to face the two men. "Everything ok?" Her voice sounded genuinely concerned, and Sam couldn't help but smirk as Joaquin turned towards her, giving a little wave.

"Foot slipped," he answered, and she nodded, turning back to Bucky quickly.

"Foot slipped," Sam mocked.

"Dude, you scared the shit out of me."

"If you paid half the amount of attention you give to Y/N to your surroundings, you'd have known I'd been standing here for three minutes."

Joaquin gave a defensive scoff. "I wasn't staring at her--I was just--" he stopped, searching for an excuse, and Sam raised his eyebrows.

When it was clear Joaquin couldn't find a convincing enough lie to end the sentence, Sam shook his head. "You know, if you talk to her, she might actually let you take her out."

"I talk to her," Joaquin protested.

Sam shook his head, uncrossing his arms. "No, I mean talk to her. Chat her up. You've gotta have some game, right?"

"I've got game..." His sentence trailed off as he turned to look in her direction, finding her standing over Bucky's feet with her hands on her hips. "But like, we're co-workers, you know? I don't want to make things awkward around the gym or the compound or anything."

"Joaquin," Sam said, laying a hand on his shoulder. "You're already making things awkward."

"He's staring at your ass again."

"And you're trying to get out of stretching again," you quipped, moving Bucky's leg closer to his chest. The super soldier tilted his head as if to acknowledge the legitimacy of your accusation.

"Doesn't change the fact that I think you're about to give him a heart attack."

"I highly doubt he's worried in the slightest about my ass. He's probably zoned out."

"He's definitely focused in...on--"

"On my ass," you finished, shaking your head. You might have given Bucky's claim a little more credence if it weren't for the fact that Joaquin Torres had been anything but the consummate professional towards you. He was friendly and upbeat and welcoming, and one of the few genuinely good guys you'd ever had the pleasure of working with.

You'd never caught him staring once, and it's not like the boy was exactly known for subtlety. Last time Bucky had asked him to cover for him so you couldn't come down and teach him the right way to train his body, he'd told you that Bucky had left the compound to get you a thank you gift for all of your hard work. All while staring at the gym door.

The heavy sound of weights falling against each other echoed throughout the gym, and you spun around to face the sound. Sam hovered over Joaquin's shoulder, the latter no longer working the leg press but instead looking as if he'd just received the scare of his life.

Bucky broke into laughter, and you smacked at his leg.

"Everything ok?" you called out, and Joaquin smiled, giving a sheepish little wave at you. "Foot slipped."

"It's a good thing he wasn't at the bench press. You might have killed him."

Your head snapped back to Bucky who was giving you a shit eating grin.

"You're an asshole."

"I'm right."

"Do you think if I ask nicely Wakanda will take you back?"

"So you know I'm right."

You chanced a glance back at Joaquin who was still talking to Sam before turning back around and placing your hands on your hips. "I'm calling Ayo."

You were running early.

Not to any event in particular, but just for the general course of your day. It was rare for you to wake up to your first alarm so completely refreshed, and with a fully awake brain, you found it much easier to navigate the morning. You were able to get dressed without crawling back in bed for a few more minutes, and didn't have to battle with sleepy indecision when choosing what you wanted to eat for breakfast.

One thing after another just continued to roll your way, leading you to the gym much earlier than usual.

And that's where the luck stopped.

Or maybe it didn't stop. But it definitely took a turn. Because while you fully expected someone else to be in the gym already, you hadn't expected just one person to be in the gym. And even if you had, you wouldn't have guessed that that one person would be Joaquin. And if, for some reason, you'd had the foresight to sense that, you definitely never would have pictured him to be running on the treadmill shirtless.

You stopped in your tracks, eyes falling to the bouncing dog tags on his chest and then lower to the well defined abs you'd somehow never seen before.

It felt like you'd seen just about every man in this compound shirtless. At some point, they all seemed to strip in the gym or during one of your group training classes you ran for those who weren't field agents. Bucky was shirtless half the time you worked together. It was so normal, you hardly even blinked an eye anymore. Seeing Sam without a shirt was more rare and quite the sight, but it'd never caught your breath quite like seeing Joaquin. Joaquin, who had never so much as worn a tank top in the gym, Joaquin.

And now here he was, chest bare and heaving, feet pounding rhythmically against the treadmill, hair still messy from his pillow and sweat. Your brain couldn't seem to function correctly, offering you images of the sight before you, only closer. Much closer. Hovering inches over your stretched out body as the headboard behind you rammed into the wall with the force of each thrust--

"Hey," Joaquin greeted, noticing you standing off to the side. You blinked, heat rushing to your face as he turned the treadmill down to a more leisurely pace. "Something wrong with my form?"

It was tempting to lie and offer to "help him fix it." Or to be completely honest and tell him you'd never seen a human form as perfect as his.

But neither of those responses were professional or even appropriate, and you needed this job.

You swallowed, shaking your head. "No, I was just wondering why you were wearing those," you said, gesturing to his dog tags, and allowing your eyes to fall to his chest once more. You followed a bead of sweat as it rolled down his body, heading to the waistband of his shorts. Joaquin reached to touch his tags, causing them to jingle together once more and pull your attention up to him.

"It's hard to let them go," he smiled, ruefully, hitting the button so the belt slowed even more. "I'd say it's a habit, putting them on, but at this point they're just like a part of me."

You nodded, wishing you'd taken this conversation anywhere but to the idea of dog tags and what they stood for. It wasn't so much a mood killer but a guilt inducer because instead of you feeling embarrassed and somber, all you wanted to do was grab them and pull him closer to you.

He must have read the conflict on your face because he gave a crooked smile. "Yeah, sorry, it's kinda morbid."

"No," you shook your head, clearing it of the daydream induced fog. "I probably shouldn't have asked."

"No, nah, it's cool," his smile grew into grin, as the belt came to a stop. He leaned his forearms against the console, staring at you as if waiting for you to continue the conversation. Which you were not equipped to do with a smiling and shirtless and sweaty Joaquin Torres right before you.

"Well, thanks for being cool about it," you said with a nod.

My God, something was wrong with you. They were just abs. And sure, maybe the abs belonged to the man who not only found the time to moonlight as a superhero but star in your increasingly dirty dreams of late, but it was just a body party that you'd seen a million times.

But never on Joaquin.

You blamed everything your brain was doing to you on Bucky and all of his stupid comments about Joaquin's supposed fixation on your ass. You wondered what he would say if he could see you now. "And I thought I was half machine. I could practically see your brain short circuiting." or "If that's what you're like when you see him half-naked, how are you ever going to--"

"Yeah, of course," Joaquin said, still smiling, his eyes lifting up over your shoulder as the other door to the gym opened and Sam came in. "Hey," he greeted with a jerk of his chin.

"Hey," Sam said, drawing closer, his eyes on you. You forced a smile on to your own face, and lifted a hand, not trusting anything that was coming out of your mouth.

"You're here early," the other man said, stepping onto the treadmill next to Joaquin's, and putting his water bottle down next to the machine.

Both of them were looking at you now, and it's not like you could handle staying in this gym any longer. "I came down looking for my water bottle. I think I left it here yesterday."

Sam raised his eyebrows glancing around the gym, and Joaquin stepped down off of the machine. "Do you want help looking for it?" he asked, and your whole body seemed to tense up at the idea, your brain transporting you to a future scenario where the two of you wandered around the room, Joaquin next to you or behind you, so close you could feel the heat radiating off of him, all the while searching for a water bottle that was sitting on your dresser.

"No." Your voice came out too high, but you tried to play it off, shaking your head. "I've already interrupted your workout enough. It's either by the weights or not in here."

"Alright," he nodded. "If you need any help looking around the compound though, let me know."

"Thanks," you said. And then you gave another stupid wave and beelined it for the weight racks because you had to get out of here.

You made a show of looking next to each section of weights, even bending over to check underneath of them as if it could have been knocked under somewhere. After you felt an appropriate amount of time had passed to be convincing, you straightened up, empty handed. You turned back to Joaquin and Sam, both watching you rather than continuing their workouts as you might have hoped.

"Not here," you called back with a shrug and then left the gym and headed straight up to your shower.

He was nothing if not predictable.

The minute Y/N bent over to check behind the weight rack, his eyes were glued to her. Or perhaps more accurately, the bright teal spandex shorts she wore. As she pulled herself back up from searching for her water bottle and turned to them, Joaquin quickly looked to Sam as if the two had been talking the whole time and then "casually" returned to her.

"Not here!" she said, shrugging and then walking out of the gym, her footsteps quick and purposeful as she left through the door Sam had just entered by.

"So, what'd I interrupt?"

Joaquin looked up at Sam as if remembering he was there. "What?"

"You know, when the two of you were sitting by this machine making eyes at each other? Did you actually say anything to her or….?"

Joaquin shook his head. "No, she just came in and, uh, we chatted for a second, and then…" he trailed off, as if not fully remembering any of the past ten, twenty, however many minutes.

"You just chatted," Sam repeated, the disbelief on his face edging into his voice.

"Yeah," Joaquin nodded.

"Anywhere in this chat you finally ask her out?"

"Nah, it didn't feel right."

"It didn't--she was practically taking off the other half of your clothes with her eyes," Sam sputtered, gesturing to Joaquin's shorts.

The kid laughed and shook his head as if Sam didn't know what he was talking about. Joaquin moved to exit the gym as well. "I'll see you later, man," he said, leaving a very exasperated Sam behind.

Bucky Barnes was a motherfucking liar.

"Let's grab a drink on Friday," he said.

"Consider it me making it up to you for being such a pain in your ass," he said.

"I'll buy," he said.

Mothefucker.

This wasn't just you and your favorite co-worker getting a drink. This was a goddamn set up. Because one hour and three mojitos into the night, Sam and Joaquin walked in the front door.

"I fucking hate you," you said, glaring up at his stupid smug face.

"Well, what a surprise, he grinned, as you shook a finger up at him.

"I told you in confidence I'm a flirty drunk."

He snorted, giving you a look out the side of his eyes. "You told me you were a flirty drunk after you sent me several highly inappropriate drunk text messages about what you wanted to do to a certain Lieutenant, who," the self-satisfied smile was back on Bucky's face. "Is making his way over to us right now."

"When I get home, I swear to God, I'm buying you a ticket to Wakanda."

Bucky quirked an eyebrow. "You're not going to do it now?"

"I didn't bring my credit card because you said you were paying," you huffed.

Before Bucky could respond, Sam and Joaquin were next to the two of you, greeting Bucky with hand slaps and one armed hugs. Sam came around and wrapped an arm around you first before sliding into the seat next to Bucky, and Joaquin came forward, giving you a quick hug.

Which was a first.

More than the feeling of his back underneath your palm, or the way he seemed to emanate warmth, you were done in by how absolutely incredible he smelled. But before you could fully identify whether it was his shampoo, a cologne, or just him, he pulled away and took the only other available seat near the group--the one next to you.

"I see you started without us," Sam said, raising his eyebrows at the assortment of glasses that sat before you. Most of them were Bucky's as he downed beers faster than should have been humanly possible.

"Hard drinker, huh Y/N," Joaquin teased, shooting you a smile.

"Pfft," you dismissed. "Only three are mine."

"Three?" Sam asked, leaning forward to better look at you. "How long have you been here?"

"An hour," you said, completely unnecessarily leaning forward too.

Bucky shrugged. "I got the time wrong."

"Guess we better catch up then," Joaquin said, and you sank back into your chair, narrowing your eyes at him in challenge.

"If you can."

They did.

You were outpaced fairly quickly against the two soldiers and one super soldier. The rum-induced fuzziness around the edges of your brain was compounded by having Joaquin so close to you. At some point he'd pulled his chair a bit closer to yours so that he could better hear the conversation, and you don't remember when it happened, but his arm had also slid around the back of your chair. To your relief neither Bucky nor Sam seemed to acknowledge this. In fact, Bucky was positively quiet and normal all things considered. Everything was going better than you could have expected.

Until the music kicked up.

Sam was the first to be dragged onto the dance floor. He was Captain America. Of course he'd been targeted by the stunning girl in the red dress who'd only had to come up and ask "Does Captain America dance?" to succeed in pulling him off to the dance floor.

Bucky was next. Although he wasn't tugged onto the dance floor by his hand the way Sam was. It was the sight of the person in the tight black number that did him in, luring him away to the dance as if drawn by a magnet.

And then it was you and Joaquin, sitting at the bar. Alone. Together.

You looked up from your drink, pushing the straw down into the ice to stir up the clinking sounds, and he took a swig of his beer before putting the bottle back down on the bar.

"Alright, let's dance," he said, nodding with his head towards the crowd, and you let out a disbelieving snort.

"I don't know how to dance. I mean, I can dance," you attempted to clarify, although you had a feeling words were failing you at the moment. "But that's real dancing, and I can't do that."

"I guess you're lucky you have a really good teacher asking you to dance then," Joaquin grinned, holding out a hand. You looked down at his open palm, hesitating only for a second before you slid your hand into his and jumped down from your chair.

He led you out through the moving bodies expertly, dodging couples who were clearly more into the dancing than each other and couples where the complete opposite was true. The small bit of space he found you was closer to the center of the dance floor than you'd usually feel comfortable with, but when he turned towards you with that look on his face, any of your residual anxiety had vanished.

"Ok, come close," he said, and you took a small step closer to him, causing him to laugh. "Closer." He gestured, and you moved forward some more, Joaquin's hands finding their way to your hips and pulling you even closer. His hands rose, one finding its way to your mid-back, pushing your elbow up to rest on his, as the other took your hand and placed it over shoulder.

"This ok?" he asked, eyebrows raised, and you nodded, trying to keep your attention on him, his instructions and his words, and not the way that you could feel just about every part of him from the way he was angled against you. His right side was flush against your left, and his knee pushed between yours.

"Just follow me," he said, his head bent close to yours. Before you could even respond, he started to move, pulling you along with him through the dance. It was smooth and rolling and you'd never seen a guy able to roll his hips like Joaquin. He seemed to know exactly how to guide you, moving his body to push and pull yours along whenever you hesitated or felt lost, coaxing waves and movements out of you that you didn't know you could do. Each success was met with a small word of praise and a brilliant smile, as his hands shifted to hold you closer, and you wrapped your own hand around his neck to better feel and predict his movements.

It felt as if a fog had rolled in over the dancefloor, obstructing all else from view so it was just you and Joaquin, eyes locked to each other as you moved together, occupying the same space.

The song faded into the next one, and Joaquin stopped. You went to move backwards, to give him space and have him move on as many other of the more skilled dancing couples seemed to do, switching partners amongst each other. But he kept you close to him, hand sliding down to your waist.

"Now you can really dance," he teased, his eyes shining as they stared into yours.

"Only with you." It was supposed to be a self-deprecating joke, but it came out too quiet and earnest. Joaquin licked his lips, and your eyes followed the gesture, flickering between his mouth and his eyes.

You don't remember making the decision. You only remember, moving even further into his arms, and pushing yourself up to reach his lips with your own. He bent down to meet you, pulling you even closer and pressing his hard body into yours. His lips moved as slowly and sensually as his hips had, drawing you in and guiding you through a careful rhythm that promised much, much more.

Sam sat with Bucky at the bar. Joaquin and Y/N had disappeared somewhere amongst the dance floor, hidden amongst the crowd.

"You think it worked?" Bucky asked, raising an eyebrow at Sam.

"If it didn't we're screwed," Sam shook his head, taking a swig from his drink.

As if on cue, the two emerged from the swaying bodies, hand in hand, sweaty and much happier than they had been when Sam had left them at the bar.

"We're gonna head back to the compound," Joaquin said with practiced casualness.

"Yeah?" Bucky asked, and Sam swore there was mischief literally glinting in his eyes.

"Yeah," Joaquin nodded too fast and too many times. "Yeah, Y/N forgot about something there…"

"What'd you forget?" Bucky asked, turning to Y/N with a wolfish smile.

"Nothing. We're going to have sex," Y/N said, flatly, causing Sam to nearly spit out his drink. "And if you say one more word, I know a pilot who will fly you to Wakanda himself. No ticket needed."

Bucky mimicked zippering his lips into a smug look, and she rolled her eyes before tugging Joaquin out of the bar by his hand. And he followed. Eyes glued to her ass.

