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wrens-writings · 22 days

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Pretty Boy

: ̗̀➛ Jason Grace x clearsighted mortal!gn!reader

: ̗̀➛ In which you witness something horrible and wake up wishing it was just a dream, only to be met with the prettiest man you’ve ever laid your eyes on

: ̗̀➛ oh my gods??? hi??? yall absolutely ATE UP my percy fic??? i was actually SO nervous abt posting my writing, but the positive feedback made me so happy :,) also yes, this is set during HoH. do i care? no! piper is a gay icon and im sorry but i clocked in IMMEDIATELY that she wasn’t straight. my gaydar is just THAT good. also, i’m not entirely the biggest fan of this piece, but i believe in posting what i make. i use it as progress markers :)

: ̗̀➛ WARNINGS: probably out of character, near allusions to a panic attack (mr stapler eater thwarts it quickly 😌), jason being FINE.

‘oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!’ you think to yourself as you stare, unable to tear your eyes away from the Neptune statue that you frequently found yourself at this summer.

you watch as two weird furry things giggle and laugh at two boys. you don’t understand any of what’s happening right now, but you do know that whatever those weird ass creatures are, they stole the boys belongings.

you’ve never been the type to just let people get harassed, even if you don’t know them, or if their harassers are… four foot tall furry things… “hey! those don’t belong to you!” you growl at the creatures, stepping out of the shadows of the alleyway and approaching the broken fountain.

you let out a startled squeak as the shorter boy lights his hands on fire out of shock and defence when you approach. the sound that left your body as well as the EVERYTHING happening around you somehow distracted you from the telltale feeling of lightning preparing to strike on you.

in a flash, golden cords extend from Neptunes fingers, wrapping mostly around the blond boy. one of them misses the brunet, only to latch itself onto you.

just as you’re caught up in the tight golden cords, your body pressed tightly against the blond boy’s, a bolt of lightning strikes Neptunes trident, and suddenly the world went black.

vaguely, you can hear someone telling you to wake up, almost as if they were in a panic. thinking it was your mother trying to tell you that you’re going to be late for school, despite it being july, you curl yourself tighter into the nearest surface.

‘wait a damn minute…’ you think to yourself briefly. ‘this… this isn’t my pillow or my blanket…’

your eyes fly open, and are met with the clearest blue you’ve ever seen. theyre so blue that you weren’t sure if you were looking at the sky for a split second. and then it all comes rushing back.

“oh my god!” you cry, your voice shaking with confusion. it was real? why did it have to be real? why couldn’t this whole thing have just been a dream??

the pretty blond boy was clearly panicking a bit himself. “hey! hey! calm down, it’s okay!” he says over your panicky breathing. “my name is Jason. everything is oka— breathe, dude oh my gods calm down?!”

well that snapped you out of it.

“excuse me?!” you snap, your eyes narrowing with distaste. “don’t you tell me to calm down when i’m hanging upside down with some himbo lookin’ ass who’s acting like this is a regular ole thursday!”

the boy, Jason, bites his lip to stifle a laugh. if he wasn’t so damn attractive, you would’ve been incredibly offended. “sorry.” he giggles.

as you study his face, your own softens slightly. Jason didn’t portray it with his heart on his sleeve, but looking deeper into those mesmerizing clear blue eyes, you could see the horrors. something tells you that he doesn’t get to let loose very often.

“y/n.” you say, much softer than before. “my name is y/n.”

Jason smiles, and the small scar on his lip twitches. briefly, you wonder what the story behind it is. “it’s nice to meet you, y/n. i’m Jason. i wish it could’ve been under better circumstances.” he offers kindly.

you scoff and roll your eyes with a hint of fondness. “yea yea. you know how to get us out of this, Pretty Boy?” you ask with a small, slightly nervous smile.

Jason chokes, clearly not expecting the compliment. “er- yea. uh, just… don’t freak out when i pull out my sword.” he says sheepishly.

your eyes widen. sword?! before you even realize it, there’s a satisfying shrng! of metal in the air. Jason’s golden blade cuts through the cords that hold the two of you up and you tumble to the ground.

you wince and cradle your head. “ow…” you murmur, a frown on your lips.

despite you CLEARLY being in pain, Jason laughs at you softly. he offers you his hand to help you up, and with a shy smile, you take it. “these streets probably aren’t that safe right now… let me walk you back to… er… wherever you came from?” he offers kindly.

you can’t help but chuckle now yourself. “oh, sure, let’s walk to america.” you say with a snort as you begin to walk down the pretty streets of italy with an equally pretty boy. “won’t your friend need help, though?”

Jason shrugs your worry off. “nah, Leo’s fine. he’s as resourceful as they come.” he tells you with a smirk.

you nod and continue walking. “so i assume that there’s a reason i could see those weird things?” you ask softly, almost afraid of the answer.

Jason nods stiffly. he opens his mouth to answer you, but you don’t hear it. you’re too busy staring at him. at those clear, electric blue eyes that are shielded by a pair of glasses and hide so much pain. his soft looking pink lips and the scar along them. his windswept blond hair, as though he’d been flying through the sky without any protection. the way he talks and walks, as if he’s been trained his whole life to be a diplomat.

jesus christ, this boy is pretty as they come.

when you finally tear your eyes away from him, you frown. you’re somehow at the home your family has rented for the summer. already?

“thank you, for walking me back.” you say to him shyly as you look back into his gorgeous eyes.

Jason’s cheeks light pink, just barely, but enough that you can see. “of course. it’s no problem.” he responds as he rubs the back of his head nervously. “take care of yourself, okay, y/n?”

you nod and say your farewells, watching him as he turns and runs back the way you walked, intent on finding his friend. you wonder if you’ll ever see him again, if the fates will ever allow you to cross paths with such a beautiful person ever again.

your eyes fall as you watch him leave, but snap back up quickly. damn! he has a nice ass, too…

#ೃ⁀➷ wrens writings #ೃ⁀➷ wrens ramblings #ೃ⁀➷ wrens tidbits #jason grace x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson and the heroes of olympus #house of hades #pjo

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whiskey-tango-matcha · 1 month

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Hard to Shake (M, cold)

Woof, that was too long of a hiatus. I'm back with some Greyson sickfic! In this, Greyson has a one night stand and ends up 'running into' his hookup in a not-so-stellar way. This was a fun write, I'm feeling a little rusty after taking a couple months off writing but I hope you all like it. Please let me know what ya think, good, bad or indifferent! :)

CW: M snz, colds, contagion, coughing, some M/M romance but nothing above PG-13 lol. 5k words (it's a slow burn, shocker, I know)

Hard to Shake

The club was dark, humid, and loud as fuck - just the way he liked it.

“I’ll get us drinks,” Matt said, disappearing into the crowd to push towards the bar without waiting on Greyson’s response. Not that he would have stopped his counterpart; Matt had a boyfriend waiting for him at the end of this black hole of a night. Greyson, alternatively, was on the prowl for a bed, and someone to share it with.

They had begun the night at two pm, just an hour after brunch ended, since the only way to get a proper buzz on a Sunday was to start early as hell. Elijah had closed the restaurant early – “We’ve had ten guests all day. It’s too damn hot for brunch, and I want to go home” – and Mark was currently on a plane home from England after a week spent with family; it was like the universe was begging them to go out.

The restaurant’s reservations had been capped at a tiny number the next two days to prepare for their food writer dinner on Wednesday, and Greyson was so nervous about this career-shaping dinner that he could barely keep himself from lapsing into panic attacks at the slightest provocation; it was Matt who insisted on the bender.

“We haven’t gone on a good one since Mark and I got together,” the sous chef had said after service. “And you need a drink, you're acting like a psycho.”

Greyson, never one to deny himself a good binge drink, had taken the bait and allowed himself to be paraded through the city for the rest of the day. Now, at eleven pm and with Mark back at his and Matt's place safe and sound, Greyson could feel the night coming to a close. Time to round it out with a good old-fashioned one-night-stand.

Without waiting for Matt to return with the drinks, Greyson sashayed onto the dance floor and began grinding on whoever seemed the most into it – he ground on a group of drunk men, twirled between two gorgeous women who laughed giddily through the song, and put his tongue into so many people’s mouths that he lost count. Of course it was fun; it always was. But the hunt for a bed partner had proven, thus far, unsuccessful.

“There you are,” Matt slurred, coming up behind his boss and shoving a whiskey into his hand. “Why do you always run off? I’m about three seconds away from getting you one of those toddler-leash backpacks.”

“Makin’ friends, Matty boy,” Greyson said, chugging his drink and slamming the glass onto the closest table he could find. “Some of us don’t have the luxury of goin’ home to a warm, naked man in our bed.” Greyson elbowed Matt playfully and the younger man rolled his eyes.

“Fair ‘nough,” he said, sipping his drink. “Hey, actually, I saw someone who was exactly your type back near the bar. Talkin’ about food and everything.” Greyson raised his eyebrows, intrigued, and Matt looped his arm into his boss’s and led him back towards the horseshoe-shaped bar. “Let’s see if we can’t get you fucked to sleep.”

Matt pushed the two of them through the crowd, his head on a swivel, until finally he spotted the man he’d been talking about. “There he is,” Matt said, pushing Greyson towards the bar. “Do your thing.”

The sous hadn’t lied; this man was quintessential Greyson’s type. Shorter than his six-foot-three-inches by about half a foot, perfect skin, hair coiffed in a way that just smelled of total pretentious douchebag, and a full blazer and dress pants at the club. Oh yeah, Greyson thought, pulling the elastic out of his sandy curls and shaking them to fall around his shoulders, there’s the rest of my evening.

“Hi,” Greyson said, pushing himself in front of whoever the guy had been talking to before. “Can I buy you a drink?”

***

In his defense, he hadn't known the condition of the man he'd left with until they got to his apartment. The club had been dark; he could barely hear the sound of his own voice, let alone the wheeze of someone else’s. And he’d been really, really drunk.

“Hh-! EISHH-oo! ISHH-oo!” The man – Reed, Greyson had learned his name was – curled into his elbow to sneeze as he pushed open the door to his apartment. “Shit, pardon mbe,” he muttered, clearing his throat and beckoning Greyson in. The chef, blasted as he was, simply ignored Reed’s constant sneezing.

“Now, where were we?” Greyson purred, pawing the back of Reed’s head and pulling it into his own. The two stood in the entry of Reed’s apartment – a truly incredible fifteenth-story one-bedroom in the Upper East Side with its own doorman – making out until Reed had to pull away to catch his breath.

“Shit,” he said again, panting, “sorry. Thought the worst of this fuckin’ cold was behind mbe but – ISHHOO! Snrf. Apparently ndot.” He wiped his nose on the back of his hand and cringed. “I understand if you don’t want to stay,” he said, giving Greyson an apologetic look.

Greyson remained unfettered. “Reed,” he said, taking a step back towards the other man. “Stop talking. And get in bed.”

Reed’s face colored. He opened his mouth to say something, but Greyson cut him off with another kiss.

“What did I just say?” Greyson asked, taking off his t-shirt and unbuttoning Reed’s expensive-looking button down. “Get in the bed -” - he yanked the shirt off the smaller man and licked him, navel to collar bone, prompting a moan - “- and let me take care of you.”

To his credit, Reed did as he was told. He did as he was told all night long.

***

“Lij, I don’t want to alarm you.”

“Greyson, I don’t want to hear it. Zip it. I’m being so serious right now.”

“I don’t want to alarm you,” Greyson repeated, slamming the rest of the bottle of Pedialyte and holding onto the prep table as if for dear life, “but I think I may be dying. I think I may need you to call me an ambulance.”

Elijah swung his chair around and strode towards the chef. He took the sunglasses Greyson had placed on his face the moment he walked inside the bright kitchen and tossed them across the room. He regarded the chef with an annoyance usually reserved for parents of crying toddlers at Disneyland.

“Your drinking antics, Grey, are what most people would describe as ‘a you problem’. You decide to get unreasonably wasted and then come in to prep one of the biggest dinners of your career? That’s a you problem. I don’t want to hear it. The only thing I want to hear is your knife going into and out of different types of food.”

“Does that mean you don’t want to hear about the incredibly hot guy I hooked up with last night?” Greyson asked, a smile blooming at his lips. Elijah, despite himself, felt his eyebrows raise halfway up his face.

“But you haven’t slept with anyone in months,” he said, annoyed at himself for taking the bait but too curious to stop himself from saying anything. “I thought you were on a self-imposed time-out?”

Greyson shrugged, pushed his hair into a bun at the top of his head, and secured it with an elastic. “I was,” he said. “But - and you’re not going to believe this, but it’s true – I am finally feeling… I dunno. Healed?”

“Healed?” Elijah asked, snorting. “I think you’ve been taking too many hot yoga classes. Like, spiritually healed?”

Greyson tipped his head back and forth, considering. “Kind of,” he said. “Like… ready. Moved on from Collin. Prepared to get back out there for real, not in a self-punishing way.”

Elijah whistled, long and low. “Wow,” he said, patting Greyson’s back. “Well, congrats, man. A little over a year and you’re finally back on your feet. That’s actually quite impressive.”

“Thanks,” Greyson laughed, shoving Elijah playfully. “I was also really drunk and you know nothing stops drunk-Greyson when he decides he’s going to sleep with someone.”

“There it is,” Elijah said, rolling his eyes and laughing. “So… tell me about him. Did you get his name?”

Greyson dead-panned his boss as he pulled knives out of his bag and cracked his neck. “Yes, I got his name, Elijah. That’s what healed people do, they get people’s names before sleeping with them, and I am, as previously stated, healed.”

Elijah flipped the chef off lazily, non-committal. “Well, out with it then,” he said. “What’s his name? Tell me about the night.”

“His name is Reed Parker, and we fucked til the sun came out,” Greyson said simply, laughing at his own gregariousness. He looked up when he realized that Elijah wasn’t laughing – in fact, his face had gone stark-white. “What?”

“Reed Parker?” Elijah asked, pulling out his phone. “You’re sure that’s his name?”

“Umm, according to him at least, yeah,” Greyson said, unwrapping a pan with a cleaned striploin in it. “Why, do you know him?”

“No,” Elijah said, pushing his phone towards Greyson. “But if that’s him, we’re going to know him in two days.”

Greyson looked down at the phone and felt the wave of nausea he’d been holding back all morning wash over him – oh. Oh, no.

Pulled up on Elijah’s phone was an Instagram post from The Foodie Society – a group of well-acclaimed food critics and writers in the city. The group that was hosting a dinner at Elliot’s in two days. The group that would likely be the deciding factor in whether Greyson got nominated for a James Beard award this year.

We are so excited to announce Reed Parker, writer of the extremely popular food blog, ‘Eat Like You Mean It’, as our newest Foodie Society member! Reed has been a prolific writer and food critic in the city for nearly five years, and we are so delighted to have him aboard. Can’t wait to collaborate with you, Reed!

Above the blurb was a photo of – undoubtedly – the man that Greyson had slept with the night before. He looked markedly healthier in the photo, and his hair was a little longer, but there wasn’t any was it wasn’t him. Greyson swallowed hard.

“Oh… shit,” Greyson muttered, lowering himself to the floor. “Oh, no.”

“Maybe he was drunk, too?” Elijah said, the panic clear in his voice. “Maybe he won’t remember?” Elijah kneeled down next to Greyson, trying to console him. “Hey, Grey, it’s alright. Obviously you guys didn’t know who the other one was. It’s not like he’s going to think you slept with him to get the nomination. It was just drunk sex. Right?”

“He gave me an out,” Greyson muttered, shaking his head. He looked up at Elijah, eyes wild. “Maybe he did know, or maybe he figured it out on the walk back to his place, because he gave me a fuckin’ out.”

“What do you mean?” Elijah asked, pulling Greyson back to his feet. The chef stood, but placed his head in his hands and his elbows on the prep table, as if to steady himself.

“He was getting over some sort of sickness, and he said he’d understand if I didn’t want to stay. He basically told me to get out and I just… fuck. I told him I didn’t care, and I stayed the night. Shit. I’m never going to get nominated now. There’s no fucking way.” Greyson rubbed both hands down his face and shook his head in disbelief. “I fucked myself.”

“Greyson,” Elijah said, taking his friend’s chin and lifting it so their eyes met. “You didn’t fuck yourself. Okay? He didn’t know it was you. It was a mistake, and also he’s brand new there, it’s not like he’s THE deciding factor. Just – wait, did you say he was sick?”

Greyson, his chin still in Elijah’s fingers, looked away from his boss with just his eyes. “Uhh… I mean, yeah, kind of, I guess. He had some sort of cold, I think.”

“You purposely slept with someone who was sick three days before this huge dinner?”

“Umm… did I mention I was really drunk?”

Elijah sighed loudly and threw his hands in the air. “Never a dull fuckin’ moment with you, is there?” he mumbled, storming into the office and pillaging through their medicine cabinet. He returned a moment later with Emergen-C and Airborne in his hands. “Take those.”

“Yes, sir,” Greyson muttered, pulling them to his side of the table. “Sorry.”

“I think it’s crazy that out of all the millions of people you probably saw yesterday, the one you just so happened to pick is a food writer who could decide your future fate who also had a fucking cold. There wasn’t a single other person in the city you could sleep with?”

“Apparently not,” Greyson muttered, pouring Emergen-C into his water bottle. Elijah took a deep breath before continuing.

“Let’s just… let’s try to get through the next couple days,” he said, heading back to the office. “I am glad you want to get back out there,” he continued from afar, “just maybe give them a cursory Google before you bang them next time. Okay?”

Greyson, completely deflated, just nodded. He swallowed and thought he could already feel a twinge of a sore throat, which would just figure. His dick had sealed his fate. Fuck.

***

Tuesday, May 12

NEW MESSAGE

Matt

3:53pm

r u almost back??? idk how much longer I can handle them at each others throats.

Mark

3:58pm

On my way back now! Are they at each other’s throats again?? I thought they were over it..

Matt

3:59pm

has elijah ever REALLY been over smthn..? & greyson’s going down fast af so hes pissy.

Mark

4:02pm

It seemed like he was in the downward slide when I left...ugh. ok, I’ll be back in 15!

“We are ndot,” Greyson said from behind his sous chef, “at each other’s throats.”

Matt jumped at the sound of his boss’s voice and quickly clicked his phone screen off. “Don’t read my private texts, Chef, that’s rude.”

Greyson shrugged and pulled a tissue out of the box on the desk next to Matt. “Don’t talk shit about your boss and you don’t have to worry about mbe being ruuhh – huh! Hh...IGTSZHH-ue! Hh-NTSHZH-ue!” Greyson crumpled into the jacket he’d pulled over his chef’s coat to sneeze. His hair fell over his face, blocking the grimace he hid as he sucked in through his nose.

“Bless you, moron,” Elijah called from the dining room. Greyson rolled his eyes so hard he felt it splinter in his head. Matt winced when he saw Greyson shudder with pain, and stood from the desk.

“The prep sheets for tomorrow are all written, Chef, tell me how I can help you,” he said, guiding Greyson into the chair. Greyson allowed himself to be sat down, despite his better judgment.

“I feel pretty good about -”

“You feel pretty good? Is that a joke?” Elijah asked, pushing through the swinging kitchen doors and leaning on the office door frame. Greyson gave his boss the dirtiest look he could muster and turned back to Matt without a word to his boss.

“I feel confident about the first three courses for tomborrow’s dinner, but the steak and dessert I feel like we’re way behind. Plus I have ndo idea how the guys are looking for service tondight, so pick which one of those you’d rather tackle and I’ll – hhuh! Hh...HUHESTZHH-ue! Fuck, snrf.” Greyson grabbed another tissue and blew his nose before finishing. “I’ll do the other onde.”

Matt nodded while Elijah stood wordlessly in the doorway. “I’ll get with the guys and help them with tonight, make sure it goes smooth,” he said. Greyson nodded back and his sous looked away and scurried towards the line. Elijah, in stark contrast, pushed past Greyson and sat at the other end of their shared desk, unwilling to look away from the mess that was the executive chef.

“How ya feeling?” he asked finally. Greyson pulled another tissue out of the box just in time.

“HRTSHH-ue!” he sneezed into the tissue and let a tickling flurry of coughs escape as well. Elijah sighed, looked into the kitchen, and reached past Greyson to shut the door to their office.

“How are you feeling,” he asked again. “Seriously.”

Greyson sighed wheezily and pulled a hand down his face. “Honestly?” he said, looking Elijah in the eye, “like fuckin’ shit.”

Elijah sighed as well. “You seemed okay when you came in this morning,” he said, as though it mattered.

“I felt okay this mborning,” Greyson admitted. “I mean, I felt like it was coming but I definitely didn’t feel this… shitty.” He shrugged. “It just… I don’t kndow. Hit mbe out of nowhere.”

Elijah nodded. “I mean, if you want to leave so you’re good for tomorrow, you know I’ll understand.” Greyson just scoffed.

“I have so mbuch shit to do before tomborrow,” he said, sucking in through his nose and coughing again. “There’s ndo way in hell.”