#joaquin torres x reader #joaquín torres x reader #torres x reader #joaquín torres #joaquin torres #torres x y/n #joaquin torres x you #joaquín torres x you #joaquín torres x y/n #torres x you #joaquin torres x y/n #fatws fic #tfatws fic #joaquin torres fic #joaquín torres fic #torres fic #marvel fic

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julemmaes · 3 years

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Robyn

Rowaelin Month, Day Ten

A/N: I'd planned on posting them in order, but you get what you get. Idk when the other prompts will come tbf. I hope soon. Anyway, I managed to write over 6k words today and I'm pretty fucking proud.

This is just fluff over fluff, so yep enjoy!!

Word count: 3,047

Rowan was unbelievably late as he sped through the streets of Orynth.

So late that the school had called not only him, but also the front desk of the place where he worked when he hadn't answered the call on his personal phone. Sorscha, his assistant, had entered his office with an embarrassed smile on her lips, as if she didn't want to tell him that he had forgotten for the umpteenth time to pick up his daughter from school.

Lorcan had joined him, for some strange reason, but Rowan had stopped bothering when it came to his best friend. He'd been trying to figure out how he reasoned for years and had come to the conclusion that there was no logical sense in the actions of the man sitting next to him, who was currently singing at the top of his lungs to one of the songs on the Frozen CD - which much to the chagrin of both of them, had gotten stuck in his car radio months before, forcing them into hours of torture.

He would never deny that the songs were all quite catchy, but after the sixteenth time Rowan had had to listen to Let It Go at maximum volume, his positive opinion of the film had begun to waver.

As they pulled into the school parking lot, Rowan noticed with deep regret that the only cars still there were those of the teachers and school staff.

They both got out of the car, Rowan walking quickly towards the entrance while Lorcan dragged behind him.

He greeted the caretakers sitting at the entrance, who returned a big smile. A smile that grew even wider when his large, imposing friend entered a few moments later. He stopped to talk to the old ladies and Rowan walked down the corridor he knew led to Robyn's classroom.

He could hear muffled voices from inside the teachers' room on the left and the one he knew belonged to Miss Galathynius coming from the right. He looked out over the classroom, spotting the two people sitting at a desk.

As soon as his daughter saw him, her eyes widened and a huge smile flashed across her face.

No words. No "hello, daddy!" or "I missed you!" from the little girl.

Her teacher turned as she leapt out of her chair and ran towards him, hugging his legs and looking up at him. Rowan smiled at her in turn, running a hand over her hair that was shot in every direction.

"Hello, little bird," he murmured to her. The child's smile widened even more if that was possible.

The woman a few feet away from them pulled herself upright, crossing her arms over her chest and offering a sincere smile to the child, who hid behind his thighs.

Rowan was about to tell her that Robyn was shy with everyone like this, ready to defend his daughter's behaviour as he was used to doing in front of every adult, but he was beaten to the punch.

"It's good to see you, Mr Whitethorn," she said, extending a hand. Rowan shook it without hesitation. "Actually, I just wanted to write you a letter regarding Robyn," she continued, never taking her eyes off the little girl. "Nothing serious," she hastened to reassure him when Rowan grimaced, "quite the contrary. Robyn is remarkably good. One of the best in the class, though I shouldn't offer that information so bluntly."

Miss Galathynius winked at him, but he couldn't process what he'd just been told.

"Sorry, could you-"

The little hands clamped around his trousers tightened a fraction more and Rowan looked down, trying to figure out what was bothering his daughter, but then something happened that he hadn't even dared to dream about in recent times.

"You're here!"

The little girl broke off and ran away from him in less than the blink of an eye.

Rowan turned just in time to see Lorcan grab Robyn in mid-air, spinning her around as he brought her to his chest and showered her with kisses. The loud, incessant laughter that erupted from her seemed too much coming from that fragile little body, but he never tired of hearing it.

"Why hello baby!" said Lorcan laughing in turn, starting to tickle her until she begun to rebel and he was forced to let her slide to the floor. Robyn was still laughing at the top of her lungs and nearly fell to the ground as she squealed left and right, letting herself be pushed around by the closest thing to an uncle she had ever had.

When Rowan turned back to the woman, she was wide-eyed and her lips slightly parted as she watched the massive man dressed completely in black and the menacing face turn into a completely different person the second he had seen Robyn.

He chuckled, "I know, it's not every day you get to see a little girl be so comfortable with a brute like that."

Lorcan, who was listening to everything, looked him straight in the eye and without stopping smiling and playing with the little girl, mouthed to him to fuck off.

"Well, yeah. You caught me a little off guard." she confessed, still shocked to hear how Robyn was having a full conversation with Lorcan. They couldn't hear anything of what she was actually saying, but even just the fact she was talking to someone seemed to have Aelin unsettled.

She returned her attention to Rowan and let out a breath that sounded more like a giggle, "I've never heard her laugh before."

He nodded, blushing a little at the teacher's surprised but relieved tone.

"I'm sure the dean warned you about the problem she has," he said in a low voice. He grimaced at her poor choice of words, "I mean, not problem, but the difficulty she finds in interacting with people she doesn't know."

Liar, he told himself. Robyn hadn't spoken to anyone but him and Lorcan since the day Lyria had died. It wasn't a difficulty, but a response to the trauma that prevented her from speaking to anyone who wasn't part of her immediate family.

"I know, I know. We've been looking for solutions together." she informed him. "I give her a white board every morning. Come on, I'll show you." she turned to the desk they were sitting at earlier and raised the magnetic board, on which a few words were scribbled on. "I'll write here what she might need. Yes. No. I need to go to the bathroom. I'm thirsty. I'm hungry." she read, listing the various options. Rowan gaped. "We've only just started going over the alphabet for a second time, so she can't really read or write yet, as I imagine you know, but the little drawings next to each sentence help her."

She continued talking, but he couldn't quite follow.

The woman in front of him - aside from being breathtakingly beautiful - had done as much as she could to help her child with communication.

"Mr. Whitethorn-"

"Rowan. Please, call me Rowan." he said, clearing his throat once he realized how hoarse it sounded to his ears. Lorcan walked up to them at that point, still holding Robyn in his arms and positioned himself next to him, letting their shoulders touch in a comforting way.

"Call me Aelin, then," she smiled at them both. Then she made a small grimace, turning to Rowan, "I wanted to ask if it bothered you, that I sought a solution like that. Maybe I put her in distress, embarrassed her. I'm sorry if I gave you the impression that I wanted to solve this on my own. I really wanted to discuss it with you, with your husband too, to avoid misunderstandings. Maybe we could arrange a meeting."

He was about to tell her that she had given him the exact opposite of annoyance, that he had been more than pleased that she had helped Robyn this way, when her words finally registered.

Lorcan, beside him, had opened his mouth wide and his lips were slowly bending into a mischievous smile.

Rowan furrowed his brow, "I'm sorry, what?"

Aelin's smile seemed to falter. "A meeting? With you? To talk about how to handle the situation," then she shifted her gaze to Lorcan, "You're more than welcome to join as well. I didn't know Robyn had two dads, I apologise for assuming Robyn had a mum and dad. That was very rude of me-"

"I love this," Lorcan whispered, laughing in shock. He turned to Rowan with eyes that sparkled with amusement, "I would definitely be the top."

Rowan looked at him with an expression of complete shock on his face, "What the fuck are you talking about?"

Robyn gasped, opening her eyes wide and bringing a hand to her mouth, pointing then to Rowan's.

"Yeah, sorry, love. I shouldn't have said the bad word." he apologised, giving her a quick kiss on the forehead. He turned back to Miss Galathynius, "I'm sorry to have to disappoint you, but we're not married."

"No need to lie, sweetie. I'm sure Aelin," he gave her a knowing look, "doesn't mind at all about our relationship status."

Aelin nodded, "Well, yes. That doesn't change anything. Mr..." she turned to Lorcan, searching for a name.

"Salvaterre."

"Mr. Salvaterre can still attend. The fact that you are not yet married is no reason why you cannot both be present at the meeting. You don't have to worry, we are a very tolerant school and if anyone bothers you, you can come directly to me."

A sound of sheer glee escaped Lorcan.

Aelin continued, "I mean it. I was pleased to see both of you today. I was also pleased to see Robyn smiling so much." she concluded, looking the little one in the face.

Rowan took a deep breath, bracing himself, "No, I meant, we're not a couple. We're not gay. He's her uncle."

The woman's blonde eyebrows shot up and a second later she turned almost as red as the dress Robyn was wearing as Lorcan shook his head muttering something very much like 'you're no fun', which made Robyn giggle.

"Why did you even get off the car?" he asked him exasperated.

Lorcan shrugged, "Because I missed my little bean, you monster." he replied, clutching Robyn to his chest. The little girl clutched Lorcan's shirt in her chubby little hands and Rowan huffed, shaking his head.

Aelin brought her hands to her face, leaning against the desk behind her. She shook her head, her face still hidden, "Oh, god. I'm so sorry."

Lorcan let out a dry laugh, "Don't worry about it. It was fun while it lasted." then he turned to Rowan again, who was still trying to recover from the idea of being involved in a relationship with his friend, "You're really no fun."

"Yeah, no fun dad." repeated Robyn.

Silence fell over the class. Rowan looked at her with wide eyes and blinked once, twice. Robyn was staring at him with a sweet scowl that mimicked so much that of the man who was still holding her, but Rowan couldn't get over the fact that his daughter had spoken while Aelin was still beside them.

He was about to talk, noticing how Robyn had started squirming in Lorcan's arms, when there was a knock at the door.

They both turned, Aelin peering over Rowan's shoulder, and saw the figure of a petite girl with black hair and eyes standing in the doorway, watching them with her head slightly bent to the side. She had a tag on her t-shirt that was too colourful to belong to someone who didn't work in a school with children, so he guessed she was a teacher herself. Besides, Rowan felt like he'd seen her elsewhere. Probably every day when he picked Robyn up from school, he said to himself.

"I know you're not supposed to eavesdrop but I stopped by earlier and heard you were a couple of dads," she said by way of introduction. "I just wanted to reassure you that the school is an extremely safe place. I'm the one who did most of the interviews with the parents," that's where they had met then, "and one of the questions that is asked is just about the tolerance of the people who will be attending the school."

Aelin watched her, remaining silent the whole time and putting on an amused smile, nodded, "That's what I was telling them. How tolerant the school is. They make such a cute couple, don't you think, Elide?"

Rowan turned to her, arching an eyebrow, silently asking her what she was doing. The woman, as if she could truly understand what he was trying to convey to her, nodded her head towards Lorcan, who Rowan only then noticed was standing weirdly, his eyes fixed on the woman in the doorway.

He grinned, deciding to take his revenge right away. "Oh, yes. Thank you so much for the reassurance," Rowan began to play along as well. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Lorcan turn towards him, dropping Robyn to the floor, who made a disapproving noise at being dumped so suddenly. "We are happy to know that this school is a safe place for our daughter. And for us."

Elide offered him a blinding smile, "Good. I'm happy to hear that you are pleased so far. And I am happy that Aelin is the one who is taking your daughter's class. She's the best one here."

Rowan didn't know her yet, but he knew the thing Elide had just said could only be true.

"Well," she said again, giving them an apologetic smile, "I really must go now, but if you need anything, you can find all my contact details on the website. Have a nice day!"

Aelin and Rowan said their goodbyes, thanking her. Lorcan took a while to recover, but when he realised he was staring into empty space he ran towards the door, almost stepping on little Robyn, who was moved by Aelin.

"We are very much not gay, miss!" he shouted into the hallway. Aelin, now beside him and with a hand on Robyn's shoulder, cackled. With Lorcan's infinite luck, someone walked by just then and gave him a stern look. "Oh, shut up ma'am. I'm an ally. The best ally."

Rowan shook his head as Lorcan launched himself in pursuit of the poor teacher and burst out laughing when he heard him shout, "I'm not homophobic! I'm willing to suck someone's cock if I have to prove it to you!"

Aelin opened her mouth wide before bursting out laughing in turn.

Robyn, seeing both adults so happy, giggled too and Rowan bent down to pick her up. The little girl laid her full head of white-light hair on his shoulder and closed her eyes.

She was tired and Rowan really needed to get her home to sleep.

He glanced at Aelin and reduced his lips to a thin line, "I'm sorry about the commotion, I'll try not to bring him into the building again. Even if it means tying him to the seat."

The soft laugh she gave made something tighten in his chest. He frowned.

Aelin didn't seem to notice the effect she had on him, "Don't worry, Elide is crazy about fools like him. If he says the right things, we might start seeing each other outside of school too."

Rowan nodded, now too caught up in the thought of having to take Robyn home to focus on anything else.

They agreed on when to hold the parent-teacher meeting and then he grabbed Robyn's backpack, walking towards the exit.

He was thoughtless as he reached into his pocket for his keys and balanced everything else - including the girl - on his other arm, but when Robyn's hand brushed his cheek, he looked down and his eyes met their twins. Green against green.

"What is it?"

The little girl's voice never stopped making him smile. Each time was like the first time she had said dada.

"I really like her."

Rowan frowned, "Who?"

"Miss Aelin." she whispered, almost as if she was afraid they might hear her.

He smiled at her, "Yeah? You like her?"

"She's nice to me."

Rowan had to put her down as he opened the door and let her get into the back seats by herself.

"I'm glad she's treating you well, love," he let her know, buckling her in.

He hoped she'd tell him more about her new teacher, but like any kid her age, the topic of conversation couldn't last for more than four lines apiece, "Where's Uncle Lorcan?"

Rowan snorted, "No idea, little bird."

Robyn nodded, "Elide is pretty too."

And as if those words had summoned him, Lorcan appeared beside the car, making them both scream. He entered the car in a heartbeat and turned to his daughter, who was still settling into the seat. "Do you know Miss Lochan?"

But before she could answer him, Rowan had entered the car in turn and smacked the back of his head, which made the Robyn giggle, "You're not using my daughter as your wingman. Now stop it and buckle up."

Lorcan gave him a gentle push, before doing as he was told and for once he was happy he'd convinced him to do something.

Or at least, Rowan thought he had convinced him.

"What if I left you a note to deliver to Miss Lochan, Rob? Would you be up for it?"

Rowan knew, even without looking at her, that she was nodding emphatically.

Keeping his eyes on the road, he murmured, "Could you stop calling my daughter Rob, please? You'll give her an existential crisis."

Lorcan clicked his tongue against his palate, "Rowan, I'm not giving her a damn thing. We live in this new world, okay? Your daughter could be called Simon and still be a beautiful princess. Grow up and educate yourself before you talk shit."

"Aaaah!" shouted Robyn, "Bad word!"

Rowan sighed and shook his head, but still he was smiling.

This was his life. Had been for the past two years.

And he wouldn't change it for the world.

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@maastrash @ireallyshouldsleeprn @sleeping-and-books @hellasblessed @thegoddessofyou @ghostlyrose2 @claralady @sayosdreams @perseusannabeth @letstakethedawn @terrible-and-proud @post-it-notes33 @booksstorm @nalgenewhore @queen-of-demons-and-hell @lanyjoy-13 @vasudharaghavan @cupcakey00 @bri-loves-sunflowers @queen-of-glass @thewayshedreamed @the-regal-warrior @fangirlprincess09 @januarystears @rowaelinismyotp @starbornsinger @bookstantrash @thegreyj @feysand-loml @autumnbabylon @a-court-of-milkandhoney @highqueenofelfhame @story-scribbler @mariamuses @rhysandswingspan @tanvee1231

#rowaelinmonth #rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #tog #throne of glass #rowaelin fic #fluff #rowaelin month day ten

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helloalycia · 3 years

Text

my patient’s neighbour [one] // wanda maximoff

summary: whilst caring for a new patient of yours, you definitely didn't expect to fall for her cute neighbour, Wanda Maximoff

warning/s: very minor mentions of injuries and death

author's note: okay so firstly, buckle in, folks, this is gonna be like 6 parts long lol. Also, I google translated all the Russian bits so i apologise if they are incorrect! okay, you may enjoy now :)

"38... 38... 38..."

I scanned the doors to the many apartments in the hall, hoping to find the one that belonged to my newest patient – Anna Pivec. As a nurse, I was always given new patients to visit and tend to until they no longer needed it or chose not to have me around. I'd just been assigned a new patient, Anna, and was excited to meet her.