They sat in silence for a few moments, until Elijah sighed. “Fuck, Greyson. I’m really sorry.” He looked up at his friend, the true pity evident on his face. “I know how important this dinner is to you. It’s still going to be great, okay? If you need to par it down, do it. It’s not like they know what’s on the menu til tomorrow. I’m cutting off reservations tonight so you can go home early, okay? We’re going to make this work.”

Greyson had to set his jaw to keep from tearing up. “It’s mby own damn fault,” he said. “Ndo need to baby mbe – hh...HTSHH-ue! HRTSHH! NTSHH! Huh! Huhhh-ETSZHHH-uee!” Greyson collapsed into his own lap, lapsed into coughs again. Elijah handed him a water bottle, which he took the cap off of while wiping his nose with the other hand.

“Can we go back to you being a dick to mbe?” Greyson asked, his voice rough. “That I can handle.”

Elijah pressed his lips together to keep from smiling. “Sure, Chef. Get your lazy ass up and start prepping,” he joked, pushing Greyson’s arm lightly. “Sitting is for the weak.”

Greyson smirked, an attempt at a laugh that wouldn’t make him cough. “Thanks, Lij,” he said. “Let’s get this stupid fuckigg show on the road.”

***

Course One

Compressed Cantaloupe

tarragon | smoked sea salt | brown butter crumble

Reed sat in the cushy, velvet chair and attempted to make himself comfortable. He hoped beyond hope that this dinner would go as quickly as humanly possible.

After their little rendevouz at the club, of course Reed had looked Greyson up; in this day and age, who wouldn’t look up their previous night’s partner, if only to make sure they weren’t some sort of psycho killer. And after he looked him up, of course he realized that oh. It was that Greyson Abbott. The same one whose food he was about to be poised in front of. The one who he and his fellow writers gathered around this table were tasked with deciding whether or not he was worthy of a Beard nod.

Of course.

Reed shifted in his seat and cleared his throat. The other writers had started talking immediately and, this being his first dinner with them, he was feeling awkward and left out. He really could have used the distraction of talking about their craft, but apparently he would have to earn a word tossed in his direction. This was going to be a long evening.

At least the restaurant is beautiful, Reed thought to himself. He’d never been to Elliot’s before, and now he was kicking himself for it. The wrap-around bar, the view of the park, the chandeliers… everything was gorgeous. He just wished he wasn’t here with these people, under the circumstance that his fling was in the kitchen plating up. That put a bit of a damper on things.

“Good evening,” a husky voice came from the head of the table, and Reed whipped his head to see a gorgeous plate of food placed in front of him, and the absolute god of a man he’d slept with a few days before standing just feet from him. Reed swallowed hard.

“I’mb Greyson,” Greyson said, and Reed immediately clocked the congestion in his voice. So you did give him that cold. Asshole, Reed chided himself. Greyson attempted to clear his throat before continuing.

“If you’ll excuse mby voice, I’mb at the tail end of a cold,” he continued, and Reed felt his face flame. Tail end, he thought. Yeah, sure.

“Our first course is compressed cantaloupe,” Greyson said. “I hope you enjoy. Pardon mbe, I have to get back to screaming at mby cooks.”

The group laughed in earnest as the chef walked away. Reed, too embarrassed to even look at the other writers, just picked up his fork and gathered a bite on it. He stuck it in his mouth and closed his eyes.

Christ, Reed thought, he cooks as well as he fucks.

Course Two

Hamachi

yuzu pearls | grapefruit | coconut crème

“I swear to God, Mbatt, what is goigg on?” Greyson yelled the moment he walked back into the kitchen. “We’re already behind, and none of the hamachi is on the plates yet? Can we please get it the fuck together che – ehh! HhITSZHH-uh! HRITSZHH-ue!”

Greyson yanked his chef’s coat over his nose and mouth and ducked away from the plates. The cooks called, “Bless, Chef,” and Elijah came up behind him with Sudafed – “The good shit, from behind the pharmacist counter,” he’d promised Greyson earlier, when he made an emergency trip to Walgreens for medicine – and popped two into his hand.

“I just took two,” Greyson croaked, sucking in through his nose.

“Well, it sounds like they’ve already worn off,” Elijah countered. Greyson swallowed the pills and coughed. “Is he out there?”

“Of course he’s out there, Lij, did you think he’d cancel because of mbe?” Greyson said, washing his hands and heading towards the pass to place hamachi on plates. “Like you said, hopefully he doesn’t remember.”

“Hard to forget a giant, loud, blonde buffoon who’s sporting the cold you just got over,” Elijah murmured, and Greyson flipped him off. “Just saying,” Elijah said.

“I don’t have timbe to think about him,” Greyson said, swallowing painfully. “I can’t think about anything but this.”

Elijah nodded. “You’re right,” he said. “Let me jump in with the pearls.”

Course Three

Lamb Lollipop

harissa | mint chutney | bbq ‘chip’

“Pretty incredible, right?”

These were the first words uttered to Reed all night, said moments after the third course was placed in front of him and seconds after Greyson disappeared back into the kitchen. Reed could see him dip into an elbow to sneeze before he made it back to the kitchen. He cringed; poor guy. This was all his fault.

“Reed?”

The writer who’d spoken to him waved a hand in front of his face to snap him out of his stupor. Reed pulled his head back to the table and smiled. “Really incredible,” he said. “I mean, this guy has talent.”

“For sure,” the other writer said. “I mean, he’s been hoping for a Beard nod for years.”

“Yeah?” Reed asked, hungry for any bit of lore he could get about Greyson. The other writer dug into his lamb as he nodded.

“About five years,” he said. “The menu is deemed as one of the best in the city, and he changes it every single day. I mean, the guy’s an animal.”

Reed nodded slowly. He could only imagine how hard Greyson had worked, how nervous he was, especially with Reed's stupid ass sitting here to judge him. Especially when Greyson was sick as a dog.

“That he is,” Reed said, and he took another incredible bite.

Course Four

Rutabaga Tart

fennel | feta | cured egg yolk

“Matt can put these on the plates, Chef,” Elijah said, putting a hand on Greyson’s back. “Take a quick break before you have to talk to them again. Drink some water. Blow your nose.”

Greyson shook his head, pushed the flop sweat off his forehead. “This is mby shot. These are mby plates,” he said, his voice just above a whisper. “I’mb here until the end.”

Elijah pressed his lips together and flashed Matt a look. The sous chef just raised his eyebrows and gave a little shrug. Once Greyson was like this… well, there was certainly no arguing with him.

“Okay,” Elijah said. “I’ll make you some tea, then.”

“Thank you, Lij,” Greyson managed, before ducking under the pass to sneeze into the collar of his chef’s coat. “God, fuck, I’mb gonna have to throw this thing away after this.”

“More like burn it,” Matt countered, prompting the first laugh from Greyson all evening.

“Burn it is right,” Greyson said. “HHITSZHH-ue!”

Course Five

Striploin

deconstructed bearnaise | white asparagus | duxelle

The fifth course was placed in front of them, and the writers looked up expectantly at Greyson.

“Forgive mbe,” Greyson said, his voice strained to a whisper. “I’ve yelled mbyself out in the kitchen, so mby number-two will introduce your last two courses.”

The writers tutted or laughed and looked over towards the sous chef – everyone except Reed. Reed was staring at Greyson, hoping he could hear his thoughts. I’m sorry you’re sick. I’m sorry I’m here. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

The sous finished the description and the writers began to eat once again. Reed was sure he could hear the younger chef say to Greyson, “Just one more, Chef,” as they walked back to the kitchen.

Reed sighed and took a bite of his steak. He closed his eyes; perfection.

He did not deserve to be here.

Course Six

Matcha Milk Bombe

coffee | pastry crumb

Greyson placed the final pastry onto the final plate and turned away to cough as the servers brought his final plate of food to the critics. He felt like he was attending his own funeral.

“I don’t think I can go out there again, Lij,” Greyson said, shaking his head and crouching down on the ground. “I can’t look at all of themb, I’ve embarrassed myself enough.”

“You haven’t embarrassed yourself at all, Grey,” Elijah promised, pushing Greyson’s sweaty hair out of his face. “But I understand if you’re too exhausted. I’ll go out for the last one, thank them all for being here.”

“Please,” Greyson said. Elijah nodded, stood, and left the kitchen to meet the writers, while Matt nodded towards the office.

“Go,” he said to his boss. “Sit. You did it.”

Greyson shook his head. “Gotta clean mbyself up first,” he said, standing and moving towards the kitchen doors. “I’mb using the damn guest bathroom, fuck those pretentious assholes.”

Matt laughed in earnest. “You’ve earned it for sure, Chef.”

Greyson slipped into the guest bathroom, hoping no one saw him, and locked himself in a stall. Finally, he sat down and let himself go.

“HITSHH-ue!” Greyson sneezed into the open, then quickly grabbed a handful of toilet paper to keep from becoming the restaurant’s biggest biohazard. “HTTSHH! IIITZSCHUE! Huh! Hh…. huh, huhhh… huhhETSZHHH-ue! Huh! HRRRSHHH! Fuuuck mbe.” Greyson blew his nose, beyond exhaustion. He felt like shit. He knew he looked like shit. He’d put out shit food, he’d been in a shit mood… this whole thing was just… shit.

Finally, feeling a little more cleared out, Greyson flushed the toilet paper and unlocked the stall. When he exited, he nearly jumped out of his skin. There, in the doorway, was his fling - Reed.

“Jesus,” Greyson said, placing a hand on his chest. “Give a guy a fuckin’ heart attack.”

Reed shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, then let Greyson by to wash his hands. “Sorry,” he said, “I didn’t mean to scare you. Bless you. By the way.”

Greyson huffed out a laugh. “Thangks,” he said, drying his hands. “Sombe cold you’re passing around town. Shouldn’t you be finishing your meal? Or was it so bad you’re here to hock it back up?”

“It was incredible,” Reed said earnestly. “Truly, Greyson. Thank you. I… I’m sorry. For being here, for getting you sick, I – I didn’t know that this place was… um… yours.”

“Mmm, more Elijah’s than mbine,” Greyson mumbled, looking away from Reed’s face. “But, uh… thank you. Glad you enjoyed. Hopefully it's ndot for nothing.”

"I don't think it will be. They all had nothing but good things to say. I'm just the grunt, but I mean...you have my vote. You're... You're incredible," Reed said, the words escaping his mouth before he could even consider what he was saying.

Greyson tried to hide a small smile by looking down. They both stood awkwardly until Greyson cleared his throat. “I, uh… better get back to mby guys,” he said, starting towards the door.

“I had an amazing time the other night,” Reed blurted out suddenly. “I, um… I haven’t stopped thinking about it, actually.”

Greyson smirked, the tension finally broken. “Yeah?” he asked. Reed nodded.

“Yeah,” he said, rubbing his neck awkwardly. “You’re… you’re hard to shake.”

Greyson took a step closer to Reed, looking him in the eye now. He sniffled, rubbed his nose, and crossed his arms, a smile dancing on his lips. “Who are you, Reed Parker?” he asked. Reed’s face flushed bright red.

“I – I don’t know what you mean. I’m a food writer.”

“Mmm,” Greyson nodded. “Well, Reed the food writer who can’t get mbe out of his mind, at the moment I’m a bit, uh… incapacitated. But,” Greyson pulled a Sharpie out of his coat’s side pocket and grabbed Reed’s hand, “if I’m still rattling around in your brain in a few days… give mbe a call.” Greyson coughed into his shoulder, capped the Sharpie, and gave Reed a little smile.

“I will,” Reed said, biting his cheek. “Thank you. For, um… dinner.”

Greyson paused, thinking, then took a bold step towards Reed, grabbed his chin in his hand, and planted a deep kiss on his lips. “It was my pleasure,” he said, and stepped out of the room.

Reed stood, flushed and breathless, for a moment. The kiss sat, swelling his lips, sweeter than any dessert he’d ever had; he looked at the number on his hand, felt his heart catch in his throat.

Greyson Abbott, he thought, looking towards the bathroom door. Holy shit.

#whiskeyswriting #snz #sickfic #snzfic #coldfic #snzblr #snez #male cold #male snz #ooo we have a new character hope you guys are into him bc i have ideas lol #im not a huge fan of the first part of this story but i really like the ending. whatever its fine #we're going with it. idk. i want to post it ive been looking at it for 8 hours so into the ether it goes #happy to be back :)

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angelictrl · 3 years

Note

hii can i request headcanons for shin being around and then being asked out by his crush ? thanks !!

SHIN BEING AROUND AND THEN CONFESSED TO BY HIS CRUSH.

enjoy the long read n lmk if this wasn’t what you wanted ! i can redo with a non death game au !! also goddamn it, i realized i kin the bastard man. my dumb ass was like “huh ? how is this so in character ?” then i realized i projected wayyyy too much and . kinnie moment besties !!11! 😀✌

WARNING ;; spoilers, spoilers, SPOILERS - up to chapter 2 p2 - and angst 🤙

SHIN TSUKIMI/SOU HIYORI

at first, he’s not sure how to go about getting a crush. i mean, you guys are in a death game, he can’t go getting attached to people like this. especially not in a romantic context ... he’s got to do everything in his power to stay away from you. that’s the key to survival.

in the beginning, he’s polite and even a bit playful, being awfully keen on giving you compliments here and there, but he tries desperately to keep you at an arm’s length despite his friendly act.

being thrusted into the death game was an eye opener for him, and he became a lot more hypervigilant and paranoid due to it. thanks to this, he quickly takes note of his feelings and acknowledges them, but that doesn’t mean that he accepts them. at least, not willingly.

when his “true nature” is revealed during the main game, he’ll disregard his feelings for you and rope you in with the others. after all, he’s the one with the lowest percentage. at least you even have a higher score - no matter what it might be - and at this point, he’s mainly running on jealousy and frustration as everyone turns their back on him for being cautious.

if you dare to try and come comfort him during and/or after the trial, he’ll smile sweetly at you, but his words and tone won’t match his expression.

“... you’re quite the stubborn one, aren’t you, mx y/n ? i don’t see how you could be so cheerful and reliant on others in our situation. after all, people are dropping like flies all around us. joe, kai, and professor mishima are all examples of this. aren’t you scared ? ... no ? because ... you have allies ? ... phft. ahaha, that’s funny ... ! sure ... believe what you will naively, but know that in the end, everyone here wants to survive no matter what. and i know that you’re no exception, so stop pretending.”

and then he’ll stare into your eyes blankly, the feeling of resentment strong in his presence no matter your response or expression before swiftly leaving you to ponder on his belittling tone and harsh words.

on a lighter note, he gets extremely nervous around you, but he won’t let it show. the only thing that really does out him is the way that his palms get really sweaty as he begins overheating in his bundles of clothing along with his faint blush coating the tips of his ears, but luckily his beanie covers it up for him.

he’s really pale, so if you’re the type to tease him, he’ll act grumpy so that the red in his face looks as if he's agitated with you. he’ll even throw in an irritated sigh and huff occasionally, but he’s really just shy and not sure how to respond in the situation you two are in.

during the attractions, he subconsciously makes excuses to convince himself to go partner up with you, always trying to point out the qualities you have that would “benefit him so that he could win dilligently.”

normally, he’d go with kanna, but when it’s a more dangerous attraction, he shoos her away saying that “she’d only get in his way because she’s so weak” - not that he’s any stronger himself, but, y’know the deal.

times like these, you’re his go-to partner, and he’ll even scold you sometimes ? like what ??? but whatever, the dude’s trying to show his concern for you discreetly.

“aha, careful now, mx y/n. if you keep accepting these invitations from me so eagerly, who knows when i’ll manipulate you next or leave you to die in an attraction ? you shouldn’t trust so easily. even worse ... i might just think you’ve begun to fall in love with me ... just kidding. now, let’s begin, shall we ? after you.”

you could consider doing an attraction with him like a date. a very life-threatening and anxiety-inducing date. he’s not all too strong, but he has a strong premonition, and will make sure you don’t end up getting hurt.

he’s also a lot more smart than the people in your group give him credit for - he’s not just some rude bastard - plus, he tries to lighten the mood when he sees you panicking by trying to cheer you up.

“hey, mx y/n ... don’t seem so pale as if you’ve just seen a ghost, now. we’re almost done, so stop thinking about how far we have left to go and think about how far we’ve gotten.”

if you manage to get hurt anyhow, he’ll silently sit you down in the medical room with safalin and treat your injury himself with a sincere and fixated gaze. it’s a very intimate moment and a rare sight of his true self being exposed before he flashes you his iconic smile afterwards. he’ll jokingly tell you to stop being such a klutz before taking his leave.

nearing the end of the attractions to the subgame is when you ask him out, and he couldn’t feel more conflicted. i mean, hell, he’s fucking in love with you, but it’s at the worst time and in the worst place. though, there’s no good time or place to confess in this hellhole.

he’ll look like a fish out of water searching for words before begrudgingly looking around to make sure no one else is nearby, sighing deeply when the coast is clear. he’ll even take his beanie off his head and ruffle his hair, holding that damn hat to his chest before gazing at you sincerely.

“... mx y/n ... i do ... really like you - that’s the honest truth - but i don’t think being in a relationship at the moment is the best idea. if our feelings get out ... it could be used against us by anyone, and i wouldn’t want that ... for either of us. but - please ... don’t look so down ... when this is all over, i would love to go on a date with you.”

after he shows you the real him, shin, he’ll give you a short and inexperienced yet tender kiss, blushing evidently before snuggly fitting his beanie back on his head and wishing you goodnight with a kiss on the cheek.

he doesn’t dare remind you that he has a O.O% chance of surviving so all a relationship with him would do would break your heart. internally, he struggles with some conflict that you deserve better and he should’ve just been harsher to push you away and get over him, but something about you just turns him to putty in your hands and he can’t help it. you’re dangerous.

it also doesn’t stop him from occasionally pulling you aside when nobody is near and kissing you like it’s his last moments. which ... sadly enough, isn’t honestly far-fetched.

during the next main game, his feelings are hell to experience. despite how much he goes on and on trying to push you away to the public eye and make suspicious remarks, you just keep. coming. back. like a stray dog being fed by every flirtatious remark and touch. it’d be a whole lot more cuter and endearing to him if he wasn’t in a death game fearing for his life.

you’ve grown on him. both you and kanna have leeched onto his heart and he has to come to terms with that. he’s always felt some kind of unspoken familial bond with kanna despite the way he treats her, and seeing you always hang out with her even when he’s not around since the two of them are usually inseperable has made him fall even deeper in love with you.

... and it’s pissing him off and wearing him thin.

as much as he tries to convince everyone to vote for him, kanna keeps insisting that she should be voted for instead because it's the only logical way to survive. he’s on the verge of a panic attack, and keeps having to grip his podium tightly from ripping his hair out.

the poor guy is heaving by now, thoughts of survival, kanna, and you, all spiraling as his balance teeters. he would’ve been swaying back and forth about to fall down had it not been for the podium supporting his weight.

god forbid you touch him in this moment. he wants nothing more than to bury his face into your chest or neck and let out all his trapped emotions, but damn it, he doesn’t want you to worry about him. all that matters anyhow is that kanna lives.

“please, y/n, please, vote for me. i’m begging you. i’ll just die anyway.”

the next two votes for you and sara are in your hands, and regardless of your vote(s), there’s a O.O% chance of you getting your happy ending.

yttd masterlist.

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heyitsjay03 · 3 years

Note

Headcanons about each of the lords (+the Duke if you're writing about him) if they ever happen to adopt a little child?

THANK YOU ANON MY THE UNIVERSE BLESS YOU WITH PILLOWS THAT ARE COLD ON BOTH SIDES

okay okay okay okay this has definitely been on my mind so lets get into the thick of it

Alcina Dimitrescu

(im starting off with alcina for obvious reasons)

Alcina would be on the way to the church with the slimy moron, the demented doll, that disgusting manthing and Mother Miranda

She'd kiss her daughters goodbye and head off through the snow, quietly muttering about how cold her ankles were

while Moreau is literally up to his chin in snow but its fine

as she gets closer to the church she keeps hearing this. thing. it sounded familiar but she couldn't exactly put her finger on it.

she strays from the path to find it because it was just so familiar

as she weaves her way through the snow, her dress gets caught on something. she leans down to get her dress unstuck when she realises its this tiny basket.

like seriously. just a little woven basket in the middle of the snow. and it doesn't look like its been there for that long- there's hardly any snow on it

when she tugs at her skirts again, the basket makes the same noise she's been hearing

she stands back up to her full height, staring down at the basket with narrowed eyes

this cannot be a good idea, can it? opening a strange basket in the woods after being lured out here. it's probably some village manthing's trap.

she's about to step away when she hears the sound again- much more intense and much more clear

Alcina leans down and opens the lid of the basket

inside is this tiny thing- all soft and warm in a padding of blankets

a baby

she stands and looks around

who on earth would be so moronic as to leave their baby in the snow? it's much too cold for a baby to survive-

she sighs, getting onto her knees to pull the baby from the blanketed basket

the meeting will have to wait. it's too cold even in the church for this tiny thing.

when she finally makes it back home, she's greeted by her daughters in a swarm of buzzing flies.

as they manifest in their true forms, they're asking what- or who, rather- their mother brought for dinner

Alcina smiles and shakes her head, unwrapping the small bundle clinging to her breast

"this... is your new sibling" she announces, "they'll be staying with us from now on."

and the sisters are ecstatic. a new sibling!