"38!" I said to myself, spotting the door at the end of the hallway. I knocked on before waiting patiently, hoping she wasn't sleeping or anything. It wasn't too early – 10AM – and she knew I was coming, so finger's crossed.

The door opened to reveal a short, old lady with grey hair and a cane in her hand. I smiled kindly, meeting her cloudy gaze.

"You must be the one my granddaughter is paying to look after me because she can't do it herself," the woman spoke before I could introduce myself. Stepping to the side, she motioned with her cane. "Come on in."

My smile dropped at her abruptness. "I, er, yeah, I guess that's me." As I walked in, I said, "My name is Y/N Y/L/N. The nurse from–"

"Yeah, I know where you're from," she cut me off, closing the door and heading further into her apartment. "They sent me a brochure, milaya."

I followed after her, surprised at how quick she was for an old lady with back and heart problems. She was leading me into the open plan living-room and kitchen.

"I'm sorry – milaya? What does that mean?" I asked politely, hoping I didn't come across as rude.

She waved her hand dismissively, mumbling something to herself in what I think was Russian. Her profile did say she was from Sokovia, so maybe that was it.

"Okay, erm, well, as I said," I changed the subject, figuring she wouldn't give me an answer, "I'm Y/N. I'll be here five times a week and basically be doing anything you need me to do. Of course, I only want you to be comfortable in your own home, so if you ever feel anything but, please let me know."

She hummed in acknowledgement before motioning for me to follow her. I set my bag on the kitchen counter before sitting on the couch as she did so on the recliner. She sighed with content as the pain on her back was eased from taking a seat.

"Tell me about yourself," she said gently.

I smiled with amusement. "That's usually what I ask my patients."

"Do forgive me, milaya," she said, and I made a mental note to bring a Russian-English dictionary with me tomorrow, "but you're a stranger in my home. I'd prefer to know about you before I let you take care of me."

I nodded, slightly impressed. Her profile didn't do her justice. Usually, the elderly I cared for were quick to allow me to do my thing, never really questioning who I was or what my intentions were. I was starting to get the impression that Anna was a strong, stubborn woman in a little old lady's body – definitely not one to mess around with.

"Okay, well, I'm a nurse," I began with the basics, and from there, went into a long ramble about my job, how I got into it, what it consisted of...

Anna was full of questions, taking the time to get to know me and I her. Once I had told her everything I could think to, she told me about her life. How she lived in Sokovia up until she was thirty-five years old and had to flee with her husband and daughter because of the war. She gushed about the both of them, a twinkle in her eye as she recalled their livelihoods like they were still alive. Her husband had unfortunately passed many years ago due to liver problems – "All that drinking, milaya! Us Sokovians are a force to be reckoned with!" – and her daughter had passed in a car accident not long after.

It was a tragic tale, but she didn't let it bring her down. In fact, she seemed grateful to have lived it and I couldn't help but smile as she shared it with me.

I noticed she would speak short phrases in Russian mid-conversation, without realising, which didn't make it easier for me to understand, but I couldn't bring it in myself to interrupt her to ask what they meant because she said it with such sincerity that I figured it reminded her of her home.

After our conversation, I made her lunch and gave her her medication before watching some TV with her and pretty much talking to her once again. She was quite an interesting woman, different to my usual patients, and I was enjoying our time together. After spending the day there, I wished her a good night before leaving.

When I returned the next morning, I let myself in with the key Anna gave me and called out a good morning.

"In here!" an unfamiliar female voice called out.

I furrowed my brows as I took off my jacket and headed into the living-area. Anna was sat in her recliner as usual, but she had a guest sat on her couch. A young woman, possibly my age, with long dark hair and a friendly smile on her lips was sat comfortably; she had a cup of tea in her hands and her legs pulled up on the couch like she lived there.

The stranger and Anna exchanged words in Russian briefly before the former stood up, about to introduce herself.

"Oh, are you her granddaughter?" I asked, putting two and two together. It was the only explanation I could think of for how comfortable she was and the fact that she was also Sokovian (I assumed, anyway).

The girl laughed, her green eyes sparkling as she shook her head. Putting out her hand, she said, "I'm Wanda Maximoff. Anna's neighbour."

Slightly embarrassed by my mistake, I smiled awkwardly and shook her hand. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have– I just thought because you were speaking Russian that–"

"It's fine, no harm no foul," she put me at ease quickly, before taking her seat again. "I've lived next door to Anna for about a year now. Sometimes I keep her company on my days off."

I set my bag on the floor before taking a seat on the couch, leaving a gap between Wanda and I.

"That's nice," I said with a smile before looking to Anna. "How are you feeling this morning, Mrs Pivec?"

She sighed, waving her hand dismissively, before saying something to Wanda in Russian who was listening intently. Nodding her head, Wanda looked to me with amusement.

"What did she say?" I asked, quirking a brow.

"She said she told you to stop calling her Mrs Pivec yesterday," Wanda translated, trying not to laugh.

"Just call me Anna, Y/N," Anna added with a nod. "And I'm fine. Just had breakfast with Wanda here."

"Breakfast," I repeated slowly. "How long ago was that? Just gotta make sure you get your meds."

"Shoot, am I doing your job?" Wanda asked, slightly panicked.

"No, no, you're not." I laughed at the way she scrunched her nose. "I mean, it would help if I could have breakfast with Miss– Anna, so I know when she has her medication. But it's all good."

"Are you sure? I can leave if I'm in the way," Wanda said with a frown.

"No need," I reassured her. "If Anna doesn't mind your presence, it's all good. I'm just here to look after her, clean up, make sure she eats, has her meds."

Wanda looked to Anna, who seemed unbothered by her presence.

"She can stay," Anna said with a shrug. "Makes it feel less like I'm a pet."

I opened my mouth to say something, possibly make her feel better, but I wasn't sure what to say.

"Don't mind her," Wanda reassured, giving Anna a knowing look before shooting me an easygoing smile. "She tends to speak her mind exactly as it is. No filter whatsoever. And very stubborn. You may have noticed."

I cracked a smile, feeling better knowing that it wasn't just me who noticed Anna's unique personality traits.

"Hey, that stubbornness and lack of filter is exactly how I beat my husband and his friends in every poker game back home," Anna said with a playful smirk.

Wanda and I chuckled, before the brunette leaned on the couch comfortably and looked to me.

"We finished breakfast, maybe, ten minutes ago? I made us eggs and toast," she answered my question from earlier.

I hummed before getting up with my bag and heading to the kitchen. Setting my bag on the counter, I grabbed my diary and also Anna's medication from its place on the kitchen counter.

"I'll give you your medicine now, Anna," I told her, already grabbing a glass of water for her.

"Thank you, milaya," she called back, and I spun around, immediately going to get my Russian-English dictionary from my bag. "Wait, I know what that is!" I flicked through the pages and scanned it eagerly. "Milaya... milaya... milaya! Okay, it means... sweetie."

"Sweetie," Wanda said at the same time, and I looked up to see her watching me from behind her cup of tea, trying not to laugh again.

"I guess another perk of your presence is being the translator," I said sheepishly, realising just how eager I was a second ago. "Anna likes to speak Russian a lot, which I'm fine with of course, but..." I waved the dictionary in the air.

"It's funny watching tvoye lichiko, milaya," Anna said with that same mischievous smirk on her face.

I looked down to my dictionary, struggling to pinpoint a single word in her sentence that I could search. It was overwhelming, the words going in one ear and out the other.

"She said it's funny watching your little face, sweetie," Wanda translated upon seeing my frozen state.

I relaxed my shoulders. "Thanks." Then I realised what she said. "Hey!"

Anna laughed as Wanda grinned, and I was suddenly glad she was here. I grabbed Anna's meds with a glass of water before giving them to her. After making sure she swallowed them properly, I put the glass to the side and took a seat on the couch again.

"So, you said you visited Anna on your days off?" I asked Wanda, intrigued by why a neighbour would be so interested in another. It wasn't very common in today's day and age.

"She's almost always here," Anna answered before Wanda could speak. I looked to her as she continued with a grateful smile. "Helps me with everything. Groceries, cleaning, my medication."

"So basically me but unpaid," I joked, and Anna laughed.

"Exactly," she agreed, and I looked to Wanda to see her blushing, eyes avoiding mine.

"That's really sweet," I said gently, earning her attention. "You're a really good neighbour, Wanda."

Wanda ran a hand through her hair. "It's nothing. If anything, I enjoy being here. Anna reminds me of Sokovia and my family and, well, home."

"Oh, so you're Sokovian, too?"

She nodded before smiling playfully. "Did the accent not give it away?"

I hid a smile. "I didn't want to assume. I mean, you could've been Czech. Slovakian. Basically anything else."

"Okay, I'll give you that," she gave in, tilting her head to the side, smile widening.

It was then that I learnt her smile was extremely contagious.

Same as yesterday, my plan was to stay the day with Anna, though this time Wanda also kept her company (and me, too). After lunch, I left the two of them to watch some TV as I excused myself to change Anna's bedsheets in her room, ready for bed tonight.

As I was doing so, I heard the door open and glanced over my shoulder to see Wanda entering the room. I gave her a smile before continuing to replace the pillowcase.

"Here, I can help," she offered, and didn't give me chance to decline as she grabbed the pillow on the other side of the bed and began to change its case.

"You sure? You know it's my job, right?" I teased, looking up at her over the bed between us.

She rolled her eyes playfully. "I'm aware. Just thought I'd make it a bit easier for you."

I chuckled. "Well, I appreciate it... how is Anna?"

"Dozed off," Wanda quipped with an expectant nod. "Same time every day. Like clockwork."

"Huh." I thought back to yesterday and how she ended up taking a nap after lunch, too. "Noted. Thanks."

Wanda smiled before putting the pillowcase on the pillow and puffing it with her hands. I did the same, content with its appearance, before moving to the duvet. Wordlessly, Wanda grabbed one end and began to help me put it on, which I appreciated. The duvet was bigger than I was and definitely a two-person job.

"Hey, can I ask you something?" I spoke out of the blue as we were putting on the duvet cover.

"Go for it," she said encouragingly, glancing sideways.

"Of course, you don't have to answer, but I thought I'd ask since I'm going to be looking after Anna for a while," I gave a little disclaimer, before saying, "She makes a lot of snide remarks about her granddaughter. Do they not get along?"

Wanda sighed quietly. "Her granddaughter doesn't really visit her here. She rarely calls."

"Her daughter's kid?"

"The only one," Wanda confirmed. "She keeps her distance, ever since her mum – Anna's daughter – passed. She just pays for, well, you."

I frowned. "That's sad."

"Yeah," Wanda agreed, breathing out.

The two of us spread the duvet over the double bed before I looked to her with a small smile.

"At least she has you," I pointed out. "It's nice you give up your free time to spend it with her."

"Like I said, it's good for me, too," she reminded me, returning the smile.

"So what do you do when you're not here keeping her company?" I asked curiously, moving to Anna's bedside to clear it up a little.

Wanda hid her smile behind a look of confusion. "Do you not– don't you recognise me?"

I quirked a brow, pausing my actions. "Am I supposed to?"

She snickered, shaking her head, eyes falling to the bed with mild disbelief. "I mean, I guess not. I'm–" She chuckled, looking to my confused face. "I'm one of the Avengers."

I studied her, her words not quite settling in. But when they did, I realised I actually recognised her and she was one of the Avengers.

"Oh my God!" I blurted, the penny finally dropping. "The one with the weird red energy powers! I mean– not weird but– the magic!"

She stifled laughter, nodding her head. Just like her smile, her laughter was contagious, too.

"Yeah, that's me," she confirmed.

I made a weird motion with my free hand, like I'd seen her do on TV when saving the day. "Does Anna know about your y'know?"

Wanda crossed her arms, raising a brow and watching me with a humoured gaze. "Is that supposed to be my powers?"

I stopped making the motion and felt my neck heating up. "I– yeah."

Laughter spilled from her lips yet again, automatically making me smile. I didn't mind that I'd made a fool of myself all of a sudden.

"Anna knows, yes," Wanda said with a bright smile. "She actually recognised me straight away. Much quicker than you. And she's eighty."

Waving my hand to distract from my flushed cheeks, I said, "Pfft, she probably confused you with someone else and played along when you told her who you were."

"Yeah, I'm sure that was it, ty milyy maneken," she retorted with her piercing gaze.

"No fair, my dictionary is in the other room," I said with a pout, and she only laughed even more.

"Guess you'll never know," she teased with a smirk, making me roll my eyes to distract from the way it made me feel when she stared at me like that.

It was much later on when I learnt that she had called me 'a cute dummy'. And that was the beautiful start to Wanda and I's introduction into each other's lives.

—

From then onwards, about eighty percent of the time I would go to care for Anna, Wanda was present, too and I didn't mind one bit. Not only did she keep Anna company, but she made my job a lot easier whilst keeping me company as well.

I was beginning to look forward to seeing her whenever I would open the door. Whether she was cleaning something up, playing board games with Anna or simply having a tidy up around the apartment, she'd always stop what she was doing and help me with whatever was in my hands as she greeted me at the door. It was adorable. She was adorable.

The few times she wasn't present because of work only made me miss her, the apartment feeling emptier than usual. Even Anna agreed, the two of us making up for the lack of the Sokovian girl's presence by distracting ourselves with other activities.

I was convinced Anna was warming up to me as she freely let me care for her without resistance. Obviously, she wouldn't be Anna if she didn't throw funny remarks my way or speak to me in Russian, knowing I didn't understand her, but it was tolerable. And I was liking her, too; she was easily becoming one of the best patients I cared for. There was just so much personality to her that I couldn't help but smile whenever I spoke to her.

One time, I was helping Anna out at her place when Wanda wasn't present. I was leading her into her bed when I decided now was a better time than ever to ask her about her birthday on Sunday, which I knew was then because of her file.

"So, I'll be seeing you in two days next," I told her as I pulled the duvet over her. "And a little birdie told me it's your birthday then. Eighty-one, Anna! That's amazing!"

She smiled but seemed embarrassed that I knew.

"Tell me what you want and I can make it happen," I said promisingly, smiling down at her.

She waved her hand. "I don't want anything, milaya (sweetie). Your presence is enough."

I chuckled. "As sweet as that is, I know everybody wants something for their birthday. Now please, Anna. What can I do to make the day a bit more special?"

She pondered my question momentarily and I waited for her to speak, hoping it was something doable.

"I would love to have a traditional Sokovian meal," she said reluctantly. "It's been a long time."

I breathed out quietly, patting her hand gently. "I can do that, Anna. Don't you worry."

She smiled genuinely, before shooing me away. "Okay, enough sappiness, ty mozhesh' uyti seychas (you can leave now)."

I laughed, standing up and dusting my pants off. I only knew what that phrase meant because she said it almost every time before my shift ended and I left for the day. I knew she didn't mean it as harshly as it sounded.

"I'm going, I'm going," I said, already heading to the door. "I'll see you Sunday, birthday girl."

She groaned quietly, making me grin, before I double checked everything was okay in the living-area and grabbed my stuff to leave.

As easy of a request that it was, I knew absolutely nothing about cooking a traditional Sokovian meal. But I knew of one person who did and instantly headed to Wanda's apartment next door to see if she was home.

With a quick knock, I waited patiently. I wasn't sure if she was even home since she hadn't visited Anna today and she usually did so if she was. When I was beginning to think she wasn't, I told myself I could Google a recipe and put something together, but then the door opened and revealed a tired-looking Wanda.

"Y/N," she said with surprise, but a friendly smile was on her lips nonetheless.

"Hey, I'm so sorry to disturb you this late, but I wanted to ask– wait, what happened to your face?" I stopped speaking and lost my own smile when I noticed the faint scratches and bruises dusting her skin.

"Oh, it's nothing–" she started, raising her hand, fingers wavering over her head, but I cut her off.

"Shit, Wanda, what happened?" I reached out, taking her hand in mine and studying the cast that was around her wrist. Concerned frown on my lips, I glanced up at her. "Are you okay?"

"It's fine, Y/N," she tried to reassure, but I couldn't help it as my worry got the better of me and I studied the cuts on her cheek. "I just came back from a mission. Minor injuries. Honestly."