Daniela especially is happy that she is no longer the youngest. she usually is the one to parade around the castle with her sibling on her shoulders, showing them the coolest hiding spots for hide-n-seek and the windows with the best views

Bela is incredibly protective. like. incredibly.

she smelt blood from across the castle and when she found her little sibling sniffling about a skinned knee earned from a game of tag with Angie, she lost her shit and almost broke the damned thing with her sickle

And Cassandra has been caught reading bedtime stories by nightlight multiple times. she tries to play it off but everyone knows that she loves- absolutely adores- her newest sibling

we all know Alcina is such a wonderful mother to the girls so adding another baby to the mix was a guaranteed success

she's so doting and careful (a little overprotective at times but she means well) as she is with her girls

as the child grows into a teen, she panics a bit because "my beautiful baby is growing into such a beautiful, talented adult" so expect a lot of late night visits when she just sits on the edge of her bed and just admires how much you've grown

Salvatore Moreau:

now this one is an easy one too if i'm 100% honest

think Moses type beat

(if you don't know, Moses was found in the riverbank in a little basket)

apparently i really like baskets

anyways

Moreau was so out of his element when he found this tiny, screaming, writhing piece of soft flesh

the first few weeks were rough

but he eventually got the hang of it (with Alcina's help of course)

he would take his child fishing every now and then- just the two of them out on a boat for a few hours

the kid would literally swim more than walk and that little fact would make Moreau so freakin proud

also this kid would be so well-versed in movie and film history it's stupid

like expect this little 4 or 5 year old babbling not about toys or snow or how many sticks they found but instead about the copyright war over the film Nosferatu and the destruction of its copies

Moreau, as the child gets older (like 11 or 12) would have just a tad of trouble trying to keep the kid out of the village

he'd wake up one day and go out onto the lake, expecting his child to be swinging their legs off the dock and watching the sun rise over the water

and when he finds that they were not, in fact, swinging their legs off the dock and watching the sun rise over the water, he p a n i c s

i mean, full blown red alert

all of the lords are summoned to help Moreau look for his missing kid, the lycans are given an article of clothing to help find the scent, Mother Miranda goes to search the village herself- the whole shebang

and when the kid is found playing with the village children, Moreau bursts into tears

needless to say, the kid isn't allowed to go to the village anymore

until they're fifty (Moreau's words, of course)

but the kid sneaks off more and more as they get older, using Alcina or Donna or Karl as an excuse to be away

and Moreau knows but he never says a word

seeing his child happy and free with the kids their age makes him happy, even if he is a tad, a tad, a tad bit nervous

Donna Beneviento:

when Donna found this child huddled up against the base of the stairs leading up to her front door, she at first thought it was a doll of hers

it was only when she actually walked outside that she realised it was this shaking, shriveled child in tattered clothes

she spent a good five minutes just staring, wondering how on earth she's supposed to react

that's when Angie jumped in and pulled at her skirt, telling her to "let the kid inside, already!"

Donna went immediately to work on some clothes- why on earth were they wearing such ragged things?! it's freezing outside!- while Angie entertained in the parlour

honestly, it didn't go well

the kid was a little bit unsettled by the floating doll that moved and spoke on its own FOR GOOD REASON

and when Donna walked back in with her measurement tape and some fabric, the kid backed themselves into a corner of the room with their gangly legs tucked into their chest

Angie sighs from the opposite side of the room, letting her little feet fidget as she gestures to the kid. "they're no fun" she pouts, "wouldn't even let me know their name"

Donna puts her materials down slowly and lifts her veil back before attempting a small smile

it takes a while but upon the offer of food, the kid finally lets Donna make them some clothes while Angie makes conversation

she works in silence, only offering small awkward smiles

Angie finally brings up the topic of where their parents are when the kid's clothes are done

when the child goes silent, Donna nods in understanding before hurrying off to make a room for them

as Angie helped tug the blankets up to the child's ears, they promised they'd be gone in the morning

Angie was the one to tell them off.

"You'll stay as long as you need, you silly goose!"

and the child did

Donna would let them tag along for meetings so long as they promised to keep quiet and help keep Angie out of trouble

most of the time, it didn't work and they both would end up in trouble but Donna let them come nonetheless

and when the other Lords question where on earth this little kid came from- all dressed in black fabric that matched Donna's dress, she just shook her head and let Angie chase them off verbally

she'd spend literal HOURS locked in that workshop making new little friends for her child and when they were old enough, she'd let them into the workshop

and when they were even older, she'd walk them through making their very first doll on their own

she'd just watch with pride as they carefully painted the freckles with a shaky hand while Angie danced around their ankles singing of how excited she was to have another friend

The Duke:

he would be setting up shop near the base of the Dimitrescu castle when he catches a kid trying to steal some his wares

he wouldn't be terribly upset, more concerned

it wasn't something shiny or expensive that they were trying to steal

it was some of the steaming-hot food he had left to cool in the wintry air

he confronted the child gently and with a warm smile

"That's cordon bleu," he says, gesturing to the steaming plate. "I can make you some if you'd like"

and as the child eats, the Duke continues tidying up his shop for any future customers

the child, through a mouthful of food, points to different items and asks their purpose, their price, their possible enhancements

the Duke answers each question with patience, happy for the company

but he doesn't just let the questions go one-way

"How about a trade?" he asks as the child asks about the strange-looking bottle of green liquid. "An answer for an answer."

the child agrees and the Duke starts to peel back layers of why the child was here looking for food

they had been orphaned by the last lycan attack, only barely making it out by fleeing into the woods

they tried to forage off of berry bushes and successfully managed to kill a pig- only for the blood to attract lycans before they could properly eat it

the Duke nods and continues busying himself with his shop, feeding the horse that pulls the wagon

the thought had hit him when he watched the child petting his horse

that horse hated everyone. including him at times.

maybe...

when he offered to take the child in, the kid nearly burst into tears and thanked him repeatedly, swearing to earn their keep

and they did, seven times over

what started off as a purely business venture morphed into something more as time went on

when the child would come back from selling smaller household items like gasoline and the occasional package of bullets, the Duke would have them climb onto the roof of the wagon and watch the sun set together with a plate of food

speaking of which, like Moreau, the Duke would raise the most cultured child

this kid would know how to prepare and identify different dishes and their ingredients just by looking at them or smelling them

and their palate would be far more sophisticated than most adults

the Duke, as the child gets older, would eventually allow them to choose destinations to set up shop- even outside of the village

wherever his child wants, the shop would go

it allows them to see the world and its earthly wares together- something the Duke had lacked in his life before the child was brought into the picture

Karl Heisenberg:

listen to me very very carefully

this man would be the most chaotic father ever to walk this earthly realm

when he finds this kid in the elevator of his factory, he's kinda standing there like 🧍 "what the hell-"

and when the kid starts spamming the button while maintaining eye contact, he kinda snaps out of it and starts chasing after them as they drop down to a different floor

it goes on for a solid twenty minutes before he finally managed to track them down in the corner of his office

and when i say this man is confused, i freaking mean it

i mean

why the HELL would some random kid be in his factory? don't they like... play with ponies or something at this age?

to be fair, this man literally has never been allowed a childhood so

obviously he starts scolding the kid ("what the hell are you doin' in here? it's dangerous and there's some really freaky shit here, kid"), dragging them to a nearby sink because "holy shit kid, you're filthy"

the kid is silent essentially the whole time, just kinda staring into his eyes

and of course Karl's gonna be like "...the fuck're you doin'?"

the kid's face is cleaned off and Karl sends them back out towards the village with a scratchy blanket he pulled out of the bottom of his desk drawer

he's working on his 'equipment' one day when he starts reaching for a wrench, keeping his focus on the body on the table

when i say this man jumps skyhigh at the kid asking a question, i mean it

he drags the kid back out, yelling about how dangerous it is and how "you shouldn't do that! you're gonna get yourself killed! go back home!"

the kid doesn't listen

it becomes a regular thing- Karl finds the kid wandering around the factory, Karl brings the kid out of danger, Karl tells them to get lost

eventually (day thirteen of this) he asks why the child keeps coming back

and he hates the answer he gets

it was something along the lines of "it's warm and there's nowhere else for me to go"

so Karl reluctantly eagerly lets them stay

it's a lot of rules at first (a kid shouldn't be allowed to just wander around a bunch of mindless cyborg killers, let alone a factory) but eventually the child learns to mind Sturm and the others

doesn't mean Karl does not have a fullblown heart attack when he walks into his workspace to find the kid tracing their finger along the center of the battery for the Soldats

after a very long talk (and some deep breathing) Karl reluctantly eagerly lets them sit against the very far wall to watch him work on the machinery- not, under any circumstances, the actual bodies

as the child blossoms into a young adult, they start to help out with certain aspects of Karl's work

exclusively machinery because Karl could not physically handle having his kid watch him get elbow-deep into a corpse

and Karl is so freaking proud of it

when the Soldat is kicked to life, he's got his kid in his arms and cackling like the proud dad he is

yeah. paternal Heisenberg>>>

#anon ask #anon #karl heisenberg #alcina dimitrescu #donna beneviento #salvatore moreau #re8 #resident evil 8 #the duke #resident evil village #resident evil #resident evil village fanfiction #gender neutral #headcanons #re8 headcanons #resident evil headcanons #resident evil village headcanons #yeah i had a lot of fun with this #thank you again anon

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btsqualityy · 3 years

Text

Assuage: Chapter 9

Yoongi x Reader

Genre: ABO (Alpha/Beta/Omega) dynamics, angst, fluff, smut, enemies to lovers

Warnings: Mentions of war (nothing graphic), mentions of loved ones passing away.

Yoongi asking if he would “see you later” ended up turning into the two of you spending at least a few hours together every day. You were surprised at just how quickly things were progressing between the two of you, but you weren't completely opposed to it either.

Yoongi was funny, more so than you ever would’ve expected him to be, he was so chilled and laid back, and he wasn’t the pretentious dickhead that you had initially pegged him to be.

Perhaps what was easily your favorite thing about him though, was the fact that he didn’t throw the fact that he was Prime in your face, or anyone else’s for that matter. You had met a few Prime Alphas throughout your life and they all had tried to use the fact that they were Prime over you, as if you were just property to take ownership over and not an actual human being. Yoongi though,...he was different.

The two of you spent a lot of time not even necessarily actively doing anything, but just talking and being around each other. He’d come visit you at the infirmary if you weren’t busy or you’d go visit him at the hardware shop. The two of you even spent a couple hours at your favorite rock near the stream, talking about everything and nothing all at the same time.

“Hey Yoongi, can I ask you something?” You wondered as you sat with him behind the front counter at the hardware shop.

“What’s up?” He replied as he sketched out a design for a headboard that someone had ordered.

“What happened to your parents?” You asked and Yoongi stopped drawing then, glancing over at you with a raised brow. “Well, you never mention them so I was curious.”

“It’s fine,” he sighed as he folded his hands and set them on the counter. “They died at the beginning of the Great Pack War.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you apologized, wanting to smack yourself for being so stupid and asking.

“It’s fine, it’s only natural to wonder,” he shrugged.

“My parents died at the beginning of the Pack War too,” you said.

“I know, Taehyung told me back when I first got here,” Yoongi told you.

“Yeah, their deaths are what actually started the damn war in the first place,” you huffed, making Yoongi’s eyes widen.

“What? He didn’t tell me that part.”

“They went on a treaty trip to visit another pack in order to try and relive some of the tensions that were going on at the time,” you began. “They ended up being killed as soon as they stepped foot onto their territory.”

“Well, how did you know what happened?” Yoongi asked.

“They never went on treaty trips alone, thankfully,” you chuckled. “Hobi’s mom was Head Fighter at the time and she went with them and saw it happen. They even tried to kill her too but she managed to get away and make it back here.”

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry Y/N-ah,” he whispered, reaching over with one of his hands and gently taking ahold of your hand.

“It’s ok,” you replied. “It’s been 7 years now so I’ve kind of made my peace with it. I just hate what it did to our family.”

“What do you mean?”

“When they died, Joon had only just turned 18, I was 17 and Tae was 15,” you explained. “The three of us had made the decision that we wouldn’t try to fight for the title of the next Pack Alpha, Omega, or Beta until all three of us were of age, which worked out perfectly because our parents weren’t ready to retire anyways. When they were killed though, we had to figure our shit out.”

“So you guys ended up fighting for the title?” Yoongi guessed.

“Nah, the war literally started right after our parents died so there was no time,” you said. “Joon left to help the pack in the war, I stayed behind to help guide the pack members that couldn’t fight in the war, and Tae couldn’t do much of anything because he was still so young.”

“Well, you both clearly did an amazing job,” Yoongi smiled, which made you smile a little as well.

“I definitely didn’t feel like I was doing a good job back then,” you murmured. “Especially not when it looked like we were gonna lose the war and I had to go fight as well.”

“Yeah, that’s never easy,” Yoongi agreed as the hold he had on your hand tightened. “With how amazing you are at hunting though, I bet you were great then too.”

“I should’ve never been out there,” you huffed in annoyance, but Yoongi knew that the annoyance wasn’t directed at him. “I was too young and too angry and too stupid to be of any real help back then. The expectations for me have always been different though.”

“What do you mean?” Yoongi questioned but when he looked up at you, he saw that you were now looking away from him and biting harshly on your lip. Being able to sense how nervous you had become from his question (because your scent soured a little), he decided to change the subject.

“What made you want to become a doctor?” He wondered and you looked back at him, a wide smile now on your face.

“After fighting in the war, I realized that I wanted to help people and not hurt them,” you explained. “Once the war was over, the former Pack Physician announced that he was looking to retire soon and I saw that as a sign so I took a chance and became his apprentice for a year before taking over completely.”

“Wow,” Yoongi sighed in amazement.

“Crazy, right?” You giggled. “I still don’t know what it was that made me wanna do it. It’s probably because I’m an Omega and I wanted to satiate that part of me that always wants to take care of people or maybe I wanted to be able to save someone else’s loved one, I don’t know.”

“You’re amazing,” Yoongi told you, making you blush as you bit your lip.

“You think?”

“Absolutely. When my parents died, the only thing I did was stay angry. Hell, I still am now,” he chuckled bitterly. “But you, you let it push you into doing something productive that helped not only you but others too. So yeah, you’re pretty damn cool in my book.”

“Hey, it’s ok to still be angry,” you assured him. “Even I still get angry if I let myself think about them for too long. Having emotions doesn’t make you weaker.”

“I’ve always felt like they did but I’m starting to think otherwise,” he said as he smiled at you.

“Don’t be cheesy,” you pleaded with a laugh.

“What’s wrong with cheesy?” Yoongi chuckled.

“What’s not wrong with it, is the real question,” you giggled as you slid off of your stool that you had been sitting on and stood up. “I have to get going, I have an appointment in about 20 minutes.”

“Oh ok,” Yoongi nodded, ignoring the fact that his Alpha didn’t want to see you leave. “I’ll see you at dinner tonight then?”

“Yeah, Jimin’s gonna meet me and we’re gonna walk over together so I’ll be there,” you told him.

“Good. See you later,” Yoongi said as he reached out and let the tips of his fingers ghost over your wrist, lightly scenting you.

“Bye,” you smiled, turning around and almost having a panic attack over the fact that he scented you before you left as you walked out of the door. Just as the front door closed behind you, the door to Kibum’s office flung open and Yoongi looked over to his right as Kibum stepped over to him.

“You are so gone for that little girl,” Kibum chuckled as he leaned against the counter.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Yoongi shot back, although he knew deep down inside that that wasn’t entirely true.

“Yeah ok, tell that to the pheromones that are stinking up my place right now!” Kibum cackled.

“Whatever,” Yoongi muttered as he went back to sketching on his notepad. As he tried to get back to work though, Yoongi’s mind couldn’t help but to drift back to you. If he was being honest with himself, he did like you and a lot at that. He had never met someone who literally challenged him on what he thought were his core beliefs, but he realized that you were just passionate and he had come to really like that quality in you.

“Hey Kibum?” Yoongi called out, making Kibum turn around and face him. “Do you know what type of wood is the best for carving?”

“Yeah,” Kibum smiled knowingly. “I actually do.”

......................................

Tag List: @jikook-enthusiasts @veryuniquenamegoeshere @seolarsyj @littlrmills14-blog

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attack-on-kiwi · 3 years

Note

Jean alphabet ?🥲😌

The crush I have on this man is embarrassing-

Jean Kiirstein:

A ctivities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

Jean is a simple guy. Any time he’s around his s/o, he’s content. Usually, he will let them pick what they want to do. He’s not averse to just spending a day tending to the horses and riding around valleys on them. He finds it freeing. It’s especially enjoyable if they two are sharing the ride and his s/o is hugging him just tight enough from behind and laughing into his back. He doesn’t think that will ever stop bringing butterflies into his stomach.

He looks forward to any sort of domestic activity. Sleeping in and holding his s/o from leaving bed, helping them cut up vegetables for breakfast, surprising them with flowers or sweets when he has the opportunity to- anything classic, sweet, and intimate.

B eauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

They bring him back to reality. He’s not idealistic in any sense- instead he tends to get lost in his thoughts and can spiral into negative outbursts. He can also become closed off, so having his s/o, who can snap him back to his sense and remind him that not everything has gone to hell (even though, it’s pretty damn close to being so), means the world to him.

Jean is smitten. Another guy who thinks his s/o is the most gorgeous being to ever grace the earth. He thinks they’re the most beautiful when. they’re concentrating on a task. The way they refuse to let anyone or anything get in the way of their objective, no matter how menial or grand, bubbles pride in him.

C omfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

Jean would drop everything that can be put off to help his s/o. He absolutely hates when they feel upset, and he’s not that good at comforting people. He’ll just crouch down (or bring them down if they’re taller) to eye level and ask them what they need him to do. His voice is soft, laced with concern.

Jean damn near might tear up himself if his s/o is upset enough. He’ll stay with them for as long as they need to, and then some more. He’s likely going to hover or keep an eye on them for the next few days to make sure they’re truly all right.

D reams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

Jean wants to get married and have a family. He doesn’t care if the kids are biological or adopted, but he wants kids. He could settle for a son and daughter, but it doesn’t really matter. He’d like at least two kids to keep him on his toes. He aspires to give them the most peaceful life and wants to be present in their lives for anything and everything.

He’s terrified of the idea of becoming a husband and father, but it’s one of the thoughts that keeps him going. He knows he wants his s/o by his side for the rest of their lives. Considering everything they’ve been through, he’s already planning on how to propose.

E qual - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

Jean doesn’t think of being dominant or passive in a relationship. He can take initiative in most cases, but he’s not going to impose on his s/o. He’s present in the relationship, and will often check in with his s/o. to make sure that they’re okay. It’s important to him that they be transparent and aware of how the other is feeling, though he might bury his own feelings quite often.

F ight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

Being as confrontational as he is, it’s not uncommon to get into fights. He never gets physical with his s/o. The two are rather prone to heated arguments that can escalate to screaming at each other if the conflict is serious enough.

Jean absolutely hates that he can’t hold himself back. He’s too forthright with his thoughts.. He does try his best not to hit low blows. No matter what, his arguments are based on fact and he won’t rely on jabbing at his s/o’s insecurities to gain an edge during a fight.

He needs his space. Usually, this just means the two separate and cool down a few hours. The longest he will go without speaking to them is a night. First thing in the morning, he’ll try to calmly confront them and apologize for his behavior, asking if they can try to talk the issue out now that they’ve had some rest.

G ratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

Jean’s a grateful man, even if his slight pessimistic attitude can point you otherwise. He doesn’t verbally say that he’s grateful, but his actions truly speak louder than his words. He’s always got an eye on his s/o, he stops them when they’re overexerting themselves, he can sense when all they need is to be held for a few moments, and he’s always seeking out ways to make their day brighter.

One way he might allow himself to be vulnerable is sitting behind them in bed and clasping their hands together, kissing each of their knuckles lightly. Jean likes to speak just above a whisper, listing why he loves them.

H onesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

No huge secrets. He does hide how he’s feeling at times, especially if he is stressed and doesn’t want them to feel pressured. Jean does press his s/o to tell him whatever is on their mind, though. The two have an honest relationship. You have to be blunt if you want to work with Jean, after all. He doesn’t mind if his s/o needs to keep secrets, as long as it’s nothing serious, like their loyalty to him shifting.

I nspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

Jean allows himself to be more sensitive around his s/o. Normally, he would never entertain being overtly emotional or softer yet around his s/o, he’s quite different. There’s a gentleness about him which no one gets to see any other time. Truly, he will keep this persona for behind closed doors, but it does seep into his day to day. He’s kinder to people after he’s spent time with his partner.

He is fighting for the people he loves-- to guarantee they can live fulfilling lives, grow old, then finally die peacefully. It’s all he wants, and having people to fight for is his heaviest inspiration.

J ealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

He’s secure with himself in most senses, but there are times when Jean feels like he could be giving his s/o more attention or time. He may feel a twinge of guilt if his s/o starts to deflate at the idea of asking him if he has free time because it hurts that they worry about getting in the way of his work. During these episodes, it’s easy for Jean to become suspicious of other people, specifically other men, that are hovering around his s/o more than before. If it bothers him enough, he will call it out.

Usually, Jean is to ashamed of feeling insecure to outright explain why he’s jealous. His s/o can gauge if he’s uneasy by how clingy he is afterwards.

K iss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

Jean’s kisses are either shy or extremely passionate. Depending on how much adrenaline is rushing through his body, he can encapsulate his partner in a fiery lip lock that will leave them short of an accidental asphyxiation (sorry I need to shut up). When he’s sleepy or has been missing his s/o, he’s prone to soft, short pecks. He likes to whisper into their lips, most of the time, he will be saying, “Just one more” as he dozes off.

His s/o is his first kiss, so it’s about as awkward as first kisses can get. His mouth and throat were dry. He wasn’t sure if he should tilt his face. They would get close then Jean would fumble, trying to adjust for better access. Finally, he got frustrated and just crashed their lips together for not even a second before pulling away, face glowing pink. Don’t worry, he’s gotten slightly better.

L ove Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

Jean discovers early on. Within months, he’s positive he’s in love with his s/o. He is terrified of telling his partner due to fear of abandonment and humiliation that stems from a childhood of being bullied. (pry this from my cold dead hands). Regardless of how strong he feels, he won’t outright confess his love until the two have been together for a good amount of time. That can amount to months or even a year or so, depending on just how serious he’s feeling about the relationship.

He’s the type of person that is practicing in the mirror how to confess, and unknowingly, his s/o will hear him. If he’s lucky, they feel the same way and just walk in to tell him they love him too and watch his brain short circuit as it processes what just happened.

On a serious note, though, Jean would be nervous to confess. He’d make a date out of the entire ordeal-- choosing to take his s/o out for a nice dinner and at night, as they’re stargazing in a remote field, he’d hold their hand and say he needs to tell them something. Even in the evening, it’s easy to see him heat up. He’d whisper it at first. His s/o needs to let him collect his thoughts, and as soon as he’s gathered them, he’d confess full throttle. His voice shakes slightly, but his conviction is apparent.

M arriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

Jean fantasizes of getting married quite often, and this only increases as he gets closer to his s/o.

He’s honest with his s/o and the topic of marriage comes up in late night conversations quite often. He’s confessed that once the fighting is over, they’ll get married the next day. There’s no proposal, just a promise that keeps the two fighting to live another day. His mother actually gives him her own wedding ring, telling him to get it resized if need be, but she hopes it can become a family heirloom. Jean’s a romantic, and this gets him flustered yet excited.

Peaceful. Marriage with Jean is as mundane as can be. Sure, there’s going to be times when old friends come wreck havoc, but it’s all taken in stride. He likes waking his s/o up with a kiss to the cheek. If they want to pat his hair dry or brush it after his shower, he’ll try distracting them with sly neck kisses. He wants his kids to see how much he loves his spouse and groan in disgust as they try to get their parents to hurry up so they can all eat. Jean’s content/

N icknames - What do they call their s/o?

He calls them by their name mostly. Sometimes he’ll shorten it or give them an alternative where it’s the first syllable of their name with -y at the end if possible.

Jean calls them beautiful and gorgeous when he’s trying to make them laugh.

O n Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

The beginning is akin to puppy love. He’s so flustered but curious about everything they do and say. He’s kind to them and chokes up around them when he hasn’t had time to formulate a response. Definitely the type of guy who stares at his s/o wistfully with a dazed grin on his face. He’s been caught doing this to them across the room on multiple occasions. Needless to say-- everyone and their mother knows Jean’s smitten.

He tries to express his feelings by complimenting them. If he can help them out with errands or studying (if they met during the cadet training) he’s more than happy to shave off time to do so. He likes being able to take a load off their shoulders, so he won’t mind doing a little extra work.

P DA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

Jean acts big, but he gets shy. The only time he’ll ever really kiss his s/o in front of others Is if he’s being teased or egged on and he wants to show he’s not ashamed of his partner. He loves them dearly, but showing affection in public isn’t the biggest priority for him.

If they’re out in the market, he loves having them hold onto his arm as they lead him wherever the like. If there’s less people around, he won’t argue with locking fingers. His s/o might catch him off guard with some sneaky kisses that are sure to provoke him.

Q uirk - Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

Everything about his hands. They’re not as rough as some other people, though they aren’t insanely soft. He can give amateur massages and knows how to exert just the right amount of pressure to make the experience enjoyable, even for the most fidgety/ticklish s/o. It’s his secret to helping them relax and release pent up tension.

R omance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

Jean loves romance. He loves being in love and having an excuse to try his hand at sappy love letters and poetry. He’s not the best, but what he writes down makes his s/o’s heart flutter. He just wants them to know how much he cares about them, even if he has a hard time expressing himself accurately.

He’s the type of guy who picks up pastries because he remembered his s/o liked them a few weeks ago and the bakery finally made them again. He’ll polish their shoes if they haven’t had the energy to do it themselves. He’ll remind them to eat. His idea of making them happy is making sure that they are well taken care of.

S upport - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

He’s their biggest fan and simultaneously their biggest critic. Jean supports their endeavors, but he will not mask his opinions just to make them feel better. He’s tough on them because he wants to see them succeed. He’ll help them if he can, but he won’t hold them back from their potential by lying to them.

T hrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice out your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

Jean loves trying out new things with his s/o, especially once the world opens up to them. He wants to explore everything, while still having some sense of routine in their lives. No dates that could potentially harm him or his s/o. He’s spending time with them, not trying to fight for survival, after all. Dates can be adventures-- he won’t mind going on hikes or exploring nearby terrain, however, he’d much rather try new foods and experience new technology instead.

U nderstanding - How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

Jean likes to think he knows his partner inside and out, but he’s conflicted about the duality of everyone in his life when push comes to shove, so he finds himself wondering if he truly knows them. This is just his insecurity and hurt surfacing, but he can spiral into pondering whether his s/o care about him as much as he cares for them. He knows he gives them opportunities to tell them about themselves, and he’s picked up on their quirks over the time they’ve been together. In reality, Jean genuinely does know more about them than he thinks he does. It’s hard not to feel comfortable around him, after all.

V alue - How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?

His relationship is extremely important to him as he’s always had issues with letting people in on his vulnerable side. He has insecurity issues stemming from a variety of sources and knowing how people could use him puts him off from working on most relationships. Finding his s/o and being slapped in the face by the reality that someone genuinely loves him and wants to learn with him is eye opening. Due to this, Jean tries extremely hard to work on himself and the relationship as best he can. There’s no way he’d half ass something so good.

Though Jean’s relationship is on the. top of his priorities, his mission is still going to overshadow his desire to be with his s/o. It’s not that the mission is more important-- it’s that he needs to complete the mission so that his beloved can finally rest. He wants to protect them, and protecting them means he has to put his life on the line, unfortunate as it is.

W ild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

Jean’s a mother hen to his s/o. He’s always nagging them to eat, sleep, shower and make sure they’re taking care of themselves. He’s always been in tune with the health of other people, and he just naturally wants to make sure that his s/o is in optimal condition. He will literally snap and physically force them to sleep if he needs to. He gets irritated if they’re neglecting themselves due to the fear of them getting hurt or sick.

X OXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

Yes!! All he wants to do is cuddle. He loves holding his s/o, but he loves being held more. When they run their fingers through his hair and mention a silly hairstyle he could try, he almost considers it. He falls asleep on their chest almost every night.

If he’s upset, a simple kiss to the cheek or head is enough to bring a small smile back on his face.

His favorite place to be kissed would be his temples. There’s something soothing and homely about soft lips brushing past his hair to linger right above his brow. It’s also a surefire way of inducing drowsiness in him.

Y earning - How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

Jean just bites the feeling back and swears that he will see his s/o as soon as he can. The idea that they will be waiting for him is enough for him to power on. Occasionally, Jean may doodle them in the margin of a report or in his personal journal. He thinks about what their next date could be and wonders if they ever found that stray cat they mentioned a few conversations ago. He thinks about them and all the things they can do once they’re together, and it’s enough to motivate him.

Z eal - Are they willing to go to great lengths for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