I let go of her hand, realising I was still holding it, and nodded slightly. "Right..." Realising she must have been exhausted, I awkwardly stepped back and shook my head with realisation. "Sorry, I should go. I didn't mean to bot–"

"You were saying something," she interrupted, nodding encouragingly. "You wanted to ask me something. What is it?"

I paused, nodding. Admittedly, I was still worried about the bruises on her forehead. I knew she was an Avenger and this was probably the norm for her, but to me, it looked like she'd just got mugged. And the irregularity of that worried me.

"Yeah, I was saying," I finally found my words, trying to ignore the way her tired eyes peered at me hopefully. "It's Anna's birthday on Sunday and she wants to have a traditional Sokovian meal to celebrate. The only problem is, I don't know what that is." Wanda cracked a smile as I continued. "Do you, maybe, have a recipe I could use?"

"Of course," she said before motioning for me to follow her. "Come on in."

I followed after her, closing the door behind me, and stopped at the kitchen counter patiently. As she searched for a notebook in her drawer, I subtly glanced around, taking in the inside of Wanda's apartment. I'd never actually been in it before, but the minimal décor was very her. She didn't have many knickknacks and everything on display served a purpose.

"There's some recipes in here," she said, grabbing my attention. She slid the notebook across the counter and leaned forward with a smile. "Take your pick."

I flicked through it briefly, smiling at the notebook filled with recipes, all in Wanda's neat, cursive handwriting.

"Thank you," I said gratefully, looking up and catching her staring.

She perked up, clearing her throat as she nodded in response before looking the other way. Cute.

"Are you working on Sunday?" I asked with a raised brow, before rolling my eyes playfully. "What am I saying? Of course you're not. Not with that wrist."

She chuckled, still avoiding my eyes. "I'm not."

"Well, why don't you come over for her birthday? You can help me cook her a meal. Or rather, I can help you cook it since I'll probably screw it up."

Finally meeting my eyes, she smiled with amusement. "Are you sure?"

I gave her a knowing look, ignoring the butterflies swirling in my stomach as she held my gaze with her intense dark eyes. "Yes, I'm sure. Anna will love to celebrate with you. And..." I pursed my lips, taking a leap of faith and adding, "and I'd love it, too."

Wanda let out a quiet laugh. "You would, would you?"

I straightened up, smile widening. "Yeah, I would."

She tilted her head, studying me with a curious smile. "Well then, I clearly can't say no."

Something stirred in my chest the longer she watched me and I oddly liked it. It was obvious that Wanda was a beautiful girl with a heart of gold, but I guess I hadn't really acknowledged that I may have had feelings for her until now. And I didn't mind one bit.

"Great," I finally found my words, nodding slightly. "I'll see you Sunday."

She mirrored my expression, saying, "See you Sunday," and I knew I couldn't wait until then.

#wanda maximoff #elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x reader #scarlet witch #wanda maximoff x you #marvel #mcu #marvel imagine #mcu imagine #elizabeth olsen imagine

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agentstarlightforger · 2 years

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i'd given up searching for a place where i belong only to find out i had to create one for myself all along

#spy x family #starlight.creates

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liyuesbian · 3 years

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✧ 101 dalmatians!au [ayaka]

notes: ........this is actually an updated (not rly) version of my 101 dalmatians!au with seulgi on my kpop gg writing blog..... sorryyyy i'm not being lazy i promise!! i've just got back from holiday and am working on a ningguang x reader but it might take a while (i rly wanna perfect it) so this is a placeholder for now :p

you would occasionally spot kamisato ayaka in the park walking her dalmatian. she's well-known around the local area because of her older brother: the mayor of the city. in fact, you also have a dog of the same breed, which is what drew you to her in the first place—minus her eye-catchingly extravagant outfits and cute facial features.

your own dalmatian is wonderful. when you were ten years old, your christmas wish was to get a puppy. much to your younger self’s disappointment, santa claus had gifted you with a rather large—and older—"puppy" than you had imagined in your head. nevertheless, you treated the newly named pongo with as much love as you could give him.

fast forward about ten years later and here is the same pongo eagerly trying to gain your attention as you sit in front of your piano. you’re thinking of how best to go about composing the last few bars of a song you’re working on.

unbeknownst to you, the dalmatian had sneakily altered the time of the clock and is now motioning to the door, howling. you double-check the time on your wristwatch but despite the inconsistency, you decide to go for the daily walk and attach a leash to his collar. it seems like you have no other choice: pongo has your hat between his teeth and is scratching at the door handle. you laugh as you give in to your dog’s contagious enthusiasm, taking your fedora from his mouth.

with the leash in one hand and a ball in the other, you are manhandled—or should i say doghandled—as pongo drags you all the way to the park. he appears to be looking for something, but you dismiss it. you attempt to undo the clasp of the leash, failing when pongo suddenly dashes off.

“slow down, pongo!” you yelp. this kind of high-energy behaviour isn’t new to you but it certainly catches you off-guard. in the end, you let your dog indulge himself in his antics and you’re led to the edge of the lake where you take a seat and gasp for breath. goodness, you don’t think you’ve ever done so much running in your life.

exhausted, you fan yourself with your fedora and loosen the top button on your dress shirt. the grass underneath you feels nice to rest on compared to the wooden chair you’d been sitting on for the whole morning.

it takes you a second to notice your companion gazing at a certain animal behind you. turning around, you recognise the dalmatian who’s seized pongo’s eyes from her pink collar and apprehensively look up to the owner. she’s perched on a bench next to the dog with her signature fan and a book in her hands. in shock, you jerk your head forward and blink a few times.

should we move somewhere else?

as if sensing your uneasiness, pongo barks and jumps to grab your hat. you sigh but grin at his mischievous face.

“come on, pongo. give it back.” taking her eyes off the pages of her book, ayaka glances at you and your dog, the ends of her mouth curving up ever so slightly to form a smile which stays hidden behind the upright fan. you throw the ball lightly in an attempt to get him to drop your hat.

it doesn't quite work and instead, rolls in the direction of the occupied bench. perdita, ayaka's dalmatian, glimpses at it, trying to withhold the urge to play with the bouncy toy. ayaka chuckles which causes you to cease your glaring at pongo to face her. the ringing of her laugh is pleasant and something you haven’t noticed before.

if only i could hear it every day. gently, you hit your cheeks to awaken yourself from your thoughts.

pongo is now frolicking in circles with the captured hat, vying for the attention of ayaka's dog. while you’re battling a two-way argument in your head and one with your dalmatian, you feel a soft nudge on your thigh. perdita has given you the ball back, and you could hear pongo whimpering sadly. impressed, you pet perdita who reacts with a delightful pant. the female dalmatian glances at pongo and apathetically walks back to her owner, who attaches a leash. they start to walk away.

pongo yaps in surprise. quickly, he abandons your hat and is about to take off when you tell him to stay, which he does obediently. you could tell your dog is planning to go after perdita, but you don’t want him running around aimlessly so you fasten his leash.

as soon as you do though, you’re being hauled once again towards kamisato ayaka. the hyperactive dalmatian follows the blue-haired woman and playfully circles her, earning a giggle from the subject of interest. unfortunately for the both of you, your legs have gotten tied to hers.

“oh my, i'm very sorry about this!” you blush. of course, you’ve never been in such close quarters with her before making it all the more embarrassing but you don’t entirely regret this moment either… until you realise that with the both of you frantically trying to get out of the awkward position and your dog pulling at the leash, the result would be all three of you tethering on the edge of the lake and perdita helplessly grabbing onto her owner to prevent the fall.

“oh no.” a splash is heard throughout the park.

clothes damp, you sit in the shallow water in cold shock, finding yourself no longer tangled around the dog leash. next to you, ayaka stands up to try searching for her hat and fan which pongo finds and gives to you with an almost apologetic expression.

“it seems i've lost my belongings,” she says worriedly.

“don’t worry, i have the things you're looking for right here.” you hand her her possessions and fix her hair but to no avail.

“ah, thank you.” you brush her wet bangs to the side so she could see.

“i'm truly very sorry! i don’t know how we ended up in the lake of all things.” you apologise profusely to the bewildered lady and attempt to make things better by removing the plants from her clothes. meanwhile, pongo has shaken himself dry and is relaxing next to perdita.

gosh, what kind of situation have i gotten myself into?

“no, it’s alright, i'll just dry myself off for now.” you see ayaka fetching a… soaked handkerchief from her purse.

“hold on, i usually carry one in my pocket.” however, yours too, is also drenched. “oh—"

ayaka begins to giggle. dumbfounded, you laugh with her. both of your dogs glance at each other and back at the pair of you, cocking their heads. you thought the pleasant sound and amicable smile were the only things about her laughter that could make your heart swell but now, with ayaka right in front of you, you notice things you would’ve never been able to before. you witness how her eyes crinkle and close shut and how her cheeks balloon revealing an even more charming side to her. you wonder what it would be like if you could make her this happy all the time.

after helping ayaka out of the pond, you feel it wouldn’t be right to leave her to go home all doused in water.

“would it be possible to invite you to our house? we live close by so it would be no trouble at all if you want to dry off there. it would probably be very uncomfortable to journey home in this state and i can't bear to watch you attempt to.” shyly, you meet her eyes after your impromptu offer to see ayaka grinning.

“i think i'd like to accept that offer. i suppose it is your fault too!” she quips and jokingly nudges your shoulder.

you smile back and turn to face your dalmatian who you will whisper many thank yous to later in life.

#AGAIN IM SO SORRY IF U'VE READ THIS ALR but it only has 40 notes on my other blog and i rly love this au 😤#call me an attention seeker i do not care PWAHAHA #might do this again with my pride and prejudice!au LMAOOO i was also super proud of that but it only has 2 notes :')#ayaka x reader #ayaka #genshin #genshin impact #genshin ayaka #ayaka genshin impact #ayaka imagines #ayaka fluff #ayaka au #genshin x reader #kamisato ayaka #ayaka headcanons #genshin fluff #genshin imagines #genshin au #genshin headcanons

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heavenshot · 2 years

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{ i'm sorry to announce that, yes, he does in fact, have a "complicated relationship" with colonel sanders (the brand symbol, not the actual person and founder)

#i'd given up searching for a place where i belong— only to find out i had to create one for myself all along ⛾ study

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jd-loves-fiction · 3 years

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➤”I’d like one order of Mando adventure angst with a side of fluff and a dash of spicy bickering. Enemies to lovers or friends to lovers flavor (whatever’s on the house) and a nice hot bowl of ‘there was only one bed’

Give my compliments to the chef”

➤ genre: Fluff, Adventure, Comedy(?), Enemies to Partners, Angst

➤ wc: 4.9k (holy shit might be my longest request🥴)

➤ 🌙 Requested: @batarella ❤

"Listen, buddy, I got here first." You attempt to reason with the wall of beskar currently pointing his blaster directly at you.

Maybe not the smartest thing to say when first meeting someone of his reputation, but he can only be doing this for one reason.

He's after the bounty squirming nervously at your feet. And you're in the way.

Why else would he be out here, in the middle of a rocky desert on some faraway planet?

"Step away from him." The voice you hear startles you with its modulated dept. It's more surprising that he even spoke at all, given what you'd heard of the Mandalorian. Although his stature and the silent tension he brings with him is no doubt intimidating, you will not give up so easily after following this bounty so far out from the nearest town. “No.”

His visor tilts to the side, like a frustrated twitch, at your answer. “Maybe.” You rectify, which makes him raise his head in interest. “Do you have a fob?”

“No, I don’t.”

Not that it matters anymore considering yours is broken, but at least now you know he can't follow you if you make a break for it with the bounty.

“How did you find us?”

“I have my ways.” You nearly roll your eyes at his cryptic response, not like you expected anything else from a Mandalorian.

“Do you know why they sent you?” Knowing your employers, you had a clue on what the reason was. They got impatient.

They’d been pretty determined to get a maximum time needed out of you. You’re almost sure you overstepped it.

But to send a Mandalorian? Seems like a bit much.

“They were afraid you’d run off. That you gave the bounty away to the Resistance.” Of course, those bastards can barely trust themselves, let alone a foreigner.

“Well I didn't, and I won't. So you can lower your blaster and we can do this together.” You offer amicably, not yet loosening your grip on your weapon upon his lack of movement.

“You’re out of time. Your deal is off.”

“That’s just-!” You're cut off by a shot buzzing past you.

"Last warning."

Your jaw drops. How can someone be so damn cold?

You raise your finger assertively, about to give him a piece of your mind, when you notice something move by his hip.

And it's green. With gigantic ears. And huge dark eyes that blink at you curiously.

Your head tilts, mirroring the creature. The Mandalorian follows your eyes to find you looking at the child he’s supposed to be caring for.

“Huh. And who is that cutie?” The blaster already pointed at you raises from where it had begun to slouch, alert and cautious. Noticing this, you readjust your grip on your own weapon.

You and the creature continue to study each other, until the Mandalorian pushes the brown bag to where it rests behind his body protectively.

“Are they yours? I mean, doesn't look like the ears would fit.” You speak just to make conversation, stepping closer with miniscule steps. His gloved hand tightens around his blaster, hoping to remind you that he can still shoot you point-blank.

But he hasn't.

"Can you really do much in front of a kid?" You challenge smugly, still advancing slowly.

"He's seen me do worse."

"That right?" Another step. "You planning to shoot me today or would tomorrow work better?"

"Are you always this difficult? Just put the gun down-"

You jump towards him, hooking your foot around the back of his knee which makes him fall to the rocky ground immediately, dropping his blaster. Unfortunately, taking down a Mandalorian is no easy task, so he takes you down with him.

He throws his satchel to the side in the nick of time, it lands on a sand pile. His other arm grabs hold of you to pull you down with him.

You point your blaster at him as he lays beneath you, except it is no longer in your hand. Shit. He punches you in the face hard enough that something will turn black soon enough.

As you fall to the ground he gets on top of you, or tries, as you place your feet against his firm chest to keep some distance. You kick him in the helmet, silently thanking the stars your shoes are steel toed.

Your hand only scrapes against dry, red, sand covered rock as you search for a blaster, either would serve. Despite your momentary advantage in light of the Mandalorian’s confusion after being kicked, his hands quickly come down to cover your throat. You feel the creases in the leather as they’re pressed against your skin, and the beskar over the back of his hands against your chin.

But you still attempt to reach a weapon, a rock would do at this point.

Your arms flail wildly with no real direction, only the need to stay conscious, as if movement would help it. You do, however, notice that he’s purposely avoiding your traquia.

He still does not want to kill you. How sweet. Probably just wants to take you back to the bastards who hired you. They’d surely kill you, and much faster too.

Just as the spots in your vision start becoming overpowering, his grip loosens. You inhale greedily, desperately, gasping and coughing at the released pressure.

You can see his visor move to and fro, searching for something. Once you look to the side, you the child safe in its pile of sand, so it can't be that.

"Dank farrik! He's gone." The bounty. Right. Shit.

"Now," you pause, heaving as your lungs struggle to fill up again, "what?"

He places his hands on his hips, thinking for a moment, before turning his visor to where you lay clutching your sore - but not yet bruised - neck. "I'm going after him."

"I'm sorry-?!" You cut yourself off with a cough as you sit up, feeling grains of sand make their way inside your boots and other places. "You're going after him? This is my bounty! I had him, and I would've been fine if you hadn't shown up."

He keeps his stance, probably glaring disapprovingly beneath his helmet. You huff at his unyielding silence, getting up in his personal space and jabbing a finger into his chest plate.

"I'm about to give you a piece of my mind, so you better listen very carefully. I had it! It was my catch. And from what I can tell, it still is. So you better back off, Mando." Venom drips from your lips as you glare at the tin can on his head as if you could put a hole straight through it.

He relaxes, raising his hands again peacefully, palms up, "Alright, I get it. But do you think they'd take him from you now? Let alone later when you actually catch him? They seem pretty vindictive."

"Well, what do you suggest? You're not going on your own."

"And why not?" He scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans towards you.

"You don't have a tracking fob." You retort, leaning towards him as well with your hands on your hips.

The Mandalorian pats himself down where he believes to have stored the small device, only to find all those pockets empty. "You little thief!"

"And you're a liar! Plus, you think I'd just let you take my credits? Come on, with your reputation, you should know better than that." You shrug and suddenly Din is acutely aware that the beeping now comes from your hip instead of his.

"Alright, fine, let's do it this way. We'll look for him together and once we catch him, I'll hand him in and we'll split the reward." He explains slowly, carefully, afraid to set you off.

"Seems good to me." You speak resolutely, thrusting your hand forward firmly, expecting a handshake.

His helmet tilts down slightly as he looks down at your hand, before he reaches out with his own. Just as the leather meets your skin - in a now less life-threatening way - a coo sounds from somewhere at your feet, making you both look down to see the little green creature looking between the two of you curiously.

You look back at it, mirroring it once more, before it smiles wide revealing its tiny little teeth and, oh, your heart might just actually melt.

It's large eyes move down from your face, towards your hands.

You suddenly realize neither you nor the Mandalorian had let go of each other's hand and that a large grin has formed on your face due to the adorable baby. It is promptly wiped off as you pull your hand back just as he does. He looks away while you shrug at the child's inquisitive stare, unaware that the bounty hunter had been watching you and marveling at the bond you'd both formed already.

And so you set out together to look for your target, back towards town, where you had begun your chase.

He can't have gone far or in any other direction, not with the unbearable heat and certainly not while handcuffed. He'd die for sure, you just have to hope he's smart enough to know that.

You walk through town with the fob in your hand, just out of sight. No need for unnecessary attention. The town is tightly crowded, much to your chagrin, so you move slow and are barely able to see over the moving bodies. There’s just too much going on, too many people moving back and forth, shoving past you rudely. If it’d been anyone else - not an experienced bounty hunter - you would have probably been knocked down by the last two men that had scurried past you in a rush.

Without warning, you feel a hand grip your bicep. You immediately ready yourself for a fight, before you realize it belongs to your associate. Once he has your attention, Mando nods towards the edge to the street, against red stone buildings, urging you to follow him. You do, nudging anyone out of the way as you walked against the crowd’s stream.

You’re about to shout over the noise to ask just what the hell he pulled you aside for, considering you’re running out of time, before you follow his visor. Right to a wanted poster of a very familiar scoundrel. From the Resistance? Wanted alive for 8,000 credits?

“That’s one big fish, huh?" You continue to shout in order to be heard over the crowd, which you immediately regret, looking around, paranoid. "Must be important." You comment to yourself.

You look up to see the Mandalorian's back disappear behind the corner. You quickly follow, catching up to his long strides, "What are you thinking?"

He ignores your inquiry, continuing to practically stomp his way through town. "Hey. Hey!" You call out to no avail. Well, you asked for it.

You reach out, grabbing the man by the back of his cape, tightening it around his neck and making it so he had to lean back to follow your hand in order to keep breathing. Your heart beats faster at the rush of power you feel for a moment. "You better tell me what you're thinking, or this is not gonna work."

He taps your hand repeatedly until you let go, rising to his full height and you're back to feeling slightly intimidated as he stares you down, silently.

"I'm thinking that with a price that high you might actually take the bounty yourself."

"Why-?"

The tracking fob. The small object suddenly burned a whole in your pocket.

"Oh come on! You were trying to kill me!"

Your voice raises, arms flailing about. You know you're making a scene, considering this street is so much emptier and therefore quieter than the main one, but for the moment, you don't care. Right now, all you want is to put Mando in his place. Something you know is foolish given that he nearly killed you before and could actually do it this time.

"Yes, but it's still stealing." He spoke with that know-it-all, I'm-better-than-you, tone that just gets on your nerves. Bastard.

You raise a finger in the man's direction, fully intending to continue this conversation and clear your name in his eyes - the reason why is unknown even to you - when a shrill giggle cuts through the air. You look to Mando's hip, where the creature (who's name you have yet to learn) sits, pointing ahead to the entrance to the cantina.

Right at the man of the hour.

What? How?!

The man looks back at you and Mando for a moment, eyes widening as he recognizes you and the fact that this might be it.

Before he takes off running.

You start running before Mando does, easily catching up to the stout man, who's no longer in cuffs. As you get too close to his liking, he takes out a blaster (that you know isn't his) and tries to shoot you in the head. Only to miss and hit your forearm instead.

Hurts like a bitch, but it's better than death.

Out of the corner of your eye you see a steel rope of some kind shoot out and wrap around the fugitive's leg, sending him stumbling face first onto the ground.

Mando walks over to him, barely winded, standing over the panting man and blocking the sun with his body. You can only imagine the man's terrified expression.

You quickly take care of your wound as Mando ties the man up enough that he can't move, wincing as you look at the damage made on your skin. The burning nearly stops the bleeding and it hurts so bad you can barely process it, so you don't think about it, you simply level your breathing while wrapping a cloth around the wound and hope for the best considering it's not too big.

You clutch it to your chest as Mando approaches, pointing at your arm, intending to ask you if you're alright, but you move it to your side before he can. "Are you-"

"We should give him to the Resistance." You speak resolutely, holding back from wincing as your injury rubbed against your pants. It hurt even from beneath a (barely) protective cloth.

“I said ‘we’, so don't you start giving me shit, alright?” You tell him sternly after he crosses his arms, probably getting ready to call you a thief again. “You can't give him to the Resistance because they’ll arrest you, correct?” He nods.

“Well you know bounty hunting isn't exactly legal.”

“You don't have to tell me that, Mando.” You remind him firmly. “So, if we give him to them, we can ask for them to clear your name! And we’ll get double the reward. Two birds with one stone!”

“Do you really think they’d just do that?”

“If someone’s paying 8,000 credits for one guy and specifying they want him alive, then I’d bet they’d do anything to get him, even something as seemingly insignificant as clearing your name.” You explain, gesturing avidly as you do.

A long moment of silence passes before a modulated sigh crackles through Mando’s helmet. “Fine. I’ll go get the Crest.”

“Wait, woah woah woah. Why are you going? How do I know you wont leave me out here?”

“How do I know you wouldn't?” You take a moment to consider his words. He did lie to you, but you did steal from him in a way.

You look down in contemplation, eyes meeting the creature’s. Right, Mando has the kid, who probably isn't fit to be out in this heat for as long as it has.

“He got a name?” You point to the child, who smiles and giggles gleefully.

“Grogu.” You nod, sighing and rubbing your temples. Stars, it’s so hot it feels as if your brain is melting and you can feel a headache coming on.

“You can go. But I want you to swear on your,” You pause for a second, searching for the right word, “honorable code. Swear you’ll come back.”

“You-” The Mandalorian starts, before giving up on protesting at your determined stand, crossed arms and raised chin. “OK, alright. I swear that I’ll come back for you and the bounty. That we need.” He whispers the last part.

“Get to it then. I’m sweating bullets in this heat!”

You sit, back against a nearby rock, searching for as much shade as possible. You don't want to move the bounty back into town for a multitude of reasons, so now you’re stuck just outside of town. Sweat making your clothes stick and it gathers while the headache gets worse and more blood soaks your makeshift bandage, but at least it's silent. That's what you thought about 20 minutes ago, now, you’ve changed your mind.

“The hell did you do to get 8,000 credits on your head?” You ask suddenly, seemingly startling the man who seems to have accepted his fate already.

He sighs, probably just as bored as you, “I have some information they want. That's why they want me alive.” You purse your lips in interest, humming in understanding, before silence falls over you two once more.

Stars, it's hot.

You could cry from relief once you hear the sound of a loud engine getting closer and closer. The 'Crest', as Mando had called it.

You grab the bounty by the shirt, hauling him to his feet rather roughly and shoving him towards the flying hunk of metal that had just landed.

The ship. Mando doesn't come out to greet you.

As the ramp closes and the air is blanketed in a sheet of silence, your mind starts to wander without your permission. You know he has to be handsome under there, what with his broad shoulders and slim waist, deliciously thick thighs and a wonderfully smooth and deep voice that seems to caress your very soul as you hear it. You caught a glimpse of his skin when you pulled at his collar, delightfully tan just begging for you to sink your teeth into it.

Must be the heat. Surely that is the sole reason why you're fantasizing so vividly about a man whose real name you don't know, whose face you've never seen and oh, a man who tried to kill you. But didn't.

Sick of your own thoughts and the loud snores of the bounty, you rise to your feet, climbing the ladder that leads to the cockpit. You wince as you put part of your weight on your injured arm, deciding to climb the rest of the ladder one handed instead.

“Are you decent?” You shout through the thick metal door, hoping Mando can hear you inside the cockpit. When the heavy doors hiss and open, you’re sure he must be.

You sit down in the passenger seat silently, looking up at the stars above for a long moment. The mesmerizing, endlessly dark sky is all that you see at first, from being partially blinded by the fluorescent lights inside the Crest, before the stars come to you, bright speckles that dust the planetary systems all around you. Breathtaking.

You look back in front of yourself to find Grogu already staring at you, head tilted with a smile that shows the slightest hint of tiny teeth. You smile, leaning forward with a raised brow. He leans closer to you, eyes lingering in the side of your face, the one already darkening from Mando’s blow, before dipping down to the arm you hold close to your chest. You let go of it immediately as he does, wanting to shield him from seeing the blood you know can be seen through the cloth.

The child steps closer, as far as he can while up on the dashboard. Mando has to be avoiding you, before he would've seen that movement otherwise.

It reaches out his small hand, squeezing his eyes as tightly as possible while the green limb twitches. You furrow your brows in confusion, what?

The ache on your skin lessens gradually, as if the wound was being lifted from your skin. You can feel it on your arm, it tickles as your skin connects itself around the wound while the burn disappears as if you’d just placed ice over it.

At some point, your eyes close, lulled nearly to sleep by the lifting of the pain, the feeling left behind makes your skin tingle with energy just beneath, your head feels light for a second, as if the blood moved from there down to heal the wounds.

When you open your eyes, you’re met with Mando’s visor trained on your face, silent in a way you can tell he’s speechless. “Eyes on the road, Mando.” You tell him cheekily, voice cracking unexpectedly.

He turns back forward, pausing his steering to pull Grogu forward and away from the edge, before his hands return to the commands. “So, is it far still?”

“No, just a few more hours. The closest Resistance base is just on the next planet.” His fingers flick switches and pull levers, before he seemingly puts the vehicle on autopilot and turns to you. “You can take the cot, you must be tired.”

You blink at him, “And what about you?”

“I’ll be fine.” He answers gruffly, not sparing you a glance.

“No, it’s gonna be a few hours, and you’ve been awake for about as much as me so if anyone is taking the cot, it’s you.” You argue back firmly.

He sighs, loosening the cape around his neck as a way to calm himself down, you and your selflessness.

“Alright. No promises that I’ll sleep though.” He acts like it’s a huge burden, as if it pains him deeply.

He takes Grogu in his arms and towards his sleeping nook. The small child smiles at you from over his guardian’s shoulder, and you smile back.

Once he’s safely put away and the bounty checked on, Mando leads you to a space just off the main hull space, where a bed - with the thinnest mattress you’ve ever seen - is pulled from the wall. Oh boy, you can already feel your back aching, but it’s better than sitting in the cockpit on those hard chairs.

So you lay down your weapons while he takes off the bulkiest of his armour. You lay down, curled on your side and away from him, knowing he’ll have to cuddle close to fit. You feel his warmth against your back, but you don't feel his touch quite yet, only the ghost of it. Your gut tightens with pity as you know he can’t take his helmet off. That has to be very uncomfortable.

The lights are dim enough that there is no shadow from your bodies on the wall. You can tell by the space he’s put between you, that he’s about to fall off.

“Are you scared of me, Mando? Can I call you Mando?”

“Sure and no.”

“Which one?” You ask mischievously, smirking to yourself while knowing full well what he meant.

He sighs in exasperation, so you let him be. For only a moment before you're back to being snarky. "Surely you've been this close to another human before, perhaps in a more compromising context."

"Yes and it's usually quieter." You think he might not realize what he just said.

You snort, "Must mean you're doing something wrong."

"That's not-! Just, get some sleep." He says tiredly, giving up on the banter you're pushing. You do as he asks, closing your eyes as you feel the heat of his body move closer to you.

You wake up to a rough whisper of your name and a shaking of your shoulder. Eyes open slowly, squinting against the light shining right at them, before something blocks it and eases your discomfort. The large hand on your shoulder doesn't yet move from its place, gently perched and waiting for you to wake up fully.

You look up to see Mando's helmet over you, seemingly way too close (not that you're complaining), as you can clearly hear him breathe through his modulator. "We're here and we need to talk before you go in."

You follow him to the hull without question, stopping just before the door that leads to it. You rub the sleep from your eyes before blinking up at the bounty hunter, trying to nonchalantly fix your messy hair.

And though he'd never tell you, he thought you looked adorable in that moment. Rosy cheeks, a faraway gaze, lips pursed to hold back a yawn as you brushed down your hair. He was certainly thankful for his helmet in that moment, considering the heat he felt crawling up his neck and settling on his cheeks.

"Plan?"

You clear your throat before speaking, "Right. So, it's easy." You raise a hand to his face when Mando sighs deeply. "Simple, really. I go in, tell them I have the bounty and ask for a little something as compensation along with the credits. See? Easy and simple!"

"Do you think they'll take it?" It doesn't sound as skeptical as you would've expected from him. It's sort of hopeful. Even Mando has to admit to himself that getting chased around and having to avoid and run from x-wings at every turn, got pretty exhausting.

"Let's try it before we start getting doubts." You tell him, determined. "Besides, nothing to lose if you stay hidden, right?"

The planet you landed on is small and green - perfect cover for a Resistance base. You walk along the dirt path leading to it and away from the Crest, coming up to a clearing where you can see the humongous metal doors of the base which seemed to have been dug into a small mountain.

"Stop! State your business." A voice says through a speaker once you get close enough.

"I've come to deliver a bounty!" You keep it simple, no use even attempting to be charming with these folks.

Not long after, the doors part to let someone through, who you presume is a general or something of the sort given their intimidating presence and the flock of guards with their weapons trained on you that follow them.

"We have your credits. Thank you for bringing him to us." You keep your face neutral even as it urges to tremble beneath the pressure of their gaze. You feel the man in question squirm against the arm that grips his bicep. Must really not be a fan.

"That is not all I want." The supposed general, no need to try and figure that out considering you don't want them to remember you more than necessary, raises a delicate brow. "I would like for you to clear someone's name."

"That is not what we agreed on."

"Yes, well, I didn't agree to it myself, so." You shrug, impressed that the general's face remains stone cold, especially considering how much they probably would like to dispose of you given you're dragging out this exchange for longer than what's really necessary.

"You are in no place to make demands." One soldier tells you, pulling out his blaster and pointing it at you, getting more of a reaction from the bounty than from yourself as he flinches.

"Oh, I am in the perfect place to be making demands." You tell him venomously, grip tightening on the man's arm.

"We have you surrounded."

"Just the way I like it." You respond with a wink just to hear the person's stuttering over the modulator on their helmet.

"Very well." The general calls out in order to gain their minions' attention, "Just tell me what name they might be under in our system."

"The Mandalorian. Mando for friends."

Epilogue

"Fuck! Shit, fuck! What was I thinking?!" You yell out in frustration, standing before what remains of your ship, the rest most likely taken by Jawas, who must be long gone by now. "Of course someone would take it apart, why not?! Oh, stars." You wail miserably, crouching into a ball in search of some comfort.

"Hey, it'll be alright. Don't panic." Mando tells you gently after pulling you to your feet and grabbing your shoulders tightly to ground you. "There's two ways we can do this: we go after those Jawas, get your pieces and fix the ship or," Mando hesitates for a moment, fingers drumming along your skin as he turns the words over and over in his tongue until he feels as if he'll get them right once he says them. "you can come with me until you get enough credits for a new one. 4,000 might not be enough yet, but it's a pretty solid start."

His rare optimism brings a small smile out of you and makes your anger settle down almost completely. You'll no doubt have an even deeper hatred for the little shits, but you don't feel as if you'll punch the next living thing you see.

"I guess catching a ride with you can't be so bad, huh, Mando?"