He’s literally tryna save the world for them lol

~~~

Based off @snk-warriors fluff alphabet prompt

#jean kirschstein #jean kirschtein x reader #jean kirstein #jean kirstein x reader #attack on titan #attack on titan imagines #attack on titan headcanons #attack on titan x reader #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyojin imagines #shingeki no kyojin headcanons #shingeki no kyoujin x reader

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gxldenflower · 3 years

Text

Random Bruce Banner Headcanons

NOTE: Originally posted on my ao3, supposedly_archer, on December 3rd, 2020. Both the summary and A/N are copied & pasted

Summary: An eclectic assortment of different headcanons that I have for Bruce Banner

A/N: I'm in love with Bruce Banner. That's all folks.

Warnings: Brief mentions of anxiety and mental health

Tags: @9zoria9, @thebookbakery

Word Count: 994

•He has no clue how to put contact lenses in

•He doesn’t want to either, because turning into the hulk while wearing contacts sounds like a fucking nightmare and a half

•His hands are. So soft????? It makes zero sense because he’s always working with his hands and it’s just kinda jarring to everyone

•He always has a small thing of lotion from Bath and Body Works on his person. If you need emergency peppermint-scented lotion, he’s your man

•Stretch marks all across his body. He’s pretty insecure about them but he’s bonded with Nat over their shared insecurities

•He has a soft little tummy. He used to be insecure because he knows he’s being compared to his teammates who look like they inject steroids every four hours, but when Thor drunkenly told him that, “it was the cutest thing he’d ever seen,” he decided that he could care less about his stomach.

•Cute little tummy with stretch marks

•Dad jokes 24/7

•Tony’s lost count of the number of times he’s wanted to bang his head against a wall because of Bruce’s stupid fucking jokes

•Bruce laughs at his own jokes as well

•He’s also the friend who laughs at your joke when no one else does

•A literal Walking Human Space Heater

•And he’s not like. Sweltering hot. It’s like a blanket on a chilly fall day kind of warmth

•Bruce is a cuddler. Literally clings to anything and anyone he can find when he’s sleeping

•Will sometimes sleep with a stuffed animal that Thor got him for his birthday one year

•Speaking of Thor

•This man clings to him like a goddamn koala while he walks around

•Thor will just be sipping his coffee in the morning and Bruce will just be hanging off of him

•Occasionally does it to Steve as well

•And a couple of times with Nat when they got drunk together one night

• Both Bucky and Sam have allowed him to do it as well but neither will admit it

•He’s fluent in ASL and is constantly bickering with Clint about the smallest things

•Doesn’t like coffee that much

•If he drinks it, it has to have as much cream, milk, sugar as possible

• Idk how coffee works I’m like 80% sure that’s what you put in coffee

•Prefers hot chocolate

•When his hair gets long enough he’ll let Nat and Thor braid small pieces of it

•This man has the softest hair in the world. It’s a perfect mixture of silky and soft and no one knows how he does it because of how damn curly his hair is

•Has an odd obsession with squirrels

•He’s basically a Human Squirrel Factoid Machine

•No, I will not elaborate

•Has a damn good sense of style

•I mean the purple shirt and those pants in Avengers 1????? That says it all folks

•Has the dirtiest glasses known to man

•He cannot remember the last time he cleaned them

•Tony has no clue how he’s able to see

•He can’t help it. If you’re bisexual and wear glasses, they are always going to be dirty. That’s just how it be

• Tony’s an outlier

•Oh yeah Bruce is most definitely bi

•This is not me projecting, it’s canon. Taika Watiti told me himself

•Basically has a whole closet full of different weighted blankets

•Fireworks set off his anxiety and will sometimes cause panic attacks

•Goes to weekly therapy because he’s an icon who does his best to work on his mental health:)

•Meets up weekly with Stephen Strange to have tea together and gossip

•Basically has a crush on all of Avengers & Co. because he’s a Bisexual Mess (tbh same)

•Both him and Wanda do their best to work together and keep a healthy friendship

•While it’s definitely not the best, they’re both trying and it’s getting better slowly

•He has the singing voice of an angel but can’t play the piano to save his life

•Tony tried to teach him once but it ended with a loud bang of a head against the piano keys

•Hums different lullabies as he works

•Is the type of person who puts up his Christmas decorations as soon as November 1st hits and doesn’t take them down till the end of January

•Likes to paint his nails

•There’s this pretty blue color that he borrows steals from Nat a lot

•Knows how to run in high heels

•He refuses to disclose how he knows this

•Barely knows how to use his cellphone

•He owns an iPhone 4 and refuses to upgrade no matter how many times Tony begs him to

•Is constantly taking blurry photos of everything happening in the compound

•Has a photo of Sam chasing Bucky in nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist

•Don’t ask

•Can’t swim and gets nervous when he’s near a large body of water

•The Avengers Local Taylor Swift Enthusiast

•Knows all of her song lyrics by heart and sings them very loudly in the shower

•He got Thor hooked on her music as well

•They’ve drunkenly sung a karaoke duet version of “Love Story” together

•Ended with a kiss make out session behind the karaoke stage

•His favorite Taylor Swift album is Speak Now

•Has a tattoo of a rose on his hip

•Owns Hulk boxers

•Tony once called him a “funky little science man” when he was drunk and Bruce burst into tears because he just loves Tony so much

•Very good kisser. Can be confirmed by Thor

•Gets along with Vision really well and goes to bookstores with him a lot

•Once called Fury “Patchy the Pirate” to his face and saw his life flash before his eyes

•Clint started choking on his sandwich as a result and Nat had to perform the Heimlich maneuver on him

•In conclusion. Bruce Banner is a funky little bisexual science man who’s in love with all of his teammates (but mainly Thor.) And he’s cute.

#bruce banner #do not be fooled by the title this is basically just thorbruce headcanons #thorbruce #marvel

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hotpinkrathian · 4 years

Text

Pride Day

(Kyalin)

Lin stood at the head of the department, the eyes of her subordinates on her.

“It won’t be that hard, if a fight breaks out you stop it. Don’t draw too much attention, this is supposed to be a fun event.” She told them, hiding her excitement. When Kya had first mentioned that she wanted to throw one of these she had put in a word to Zhu-Li who greatfully agreed to hear the waterbender out. Lin smiled when she thought of Kya’s face tangos morning, how it lit up with the sunrise and she realized she was finally going to get her day. Lin wasn’t going to let backward thinkers ruin.

“You got it chief, play it cool,” Mako replied, putting on a pair of sunglasses. She scoffed, unamused.

“Well what are you waiting for? Get out there it starts in 30 minutes.” The officers scurried out of their desks and out the door.

“So Kya threw this whole thing huh?” Mako said coming up to her.

“I believe so.”

“You must be proud of her.” Lin glared at him. Mako was a great detective, he had managed to find out about their relationship before anyone else, much to Lin’s dismay.

“Not as proud as she is of herself.” Lin replied.

“Feel free to have fun out there today Chief, me and the guys can handle this.” Her glare intensified and Mako left the precinct with a nervous smile on his face, running into the door on his way out. Lin grunted at his clumsiness before returning to her office to get her things. She was surprised to see a small envelope on her desk, certainly in wasn’t there this morning? She opened it, sliding her fingers under the flap. Inside was note and a small pin of a rainbow flag. She blushed as she unfolded the paper, smiling at the words written in large black ink.

Because I’m so damn Proud of my Chief

She took the pin in her fingers, wondering if it was wise to wear it. She wanted to, she really wanted too but it would announce something to the world she wasn’t sure she was ready to share. Before she could decide a horn blared out, that was the final call for the parade. She grabbed what she needed to and headed for the door.

The parade started near the library and Lin was able to make it in just a few minutes by swinging on her cables, the pin still pressed in her hand. When she landed on the ground she marvelled at the sight. Large rainbow floats covered in streamers, people holding each other close and smiling. She didn’t notice her own smile until she was tapped on the shoulder and brought out of her daze.

“You made it. I was a little worried when Mako showed up without you.” Kya grinned. Lin smiled in return, and after making sure she was out of sight of her officers she allowed Kya to kiss her.

“I got your note,” Lin said when they separated.

“And?” Lin opened her palm, revealing the pin still resting on her hand. “Do you want to put it on?” Kya asked. Lin nodded and Kya took the pin from her, in lapsing it from the back. She put it on Lin’s shoulder, opposite of her badge. Kya smiled and kissed Lin one more time. “I love you,” the waterbender said before walking away.

“I love you too,” Lin replied before she was out of earshot. She looked down at the pin and blushed briefly. When she heard her name get called she stood up straight and released a breath, a trick Kya had taught her when trying to relax.

“We’re ready to go,” President Moon said, pushing her glasses up. “Are your guys ready?” Lin looked around at her scattered officers, some were standing in tight circles with each other while others were roaming around talking to the paraders.

“I think so,” Lin said. She used a cable to grab onto a nearby building so she could go to her post at the back of the parade.

“You don’t want to supervise upfront?” Zhu-Li asked. Lin smiled and shook her head.

“I’m a cop first. You hired me for this job and I fully intend to do it.” Zhu Li shrugged and without another word Lin snapped her cable closed and flung herself to the back of the line.

“I don’t know what I expected, but it was not this big of a turn out!!” Mako shouted over the noise of the parade. Lin smiled, she couldn’t take her eyes off of the gathered crowd that cheered and danced. “Lin it looks like you have an admirer.” Lin looked at him sharply.

“Don’t call me that.”

“That’s your name.”

“We’re at work.”

“Fine whatever you say. Three o’clock. Here she comes.” Before Lin could reply an older woman with long straigtt hit black hair, dark brown eyes and a very flattering dress came up to her.

“Chief Beifong, I didn’t know this was your crowd,” she said with a wink.

“It’s not,” Lin replied.

“Really? The pin on you’re shoulder says otherwise.” Lin blushed, how was she supposed to deny it now. She loved Kya, but damn was she good at getting Lin into trouble.

“I’m on duty, it’s just a formality.”

“Yeah then why isn’t boy band here wearing one?” Mako who was taken a back crossed his arms.

“Because I don’t have a girlfriend to give me one,” He muttered just loud enough that the Fire Nation woman could hear.

“Mako!” Lin hissed, causing him to shrink away in the crowd.

“Girlfriend? Well in the case I’ll let you be. The name Nia Lee incase you’re over... looking for some shopping.” Now left with a wink before walking ahead to the next parader. Lin sighed and looked around for Mako, who had evidently disappeared into the crowd. Lin started to make her way forward, after the interaction she would feel better if she was closer to Kya. And truthfully she wanted to see Kya illuminated like she was this morning, to see the excitement in her eyes that had melted Lin just hours ago. It wasn’t long before Lin was approached by another girl, this one of upper Earth Nation decent with short spiked hair that Lin found... interesting.

“Well I have definitely had this dream before,” the girl said crossing her arms. She was taller than Lin and was even more muscular, Lin placed her at about 40, give or take.

“Excuse me?” Lin asked.

“Chief Beifong you never cease to amaze me.”

“I haven’t even done anything.”

“Nothing you can see,” the girl smirked. Lin began to internally panic, she hadn’t anticipated getting this type of attention. She knew it was a bad idea to wear the pin but she wanted to.. for Kya.

“I’m taken,” Lin said sternly, and to her own surprise.

“Well darn, never ends this way in my dreams.” What am I supposed to say to that? Lin thought to herself.

“I’m sorry to disappoint you.” She eventually replied.

“I bet you are,” the girl said, walking away. Lin shook her head in attempt to clear her mind. Just get to Kya.

She kept her head down as she made her way through, ignoring the summons of various interested parties. She didn’t know what she would do if she wasn’t with Kya, would she had taken one of her suitors up on their offer? Finally Kya’s float came into view, Asami had not disappointed. It was the largest by a long shot. A rainbow balloon arch stretched into the sky framing Korra and Asami, and in front of them on a lower podium stood Kya who waved to the crowd, smiling and showing off water bending skills. Lin watched Korra pick up Asami in a kiss and swing her around, genuine joy on both their faces. Lin hadn’t noticed she stopped until Kya caught her eye, looking at Lin with a soft smile. Lin gave her a small wave and Kya gestured for her to come up. Lin shook her head and Kya put her hands on her hips, giving Lin a look that was her last ditch attempt. Lin shook her head again and Kya shrugged, running up to Korra and Asami who were pulling some of the walking Paraders on the float. Lin look forward to the skyscraper up ahead. Kya wanted her to go up the float with her, and it would be nice certainly to be out of the crowd but it was risky. Finally she sighed, and ducked out of the parade into the side crowd.

Kya helped Asami pull a man onto the float, who then in turn helped others up by earths bending them into the air and catching them, kissing his boyfriend when he landed in his arms. She smiled and looked ahead of her, the end was nearing but Kya wasn’t quite ready for it to be over. She looked over to Korra who smiled nervously at Asami who had her arms crossed at Korra’s entourage.

“I owe you guys a thank you,” Kya said coming up behind Asami. “This... this is because of you guys.”

“What do you mean?” Asami asked, “you threw the parade.”

“Yeah but you and Korra being together... it really changed the world. Opened their eyes. It gave me my own confidence.” Asami pulled Kya into a hug and grinned.

“I’m going to call you Aunt Kya now,”

“Might as well, Korra already does,” Kya laughed pulling away. Asami’s look went from glee to fear, and when Kya turned to see what had her scared she was picked up and pulled into the air. She pulled water off of a street puddle and turned into ice, rearing to see who her attacker was. Lin. It was Lin. Lin let her cable go and they landed on the front of the float, Kya’s icicle still in the air.

“What was that?” Kya asked, winded. Lin just smiled and took Kya’s face in her palm, placing the other on her waist. Kya smiled and before she knew it Lin had leaned forward, pushing her mouth against Kya’s and kissing her with an unfamiliar passion. “Lin!” She laughed when Lin pulled away, breathing heavily.

“I love you. And also I need these people to know I’m taken.” Kya smiled and Kissed Lin again, allowing the metal bender to pick her up and swing her in a circle. When Lin set her down Kya took her hand, ignoring the looks of shock from Korra and Asami, she would talk to them later. This was good, right here. She turned to Lin and adjusted the Pin the police chief was wearing.

“You left your post,” Kya smirked.

“Yeah well, Mako can handle it.”

“Are you sure about that?” Kya asked, looking to the ground next to them where a very dressed up Prince Wu presented Mako with a white flower.

“Huh,” Lin said, “I would never had guessed.” Kya laughed and kissed Lin on the cheek, smiling at how the earth bender blushed. She held onto Lin’s arm and looked ahead of her at the end of the parade. She hadn’t been ready for it to be over, but now all she wanted to do was go home and curl up in her girlfriends arms. She looked up at Lin who stared straight forward, her expression blank except for the small smile that tugged at the edge of her lips.

#kyalin #legend of korra #lin beifong #team avatar #korrasami #asami sato #avatar the last airbender #kya #pride parade #Lin is just a chick magnet #kya is having a good day #republic city #zhu li moon #mako and wu #wuko

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tttinytrash · 3 years

Text

So @shamedump, you made a mistake saying using your boys was ok. Forever ago on their blog (which if you haven’t checked them out yet you should) there was mention of Mage bitties, their Nightmare that’s more of a overly blunt but well-meaning boy than canon Nightmare, growing into biggies and a few of em running a place you could go to have them drain negativity off. They get fed, you’re less stressed, win-win! This has kinda been an idea I pop back to when I’m feeling particularly stressed and I decided that since they said using their ideas was ok with credit, I’d go for it and actually write something. So Mage, and all the subsequent ideas of how their powers work, what their body is like, (I even borrowed the mousepad analogy) and whatnot is all Dumpling. I simply extrapolated a story out of it. Any misrepresentations of the character I’ll pretend comes from the fact that they’re bitties/biggies and therefore personality can differ a little from the source material. At least, that’s what I’ll say to make myself feel better lol.

Your cousin had dragged you to this place, and you had immediate reservations upon arrival. The place was run by biggies, which wasn’t the issue. You really just couldn’t help that they looked intimidating.

Every biggie in the shop had black goop covering their whole form, and four extra appendages sprouting out of their back. They were somewhat taller than you, and definitely broader. Despite all this, you knew they couldn’t help their appearances and made no move to actually be scary, so you pushed the anxiety down (to join the plethora of other anxiety in the pile) as your cousin approached the desk. The biggie at the desk was pleasant enough as she checked you in for your appointment, then came back to sit in the waiting area with you.

“Just gotta wait for a chair to open, cous. This will be the best decision you’ve made all week, I swear!” She assured you as she took her seat beside yours.

You agreed absently, watching the other humans, monsters, and biggies wander through the store. The Mage biggies, as their type was called, each stood behind comfy looking chairs with their client seated before them facing a big mirror on the wall. It reminded you a lot of a hair salon, actually. One tendril from their back wrapped around each wrist, while their hands gave a shoulder massage. Actually, the one on the end of the row was braiding his client’s hair. That observation struck you as pretty cute, and managed to sap away some apprehension.

“little less scary now?”

You all but leapt from your seat you jolted so hard.

Your cousin tried and failed to muffle a snicker at your expense as the biggie continued “whoops. sorry, wasn’t trying to sneak up on you.”

“N-no, It’s fine. Just kinda got caught people watching.” you assure, trying your best to laugh off the mortification.

“it’s fine, we get it. i’m jethro. i’ll be taking care of you today.”

“Nice to meet you, I’m y/n.”

“Ooh, such a good name!” your cousin interjected.

“heh, thanks. my adopter was into some cop show. guess my attitude back in the day reminded him of somebody. anyhow, my chair is right this way, y/n.”

Your cousin excused herself and left you to your appointment, which had been the deal. You were too nervous to wait alone at a new place, but knew you should be ok from here. Jethro guided you to one of the indeed very comfy chairs and took his position behind. His tendrils grabbed a stool from against the wall and set it behind the chair so he could sit as well. Despite being behind you, he was able to look at you easily by turning his one eyed gaze to the mirror set on the wall in front of you.

“this is your first time, right?” Jethro asked, so far keeping his hands to himself.

You confirmed that it was.

“right. so i assume there’s questions?”

“Yeah, my cousin said you guys drain negativity. How literal is that?”

“exceedingly. we can sense emotions, especially negative ones. we can also feed off of em. again, literally. we remove them through physical contact and they’re converted into magic in our bodies.”

“You guys eat our bad emotions?”

“yep.”

You realized something. “...You sense them too.”

“Yep.”

“Does that include nervousness?”

“yep.”

“So you knew I was literally scared when I walked in.”

“yep.”

“I am so sorry.” Ugh, now he probably felt how mortified you were. Now he thought you were a racist! You were far from one of those monster hating bigots! Shit, maybe you should just leave-

You flinched when two cold pressures settled on your wrists, and your mortification ebbed.

“you’re fine, told you we get it.” Jethro cut your shameful spiral short, and you realized he’d wrapped his tendrils around your arms.

The appendages were cool to the touch, and the grip was light enough you could easily break free if you had any desire to. Thing is, you didn’t. You felt the stress that had been building up simply start to vanish. It left you feeling hollow, but calm and gratitude quickly filled the void. You could definitely tell those feelings were literally being taken away from you.

“now, since i’ve absorbed those negative feelings i know roughly why you came in and i’m also here to talk you through all of it rather than just making it go away if you want. but usually people just go quiet on their first time, up to you. given your reaction here, i’m assuming you want to enjoy the clear head space awhile instead?”

You nodded, feeling ever so slightly loopy. Was that an affect of the draining?

Jethro made an amused acknowledging sound. He reached forward, using his hands to apply pressure to the tense muscles around your shoulders and neck. You melted into the pleasant touch, briefly feeling shame for so visibly reacting before that too was wicked away.

“heh, i sense a return customer.”

You smiled, oh hell yes you were.

-----

You became a regular immediately.

All the guys in the shop were great, but Jethro definitely ended up your preferred siphon, and he was who you made appointments with.

You were in a session with him now, and it was nice to have him act as a sounding board as to how to deal with you day to day stressors. You’d picked up a few calming techniques you used on a daily basis by now, and your sessions had reduced in frequency by this point. It was almost a friendly catch up session between you two whenever you made a booking, but you still absolutely appreciated his services.

As you two casually chatted near the end of your appointment, another biggie walked out from the back room. You’d seen a few clients go back there, only to emerge hours later. That was the “Special Treatment” room, and you were curious what that entailed but had never mustered the courage to ask. This curiosity meant you were very keen on observing the biggie that had just exited and therefore delighted when he took a seat in the vacant client chair next to yours.

Jethro greeted him as he settled, and you noticed the newcomer had his hand laid on his belly as if to steady it.

“special treatment?” Jethro asked.

“yeah. they totally fell asleep, but i’m not gonna bother them just yet.” the other responded.

“heh, they must have needed it then. nightmares, i guess?”

“yeah. pretty bad. all the more reason to let em rest.”

The conversation drifted from there, and you eventually got looped in and belatedly introduced to the other biggie, who you learned was named Obsidian. Throughout the conversation, you didn’t miss that Obsidian had his hands folded over his middle, and kept swiping his thumb across the surface whenever the special treatment client had been referred to.

You left the store contented but all the more curious. Maybe you’d finally ask when you came back next time.

-----

God this sucked.

When it rains it pours, apparently. It started with your manager breathing down your neck at the same time a bunch of impending deadlines were looming for school. With a cherry on top of family drama, you felt like a frayed nerve.

Your next siphoning session was two weeks away, but damn did you need the support now. You’d tried your calming strategies, which while they kept a panic attack at bay weren’t enough. You’d tried handling this on your own but it just wasn’t cutting it after a few days of the stress piling up on itself in your head.

You walked into the shop, hoping beyond hope that they took walk in clients.

Obsidian was apparently slotted for receptionist duty today, and he seemed to take notice of you before you were able to even say anything. His head jerked up as if he’d heard a loud noise and once his gaze settled on you, recognition dawned quickly. “y/n? what happened?” The concern made it clear that your black cloud of anxiety was exceedingly obvious to the empath before you.

“Everything, it feels like. There wouldn’t happen to be any openings today, would there?”

“i think we can swing something. gimme a sec.”

The biggie disappeared in a shortcut, chair rattling down from its tilted position loudly.

You flinched at the sound at looked around the shop for reactions. There weren’t many people, two biggies had clients and were politely ignoring the commotion you felt you’d made. You recognized one of the clients distantly, but your attention was quickly diverted to two figures emerging from the staff lounge. Obsidian lead Jethro, much to your delight, towards you. Jethro’s expression softened visibly at the same time you felt the happy thrill of recognition.

The expression settled into concern again by the time he’d approached. “you’re more negative now than when we first met, kiddo.” He said instead of a greeting. Blunt, as usual.

“I believe it. Sorry to drop in without a booking-”

“you’re fine, stoppit. you apologize too much. you’re probably due for a special treatment if you’re game for it.”

You perked up despite the dark knot in your soul at the mention of the mysterious back room. Your curiosity was piqued again, and you were up to try anything to get your head back in order by this point. So decided, you nodded.

You were lead into the back room, and you eagerly took in your new environment. There were a couple huge, very plush looking beanbags in the center of the room. A water cooler was off to the side, and a little table next to it had a hot water dispenser and tea bags. There wasn’t a ton of other things here, besides a few odd indoor plants and a distinct lack of mirrors compared to the salon-esque layout outside.

You belatedly realize that Jethro was trying to get your attention, and rush to respond. “S-sorry, what?”

“was askin’ if you wanted a rundown. this is your first time back here, you outta know what you’re agreeing to for both our sakes.”

“Ok, what happens next then?”

“well, you’ll recall that we consume negative emotions, and that we run off magic just like other monsters?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“this is an extension of that. some monster types have the ability to take others into their bodies harmlessly. if i do that, i’ll be able to sap even more negativity and also tease apart what triggered the emotions. that way we can work through it more specifically than in previous sessions, plus the negativity drains quicker.”

You blinked at him. That was one of the longer spiels you’d heard from him ever, but you were lost as hell. “That sounds great, but what did you mean about the taking into...?”

“yeah, it’s pretty similar to what you’re probably thinking. i’d essentially have to eat you.” he shrugged casually, like that was obvious.

You flinched away, feeling your heart rate spike.

“we don’t have to, if you want to try a normal session.” he offered, hands in pockets and expression neutral.