#din djarin #din dijarin fanfiction #din dijarin x reader #din djaren #the mandalorian #the mandolorian x reader #the mandolarian #mandalorian x you #mandalorian x y/n #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x oc #mando x reader #mando and grogu #mando #din

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starry-sky-stuff · 2 years

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Sorting Disney Characters - Hercules and Mulan

Continuing on from @wisteria-lodge's sorting of Disney characters (you can find the posts here and here), I'll be sorting the characters from Hercules and Mulan.

Hercules:

Hercules seems like he would be a Double Lion. The warrior in search of fame and glory. But that..isn't Hercules. For awhile he adopts a Glory Hound Lion Primary, thrilled by the adoration and adulation. But that's not his true motivation. His true motivation, as he expresses 'Go the Distance', is to find a place where he belongs. He grew up feeling like an outsider and it weighs on him at the beginning of the film, resulting in him going in search of the truth of his background in hopes of finding acceptance. But then, when he's given the choice of joining the gods at the end of the film, he refuses because he finds he can't leave Meg. And even when Hades is attacking Olympus, he's far more concerned with saving Meg. He wasn't necessarily looking for a community so much as for someone with whom he wouldn't feel alone. He's a Snake Primary, who's found his circle, probably with a Badger Primary model on top.

I flip-flopped on Hercules' secondary. On the surface, he looks like a Lion Secondary, solving his problems with his sword and strength. But fighting monsters doesn't come naturally to him. When he faces his first monster, he fumbles, drops his sword, and initially fails. He doesn't charge in and save the day. His anthem of 'Go the Distance' is very much a Badger anthem, a declaration of hard work and toil. And Hercules spends years training to be a hero. But his rescue of Meg, storming the Underworld and demanding Hades return her, appears a very Lion thing to do. I think if I had to choose between the two, I'd go with a Badger Secondary who relies on hard work with a Lion Secondary model.

Megara lies, cajoles and manipulates with ease, playing her role in Hades' plan with a femme fatale persona. This she does much better than her previous jobs of convincing people to side with Hades in his ploy to take over, which doesn't seem to have suited her at all. In their first interaction, she runs verbal rings around Hercules, with her witticisms and quips. She's a Snake Secondary, who initially feels little guilt in manipulating Hercules. At times, mainly with Hercules, she drops down to her neutral state, dropping her facade of casual cynicism. Megara starts off the story as a Petrified Snake Primary. The man she loved, and for whom she sold her soul, left her for someone else. She understandably burned after this and no longer trusted anyone. But Hercules, with his earnestness and trustworthy nature, slowly breaks down her defences. And it's only when she's unburned that she starts to feel guilty, because now Hercules is a part of her circle.

Mulan:

Mulan's Bird Secondary is pretty obvious. Her problem solving always relies on tools and knowledge. She figures out a way to collect the arrow, not using brute strength but smarts, foils the Huns attack by causing an avalanche, and plots a way of getting into the palace by disguising her and her allies as concubines. Even in the beginning of the film she figures out a shortcut to complete her chores and relies on notes for her meeting with the matchmaker. The way she goes about disguising herself as a man to get into the army strikes me as very Actor Bird, relying on her knowledge of how she thinks men act to play the role.

Considering Mulan's motivation in joining the army is to save her father, it would be easy to assume she's a Snake Primary. However, nothing else about her behaviour is indicative of a loyalist. In fact, her motivations are most often expressions of what she believes is right and wrong. In her sequel, she objects to the arranged marriages of the Emperor's daughters because she believes it is wrong, even if that brings her into conflict with Shang. I would argue that she joined the army to save her father because she believed it was the right thing to do. At the beginning of the film, she probably has some sort of Badger Primary model or performance she finds stifling, trying and failing to be the perfect daughter and bring honour to her family, putting the needs of her family above her own wants. There's a very brief Badger Secondary performance at the beginning...which she completely fails at.

Shang's secondary was a bit harder to figure out. He doesn't attempt to community build with the soldiers under his command. Setting the task of the arrow for them to figure out appears Bird-like, and he seems to be attempting to teach them skills, but he's perfectly okay with stepping back and letting Mulan make the strategy. I think he might be a Lion Secondary, straightforward and honest. He's most upset about Mulan's deception because she deceived him, and in the sequel he's particularly upset at the thought of Mulan deceiving him again and going behind his back to discourage the princesses from going through with the arranged marriage.

As for his primary, he's certainly not a Lion Primary. In the sequel, he is very skeptical of Mulan's need to follow her heart and actively bemoans what he perceives as her rejection of duty and tradition. I think he might be a Bird Primary who changes his system of belief because of Mulan. But considering his motivations aren't really fully fleshed out, it's difficult to say.

Mushu is a Snake Secondary. He turns a disaster (accidentally breaking the dragon statue) into an opportunity to regain his status as a family guardian by pretending to have been assigned to help Mulan. And when it looks like Mulan won't have an opportunity to fight, Mushu impersonates an officer and fakes a letter from Shang's father. Primary-wise, I think he might be a Snake Primary who starts off only caring about himself and grows to care about Mulan (as well as cricket and even the horse). Although, he experiences a bit of a relapse in the sequel when he tries to break Mulan and Shang up for his own purposes.

Summary:

Hercules: Snake/Badger, Glory Hound Lion Primary model he drops, Lion Secondary model

Megara: Petrified Snake that unburns/Snake

Mulan: Lion/Bird, Badger Primary model she drops

Shang: Bird/Lion

Mushu: Snake/Snake

#sortinghatchats #disney

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hufflautia · 3 years

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The Small but Quaint Room in the West Wing

Requested by @dreamerinthesun✨(2/2)

A/N: I titled this one because this is a full-sized fic and I really really like it. Even though I said I'd write a drabble or a ficlet for each request and keep it short and sweet. And then I go and write a whole ass fic. I knew this was gonna happen, it always does. ENJOY!

026: "People are jerks, but not you."

Slytherin ran into a room on the West Wing and shut the door behind her. She listened as footsteps stomped through the hall, holding her breath when someone stopped in front of the door.

"When we find Lestrange, I wanna be the one to hex her," the person said. Slytherin scowled when she realized who it was. Ehione, she thought bitterly. You couldn't hex me if you tried.

"And who exactly are you going to hex, Ms. Ephyx?" an ancient but firm voice said.

Slytherin immediately recognized the voice and winced. She was glad she was behind this door and not out in the hall.

"Professor McGonagall," Ehione stuttered. "You must've misheard, I said vex, not hex!"

Slytherin held back a snicker - she could envision McGonagall's reaction right now: an eyebrow raised, lips pressed together tightly.

McGonagall clearly didn't fall for her bullshit because the next thing she said was, "10 points from Gryffindor. Now come with me, Ms. Ephyx. And the rest of you, get back to your classes before I give you detention too."

"Too?" Ehione fumed. "Why am I getting detention? Slytherin should be the one getting detention, she cast the Leek jinx spell on me!"

Only because you were talking shit about my family! Slytherin thought angrily.

"Yes, Ms. Ephyx, I can clearly see that," McGonagall sighed. "Now please come with me, we need to get you to the Hospital Wing. If you aren't given the counteract potion soon, you could have leeks stuck in your ears permanently."

Slytherin bit her tongue to stop herself from bursting out in laughter and giving up her hidden spot. What a sight, she thought, imagining Ehione walking around with leeks in her ears for the rest of the school year.

Slytherin let out a small breath of relief when the footsteps began to fade away. She walked up the steps and towards the spot next to the window, the place she always sat when she came to this room.

^Visual of what the room looks like. ALSO DOES ANYONE RECOGNIZE THIS PIC ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

She gazed upon the Whomping Willow in the distance, deep in thought. It wasn't that she liked getting in trouble. The jinx just happened to spill from her lips when she overheard Ehione talking badly about her family. That prick deserved it anyway.

Slytherin stiffened when she heard the creak of the door and whipped out her wand, lowering it when she caught sight of the intruder. Well, maybe not intruder, per se. Hufflepuff sometimes came to this room too. While Slytherin used this place as a quiet room to think, Hufflepuff used it as a space to hang freely with his creatures. They found this room on their own but had never been there at the same time until one day when Slytherin found him sitting on her spot the day that they first encountered each other. She was a bit irked - after all, it felt like her sacred spot, and to have someone sit on it was...well, annoying. But soon after he chose a seat somewhere else, she warmed up to him; he had a quiet nature and sometimes would show her the creatures he was caring for, and that always put a smile on her face. Though Slytherin would never admit it, there were days in which she walked towards the small but quaint room in the West Wing with a spring to her step, looking forward to sitting next to the window with him and escaping their worries.

But today was not one of those days.

A crooked smile hung on Hufflepuff's lips when they met eyes. Slytherin wasn't in the mood to smile back, so she looked away.

"Hello," Hufflepuff said, taking a seat on the floor across from her.

"Hi."

Slytherin could feel his eyes on her and met his curious gaze with a glare. "What?"

Hufflepuff shook his head and looked away.

"Nothing."

She narrowed her eyes but decided not to press him further. She didn't wanna drive her one friend away. Could she even call him that? She certainly hoped he considered her his friend. She's snapped at him on more than one occasion, but it was never because of him. It's just that she usually came to this room when she was in a bad mood and she needed a place to think. But time and time again, he never snapped back. He just took it. And not in a "use me as your punching buddy" kind of way. It was like he understood.

"People are jerks," she said quietly. "But not you." Never you. "Why is that?"

He scrunched up his nose. "Are you asking me why I'm not a jerk?"

Slytherin would've cracked a smile if she weren't feeling like complete shit. "I'm rude to you, but you never talk back. You don't get angry with me when I'm testing your temper. Why? Someone with common sense wouldn't want to hang out with someone who's mean to them."

Hufflepuff stared at a spot on the wall in thought as Slytherin awaited his response nervously. Why did I say that? I basically told him, "Hey, it would be in your best interest not to be friends with me anymore"—

"I don't think you're mean." Hufflepuff meets her surprised gaze. "I know that you come here because this is a place for you to vent and calm down. Sometimes you take your anger out on me, but I know it's because of whatever you have going on, so I try not to take it personal. You're just angry. But not always. When you're in a good mood, you're funny and witty. And you're also my friend. So why wouldn't I want to hang out with you?"

Slytherin swallowed with difficulty. That was a lot to take in. Not only did he just admit that, yes, he considered her his friend, but he also knew her. He understood.

Hufflepuff seemed to sense that she was at a loss for words, so he pulled something from his pocket and presented it to her. Slytherin smiled and gingerly took the Niffler from him, her fingers brushing against the palm of his hand.

"How's the little guy doing?" she cooed, running her finger over the Niffler's fur as he scurried across her robe, searching for anything shiny. "Caused any mischief lately?"

"Unfortunately so," Hufflepuff sighed dramatically, his bright eyes betraying his mock annoyance. "He stole Slughorn's watch the other way. This little minx would've gotten me into detention if I hadn't stopped him and returned it without Slughorn noticing."

Slytherin hummed, watching as the Niffler tried to pull her house crest off her robe. She pulled him off and looked puzzled when she felt something in his pouch. "What's this?"

Hufflepuff frowned and took the Niffler back, eyeing the creature when he felt it too.

"What'd you take," he said lowly, to which the Niffler looked at him with a smile and a gleam in his eye. He arched an eyebrow and turned him upside down, shaking out the contents of his pouch.

Slytherin's eyes widened as Galleons and other golden items poured onto the floor. Watches, necklaces, and earrings scattered on the ground. Hufflepuff looked aghast while Slytherin doubled-over laughing.

"Where in the blazes did you get that?!" Hufflepuff demanded. "Now we have to find out what belongs to who and return it to them!"

Slytherin wiped at her watery eyes and said between laughs, "Don't worry, I'll help you."

Hufflepuff glanced at her and felt a laugh of his own bubbling in his chest. When a situation as ridiculous as this came along once in a lifetime, one couldn't help but laugh. And that's exactly what they did. They laughed their worries away in this small but quaint room on the West Wing.

Fin.

DID SOMEONE SAY LETA LESTRANGE AND NEWT SCAMANDER😩😩 Also did the bit about the "this is MY special spot" remind anyone of the tree spot in the slytherpuff series??

This is by far my favorite request - I didn't expect this to be so wholesome and cute. Hope you enjoyeddddddd<4!

In honor of this blog’s one-year anniversary, I am taking requests! Pick from these prompts:

#slytherpuff #slytherin #hufflepuff #harry potter #harrypotter #hufflautia headcannons #hogwarts #hufferin #slytherin and hufflepuff #hufflepuff and slytherin #slytherpuff friendship #slytherpuff oneshot #slytherin x hufflepuff #hufflepuff x slytherin #slytherpuff fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction

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fitzs-trained-monkey · 3 years

Text

Chapter One: Lonely Together

Jack Kline x OC

Rated: PG

~I might hate myself tomorrow

But I'm on my way tonight

Let's be lonely together

A little less lonely together~

Sent: 10:52 PM

Merry Christmas, stranger. I hope yours is as bright as new fallen snow. Stay warm.

I smiled down at my phone before clicking it off and slipping it into my pocket. I didn't know who I had sent the message to. It was just a number I had punched in at random. I didn't expect anyone to reply.

Wrapping my dark green cardigan tighter around my body, I pulled my knees in closer to my chest and pressed myself closer against the wall of the bakery. The wall was only slightly warmer than the frigid air around me. It was December 2nd and icy gales were blowing in from Lake Superior and stinging the skin of the city's occupants.

The sky hung dark, low, and flat over Copper Harbor, Michigan. Copper Harbor was an itty-bitty town at the northern most tip of the northernmost part of Michigan. You know that piece of land that's only connected to the mainland by a highway, that in-between place that really should be Canada, but isn't? That's where Copper Harbor is and that's where I was.

Copper Harbor was the sort of town where newcomers and visitors are as common as flying pigs and are treated with about as much scrutiny. It's not one of those small, friendly towns just off the highway; the ones that are pleasant to find yourself in if you've taken a wrong turn. It's quite the feat to get lost and turn up in Copper Harbor, considering its miles away from anything and everything remotely interesting, unless you're searching for Bigfoot or a drunk Canadian that took a wrong turn. Though those two things might just end up being one and the same. No, nobody came to Copper Harbor unless they had a reason. That's just the sort of place it was. And aside from the mind-numbing cold, it was exactly the sort of place I wanted to be.

The clouds were so heavy with the snow that now drifted down, dusting everything in a layer of fine white powder, it seemed that someone standing on even the lowest rooftop could reach up and touch them. The snowflakes raining down from those clouds gave the appearance of tiny shooting stars. Many would have found the sight beautiful. I didn't. I just found it cold and somewhat depressing. Some people say that shooting stars are angels, falling to the earth to bless the lives of people in need. I've never liked those sorts of stories. The stars belong in the heavens. The dust belongs on the earth. Collecting in puddles, the sparkling, sugar-like ice crystals did nothing to ease the bitter cold. I shivered and coughed, my breath fogging in front of me.

I should have frozen to death hours ago.

But I can't die. At least, not that way.

Suffering, on the other hand, I can do that to no end.

I put my head between my knees, hoping to retain what little heat my walking corpse had to offer. I struggled to remain conscious. The story of the little-match-girl was playing in my head. I'd never liked that story's ending. Hallucinations really weren't my thing, especially hallucinations about things I tried not to think about, the things I tried to burry in the farthest corners of my mind. I had to distract myself, to think about anything that would keep me awake. The problem was, there was nothing to distract me.

Pling!

My phone buzzed in my pocket with a text. I grasped it quickly, greedy for a distraction, but I paused upon seeing the number displayed upon the screen. It was that number I had texted the Merry Christmas message to. Whoever it was had texted me back. I unlocked my phone and peered at the mystery person's message.

Received: 11:18 PM

Merry Christmas to you as well!

The message read. I smiled a little, surprised that anyone would care to return my quiet Christmas wish. The screen of my phone lit up with another message.

Received: 11:19 PM

Who are you?

The question was a simple one. Though tone can often be difficult to infer over written text, the question seemed to bear no hostility, only innocent curiosity. I thought for a bit about what to say, the answer was not as simple as the question had implied.

***

Located quite literally one thousand miles away from Copper Harbor, was the small, out-of-the-way town of Lebanon, Kansas. Now, in the outskirts Lebanon there was a hill. The hill was modestly sized and carpeted with thick grass painted with a layer of frost. Although it was a rather pleasant sight for some stray hiker to find, the hill was really quite unremarkable. That is, if you ignored the hulking steel door built into the side of it that looked like the entrance to a post-apocalyptic hobbit hole. See, built under that hill there was a bunker. It looked like any ordinary bunker if one can ever describe a bunker as ordinary. But inside this ordinary looking bunker, sat something rather extraordinary and his name was Jack.

Jack Kline was quite happy where he was. Sitting with his legs crossed on a chair beside the bunker's fireplace, Jack held Sam's beloved lap-top between his knees. Sam let him borrow it on the nights he couldn't sleep. Those nights were many. Sleepless nights were one of the many side effects of being half-angel, but he didn't really mind. Jack wasn't overly fond of sleep, not like Sam or Dean who adored the few hours they got. Jack would much rather be awake because if he was asleep then he couldn't observe. He liked to observe. He loved learning. He loved taking in anything and everything going on around him, soaking it all up like a sponge with legs. He especially loved to soak up a story. Epic ones with heroes that defeat powerful villains. Jack loved stories.

So, no; Jack Kline was not overly fond of sleep. No, Jack preferred to just sit quietly and watch those epic stories as they played out in front of him on the screen of Sam's lap-top.

Currently, he was watching Star Wars: The Clone Wars. The computer had said he would like it, and the computer had been right. He had just finished season 2 and had begun on season 3. Some small voice in the back of his mind told him he should slow down and draw the series out a little longer, but Jack just couldn't find the will to do so. This story was just too good to stop. Jack shoved a hand full of popcorn in his mouth as he pressed the play button on the next episode. He had managed to sneak several bags of popcorn from the kitchen and into the secret stash in his room a few nights earlier. It was perfect, except popcorn needed to be popped and popping the kernels without attracting notice was a bit of a challenge. But he found that if he popped them during the day, when everyone was clamoring about and busy with whatever, the noise from the popping kernels wouldn't peak any suspicion. The only downside to his strategy was that it left him with cold popcorn. Though this too could be remedied via his angel powers, if he was careful about it, he could warm up the popcorn undetected.

Now, don't get the impression that Jack was being starved, or held in this bunker against his will, or something awful like that. As was mentioned before, Jack was very happy there. The Winchesters, Sam and Dean, and the angel Castiel, lived there with him and took care of him. They were his family and Jack loved them. The only reason he had a secret stash at all was because Sam was the only one in the bunker who cared about the importance of having a somewhat healthy diet. Whereas Dean let the boy eat pretty much anything he wanted and Cas- well in Cas's mind food was food and that's all there was to it. But Sam didn't like it when he caught Jack eating what he referred to as 'junk food'.

Somehow, Sam always caught him.

"That stuff’ll rot your teeth, Jack!" He'd sigh, as he'd flip on the kitchen light and catch Jack eating cereal sometime around midnight. Then he'd look at Jack with a disappointed look on his face until Jack threw the cereal away and went back to bed. Jack hated it when Sam looked at him like that, he just couldn't bear to let the Winchesters down.

But Jack loved to eat. Eating was enjoyable as it brought with it something new every time. Yet more things to absorb and to experience. Although the younger Winchester disapproved of the more sugary foods; Jack liked those a whole lot more than the salads Sam tried to get him to eat. Jack didn't like the salads or 'Rabbit Food' as Dean called it. No, Jack liked popcorn a quite a bit more.

He smiled as he brought another handful into his mouth. Yes, Jack Kline quite enjoyed eating.

Plip! Ploop!

Jack's head swiveled away from the screen to stare at the phone laying face-up on the arm rest of the chair in which he sat. The screen was alight with a text message. He picked up the phone and unlocked it. The message read:

Received: 10:52 PM

Merry Christmas, stranger. I hope yours is as bright as new fallen snow. Stay warm.

That was all. Jack was quite confused; he didn't know that number. Who had sent the text? What should he do? Should he say something back?

Curiosity and caution struggled in a match tug-of-war in his head. He wanted to know who the message had come from. He wanted to know why that person had sent it. He also wanted to know why he had a strange feeling that whoever had sent the message was horribly sad. But would the Winchesters be mad at him if he answered? Sam and Dean had given him the phone just a few days earlier.

"For emergencies," Sam had said as he laid the device in Jack's hand before resuming his packing. Jack had stared at it, rather confused as to its purpose. Castiel had been off somewhere doing something and Sam and Dean had been leaving for a hunt, leaving him alone which Dean was completely and utterly against.

"Only for emergencies," Dean had stressed, jabbing his finger in Jack's general direction as he inspected various articles of clothing before tossing them into a duffle bag. "That means don't text or call unless someone is breaking in or you're dying!"

Sam shot his older brother a warning look. Dean ignored it and pulled a pair of socks out of his dresser, sniffing them briefly before making a face and chucking them to the other side of the room. Jack looked back down at the small black rectangle in his palm.

"Okay so, only text or call in case there's an emergency. Got it." Jack clinched the thin black box between his thumb and forefinger, carefully lifting it up as if it might explode in his face. "But, one question, if something happens like-like you said, like somebody breaking in or me dying, how-how would I do that?" He asked, looking back at the two brothers. They both froze their hasty packing and pivoted to stare at him, their eyebrows raised with disbelieving question.

"What?" Dean asked the young Nephilim. Jack shrank away a little, not wanting to upset the older Winchester.

"How do I text or call you? I don't know how to do that," Jack had timidly replied. Dean just shook his head and returned to over-stuffing the duffle. Sam, however, was much more understanding.

"That's right, you-you don't, do you?" Sam asked, realizing his mistake. Jack turned his attention to the younger of the brothers, shaking his head in an answer to Sam's question.

"Unbelievable," Dean muttered, rolling his eyes. Sam shot him another glare which Dean merely shrugged off.

"Well, come on then, I'll teach you," Sam had said. Jack watched as Sam set the contacts and explained how everything worked. He showed Jack how to send a text, how to dial and answer a call, and all the other things Jack would need to know. Jack just watched him and took note of every little thing. Watching and replicating was how Jack learned best.

"Now, if I don't answer my phone, you call Dean. But if he doesn't pick up, I want you to call me again, if I still don't answer a second time, I want you to call this number right here. That's Jody Mills, she's a friend of ours and she'll help you, alright? You get all that?" Sam finished explaining and looked for Jack to confirm his understanding. Jack nodded.

"I got it!" He said, enthusiastically. Sam gave the young boy a nervous smile.

"You do? Can you repeat it back to me?" Sam asked Jack the question the same way Sam and Dean's father had always asked them.

"If something happens, call you, and if you don't answer, call Dean. If Dean doesn't answer then I call you again, but if you still don't pick up, then call Jody Mills." Jack repeated all of Sam's instructions perfectly, grinning proudly at the younger Winchester when he finished. Sam laughed a little, but nerves twinged his voice.

"Good, yeah. Okay," Sam paused, thinking things over, "You know what, Jack? If neither of us answer your call and it's really that urgent, don't bother calling me a second time. Just call Jody right away if you can't get through to either of us. Alright?"

"Alright!" Jack nodded, grinning. Sam nodded back, stiffly.

"Alright." He seemed like he wanted to say something else but didn't know how to say it.

"You two done in there, Sammy?! We gotta go!" Dean called, walking in from another room. Sam stood and looked at his brother.

"Uh, yeah. I think we're good," He took a few steps towards the stairs that lead up to the door before pausing and turning back to Jack, "We're good, right? You're gonna be okay here by yourself?" Sam asked again. Jack grinned and gave him a thumbs up.

"I'll be fine. You don't have to worry."

Sam nodded and smiled with so much nervousness it almost hurt to watch.

"Okay, good. It's good. We're good," He said, nodding and trying to reassure himself more than anyone else. Dean raised an eyebrow at his overly anxious little brother, tugging his old leather jacket on over his shoulders, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he directed his remarks at Jack.

"Hey, kid. Whatever you do, don't do anything stupid," He'd said, half glaring, "We'll be back in a few days." Then they'd left.

Now, Jack glanced back down at the phone in his hands, remembering Dean's warning about not doing anything stupid. But his curiosity regarding the sender of the message was overwhelming. It couldn't hurt to text this person back, right? Was that what Dean had meant by his warning? Did this count as something stupid? What was the worst that could happen? Deciding that the benefits outweighed the risks, he texted back.

Sent: 10:18 PM

Merry Christmas to you as well!

Jack wrote.

Sent: 10:19 PM

Who are you?

No sooner had asked his question, he began to worry that he might have sounded rude. He waited with anticipation for the mystery person to reply. He didn't have to wait long.

Received: 10:20 PM

It doesn't matter, you don't know me.

I'm just someone wanting to give you a warm holiday wish.

Jack frowned. Again, he got the distinct feeling that the person on the other side of this conversation was deeply saddened by something. He desperately wanted to know what. So, he did the thing he did best. He asked and waited to see what would happen.

***

Received: 11:21 PM

If you don't know me, why do you care?

I don't mean to be rude. I'm just curious.

Why do this?

I read the person's question once, then twice, then three times and I realized that I didn't have an answer. Why did I care? Why was I texting some random person a Christmas wish? For all I knew, this person may not even observe the holiday. I had so many of my own things to worry about I was nearly drowning in them. I didn't know this person. I had nothing to do with them. So, why did I care about their holiday season? Why was I doing this?

I told myself it was just a random act of kindness. But deep down I knew what the reason was, and even if I didn't want to think about it, I felt it in my heart. I was doing this for the same reason I did everything. So, I took a few moments and came up with a reply.

Sent: 11:25 PM

I'm doing this because I believe that no one should ever have to be alone,

especially during the holidays.

I sent my reply and remembered to keep on shivering. I could hardly feel the cold anymore, I had gone almost completely numb. But I knew if I didn't keep moving, I would surely freeze in place and be unable to move until spring came. I vaguely wondered how cold it was. I remembered having heard on someone's car radio that this was supposed to be the coldest winter Michigan had experienced in the last decade. Though winter had only just begun, it was already cold enough for the district council to be suggesting face coverings to prevent citizens from getting frostbite and losing their nose.

I sneezed. I had no such face covering. Hell! I didn't even have a jacket! Let alone a coat or anything mildly warm. All I had was my oversized green cardigan, my black Star Wars t-shirt and my black jeans. That was it. Yet here I sat, outside a bakery in well below freezing temperatures, shivering myself into next decade.

I could go to a shelter. At least there I wouldn't have to endure the bitter biting of the wind as it gushed with double its normal force through these tight, abandoned alleyways. But if I went to a shelter then there was no chance of leaving undetected, I reminded myself. No, it was better to stay here, cold and alone, than to risk human contact.

I was pulled from my thoughts by another pling from my phone. Another message from that unknown contact.

Received: 11: 27

Are you alone?

Again, the question was simple. And although the mere thought hurt like a knife twisting in a fresh wound, I looked around at the dark, trash littered alleyway I sat in, watching the scattered rags of paper flutter and tumble in the winter gales, and I looked at the brutally beautiful puddles of speckled ice gathering along my body and melting on my skin, and I examined the bleak night sky, choked starless by the drifting dreary clouds; and the utterly silent stillness of the sleeping city revealed the harsh reality of my answer.

No one was here.

Nobody cared.

Not even the stars would keep me company. Because the stars never cared who I was.

So, with no reason to keep the truth hidden. I answered the question honestly.

Sent: 11: 29 PM

Yes.

Sent: 11: 30 PM

I am alone.

I was completely and utterly alone.

***

Received: 10: 30 PM

I am alone.

Once again Jack got the distinct impression that these words carried a heavy burden. It made him frown. What could he do to help a person he didn't even know? He wanted to ask this person if they had any friends, but something about those words told him the answer. When this person had said they were alone, Jack got the feeling they weren't just talking about the current moment. But maybe that's what this person needed. Maybe they needed a friend.

Sent: 10: 32 PM

Well, I'll be your friend and talk to you. There, now you're not alone anymore!

Jack smiled as he sent the text. The reply didn't take long.

Received: 10: 33 PM

Thank you.

You don't have waste your time on me but thank you.

It didn't take any special powers to read in between the lines this time, anyone could see the sadness in those words. Though Jack wasn't sure if it was his powers causing that strange feeling or if he was just imagining things.

Sent: 10:34 PM

I don't mind. Really!

Besides, I don't have anyone to talk to either.

Received: 10: 35 PM

Well, in that case, we can be lonely together!

Jack grinned. He'd made himself a friend. He couldn't wait to get to know them.

***

Received: 11: 36 PM

Since we're friends now, what's your name?

I smiled down at my new mystery friend's message. There was something about the words that made them seem innocent and earnest. It couldn't hurt to give my name, right? It’s not like he could find me. After all, I'm supposed to be dead.

Sent: 11: 37 PM

My name is Martina.

I sent my name and waited for the response. It came quickly.

Received: 11: 38 PM

I like your name Martina!

It's very pretty.

I flinched as I read the text. Something about seeing my name written in the text brought me back to a conversation with a different person a long time ago. It was a painful memory, and I didn't want to see it anymore. I didn't want another reminder of the still bleeding wounds in my heart. I remembered why I didn't let anyone call me that name anymore.

Sent: 11: 39 PM

Thank you.

But I would prefer you call me Marty.

I didn't want to be so sensitive to things like this, but I just couldn't help it.

Received: 11: 40 PM

Alright! I like Marty too.

It's a fun name.

I smiled; grateful they didn't ask why it was so important that they called me by a nickname.

Sent: 11: 41 PM

Thanks for understanding.

So, what's your name?

Received: 11: 42 PM

My name is Jack!

I grinned to myself. I'd made me a friend. I just couldn't wait to get to know him.

Sent: 11: 43 PM

Heya, Jack!

It’s nice to meet you!

I think this is the beginning of a wonderful friendship.

Received: 11: 44 PM

I agree, Marty. We are going to be great friends!

Sent: 11: 45 PM

So, what's your favorite movie?

And just like that, we talked until the sun came up. And suddenly, for the first time in quite a while, I wasn't completely alone.

***

"Hey, uh, Jack? We're back!"

Sam's voice drifted in from just outside Jack's bedroom door. Jack was surprised. He hadn't heard the brothers come in which, for him, was quite peculiar.

The door creaked open and Jack hastily attempted to pretend like he hadn't been using the phone.

He failed.

Miserably.

The device slipped from his hand and he fumbled to catch it before it smashed against the grey, polished concrete floor. He let out a sigh of relief as he snatched it just in time.

Sam peered around the door, checking in on Jack, who was now hanging halfway off his bed and clutching the phone. Scrambling to sit upright, Jack gave Sam a half-panicked smile.

"Hi Sam!" He waved a greeting, shoving his phone behind his back. Sam raised his eyebrows in a questioning expression and stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him. He folded his arms and leaned back on his heels.

"Hey Jack," Sam seemed a little distracted, "Have you seen Cas?" He asked. Jack shook his head vigorously.

"He's not back yet," He answered. Sam nodded and started to leave before stopping and turning back. Only now seeming to notice Jack's odd behavior. Sam gestured at the phone hidden behind the boys back,

"So, what were you doing in here just now?" Jack's eyes flew wide as quarters and his gaze shifted rapidly around the room, focusing on anywhere but Sam. His mind was working overtime trying to find a viable excuse.

"Uhhhh...Nothing!" Jack tried; his brain had gone blank. Sam raised an eyebrow.

"You sure about that?" Sam leaned forward a little, narrowing his eyes. Jack leaned back to match; his face scrunched up with the guilt he was trying very hard to hide. Everyone in the bunker knew how terrible Jack was at lying. He might be able to pass a few simple fibs by a stranger, but his family saw through him like he was made of glass. He couldn't deceive them. But that didn't stop him from trying, however.

"Yes..." Jack said slowly, his eyebrows pulling together in a rather sad attempt at looking sincere.

"Jack, what were you doing?" Sam asked more sternly. Jack looked at his feet and didn't answer. His shoulders moved up and down in a shrug.

"Do I have to go get Dean?" Sam pressed. Now Jack's head shot up. He stretched his hands out in a pleading gesture.

"No, no! Don't tell Dean!" Jack begged. Sam's expression shifted into one of concern.

"If you tell me, I won't tell Dean." Sam agreed, moving to sit on the bed beside Jack who shifted to give him some space. Sam waited patiently for the young Nephilim to speak. Jack kept his head down and rubbed his hands together nervously as he tried to think of how he should explain himself.