You go quiet in thought and he lets you. Everything from your previous session clicked into place, and you realized that when you’d met Obsidian he’d had someone inside while you three talked. You also realized the dim recognition you’d felt in the front room was that the client in the chair today was the same that’d disappeared into the back room with Obsidian.

The train of thought came to a halt as you realized worrying was stupid, this was Jethro for frick’s sake! You trusted him easily, so extending that trust to allow what he clearly thought was the best move for you took little effort.

“If you think it’ll help, I’m up for it.” You say, determined.

He had a soft, almost relieved smile as he nodded in reply.

He didn’t waste any time, and wrapped you snugly in all four of his tendrils. You were surprised by how little effort it appeared to take to lift your whole form off the floor. He flopped into one of the beanbags unceremoniously.

So that’s what those are for. you thought as you watched him settle comfortably in the soft cushion.

You couldn’t help but tense when you were brought over his upturned face, and tilted so you were almost nose to nose (...nose to nasal bone. Whatever.) with him leaving your body hanging parallel to the floor in his grip.

You’re not afraid, but you’re certainly nervous. Until you’re just not. You’ve done this enough to know he’s siphoning the nerves away, but this time you apparently don’t have much in the way of other emotions and are left with a hollow feeling. That utter lack of emotions leaves you to do nothing beyond going limp to make the next steps easier and watch as his mouth approaches to engulf your head. You duck your head down and find it pillowed on a tongue, cool to the touch and jet black. The light is almost immediately cut off as you’re pushed deeper in by the four tendrils around your torso.

A wet gulp squishes into your ears and you feel a pressure over the crown of your head as your skull presses into the throat. You briefly wonder how a skeleton has such human like fleshy bits but chalk it up to the ooze over his whole bony form. A tendril slid off your body as its assistance was no longer needed, leaving a cool sensation and a slight tingle akin to mint in its wake.

Another wet sound and you’re in deeper. The sounds quickly pick up and settle into a comfortable rhythm, drawing you in with apparent ease. You eventually slide into a roomier space and flip into a somewhat seated position. You hear a sigh above you, and finally curiosity, relief, and a few other emotions take up residence in your head again.

“you good?” You hear him ask, voice close but also somewhat muffled.

You respond in the affirmative.

“good. get comfy, do whatever you need to. once you’re settled i can stop focusing on the anxiety of this arrangement and instead deal with what brought you here.”

You scootched into a comfortable curled position and forced yourself to cycle a breath. You used your favored calming technique and found that your nervousness first came back before ebbing completely. He’d stopped siphoning it away, but you felt fine now. You decided that you could take this opportunity to feel out your new surroundings for a moment, since Jethro pretty much gave permission. You decided to start pretty literally, pushing outwards on a wall with light pressure. Your fingers sunk in, the texture was like pressing on a gel mousepad. Cool to the touch, but you weren’t about to start shivering in here.

The whole area was dim, but the grooves in the wall dully glowed with turquoise light enough to see your surroundings and to see where your hand was in relation to the rest of you. You weren’t blind in the pitch dark, much to your relief. (Not that you had considered that issue before agreeing to be taken in.)

You ran your hand along the wall to further investigate and found friction minimal while not feeling wet. You didn’t quite realize you were rubbing at the wall before you until you heard a light chuckle and felt an opposing pressure from outside. You understood immediately that that was his hand pressing in at you from outside and used both hands together to push at the appendage and interact. After a moment he changed to rubbing at you like you had him, asking “did you want to address what brought you in or keep on playing in there?”

“Ha, sorry. Yeah, we should start. What do I have to do?”

He let out a long suffering sigh. “y/n, you still apologize too much.” He sounded exasperated, but was also teasing you.

“S-” You were about to apologize, but caught yourself. Well shit, you didn’t know what else to say if not sorry.

Jethro laughed a little at you, before moving on to his next point. “all you have to do is relax. first i have to figure out what went on with you, then we can talk.”

You felt the difference starkly between a normal session and this one. You could feel the stress sap out of you, and what you had to imagine having your life flash before your eyes was like but instead directly related to your recent stressors. It felt like it lasted awhile while simultaneously feeling like no time had passed.

The following discussion was long, but sorely needed. By the end you felt relief, gratitude, and a renewed determination. At some point the chamber you were in had seemingly formed itself a small puddle of what was apparently liquid magic. Jethro had already explained that it was essentially the excess magical energy his body had converted your stress into, and you thought it was much less noxious in this form. It was warm to the touch and flowed like water the best you could tell in the dim light. It had a faint turquoise glow that still managed to not cast too much light just like the rest of his magic. It filled a few inches at the bottom, so while you had your legs crossed it lapped as the tops of your knees and around your hips. You scooped some of the liquid up and absently let it fall through your fingers onto your knee.

The only problem with this was that such warmth in addition to the emotional exhaustion you were already feeling combined to make you about to fall asleep. Maybe you should ask about getting out?

“you nodding off on me in there? your heart’s slowing down.” he asked, interrupting your thoughts.

“I think so. Guess I should get out.” You found that you were loathe to move, though. You stretched your legs out, pressing your feet into the opposing wall.

“i can let you out, sure.” he said easily. A pause, then he adds “unless you’d rather sleep.”

You blink. “In here? Don’t you want me out?”

You felt the wall behind you tug upwards, seeming like he shrugged. “i don’t have any other appointments today.”

“...If you don’t mind?”

“since when do i suggest anything i’m not willing to do?”

You chuckle “Fair enough. Well, thank you.” You pat the wall and reposition to a reclined, curled position.

He gives you a pat back, “don’t mention it.”

The last thought you had before sleep overtook you was that for how crap you felt before, you felt pretty good now.

#god i hope i didn't overstep any bounds #undertail vore #extreme cuddling #soft vore #safe vore #also yes the name was an NCIS reference and i'm a nerd idk why but the name popped into my head and wouldn't leave so that's what he got #also saw it was their bday yesterday so i guess this is a belated present #i couldn't find anything you said about what liquid magic looks like when its sourced from emotional drains #and i know in your multiverse the universe of origin dictates color so sorry i had to make it up

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msmarvelouswinchester · 4 years

Text

The One Where Everything Goes Wrong - 1

Summary - Dean Winchester is the most charming man you have ever met so when he asks you out on a date, you say yes because what can be better than going on a date with Dean but sometimes somethings don't go the way you have planned them.

Pairing - Dean Winchester x Reader; Sam Winchester

Warning - Fluff, Angst-ish, mentions of hydrophobia, and fear of sharks, panic attack

Word Count - 2550

A/N - This is a collaboration with @miss-nerd95/. @bucky--barnes . It has been planned and written by both of us. This will be a two parter! Hope you like it.

Spn dividers by @talesmaniac89

You threw your head back, groaning in frustration. There wasn't a single piece of clothing that you felt was appropriate for your date. Skimming through the closet for the third time, you glared at all the different pieces of flannels, flip side of being a hunter, before you finally noticed the long floral dress at the back of your closet.

“This will work,” you muttered to yourself as you picked the dress, happy that you found something worthy.

Dean Winchester, a name that was enough to make the demons of hell and the angels of heaven tremble with fear but for you he was just Dean, the man who had successfully stolen your heart at the very first ‘hello’, so you needed the date to be perfect. Even though you were head over heels for him, you never uttered a single word about how you felt and neither did he. The fear of being rejected by him, hearing him say that he didn't feel the same kept your mouth sealed shut for a long time.

So it all came as a surprise when you were lying on the bed in a motel room with aching muscles because of a rough hunt and mind filled with the vicious words exchanged between you and Dean and the door to your room slightly opened, revealing the said man standing in the doorway with an unreadable look on his face. It all happened so quickly as Dean crossed the room in long strides to stand at the foot of your bed and confess his feelings for you, no longer wanting to hide it in case something bad happened.

After putting on your dress, as you touched up on your makeup, you smiled softly remembering the fond memory of his lips on yours for the first time that night before he asked you out on date. You looked at yourself in the mirror feeling content with how you looked.

Yet unbeknownst to you, Dean was running around in the bunker like a headless chicken trying to plan the perfect date.

“Will you sit down for a minute?” Sam rolled his eyes at his brother who was pacing across the war room, eyes focused on the floor, lost in thought.

“She loves junk food right?” Dean asked, at which all Sam wanted to do was punch him.

“You know her better than me, but to answer your question, yes, she loves all those greasy food items which increase your body cholesterol. No wonder you're made for each other, but I really feel sorry for when you'll have kids,” the younger Winchester smirked.

“Stop teasing, you don't get it! I love her, Sammy-”

“I don't get it? Dude, I was the one who was sick of both of you dancing around each other,” Sam grumbled, “if it wasn't for me pushing you out of that door back after that hunt, you wouldn't have asked her out. Now stop freaking out like a fifteen year old going on his first date!”

“I'm not freaking out. I'm just nervous,” Dean said.

“Wow, would you look at that? Dean Winchester, the ladies’ man, is nervous about a date,” Sam chuckled.

“Shut up.” Sam rolled his eyes at the green eyed hunter for the second time that morning, “She makes me nervous. What if I fuck up?”

“Don't worry. Everything will be fine. I just can't believe I'm the one giving you dating advice right now.”

“Shut. Up. And I know it's going to be fine. I have it all planned out. A visit to the aquarium and then a little picnic underneath the stars, she's going to fall in love with me,” Dean made a sound which resembled a giggling teenage boy.

Sam was grinning until he processed the words. “Wait. An aquarium?”

“Yeah, why are you saying it like that-”

“Dean,” you stepped into the war room, interrupting the brothers. Out of habit, you were about to bite your lip but you remembered the lipstick you had put on, so you just settled for playing with the ring on your finger, waiting for their reaction.

Both the Winchesters just stared at you, mouth opened which made you more anxious. Was there something on your face? Shit, you looked around the War Room where Dean had asked you to meet once you were ready, why didn't they have any mirrors in here?

Clearing your throat, you shifted your gaze on the man standing beside his brother, the latter sitting on one of the chairs of the table. He looked dapper in the dark jean jacket which he traded for his usual plaid and contrasted it with a plain white tee he wore underneath Although you loved seeing him wrapped in flannel,this new look of his made you go weak in the knees and you sure would have melted into a puddle on the spot had Sam not interrupted your thoughts.

"You look beautiful, Y/N." He harshly nudged Dean, at which the latter glared at him before looking back at you. Nodding, he almost sounded like he was in a daze. "Yeah, you look great, sweetheart."

You blushed, tucking a loose strand of your hair behind your ear, "Thank you, you don't look too bad yourself. Shall we go? You still haven't told me where we're going Dean."

Sam got up from his seat and spoke hurriedly, "Yeah about that, Dean, I don't think-"

Dean narrowed his eyes, "I'm telling you for the third time, shut up. Don't ruin the surprise."

"But-"

"Nope, we're going now. Sweetheart, are you comfortable in those heels? We may have to walk a bit."

You waved goodbye at Sam, who dejectedly sat back down, pinching the bridge of his nose once you were out of the door. This was going to end in a disaster.

“Milady.” Dean held Baby's door open for you, one hand on the handle and another on the window of the black impala. The tips of his ears turned red when your hand touched his as you slid into the passenger's seat.

You gave him a nervous smile, as he walked to the other side and got into the driver's side, pulling the Impala out of the Bunker’s garage

You looked out of the window as Baby’s engine purred, the scenery familiar as you drove out. Glancing at him, you prodded, "Can you please tell me where we're going? You know I don't like surprises."

Dean's tongue peeked out to sweep across his bottom lip, as he stole a glance your way. He chuckled before focusing back on the road.

"You'll find out when we get there." You huffed in annoyance, crossing your arms indignantly as you looked away.

"Aw, sweetheart don't be like that." Rolling your eyes, you held in a smile as you shook your head. "Not until you tell me where we're going."

Dean laughed at your pout, "I can just tell you that you're gonna love it.

You uncrossed your hands, your left tracing the outline of the almost rolled down window, the other on the seat beside you. A blush crept up your cheek when you felt his hand clasp yours, fingers entangling.

"I guess I'll let you off the hook just this once. But at least tell me how much time we need to get there."

He squeezed your hands in his as he beamed at you, eyes shining. "We're almost there. We ain't leaving Kansas City."

And so you relaxed as you moved closer to him, your head resting on his shoulder until a huge building with 'Sea Life' written on it with pictures of the habitats of the same appeared in front of you.You visibly paled as you realized that the Aquarium was where you were heading, thankful that Dean couldn't see your face.

"We're going in there?"

You felt him nod lightly. "Yup!"

Why he didn't notice the quiver in your voice you didn't know, but you surely heard the excitement in his as he parked the car. And that's when you decided, you were going to tough it out, everything else be damned.

After all, it wasn't everyday that you went on dates with Dean; if you could face the vampires that killed your parents, you could certainly walk through those rooms which had glass separating you from water and the creatures-

Nope, you weren't going to think about it.

But as he got out of the car and walked towards your side, offering his hand to you with a shy smile, you returned it. You climbed out of Baby, taking his hand into yours.

Well, this could work if you put all of your attention on Dean instead of, uh… your surroundings.

You could feel your heart beating loudly against your chest as you walked through the doors, Dean showing them the tickets and the hopeful look he sent your way made you swallow your apprehension and the request him to move your date someplace else. You nodded at him, somehow conjuring up a small smile for his sake.

Showing you the small catalogue, he started listing the types of the creatures that were in the aquarium, telling you that there was a special exhibit they had just built and couldn't wait to see it. You could tell that he had planned this out and you just couldn't mess it up. You knew he was loving the aquarium tour since you had seen him spending time in the Dean Cave - watching Shark week.

His hand was still in yours as he pulled you towards the first tank and you immediately closed your eyes when you saw that you were nearing the big blue filled with small blobs of other colors, not realizing that you had stopped until you felt a tug, opening them to see beautiful green orbs narrowed in concern.

"You okay, Y/N?"

You bit your bottom lip, a small "Yeah," coming out of your mouth, hoping he was convinced.

Well, as it turned out, he did. You shoved your face in his shoulder, thankful for the double layers on his skin because he couldn't feel your breaths becoming rapid as the room became colder the further you walked in, but at least you had Dean, a literal human furnace to distract you, his hand warm in yours.

"You're excited right?" His voice was giddy as he asked. "Of course," you answered, cringing at the high pitch of yours.

When you finally reached it, you left his side to go to the small metal plate at one end of the exhibit bearing the information as he looked at the fishes, "Hey Y/N, you gotta see this one, it's called an Angel fish. It looks awesome with streaks of brown and black. Don't you think it kinda looks like Cas?" You laughed at that, but you weren't going to look at the fish, not even if your life depended on it.

"Yeah! Click a picture to show Sam later. This is really interesting," you pointed at the small panel without turning your gaze.

Well that trick of yours worked for the rest of the tanks. At least for some time it worked.

Dean slipped his hand back into yours, squeezing it, "Now it's time for the special thing I told you about." You didn't know if you were feeling offended or worried that Dean didn't notice the way you were behaving.

A wry smile tugged at your lips as you saw what he was referring to. It was a dome, a tunnel you had to walk through while the water surrounded you from three sides, and you shook your head, pulling him away from the entrance of the tunnel.

"Hey, you know what Dean, we haven't kissed once during our date. It feels wrong, let's go make out in the washrooms or something." He was taken aback by your sudden brashness but he licked his lips, a smirk etching on his face, "I did think of it, but I wanna make this as cheesy as possible. I wanna kiss you on the second part of the date."

All colour drained from your skin as your eyes widened, "What second part?"

And for the first time that day, Dean frowned which made you feel bad. "I thought that this was going good. I had just planned a picnic after this. Don't worry, if you're not having fun, we can directly go home. The exit is at the end of the tunnel."

You groaned in frustration. "No, no! I'm having fun. Trust me, I am enjoying this! Now let's go." You had survived without any mishap till now and you could do this. All you had to do was walk. Or so you thought.

The moment you stepped in, Dean hurried to the glass, you decidedly not looking anywhere else but the light at the end of the tunnel.

"Y/N look, a shark!" He grabbed your face moving your head towards it and your breath caught in your throat and not in a good way.

You trembled, pushing Dean away to sit down, your head cradled in your hands as you pulled your knees closer, trying to think about something else but even with your eyes closed, the blue glow given off in the silent environment still seeped in through your eyelids and all you could think of was the big fish on the other side of the glass.

You didn't know what happened next, all you could feel was the rapid pounding of your heart, your sweaty hands and not being able to breathe.

Dean kneeled next to you, dumbstruck at how the date went sideways, unable to know what was happening or do anything, fear creeping in as he froze. Normally he was quick at thinking on gun point, but seeing you on the floor like that puzzled him. “Sweetheart, what is it?Please say something.”

You tried to talk but you couldn't. You were shaking and it was impossible for you to form any sort of coherent words. “I-out.” You choked out .And that was all it took for Dean to get into action, putting one arm under your knees and another on your back as he picked you up in bridal style, making sure that your dress was positioned properly before running out of the exit towards the Impala. He could feel you shiver in his arms, cursing under his breath as he quickly unlocked the car and sat you on the back seat.

He held your hands, rubbing your palms, blowing on them as he whispered, "Hey, look at me. You're okay. We're out of there. We're never going in again. Breathe. I'm here with you." Over and over again in your ears.

You tried matching your breath with his as you eventually calmed down. You took a few minutes as your breath evened out before you opened your eyes, only to see the worry in those beautiful green ones again.

The ride back to the Bunker was short and silent. You didn't say anything, you didn't know what to say, feeling that it was your fault as you looked at Dean's scrunched up eyebrows through your peripheral vision.

What you didn't know was that Dean felt the exact same.

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boxoftheskyking · 3 years

Text

Pick Up Every Piece, Part Four

Ugh this took forevvvvver

I know that the MDZS map is like based on actual China, so my apologies to whatever Yiling is based on. I need a shithole for this story, and Yiling’s it.

In which Lan Zhan follows A Story

Part One, Part Two, Part Three

----

Early November 2000

Lan Zhan is headed back to Moling. It’s not a trip that he particularly enjoys, anymore. He takes the train these days, since he got rid of his car.

He used to drive the 45 minutes there twice a week when he and Liu Shirong were first dating, before they moved in together in Caiyi. There used to be a sense of anticipation, enjoyment, each landmark and familiar turning a step closer to someone he wanted to see. An arm across his back, a kiss to his jaw, Shirong reaching up on tiptoe to greet him. He’d pick up Shirong at school and they’d wave out the window at the little kids in the schoolyard. Bye, Teacher Liu! Moling was an escape, an innocent place, somewhere far away from the darkness and dirt he spent his days sifting through.

Dear Shirong. He’s a good man. Short, kind, a silly gasping laugh. Desperate for children. He has two now, and a husband. Lan Zhan has lunch with him occasionally.

Now that he thinks about it, their last lunch was over a year ago. He supposes that doesn’t count as “occasionally” anymore. He could reach out first, if he wanted to. But he’s never been the type to reach out. Shirong has a life, a family, all the things he always wanted. All the things Lan Zhan couldn’t give him.

“I cannot imagine myself with a child,” he’d said when they broke up. He hadn’t intended for it to actually be a breakup—he hadn’t really thought that far ahead. But Shirong had visited an actual agency the day before and handed him a brochure, and Lan Zhan had left the apartment and driven into the mountains in a blind panic. He’d ended up stopped outside someone’s cabin, all the way up their driveway, and parked outside this stranger’s house until he’d gotten his breathing under control. That’s one of the reasons he’d sold the car. He’d never done that before, taken off like that, trespassed on private property, so getting rid of the car was the safest option.

Precept 45 of the Lan Clan: Do not act impulsively.

Precept 213: Be strict with yourself.

Precept 341: When faced with temptation away from the righteous path, remove the source of temptation.

His brother finds his interest in the old clan rules an amusing idiosyncrasy. Even his uncle, strict as he is, finds the rules nothing more than an heirloom, evidence of some kind of hereditary virtue but nothing relevant to the modern day.

It’s not that he follows them. He just likes to know them, to turn them over in his mind. As options. When faced with a decision, there’s a comfort in turning to generations of dead Lans for guidance. Some people like astrology.

There are a lot of Lans, these days, enough that he’s never met a good number of cousins. There’s plenty of Lans he’s barely related to at all, at this point, but the name still has a good reputation. It’s the opposite of what the Wens have to deal with, those who weren’t involved in the insurrection. Everyone knows the old clans are ancient history and you can’t judge someone on their family name. But still, no one named Wen is going to find work in Lanling anytime soon.

The point is, the Lans have survived and multiplied, so whatever kept them going in the old days can’t be completely useless.

His original interest in the rules was mostly as a journalist, which he’d hoped his uncle might understand. Every rule implies a story. A reason. Thousands of them mean you can triangulate an entire context. Who were we? How did we get here? What did we lose, and how?

Precept 9: Do not speak dishonestly.

Precept 77: Do not make promises that you cannot honor.

“I cannot imagine myself with a child,” he’d said.

Don’t worry, Lan Zhan, we’ll figure it out together. “I’m not sure I want to imagine myself with a child.” It will be different when it’s ours. You’ll see. “The more you talk about it, the less sure I am.” That’s okay, Lan Zhan, I can be sure enough for the both of us.

“I don’t want this. I don’t want this with you.”

Precept 424: Do not be needlessly cruel.

Lan Zhan had killed men during the war. Cultivation was useful for long-range attacks, but he still found himself in the situation of killing up close, of watching the light leave an enemy’s eyes.

He saw the light leave Liu Shirong’s eyes. For a moment his instincts had jolted, shocking through his nervous system. You’ve killed him. You activated your core, by accident, and you’ve killed him.

But it wasn’t the end of Liu Shirong’s life, of course, just the end of his love for Lan Zhan, the end of their life together, the end of whatever future he’d imagined for them. Lan Zhan had meant to release him gently, like a small rabbit with a newly-healed leg, back out into the world he came from. But he’d crushed him instead, under his clumsy feet.

Do not be needlessly cruel.

There are pools of guilt around Moling. Every place that he recognizes, everywhere they went together, even if the memories themselves are good. The guilt gathers on his clothes, soaks through to the skin, makes him cold.

It’s not that he misses Shirong. Perhaps he should miss him more than he does. It’s been nearly three years since they split up. It should perhaps hurt more than it does. It’s embarrassing that it took longer for him to get over Wei Ying—a relationship that never happened.

The worst part of the breakup didn’t even have to do with Shirong himself. He hadn’t made a special call after Shirong left, or even after he officially moved out a week later, but he had mentioned it when Lan Huan called him as usual on the second Tuesday of the month.

“Oh, I’m sorry, didi,” Lan Huan had said. “I know you did love him, in your own way.”

In your own way.

Is he not— Did he not—

Had he never—

He is nearly to Moling. The train track curves here, about fifteen minutes out, and the rails were laid in crooked. It’s a jolt, every time. It’s easy to see who the regular commuters are, whose coffee sloshes over, who widens their stance in time, who looks suddenly out the window, worried. Sabotage on the tracks, maybe, or someone under the cars. The younger people don’t look worried, only bored.

The landscape is odd, he realizes suddenly. He’s been staring vaguely out the window, letting his mind wander, but where he’s used to a few farms, a man-made lake, and mostly open country there is torn up ground, heavy machinery, and miles of chain-link fence. Did he not notice this on his last trip? Had he been reading?

Out the window he sees a large sign on the fence announcing, “Future home of Jin Industries Moling Satellite Campus.” Typical.

In your own way.

He never asked what Lan Huan meant by that. Lan Zhan has won multiple awards for his reporting, for his ability to encourage others to talk. The right facial expression at the right time. A direct, polite question with just the right emphasis. Merciless is what they say about him, sometimes. He’s like a swordsman in an old movie, Nie Mingue used to say, in a way that sounded like a compliment. He moves so quick and so sharp, you don’t even know he’s cut you until you’re around the corner and your head falls off.