"Well, last night I was watching Netflix when I got this text from somebody wishing me a merry Christmas-" He started.

"Someone we know?" Sam asked, interrupting. Jack shook his head and continued.

"I asked them why they would do that, and they said it was because they thought that nobody should be alone this time of year. So, I asked if they were alone and they said, yes ─" Jack looked the younger Winchester in the eyes ─

"I don't know why but I just got this- this feeling, and they sounded just so sad, and now we're friends! But Dean said not to do anything stupid, and now I'm worried that I did! Are you mad?" Jack finished, worry coloring his features. Sam blinked. Once again astounded by the size of the half-angel's heart, he shook his head.

"No, Jack. I'm not mad," He said, softly.

"Really?"

"Really. I think you did a good thing. Everyone needs a friend." Sam patted Jack's shoulder and smiled. Jack looked down, grinning to himself as pride filled his chest.

Sam waited a moment before getting up from the bed. Stretching his back out and groaning a bit as he stood. It had been almost 48 hours since he last slept, and he was more than ready for a long nap. His hand rested on the doorknob and he paused a moment before turning back around.

"Hey, uh, Jack. Just one more thing. Do you by chance know this person's name?" Sam asked. Jack looked up briefly before looking back at the floor again, trying to hide the embarrassment creeping up to stain his cheeks.

"It's, uh, it's Marty," He replied. Sam nodded and moved to leave again but he stopped. His eyebrows pulled down with confusion before he turned back.

"And uh, is that a boy's name or a girl's name? Do you know?" Jack turned his head a bit to the side and picked at a thread in his jeans.

"Does it matter?" He questioned back. Truthfully, it didn't. Sam wouldn't make Jack stop if he didn't want to. But to say that the boy's current evasive behavior didn't pique his interest, would be a lie. Though, the kid’s flushed cheeks told him quite a bit about the answer.

"It doesn't matter," Sam said, shrugging, "I'm just curious is all." The tall man watched the boy's reaction. Jack nodded and shifted as if uncomfortable.

"Marty's a girl." He answered, trying to force his voice into sounding nonchalant. And failing.

"Okay, cool." Sam nodded, turning around again, and reaching for the handle. Jack's head whipped around.

"Wait, Sam!"

Sam looked over his shoulder.

"Hmm?"

"Don't. Tell. Dean!" Jack stressed. Urgency was evident in his voice. Sam huffed a laugh.

"Okay, Jack." With that, Sam pulled open the door and walked out letting the heavy steel swing shut behind him. Behind the door, Jack sighed with relief. He'd dodged a bullet with that one.

Walking a ways down the hall, Sam got to Dean's room where his older brother was now unpacking. The younger brother leaned on the door frame and expelled the laughter he'd been holding on to since Jack’s room. Dean turned around, holding a pistol and a pair of weeks old and hopelessly blood caked socks in his hands, he faced Sam with a questioning look.

"What's got you so giggly all of a sudden?" The older of the brother's asked.

Dean glanced at the pair of socks in his hand. He grimaced at the stench and held them further away from his face, trying not to breathe. It didn't work. The socks odor was so pungent, Dean could smell them through his mouth. There was no hope of washing them. Nope, those things would have to be burned. Though, taking another whiff of them, Dean wasn't sure that even incinerating the socks would do him much good now. The stomach-turning stink would be branded into his memory forever. Sam straightened up, shaking his head of shoulder length hair.

"It's just something Jack said." Sam smiled and laughed again before taking notice of the unholy stench wafting off the socks. He coughed. "Dude, those stink. Bad!"

"Yeah, it's a sad day, Sammy." Dean nodded solemnly. Sam covered his nose.

"Why?"

"These were my second luckiest pair of socks."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Well, they're not anymore," Sam pointed out. Now, they were just rancid.

"I think we should give em' a Viking funeral, something to honor their service. I mean, I remember one time when I wore these things for two weeks straight!" Dean reminisced, grinning. Sam looked mildly disturbed.

"That's, uh... nice... But, uh, is there somewhere we could put them before the funeral? Because they, uh, they reek." Sam was trying hard not to gag and couldn't understand how Dean could be holding them and remain unaffected. Dean smirked.

"You wanna go put em' somewhere?" He asked, waving the socks into Sam's face. Sam leaned away.

"Ah! God! No! Put those things somewhere! Please!" He choked out. Dean just grinned and moved to the other side of the room. Grabbing a cardboard box from off the shelf, he shoved the socks in there and sealed the lid. The stench quickly began to dissipate.

"Better?"

"Yeah, thanks."

"We're gonna have to burn that box too."

"Yup." Sam still felt a little sick but at least the socks were gone.

"So, what was it Jack said that you thought was so funny?" The older brother asked.

"Oh, uh, nothing. It was nothing," Sam said. But laughter began to creep up on him again. Dean rolled his eyes and went back to pulling more dirty clothing from the duffle bag.

"Are ya gonna stand there or are ya gonna spill?" Dean pushed. Sam sobered up again.

"Well, I'm not supposed to tell you," He said.

Dean shook his head, mildly annoyed. He knew Sam was going to tell him whatever juicy information he had gotten, just like he always did when he got that sly look on his face. Sam could be a bit of a schoolgirl that way. Except, of course, when it came to the important things, the things Dean was supposed to know. Those things Sam always kept to himself.

"Well, Sammy, if you ain’t gonna spill─" he used the gun in his hand to gesture from Sam to the duffle bag─ "get workin'."

The younger Winchester moved to the bag and started unpacking, grinning his face off all the while. Dean knew his little brother was waiting for him to ask about the thing with Jack again, so he said nothing. He just waited for Sam to look over to him eagerly, which is exactly what Sam did.

"So get this!" Sam started.

'Here it comes.' Dean predicted internally. Sam kept starring.

'Yatzee.' Dean thought. He knew Sam like the back of his hand. Actually, he probably knew his brother better than that.

"Apparently, Jack got a text from some random person last night wishing him merry Christmas. And, well, you know Jack! So he─" Dean stopped his brother mid-sentence.

"What's her name?" He interrupted. Sam looked confused.

"I didn't say anything about a girl," Sam trailed off. Dean sighed and shook his head.

"Geez, Sammy! If you love drama so much, you should go be an actor. You ain't foolin' anybody. We both know where this is goin' so just cut to the chase!" Dean sighed, opening a trunk and tossing in the gun he'd been holding along with several knives. His small outburst had startled his younger brother, but Dean didn't really care. Sam wasn't the only one who hadn't slept in 48 hours. Sleep was calling and Dean wanted nothing more than to answer. Sam frowned.

"Marty. The girl's name is Marty," Sam stated, sounding rather put out that Dean had guessed at his not-so-cleaver ploy. The older if the pair turned to the younger with a perplexed expression.

"Wait, wait. Marty?" He clarified. Amused disbelief written all over his features.

"Marty," Sam confirmed.

"Marty?"

"Yeah. Marty."

"Like the zebra in Madagascar, Marty?" Dean asked, grinning. Sam nodded.

"Yeah, like that. But remember, you didn't hear anything from me!" He answered, smiling as well. Dean laughed as he turned his attention back to the mess of clothing and weapons surrounding him on the floor.

"Yeah, whatever, drama queen." Dean rolled his eyes and kept working. The room was silent for a moment before the older Winchester burst out laughing again. He couldn't help himself; he found the subject hilarious.

"Ah, man. Marty! Now there's a name!" He exclaimed as he started folding the few clean clothing items laying in the pile. "What? Did her parents just take one look at her and say: 'Look at our beautiful baby! Let's name her Marty!'" Dean scoffed.

Sam snorted and shook his head at his older brother's bad joke. Then he leaned his head back and yawned.

"Man, I think we need some sleep," Sam sighed. Dean smirked.

"Is it your bedtime already?" He taunted, expecting a playful retort. But this time, Sam didn't argue. He just nodded.

"Yeah, I think it is." Though worried about his little brother, Dean held his playful smirk in place perfectly, just like he had been doing for so many years.

"Well, you go ahead and hit the sack. I'll finish up here." He said, easily. Even though he was just as tired and Sam was, he would finish out like always. Sam raised an eyebrow.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, o'course. There's not much left anyway." That was a lie and they both knew it, but Sam took the offer of sleep while it was on the table.

"Thanks, Dean."

"You're welcome, Sammy."

Sam patted his older brother on the arm as he stood and left the room. Traveling down the corridor he got to his bedroom and was out as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Meanwhile, Dean mouthed the strange name of Jack's mystery girl and chuckled about it to himself. Sitting on the floor in his room as he continued folding the rest of the clean clothes, cleaning out all the weapons and putting everything back in its place. The chore took him two more hours to complete but when it was done, he stretched himself out and laid back on his bed.

"Marty. Now, that's hilarious." Dean snickered to himself as he drifted off to sleep.

~I might hate myself tomorrow.

But I'm on my way tonight.

Let's be lonely together.

A little less lonely together~

Lyrics from: Lonely Together by Jasmine Thompson

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willow-salix · 4 years

Text

(Fluffember prompt: Name)

Day 4 of isolation on Tracy Island 2.0

"I don't care, you're coming with me," I told the love of my life, who wasn't looking very happy about it.

"Why me?" he whined, and if you've never heard John whine before, or don't actually believe he's capable of it, let me assure you that he is very capable and it's very pitiful. But I am immune (mostly) and continued to stand my ground.

"Because I can't leave you alone with them, you can't stand up for yourself and they can't be trusted."

"That's not true! I can…" he saw the look on my face as I mouthed 'mattress' and trailed off, admitting defeat. "Fine, but just the one shop."

Now, I know they say never take your husband shopping, but I honestly, TRULY thought that mine would be an exception. He's the organised one, he's the sensible one, the one that correlates all the data and sorts out all their problems.

How wrong I was.

It was actually quite pleasant to be alone for a few hours, it hadn't been that long since I'd made my less than dramatic return to the island but since the world was nowhere near normal we hadn't had that much time to ourselves lately, so I was going to take full advantage.

"What do we need to get?" he asked in that long suffering tone that all husbands adopt when faced with the prospect of a trip around a shop with their woman.

"Not that much," I assured him. I was lying.

"Show me," he ordered, knowing I was lying. Must work on my 'believe me' voice.

I lifted up the list, which unfurled itself into something roughly the length of Alan and watched as his eyes tracked its descent. I also watched the life drained out of them as he faced his doom head on.

"Really?"

I nodded, folding the list back up again. "It won't be that bad," I promised him. "It's one massive shop, we should be able to find everything there."

"Why didn't you take Virgil instead? Why must you torture me?"

"Because you're my man and it's your job, plus I want to spend some alone time with you."

"I can think of much better ways to spend alone time," he grumbled under his breath as he steered the plane towards the landing strip. I declined to comment.

***

"Now, whatever you do, don't wander off," I reminded him, looking up from the list where I had sensibly been highlighting different categories of products so we could hit the different areas in order.

I almost laughed when I saw that my poor, put-upon man was slumped against the plane, hands in his pockets, eyes downcast like he was fully expecting the grim reaper to show up any second and whisk him away from my evil clutches. Keep on dreaming, boy.

"I'm not Alan," he sniffed. "Or Scott, I don't wander off, you wander off."

"I do not!"

"You're the one that didn't tell me you were going to look at the meerkats when we went to the zoo."

"Babe, it's meerkats, you should have known I'd wander off to look at them, that's just common sense. I didn't need to say it."

He looked at me like he thought I had no idea what common sense even was. He's probably right, since I agreed to both marriage and staying on the island again.

"Come on," I held out my hand, wiggling it in invitation, "it won't be that bad."

He sighed and took my hand. "I'm going to regret this, aren't I?"

"Probably. Now, masks on, sanitiser at the ready, grab that trolly for me and let's do this thing."

***

You know how it is when you're mostly in a shopping daze and can't focus on anything but getting in and getting out as quickly as possible? Like you're so focused on the list and making sure you don't forget anything and trying to locate the actual items you need versus the ones you suddenly want and can't do without? That was me.

So it took me a few minutes to realise that I'd lost John. I don't know how it happened, I don't know when and I couldn't say in good faith that he hadn't been kidnapped by aliens, it was that kind of day.

He'd shuffled along behind me, pushing the cart into which I was throwing all manner of things that I could tell he thought were useless and unnecessary. How little he knew.

"You can put some things in too," I reminded him as I tossed a loaf of fruit bread over my shoulder towards the cart. He didn't answer. The bread landed on the floor with a soft flump.

"John?" I turned around but he was gone, the cart too.

"What the heck?" Where was he? I fumbled in my bag for my phone. Where was it? Why was I losing everything important today? I had a sudden mental image of my phone sitting on the coffee pot where I'd propped it while making breakfast, I'd been watching YouTube videos and needed both hands…

"Damn it." I didn't have my comm with me either, I only ever took that out with me when I wasn't home. Which would be now… "DAMN IT!"

In my defence, I hadn't thought that I would actually lose him. I thought he was more sensible than that.

I retraced my steps, going back down four aisles to the place I knew for certain I'd last seen him behind me, pushing the trolly like it was a protective force field against shop workers and old people that didn't know the meaning of social distancing and kept getting up in his face asking him to reach the high shelves for them.

"John?" I called, sticking my head around the corner. Nothing.

"Bugger."

Where the heck could he be?

"Jooooohhhnnnnn!" I yelled a bit louder, starting a full sweep search, marching down the center gap between the aisles and glancing down each one. Nothing.

"Excuse me, young lady."

I skidded to a halt, almost flattening an older man.

"Hi, yes?"

"Have you lost someone?"

"Yep. Lost, one gorgeous ginger dumbass, if found please return to the witch in aisle 26." The man looked at me like I was crazy, but I'm used to it.

"Oh, I thought you might be Mrs Tracy."

"No, Grandma's at home."

He gave me a funny look and I stared right back, I didn't want to be impolite and just walk away but yeah, kinda on a mission here, Grandpa.

It was then that I heard it, a voice coming over the tannoy.

"Can Mrs Tracy please come to lost property at Customer Services."

It's a little surreal to hear someone calling you when you don't expect it and it took a few moments for it to register and my brain to process the information.

The old man looked at me again, head tipped to one side.

My brain clicked over.

"Shhh…ugar! That's me! Lost husband! Thank you," I screamed over my shoulder as I hot footed it to the customer service desk.

"Hi," I gasped, slightly out of breath (it's a very large store) "you…called," I gestured up to the ceiling and circled my finger like that would make sense to anyone but me. "Tracy…" I slumped, panting.

"Oh," the lady at the desk finally lost the blank look on her face, figuring out what I meant. "He's in the lost child room."

I frowned, the what now?

I dutifully followed behind the counter and through the door marked 'employees only'.

"A customer found him standing alone in the bread aisle looking confused and lost so they alerted us."

She pushed open the door to a cheery yellow room with dancing clowns on the walls that looked like they wanted to eat my soul.

"I'm sorry, I think there's been a mistake, I haven't lost a ch-" I stopped dead, blinking to make sure I was indeed seeing this correctly.

"Where have you been?" John demanded.

He was sitting forlornly on a chair that was so small it looked like it should have belonged in a doll house. His knees were higher than his chest. Some helpful soul had given him a colouring book but he'd ignored it although he was wearing a sticker that told me that he had been a super brave boy.

"You left me!"

"I did not!"

"I turned around and you were gone! I tried to call and Scott answered!"

"My phone's at home."

"I know that now! Because you abandoned me!"

"I…I…" I splutted, not knowing what to say to that.

"May I suggest a leash next time," the woman from the counter said as I dragged him to his feet. I couldn't tell with her mask on, but I'm pretty sure she was smirking.

"Babe, you're fine, it's just a mega shop."

"It's hell."

"You're being dramatic."

"I'm never coming shopping with you again," he grumbled as I thanked the lady and towed him back into the shop.

I have no idea where he lost the trolly, neither does he. I bought him a sausage roll in the cafe to appease him, leaving him there with his phone while I shopped on my own. Some things are just not worth the hassle. But I do know that next time someone calls my name in a shop, I'll pay attention.

#john tracy #thunderbirds in isolation #isolation island #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds 2015 #thunderbirds #witch #thunderbirds fanfiction

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