He’s poking at it like a sore tooth, needlessly. His golden core makes itself known, just a little sense, a small awakening. It’s always ready to defend him, even so many years later. He does nothing with the awareness, of course. No cultivation is authorized outside of combat. But his core was never removed, never shut down. Can’t put the hot sauce back in that bottle, Jiang Cheng had said once.

The train slows, stops.

“Moling station. Depart here—” The pleasant voice is cut off by a beeping. Lan Zhan stands and shoulders his bag.

“Attention passengers,” a crackled voice comes over the loudspeaker, far less pleasant than the recording. “Due to a security concern all passengers must depart the train at car fourteen. Doors will not open except for car fourteen. Departing passengers, please make your way to car fourteen.”

Lan Zhan looks around the car, then sees a “3” on the far wall. He sighs and follows the few people who are struggling with the connecting door to car four. The chimes that gently demand Get off the damn train are going. He has to speedwalk down the aisle, which is undignified, and everyone looks up at him with that poor bastard expression reserved for torn grocery bags and flat tires.

He makes it off the train a second before the door closes and it pulls away.

“Close one!” an old man grins at him, more humor than teeth.

The police have roped off most of the platform, everyone standing around looking at each other. A few are smoking. Lan Zhan goes over to the rope, coming up next to a kid with one of those handheld electronic games. The kid’s staring around at the cops while his game beeps vaguely in a lonely sort of way.

“What’s happened?” Lan Zhan asks him.

The kid answers without looking at him. “Abandoned bag. Nothing’s happening.” He sounds disappointed.

“Hm.” Sure enough, there’s a nondescript green backpack slumped on a bench.

“They always say it might blow up, but it never does.”

“Not so much these days,” Lan Zhan agrees.

“Like, if it was gonna blow up they wouldn’t be smoking near it, right?”

Lan Zhan smiles despite himself. “Good eye,” he says. His golden core is settled within him, curling beneath his breastbone like a sleeping cat, uninterested and unconcerned. No danger.

There had been a certain amount of withdrawal, after the war. And grief, and nightmares, and a limp for a while. But the end of regular cultivation, of relying on his golden core as a seventh sense, a second consciousness, a second self, the end of healing himself from the inside, of Wangji at his back and power at his fingertips . . .

It’s not entirely the government’s fault, if he’s being fair. Governments have always thrown away veterans, no matter who is in power. Always have, always will. Use you up and spit you out with maybe some benefits and the number of some overtaxed and underpaid case worker. And cultivation, being both new and more ancient than anything, was an unknown since the beginning. There are no peer-reviewed studies on the long-term effects of using a golden core. If Jin Guangyao hadn’t been doing his own research with the Wens for all those years, only to defect back to his father’s side when the tide began to turn, there wouldn’t have been a cultivator corps at all. So Lan Zhan can’t put the responsibility on any one person’s shoulders.

But it still claws at him, sometimes. His core wants out, wants to stretch, to strike, to light something up. It’s like wrapping his head in blankets, sometimes, stifling and muffled and hard to breathe.

Jin Zixuan likes to talk about it, how it feels. Lan Zhan and Jiang Cheng do not.

He checks his watch and picks up his pace, passing by another building down the block under renovation with a Jin Industries sign. The logo is close enough to the Sunshot flag that the government connection is implied, but different enough for plausible deniability.

Lan Qiaolian is leaning on her car a few blocks away, exactly where she said she’d be. Lan Zhan appreciates it—they’ve met only once, and he doesn’t trust his ability to pick her out in a crowd. She’s a short woman, but solidly built. Doesn’t look like a Lan, is what his uncle would say.

“Lan Zhan!” she waves to him and drops her cigarette on the pavement. “Thanks for coming.”

He nods and takes his place in the passenger seat. The drive to the Moling Children’s Center is quiet for a while. The Center is near Yilong’s old gym; he remembers the road.

“You had a meeting with the detective?” he asks, though he knows the answer.

“Yeah. Still stonewalling me. Everything’s fucking confidential. They say they’ve canvassed the neighborhood, everywhere between the school and the bus stop and home. But it’s like everyone saw him walking home with his cousin, his cousin turns around for a minute to chase a damn neighborhood cat up a tree, and Sizhui is just . . . gone. How does a kid just disappear like that?”

“But this lead?”

“The administrator I talked to at the Center said they might have something, some record of where he was born. Maybe someone from his birth family has been looking for him, would take him? There’s just— Even if the records do exist, if they weren’t destroyed, I don’t know who has access. And he’s just a kid, you know? I’m not special. We’re not special. So I can’t think of anything but the worst. You know what happens to kids, especially if they take them West, I know they sell—”

“You don’t know,” Lan Zhan cuts her off, gently. “No one knows. No reason to go down that road unless the evidence points there.”

Lan Qiaolian rubs her face. “I just don’t know what the evidence is.”

“We’ll find something. I have a hunch.”

He does not have a hunch. He doesn’t believe in hunches. Or, rather, he didn’t before he started cultivating. Now he believes in the extra-sensory perception of his golden core, which he has been ordered—and signed pages of documents agreeing—to never use it again.

Either way, he’s learned that the general public like hunches. It’s comforting, apparently, someone taking the lead off of no information. It doesn’t make much sense, but most reassuring things don’t.

“I can’t help thinking—” Lan Qiaolian trails off, tapping her thumb on the steering wheel. “Maybe he left because of me.”

This is not a comfortable situation. Lan Zhan should respond with Of course not, don’t think like that. But for all he knows it could be true. He doesn’t really know Lan Qiaolian, and he certainly doesn’t know Lan Sizhui.

All he knows are the facts. Lan Qiaolian began fostering Lan Sizhui a year ago, when he was eight. It was just the two of them until a few weeks ago when Lan Sizhui went missing. It’s not his job to find missing children, but they are technically family, and if there’s some kidnapping or a dangerous part of Moling where children are falling into holes in the ground, that’s a story.

“Why would you think that?” It’s not as gentle, maybe, but it’s useful.

“I got laid off a few years ago. A lot of us did, mass layoffs.”

“Construction?”

“Yeah. Everyone from site managers to the detailers to— well, everyone. One whole firm shut down. So I thought, you know, I’d be home for a while, I got some unemployment, so maybe it would be a good time to finally start fostering. You know? I could stay home until he got adjusted, then when he started school I’d have found something new.”

“And he was happy?”

Lan Qiaolian smiles. “He’s always happy. He’s a real happy kid. Whatever he went through when he was little, he doesn’t seem to remember. Makes friends easily, fine by himself. He’s a dream. But maybe he was just good at showing me what I wanted to see. You know? Coming from a traumatic background like that, being in the system. You know, kids learn how to survive.”

“If he seemed happy, I’m sure he was.”

She sighs. “I just— The work never came back. The last six, seven months I’ve been calling everywhere I can think of. Even considered moving. Nothing. And so it’s been tight, even though it’s just the two of us. I figured with my husband’s life insurance we’d be fine until I found something, but I didn’t anticipate it taking this long. I’ve got some unemployment, but the support payments from fostering messed with my benefits. And so it’s been tight. And maybe he— You know, the secondhand clothes, no takeout, no games. Not getting to go on the school trips because I can’t pay the— I can’t help thinking, maybe all that time in the system, he must’ve been dreaming about a home, you know, what it would be like. And then when it wasn’t—”

“That’s a lot of conjecture.”

She laughs. “True. I just— The brain, it spins. You know?”

“Hm.” Lan Zhan looks out the window at the familiar neighborhood, then startles a bit. “Did they tear down the market?”

Qiaolian glances over. “Oh, yeah. Couple months ago. No more independent groceries in this part of town anymore. Not that most people could afford it at the end. They tried to stick it out, but the big chains moved in after the war, got those tax breaks.”

“Ah. ‘Economic revitalization.’”

She laughs again.

“So, if I can ask,” he starts, glancing out of the corner of his eye to gauge her response. “On the train I noticed building sites. Jin Industries?”

Her jaw clenches. “They’re not hiring.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“We’ve all tried. They’ve bought up half of Moling, and whoever’s running the construction’s not hiring local. Union’s totally shut out.”

“Really?”

“I’ve tried, okay? I’ve called so many—” she cuts off with a frustrated noise.

“Forgive me. It wasn’t a criticism. I’m just curious.”

She nods curtly. “We’re here.”

The administrator who has agreed to meet with them has black toner smudged up the inside of her left forearm and a framed picture of a cat on her desk. She offers Lan Zhan room temperature water in a cracked coffee mug.

“So you’re my eleven o’clock, right? Okay, right.”

“That’s an old flag,” Lan Zhan says, nodding up at the wall behind her. “I haven’t seen that design for a while.”

For the most part, it’s a standard Sunshot, but in addition to the golden hand and red sun, thin black lines reach up the palm like branches.

The administrator looks surprised, turning around to it. “Oh. Yeah, I guess. I don’t know, I don’t have time to keep up with all that. We have to pay for our own, you know. We’re required to hang a flag in every room but the bathroom, but it comes out of our general operating budget. The official ones aren’t cheap.”

Lan Qiaolian chuckles. “My cousin got it tattooed right after he got discharged. He was pissed when they got rid of the black squiggles in the update. I told him, that’s why you gotta think for more than a week before you make a permanent decision, you know?”

The administrator smiles politely. “Anyway. Let me see here.” She starts digging through her pile of folders. “Lai, Lai—”

“Lan,” Lan Zhan corrects.

“Sorry?”

“The name, it’s Lan.”

“Right! Right, okay, Lan. Lan . . . Here we go. Lan . . . Qiaolian. Foster mother. Yes?”

Qiaolian nods.

“And you are?”

“Family,” Lan Zhan says.

“Right. Okay, let’s see. Lan Sizhui, age nine.”

Lan Zhan leans forward. “Anything you can tell us about where he came from, his life before Lan Qiaolian met him?”

She clicks her tongue and runs a finger down the page. “War orphan, typical story. Moved around, a bit once he got to Gusu. No injuries or disabilities. Hearing and sight all good, average height. Slightly underweight, but that’s not unusual.”

“When did he arrive here?”

“At our facility? Looks like ‘98.”

“So he wasn’t here long before you got him,” Lan Zhan looks to Lan Qiaolian.

“Yeah, I guess. We don’t really talk about his past. That’s what the counselors recommend. You’re supposed to wait until they volunteer, you know? You don’t ask first.”

“Any idea where he came from? Birth family?”

The administrator clicks her tongue again, flips a few pages. Lan Zhan catches a sight of a grainy printed photograph, a kid looking around six, big chubby cheeks and shaggy long hair.

“Came in through law enforcement. No note of any charges or juvenile detention, so likely if he had surviving family they lost custody due to a criminal conviction. Looks like the child didn’t offer any details to counselors or placement. Um, looks like Sizhui was the name he got here.”

Lan Qiaolian frowns. “You named him? That’s not his birth name?”

“Common practice, especially if we have multiple kids with the same given name. He never gave a family name—Likely he either didn’t know his parents or forgot after being in the system for a while. A-Yuan is what he was called when he got here.”

“Yuan,” Lan Zhan turns it over in his mouth. “Something Yuan. Any record of where he was born?”

“Mmm, can’t be sure. But he entered the system in Yiling.”

“Yiling?”

“Yep. First registered into care in Yiling, 1995.”

Lan Zhan looks back up at the flag. The others must be thinking the same thing. Yiling in 1995, the Sunshot Massacre. But that’s a ridiculous thought—there were no survivors then, and plenty of other battles, bombings, one-off murders in the area at the end of the war.

“No family names though?” Lan Qiaolian asks. “Any record of someone who might be looking for him, might want him back?”

The administrator suddenly yawns hugely, covering her mouth with both hands. “I’m so sorry. No, no siblings, no recorded birth family. I’m so sorry, I haven’t been sleeping.”

“It’s all right,” Qiaolian says.

“I live over on the East side. They’re building some new damn complex, pounding in pilings at all hours of the night.”

“At night?” Qiaolian asks. “Why?”

The woman sighs. “I don’t know. Lights coming in the windows at one in the morning. I had to dig out my old curtains, thank goodness I still have them. Wake up in the middle of the night thinking the bombing’s started up again, ha, the banging and the lights. We’ve been complaining, but the company offered all the neighbors a settlement stop reporting it. Two months’ rent, we couldn’t turn it down.”

“Lots of construction,” Lan Zhan says, carefully. “Unusual construction.”

“I wouldn’t know,” the administrator shrugs. “I just hope they finish up quickly. My cats are getting stressed to death.”

“Have you noticed— Never mind.” Qiaolian chews her lip.

“Noticed what?”

“The site over by me, there’s a lot of trailers.”

“Like trailers you live in?”

“They look similar—usually there’s a double-wide or two for an on-site office, break area, you know. The site by us there’s a dozen at least. I just find that odd.”

“I haven’t noticed. Maybe. I don’t know, I try to ignore it. Whatever office complex or hotel or whatever it is, I don’t need it.”

The administrator flips through the file again. “I’m afraid that’s about all I can give you. Yiling might have more information—I think the children’s home there moved a couple years ago so files might have been lost, but it’s worth an ask. Signature on the transfer form looks like a Xie Ling. It’s not a huge town, anyway, could be someone remembers the kid, or the family. Local police or courts maybe, if they keep decent records.”

Lan Zhan and Lan Qiaolian exchange a glance.

“Sounds like I’m going to Yiling,” Lan Zhan says.

“You don’t have to—”

He shakes his head, then hands his card to the administrator. “If you think of anything, or hear anything.”

She takes it. “Gusu Herald? You’re not going to mention the flag thing, right? We’re compliant with everything, this one’s just a mistake.”

“I doubt you’ll even be mentioned. I’m just following the story.”

She looks doubtful. “Okay. We’re compliant, though.”

“I work for a newspaper, not the government.”

She snorts. “Yeah. Okay. ”

It twists a little in his stomach, but he nods at her politely as they leave.

The hallway takes them past a large window showing some kind of playroom. Three adults huddle around a low table, arguing in hushed tones, while a child who looks around four plays by himself with a few scratched up toy cars. The child has a cast on one arm, rolling one car at a time solemnly around on the carpet. He looks up as they pass him and tracks them all the way down the hallway. Lan Zhan can feel his eyes on the back of his neck even as they go out into the sunshine.

“Did Sizhui talk about anybody here?” Lan Zhan asks as they get back in the car. “Any friends at the group home, or children he knew when he was younger?”

“Not really. I was worried he’d have a hard time making friends, because he always seemed so content playing by himself. It’s why I was so glad he had Jingyi, his cousin. He’s the same age. He’s the one who was with—” Qiaolian breaks off, blinking hard. “Sorry. Long day.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” he says. He should say something else like It’s okay. It will be fine. We will find him. But he doesn’t, because that would probably be a lie. His silence rises like water in the car, over his mouth, his nose, stifling.

Do not be needlessly cruel.

“Yiling,” Lan Zhan says, to fill the space.

“Fucking Yiling,” Qiaolian agrees.

“I’ll go this weekend.”

“What? You can’t just take off across the country.”

“I haven’t taken vacation in three years. I can go.”

“Lan Zhan—”

“I will go. I’m not saying I will find him, but I will go.”

Lan Qiaolian doesn’t say anything else for the rest of the ride. When she drops him at the station, she just nods, lips pressed tight together.

“I will call you,” he says. She nods again and he gets out.

He stops by the payphone on the way in to the station to call the office.

“Can I talk to Lan Shu? Yes, thank you.” He waits while the call is transferred down to the basement. “Hi, Lan Shu. Have we got anything from Yiling? Anything we’ve covered. Is there a local paper there? I haven’t—”

Lan Shu snaps her gum on the other end of the line. He pulls the receiver away from his ear, wincing. It’s a very wet sound. “Yeah, I got some. I’ll check our clippings, but they’ve got some shitty local rag. A weekly, I think.”

“Please pull that for me. I’m looking for 1995, don’t know what month.”

“Eh, looks like it’s only been running a couple years. First edition I have is April ‘98.”

Lan Zhan taps his finger, thinking. “I’ll take everything you’ve got. Any of our coverage from ‘95.”

“So, Sunshot.”

“And anything else we covered.”

Lan Shu laughs around her gum, “What else is there? No one gave a shit about Yiling before Sunshot, and nobody’s given a shit since.”

Lan Zhan sighs. “Just pull what you can find. Please. I’ll be by in an hour and a half.”

He hangs up before she can snap her gum again. It gives him a headache, the wet sound.

He grabs a copy of the Herald for the train ride back. Instead of reading, he flips through the entire paper looking for one word: Yiling. He finds three mentions: once as the birthplace of a soccer player (a rags-to-riches story), once as the site of a hailstorm in the weather section, and once, as expected, in reference to the Sunshot Massacre.

He hasn’t thought about it much before. He’s never been to Yiling, but there’s never really been a reason. Even before the war it was a small, poor, middle of nowhere town with low property values, high crime rates, and the worst literacy numbers in the country. It was shitty, but not in an interesting way. Qinghe was always shitty but exciting—drug kingpins and porn producers and a famous red light district. It’s become more respectable since the war, though it’s kept some of it’s sleazy veneer. Lan Huan likes to visit, says there’s a good arts scene, but Lan Zhan has never been tempted. He traveled a lot during the war, but since returning home he’s never really felt the urge. For a while it was justified. Recovery. But five years? Maybe he’s more than comfortable, now. Maybe he’s stagnating.

Lan Shu gives him two-and-a-half years of weekly papers in a brown paper bag and slim folder of photocopied clipping from the Herald’s own files. He hauls it all home on the bus piles them neatly by year on the coffee table, then settles in with a cup of tea to read. There are empty gum wrappers in the bottom of the bag.

The Yiling Observer is a quick read, only eight pages in its first edition. There are no bylines, oddly, no editors listed, no photographs, just one phone number and a street address in the masthead. The stories are . . . not quite what he expected. No gruesome crimes or depressing statistics. Just coverage of a local amateur basketball tournament, a car accident that took out a storefront, an interview with a grandmother about her vegetable garden. Small stories, almost defiantly local, but clearly and concisely written. Professional. A recipe for xiao long bao attributed to a Mrs. Yi.

He flips to the back page, under the fold. Whatever it says in bold.

This is your humble author’s own column, where our fearless and frightening editor has given me these few inches to write whatever I like. Hence the name, Whatever. Today we’re going to talk about the Sunshot Flag, or as I like to call it, “Hey, let’s slap reminders of a war crime up on every building in the country, that’s a great idea.”

Lan Zhan snorts. Whoever the writer is, they’re not wrong. He gets up to heat more water and adds to his list of things to do on the kitchen counter. Read all of the newspapers. Call the HR department and schedule a few days of vacation, maybe a week. Wait until his uncle sees it on the out of office calendar and calls him in a huff to explain the story. Book a train ticket to Yiling. Make an appointment at children’s services. Find a hotel. Ask Lan Huan to water his plants. Do laundry.

He feels better with a list, like all of the static of potential responsibilities has focused into a clearly intelligible sound inside his skull.

He goes back to the paper.

And before you complain—and I know some of you will—you’re the one reading my paper. Maybe someday you’ll have better options and can use this only for lining your bird cages, but for now I’m the best you got. That’s Yiling, baby.

Part Five

#assorted writings #pick up every piece #the untamed #cql #mo dao zu shi #postwar journalist au #i hate plot

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mar-bluu · 3 years

Text

Hey @wishingforserendipity your @newsies-secretsanta here!! sorry for a few delays in posting, my computer decided to mess things up for me lol! you mentioned your favourite ship was sprace, so i wrote something for you!! (there also may or may not be a surprise at the end :3)

ship: sprace word count: 3375 warnings: a few swear words and i think thats it

The mattress groaned under his weight as Race lifted himself off the bed, heart pounding. There wouldn’t be much to be afraid of, you would think, at one of his closest friend’s house, but you’d be wrong. His hands were cold and clammy, knees shaking, and mind whirling. It was, in fact, the close friend in question who was the cause of all this. Not that he had any idea, of course. Here Race was, nearly losing his damn mind, while Spot fucking Conlon was sitting in the living room, completely and blissfully unaware of the hell he was going through.

Race had always had a good poker face, at least that’s what he liked to think. Spot, however, could recognise his tell from a mile off. A small press of his lips, gently rolling them between his teeth was a dead giveaway for Spot every single time, and within the last twelve hours, Race had been over, Spot had seen it a million and one times. And it wasn’t just the subtle press that clued him in on Race’s inner thoughts, the constant restlessness- tapping on his legs, eyes flicking around the room, whispering under his breath- it was enough to make Spot himself nervous. But, he considered himself a good host, and more importantly a good friend, and nothing was going to stop him from making Race as comfortable as he possibly could.

Tip-toeing down the hall, Race peered out into the living room, watching Spot curled up with a blanket on the couch, fixated on typing away on his laptop. Holding his breath, Race padded into the kitchen, grabbing a glass and cracking the fridge, pouring himself a glass of water as quietly as possible. His head was pounding Race raised the glass to his cracked lips, letting the water soothe his dry throat when-

“Is everything okay?”

Race jumped a foot in the air with a small yelp, clutching desperately at the glass in his hand and spun around. Spot was turned to face over the back of the couch, arms raised slightly in an apologetic gesture. “Sorry- but uh, are you okay? This is your eighth glass of water in twenty minutes, you’ve been out to grab three extra blankets and four pillows.” He straightened himself a little more on the couch. “Is the guest room uncomfortable?”

“No!” Race took a quick step forward toward the bench, eyes wide. “No,” he repeated, a little calmer, clearing his throat. “The room’s fine, everything’s fine it’s just…” He trailed off, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

“Weird sleeping in a house that’s not yours?” Spot finished hesitantly, cocking his head a little to the side. Race nodded slowly, pressing his lips together. Yeah. He thought, trying to ignore the way the light highlighted the angular features of Spot’s face. Let’s go with that.

Lies. Spot gave a small smile as Race excused himself back to the guest bedroom. He was lying. Spot didn’t know what to feel. Angry at the blatant untruths he had given him? Or hurt that Race felt that he couldn’t tell him the truth? Spot settled back onto the couch, hands resuming their position hovering over the keyboard, but the words didn’t want to work anymore so he sighed and placed his head in his hands. Somewhere in the dark recesses of his mind, a little voice whispered, its words cold and poisonous.

He doesn’t want to be here.

Spot ran his tongue over his teeth, fixing his eyes on the wall ahead.

He doesn’t want to be near you.

Spot had ignored this voice a hundred times before, and he would ignore it another hundred if he had to.

Why do you think he’s been acting like this? He’s distancing himself from you. He hates you.

Spot stood up, digging his nails into his palm as he tried to force the voice out. As much as he hated to admit it, that one stung. But he had to remind himself that it was nonsense, that it was just an exaggeration fabricated by his imagination. He knew it wasn’t true. Probably. He sighed once more. Spot wasn’t sure why, but the thought of losing Race hurt him. Like really hurt him. More than he thought it would. He and Race felt so entwined with each other that Spot feared if he lost Race, he would lose a piece of himself. And just like that, the icy voice was back, louder and harsher than before, and Spot shook his arms out as he stepped into the kitchen, biting down on the inside of his cheek in an attempt to get rid of them. He picked up a glass of his own, filling it halfway with water. Maybe Race had the right idea trying to drown his uneasiness.

He tried to stay away. He tried to go back to bed, to close his eyes, roll over and go to sleep, he really did. But here he was, laying on the couch, heart hammering so fast he thought he it was going to burst through his chest, Spot’s fingers tugging softly but rhythmically through his hair. He had tried, and he had failed. Race stared straight up at the ceiling, butterflies swirling in his stomach as Spot’s thick fingers brushed through his curls. Spot was humming quietly, still tapping away on his laptop with his free hand, and Race wanted to throw up or pass out, or maybe both. His eyes flicked over to Spot’s face, half-hoping to catch his eye. However, this only made him feel a little guilty, for some reason, so he looked away, ignoring the rising heat in his cheeks.

Chewing on his bottom lip, Race closed his eyes and. tried to forget that it was Spot fucking Conlon who had his hand in his hair, but even with his vision dark, images of the handsome guy he was leaning on danced on the back of his eyelids, playing like an old film reel. Oh, how Race longed to open his eyes and be able to wrap Spot up in his arms, to feel the warmth of his body, toned chest and arms pressed tightly against him. How his heart ached to reach up and press his lips to Spot’s, and how it hurt him so that he couldn’t. The boy in question shifted slightly, stretching his legs out, and Race had a brief flash of panic that his head was too heavy on Spot’s lap. But his worry was short-lived, as Spot settled back into the couch, humming quietly to himself as he thought, fingers ghosting over the keyboard. Race felt a little stupid for the intense spike of cold fear, but then again, he reminded himself, anxiety is often stupid. And just like that, his brain jumped from worry, right back to Spot, his body heat providing such a comfortable, cushiony place for Race’s head. He bit back a small yawn, one that reminded him of the reason he was here in the first place; to “actually relax and try to get some sleep,” as Spot put it. However, Race had never been less relaxed in his entire life. If I’m keeping Spot up, he supposed, I should at least try to stick to the purpose of this. So, he closed his eyes, adjusted himself, and took a deep breath in.

But instead of sleep, the only thing his brain latched onto was the smell of honey, cigarettes, and lavender.

Spot.

There was no way he could sleep now. The scent filled his nose, attacking his every sense. God, how he loved that smell. He loved the way it was so soothing to him, how he could recognise it anywhere and have his face light up. And he loved how it clung to him, the threads of his clothes providing a lingering sense of comfort even when he wasn’t with Spot himself.

Race screwed his eyes up tighter, trying to block it from his mind, wipe the small smile forming off his face, but with no avail. He was still completely overwhelmed with thoughts of Spot. Every sight, every smell, every sound, every touch, it only reminded him of the dak haired boy, and it was driving him crazy. How soft his hair was, how his rough, calloused hands fit so snuggly, so naturally, in Race’s, how he felt so safe when Spot hugged him, as if nothing or no one could hurt him while wrapped in his arms. Race’s head was whirling now, spinning with an almost paralysing effect. And then, in the midst of all this unruly, untamed chaos, spoke a voice.

Kiss him.

It echoed through his mind, silencing all other noise.

Kiss him.

It sounded like such a simple thing to do, like there wasn’t a million and one things preventing him.

Kiss him.

Race took another deep breath in. he couldn’t... could he?

Kiss him.

And what if he did? What was the worst that could happen? He could ruin his friendship with Spot for good. But honestly, Race didn’t know what would hurt him more, losing one of his closest friends, or never being able to be with him the way he longed to.

Kiss him.

His breath caught in his throat and time seemed to slow as Race felt the muscles in his arm move up slowly, reaching to cup Spot’s face. He tried to go through with it, but it seemed like his soul had left his body, watching his own actions from afar. He tried, watching as his fingers flexed gently, itching to brush over Spot’s soft skin.

He tried.

Just as his hand neared the corner of his jaw, Spot turned, small, confused frown lacing his features when Race snatched his hand back. “Uh- did you need something, Race?” Spot questioned hesitantly. Race shook his head stiffly and rapidly.

“Nope! All good!” he replied. Spot opened his mouth to continue but Race cut him off. “There’s no need to worry about me,” he chuckled slightly. “just- just forget I’m even here.” Spot clamped his jaw shut, and paused slightly, frown deepening as he gave a short nod, turning back to his bright screen. Race let out a long, slow exhale.

He tried, and he failed.

Spot didn’t know why he’d done it, he just saw Race come back out from the bedroom once more, and before he knew it, words were flying out of his mouth. Race had stared back at him, a perfect deer-in-headlights impression, cheeks glowing bright, visible even from where Spot was seated as he patted his lap. Race had cast a quick glance back at the guest bedroom, but hesitantly stumbled his way over, and now here they were. Spot chewing on the inside of his cheek, unseeing eyes scanning his laptop screen, processing exactly none of the information shown, as the other boy lay rigidly against him, Spot stroking his hair softly. He didn’t know why he’d done it, or why Race’s weight against his leg felt so normal, felt so right, but he did know he wanted more. Spot bit down harder on his cheek, feeling his heart quicken and energy crackle through his veins, but he forced himself to remain still, lest he disturbed Race. This was to get him to relax, remember? Spot scoffed to himself. It’s not like he was relaxed to begin with, Race had been stiff as a board from the moment his head came in contact with Spot He sighed, fingers still toying with Race’s curls, he just hoped his legs were comfortable.

Spot closed his eyes in frustration. It had just started to take a small turn up, and he had ruined it! He cursed himself mentally. Race had gently cozied himself again Spot, and he hadn’t been settled for even a minute when he couldn’t help himself and glance over, a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye, and Race was right back to his rigid state. Spot ran his tongue over his teeth, the failure of his- admittedly- half-baked idea annoying him to no end. He didn’t know why, but he wanted to scream, to yell, to whine, to plead for this to work, for something to work! What kind of friend was he if he couldn’t even help Race relax enough to sleep? He was confused, a little hurt, but mainly confused. He felt… weird. He couldn’t quite place what his emotions were doing, but it was weird. There was a small twinge that stabbed into his chest, a cold blade of pain that got worse as Spot glanced down at the still obviously uncomfortable Race. He looked away, breath hitching in his throat as his mind raced. He decided to chalk it up to lack of sleep. He continued to brush his fingers through Race’s hair, and steeling his nerves, he glanced back down at the boy splayed across his lap. His golden hair was messy, tracks from Spot’s hand creating little peaks like fine hills, delicate freckles dotted soft cheeks, creating a small speckled trail down to chapped lips, and Spot felt his cheeks heat up. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Race’s face, his eyes, or his lips. His hands twitched, itching to move from Race’s hair down to his cheek, and his heart rung loudly in his ears. He sighed, oh how he could just lean down and press a kiss to his forehead.

What?

Spot paused, brain finally catching up with what his overflowing thoughts had spewed. He didn’t know why his thoughts had spun themselves like that. It’s because he’s my friend. He rationalised. I want to kiss him in… in a friend way. Yeah. Yeah, that made sense, right? Just a quick, friendly, kiss to his forehead. Or his cheek. Or his lips. Or-

Oh.

He knew why he had thought, and said, and done those things. Maybe it wasn’t in a ‘friend way’.

“Spot?” came the quiet voice of Race. “Something wrong?” Spot’s eyes flicked down to meet Race’s, panic pricking at the top of his spine. He hadn’t said any of that out loud, had he?

“No?” he replied, cocking his head, as he tried to keep his composure. “Why?” Race pressed his lips together, averting his eyes down to the side of the couch.

“Oh, it was just that…” he trailed off with a small gesture to his hair. Spot looked down, amid of all his thinking, he had stopped running his fingers through Race’s hair.

“Ah,” he nodded slowly. “Sorry, just thinking.”

“You don’t have to apologise!” Race lifted his head, half sitting up. “Just wondered if I was too heavy.” Spot waved his hand dismissively, moving his hand down to Race’s shoulder.

“Not at all, lie back down if you want, and I can keep playing?” Race shook his head quickly, swinging his legs over the couch. He pressed his lips together again.

“I really should go to bed, I’ve kept you up longer than I should.” Spot sighed, sinking his teeth into his bottom lip to suppress a groan of annoyance, he couldn’t take this anymore.

“Okay,” he said looking up at Race, who was turned away from him now, “What is up with you?”

Race froze, back still to Spot. “Wh- what do you mean?” there was a loud sigh from behind him, and a creak of weight shifting from the couch.

“C’mon.” A hand on his shoulder gently turned him around. “You can’t lie to me. Something’s been bothering you from the moment you got here, and it’s not because you’re out of your house.”

“I-“ Race opened and closed his mouth, gasping like a fish out of water as he searched in vain for words that wouldn’t come. His hands shook lightly and involuntarily, heart pounding in his throat, and he felt like he was going to throw up. Spot closed his eyes, bringing his hands off of Race’s shoulders.

“Look.” He said, voice low, “You’re my friend, and above all things, I want you to be comfortable. And if there’s something I’ve done- if I’m making you uncomfortable, I can organise another place for you to stay, I’m sure Albert can-”

“No!” Race’s Eyes widened, holding his hands out in front of him. “No, it’s not that!”

“Really Race?” Spot deadpanned. “Then what is it? What’s with all the restlessness? The uneasiness? The lying?” Race pressed his lips together nervously.

“Lying? No, Spot, I-” but Spot beat him to it.

“I just want you to be straight with me. What’s wrong?” Race swallowed thickly, trying desperately to think one single, cohesive thought that explained away everything, set it all right, but what came out was;

“I love you!”

Well that wasn’t supposed to happen.

Race clapped his hands over his mouth, eyes the size of dinner plates, face looking like he just face-planted onto the sun, as Spot stared back at him.

Stop! He cried internally, anxiety alarm bells ringing in his head. What am I doing!?

But he didn’t stop. In fact, his brain kept whirring and words kept pouring out of his mouth. “That’s what’s wrong okay? And- and now I’m living with you, at least temporarily, and every time I see you, I turn bright-fucking-red!”

Spot was still standing fixed to the floor, expressionless, and Race felt his anxiety rise. How was he just standing there? Here he was, pouring his heart out to him- albeit semi-unintentionally- and Spot completely stone-faced! Oh god, what am I doing!? But he still continued to speak.

“I can’t think right around you! My words get all muddled up and I get butterflies in my stomach, and I can’t even sleep cause every time I close my eyes a- all I can see is your damn, stupid smile!” His eyes stung as fought back tears with all his strength.

Still, Spot hadn’t moved, hadn’t said a thing. Race balled his hands into fists, nails biting into the soft flesh of his palm, words still spilling out of his mouth.

“Honestly, sometimes I can’t stand even being in the same room as you, cause all I wanna do is run up and pull you into a kiss!” Hot tears began to spill from his eyes, leaving damp tear tracks down his cheeks.

“And- and it hurts me that I can’t!” Race wiped away the tears furiously, chest heaving as he fought to keep his emotions under control. The two of them stood there for a few seconds in a thick, tension-filled silence, only broken by the occasional muffled sob from Race.

“Well?” He spat, his attempt at anger doing a poor job of covering up his fear. ”Are you gonna say something? Anything!?”

Spot remained silent.

Race swore to himself, bringing his hands up and gripping at his hair. “Forget it.” He sighed, dragging his hands back down his face, clutching at the neck of his shirt. “That was stupid, I never should’ve-”

But he was cut off. Cut off by something warm, something solid.

Spot had stepped forward, grabbing Race’s wrists, and pulled him into his chest, silencing him with a kiss. Race closed his eyes, leaning into the kiss, relishing in the feeling of Spot’s chapped lips against his own. Spot moved one hand up and delicately cupped Race’s jaw, brushing his thumb over his smooth skin. They broke apart after several seconds, and now, it was Race’s turn to be speechless, Spot taking his turn to speak. “I-” he began, pulling his hands back to nervously fidget with his fingers. “I’m sorry, I’m just kinda shocked.” Race laughed.

“You and me both.” Spot chuckled too, Race cautiously reaching for his hands again, smiling faintly. They stared at each other for a while longer, pressed flush chest to chest, both of their faces still glowing softly red.

“So…” Race mumbled after a second “Where do we go from this?” Spot hummed, thinking to himself as he stepped back towards the couch, sitting down and pulling Race onto his lap.

“I dunno,” he started, a half-hidden yawn cutting him off, Race following suit a split-second later, burying his face in Spot’s neck. “But would you stay with me tonight?”

So yeah! hope that was okay (sorry about the length i got kinda carried away :’3) also:

#zip it jae #happy holidays!!#hope this is okay :3 #also remember to stay hydrated and eat something if you havent in a while!#spot conlon #racetrack higgins #sprace #newsies #jae writes #also! if youre reading these there is exactly 0 obligation to read all that there is A LOT of words lol #like too many probably #lkdfjgksdgb anyways #morris delancey #jae draws

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omg-imatotalmess · 4 years

Text

Nightmares and Hot Chocolate

Hey guys! I’m feeling some type of way, so here’s this. Hope y’all enjoy!

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Reader

Requested: Ye

@midnight-moon-lover Requested: Can you make a Draco x muggle!reader post war?

Warnings: Panic attack, non descriptive violence, nightmares, war talk(?), swearing (I promise it’ll get fluffy)

---

Moonlight filtered through your half open curtains illuminating your bedroom with a soft silver glow when you stumbled into consciousness. It was late. The blue numbers on the clock blinked 2:28AM. Really late. Why were you awake? Blinking, you moved your half open eyes around the room looking for anything that would have disturbed you, but nothing seemed out of place. With a yawn, you rolled onto your stomach and closed your eyes again. Sleep hovered a hairsbreadth out of your reach when you heard it.

A whimper.

It was a low, fearful sound; wet like the person was crying. The sound was reminiscent of a frightened child. Furrowing your eyebrows, you tried to figure out if the sound was real, or if you were dreaming it. It was quiet for a second. You could feel the sheets on the other side of the bed being shuffled.

“No! Please, no!” You sat up, turning towards the scared voice. Another nightmare.

“Dray,” you said gently.

“No!” Draco cried, whipping his head to the side.

“Draco,” you tried again.

“Stop it!” he wailed.

Before you had the chance to speak again, he shot bolt upright, chest heaving as he searched the room wildly. His hands clenched the blankets so tight you thought they might rip. Tears streamed down his face. The bed vibrated with the intensity of his shaking. Reaching out, you brushed the tips of your fingers across his shoulder. The second your fingers made contact with his clammy skin, he let out a choked scream and spun towards you.

“Easy, Dray. It’s only me,” you said.

“(Y/N)?” he asked in a small, cracking voice.

“Yeah, it’s me. I’m right here.” With a shaking hands, he cupped your cheeks and stared at you like he had to be sure you were really there. Usually stunning eyes were now bloodshot and wide with fear. The haunted look in them that was usually so well concealed hit you full force and your heart clenched.

“I was there.” He let his hands fall into his own lap and stared down at them. Even his words were haunted.

“You’re safe,” you soothed, smoothing his sweaty hair off his forehead. He didn’t look at you. “You’re with me, at home, safe and sound.”

“He killed them.”

“Dra--”

“He killed them. I should have done something, but I’m a coward! It’s my fault! They’re dead because of me!” His voice verged on hysterical as he began to scratch at the strange tattoo on his forearm. Quickly, you grabbed his hands before he could do any real damage.

“It’s not your fault,” you said.

“It is!” he insisted.

“No, baby.” For a moment, you wished you had bigger hands so your could completely encompass his they way he did for you when it was cold outside.

“It’s my fault!” he yelled, tugging at his hands.

“Hey, look at me,” you said.

“My fault!” He didn’t seem to hear you. Even though you could only see his profile, you could see the fear and self loathing twisting in his expression and carving itself deeper into his mind. Wide, unfocused eyes stared across the room. Gripping his hands tighter, you moved yourself in front of him.

“Draco, I need you to listen to me. Squeeze my hands if you understand,” you said firmly. His hands squeezed around yours. They were clammy, but you didn’t dare let them go. For all you knew, you were the only thing keeping him there with you.

“Good. Can you breathe with me?” A squeeze. You walked him through calming his breathing for a few minutes. “You’re doing so good, baby.”

When he seemed a little more in control, you allowed yourself to think for a minute. There was so much you didn’t know about Draco; about what happened to him. You knew he was a wizard though you’d only learned that when he moved in with you a couple years ago. You also knew that there’d been some kind of war that people like you, he called them muggles, weren’t aware of. That would bring you to the last thing you were absolutely sure of: Draco had been through Hell.

You’d caught snippets of what had happened here and there, but you didn’t know the fully story. You didn’t push for it either. It wasn’t your place. If he ever wanted to talk about it, you would listen, but, until then, you waited. That didn’t mean you didn’t want to know though. You desperately wish you knew so you could help him through this kind of stuff, if for no other reason. Draco squeezed your hands again, bringing you out of your thoughts.

“You’re breathing a lot better. Do you think you can talk?” you asked, looking into his pale, drawn face. He swallowed thickly, but squeezed your hand.

“Yes,” he croaked.

“Alright, can you tell me five things you can see?” you prompted. His eyes shifted around the room.

“I can see you,” he started.

“That’s one,” you said encouragingly.

“The wardrobe, the clock, our picture, and a shirt.”

“Now four things you can feel.” This was a little game you played with him. It was grounding for him. You were glad it brought him back to reality. When it was over, it was like all the fight had gone out of his body. You made him take a few sips of water from the glass on the nightstand. He was drained, but you knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep any more tonight.

“Want me to make you some hot chocolate?” you asked.

“Will you?”

“Of course. There’s no better time for it than-” you glanced at the clock “- 3:19 in the morning,” you said with a gentle smile.

Quietly, you padded out to the kitchen to put the milk on the stove. You weren’t surprised to hear him shuffle in behind you a few minutes later. As expected, a head of disheveled blonde hair showed up in your peripheral vision. The crocheted blanket that usually laid over the end of the bed was now wrapped around his shoulders. You wished that, even in your peripheral, he didn’t look so small. He moved again. Then both him and the blanket were wrapped around you from behind.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered into your neck.

“Don’t be,” you said.

“Why shouldn’t I be? I keep you up all damn night with my incessant whining constantly,” he said sounding offended on your behalf.

“Yeah, you do, but I don’t mind much.” And you didn’t.

“You’re making me hot chocolate at three o’clock in the morning, (Y/N). You must be tired of putting up with me,” he pressed.

“Baby, if I was going to get tired of putting up with you, it would have happened ages ago,” you joked. In a way, he was right. He was definitely a pain in the ass sometimes, but he was worth it. There was a beat of silence.

“Draco?” Your voice came out tentative.

“Yes?” He sounded just as nervous.

“Someday, and I by no means mean today, will you explain all this to me?” you asked. You felt his arms tighten around your waist and his jaw clench against your shoulder.

“Everything?”

“Everything you want to tell me.”

“You’ll hate me,” he said, voice wavering slightly.

“I won’t. Nothing will ever make me hate you,” you responded. You could tell he was scrunching his face up.

“How can you be so sure?” He sounded small and scared again. Something in your brain told you that you should have left this for a different time. You smiled anyway.

“Because I love you and you’re stuck with me whether you like it or not, Draco Malfoy,” you said. Your grin was evident in your voice. His face dropped so that his mouth was against your neck. It wasn’t so much a kiss as it was him just resting his lips against your skin. Then he smiled just a little.

“Thank you,” he said.

“Of course,” you said, pressing a kiss to the side of his head.

When the hot chocolate was finished, topped with cinnamon, marshmallows, and all, the two of you sat at your tiny kitchen table. The heat from the drink was giving Draco a little bit of color in his cheeks. He still looked ragged, but he didn’t have that far off look in his eyes. That was good. The quiet seemed to be a little overwhelming to him though. You could tell by the way he was tapping his fingers against the ceramic with little clinking noises. Rubbing your own finger around the lip of your mug, you thought for a second, then smiled.

“Music?” you asked.

“Please. The silence is driving me crazy,” he sighed, relieved that you’d brought it up.

“Me too.” Flicking on the old radio near the sink, an old crooning melody flowed through the speakers. It almost sounded familiar, but you couldn’t place where you’d heard it before.

“This was the song that was playing when we first met,” Draco said quietly.

“Hm?” You glanced at him, fingers hovering over the volume dial.

“This song,” he said, a smile beginning to curl at the edges of his mouth, “was playing when you spilled your tea all over me-”

“At the bakery,” you finished. “I can’t believe you remember that.”

“It was hot tea,” he teased. The knot in your chest you hadn’t noticed before then began to loosen at his tired, yet light, tone.

“I meant the song. I didn’t even register there was music playing because I was so busy trying to clean you, apologize, and not laugh,” you said. A light flush crawled up across your cheeks remembering it. It had been pretty spectacular.

“You were so flustered.” You stuck your tongue out at him.

“All you did was stare at me. Yeah, I was flustered.” Pushing the blanket off his shoulders, he stood from his chair and moved so he could wrap his arms around you.

“I couldn’t do anything else,” he said murmured into your hair, “It’s not everyday that the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen throws hot tea on you and snorts.”

Beginning to sway to the music, you snorted a laugh. You knew he heard it even though you tried to muffle it by pressing your face against his chest. He smelled mostly of sweat with just a hint of his expensive cologne underneath. It wasn’t pleasant. You could overlook that while you rocked side to side in each other’s arms.

Dim, yellow light cast a glow through your little kitchen and over the two of you. It was late. There wasn’t a clock, so you weren’t sure what time it was, but it didn’t matter. There was still a lot you didn’t know about Draco, but that didn’t matter either. The promise of learning about him swirled in the air alongside the tune. Even if it wouldn’t be soon, you’d know. That was enough for you. As long as Draco was here in your arms, heart thumping steadily against your cheek, all of it was enough for right now. You’d never be glad for whatever had happened to him, but you’d forever be glad that, somehow, it brought him to you.

#draco malfoy x reader #draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader angst #draco malfoy x reader fluff #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy oneshot #draco malfoy fic #draco malfoy #draco angst #draco fluff #draco #malfoy #post war draco #post war #harry potter #harry potter imagine #hp

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lizacstuff · 3 years

Text

Anon asks: SCK Fragman 38 speculation

(Asks under the cut)

Anonymous said: Do you think they're getting married this next episode? idk if the tattoos were confirmation

I think it’s possible? But I also think it’s entirely possible that they get the tattoos as a symbol of their love and a promise of sorts that they are through messing around, but they’re not actually married yet. Frankly, they already gave us all the wedding hoopla with these two, I’m absolutely fine with an elopement or quick courthouse style wedding, or just a couple of witnesses in a garden. Whatever they want! Let’s just get her done.

Also... I know I said it before, but I’m just in love with the idea of these tattoos. Such a great solution to their ring issue.

Anonymous said: Thoughts on all these twitter theories from the “sick” line in the fragman?

- it’s about piril and engins kid bc basak and anil filmed in the hospital, and piril was hit by a car in 36 and in 37 she had that moment where she clutched her abdomen and had to sit down

- it’s a flashback serkan has to when his brother alp was sick

- serkan is sick and it’s a way to reveal Kemal as his bio dad (blood or organ donation)

- serkan is sick and it’s a way to reveal eda is pregnant when they draw blood from her to donate

That fragman could be hinting at so many things, and it very well could have been misleading. So lets take each theory in turn.

“it’s about piril and engins kid bc basak and anil filmed in the hospital, and piril was hit by a car in 36 and in 37 she had that moment where she clutched her abdomen and had to sit down”

Very possible. Engin thinking something had happened to Piril two eps ago did feel like foreshadowing, almost preparing the audience for something. It would be so heartbreaking if she loses the baby, and seems too dark for this show, but it is something that happens to millions of women, so we’ll see.

Also can you imagine after the way Piril stuck by Selin, if Piril lost her baby, and she then witnesses Selin using her baby as a pawn to get revenge on Serkan and Eda? I’d like to see Piril and Engin’s reaction to that. Though again I think that’s pretty dark, especially for the side couple.

- it’s a flashback serkan has to when his brother alp was sick

I think this is a very good guess. Serkan probably will see a doctor after he passed out, and if it is another panic attack brought on by the stress of losing Eda, I could see a doctor telling him if he wants to move past the panic attacks, he needs to get at the root of his abandonment issues, which all lead back to his brother’s death. That could be why he’s getting out a box of his things and reading that letter. So I could very well see a flashback happening to Alp’s diagnosis.

- serkan is sick and it’s a way to reveal Kemal as his bio dad (blood or organ donation)

I’m honestly fully onboard with Kemal as Serkan’s bio dad. I hear a lot of people poopooing the idea because of opportunity, but I think they told us when it could have happened. In their first meeting, (unless my subs were bad) Aydan mentioned that Kemal had returned once to apologize for standing her up when they were young and going to run away together. I assume that was the window. Kemal showed up years later (after Alp was born) to apologize.. they had a fling and there’s the opportunity for Serkan to be his son.

Though, to me, if they’re doing something with Serkan’s health it’s got to be related to the plane crash. The chest clutching since he’s been back is concerning, plus wasn’t his hand shaking at one point? So I don’t see him having some serious underlying issue that’s unrelated. This guy does not shy away from going to the doctor and was just in the hospital for probably over a month recovering, so you’d think if there was anything wrong before, we’d know it. Unless the plane crash acerbated something that’s genetic? And/or requires a match like bone marrow or kidney. I suppose they could give Serkan some rare blood type and that would be something applicable to most any ailment. We shall see.

- serkan is sick and it’s a way to reveal eda is pregnant when they draw blood from her to donate

This one I think is the least likely. It’s been very fuzzy how much time has passed, but at the minimum 3 months since they were supposed to get married and were having sex, so if Eda were pregnant I think she would have noticed the signs by now.

Anonymous said: Liza, I know they won’t kill Serkan, but could you reassure me that they won’t? I’ve followed you since Once and you were always good at reassuring.

Ha! I remember making lists of all the reasons they would never kill Hook.

THEY WON’T KILL SERKAN.

And I’m even more certain of this than I ever was of them not killing Hook, and I was damn certain then.

There is literally not ONE reason for this show to exist without Eda and Serkan. Not one. This is their love story, and really, storyline wise, the show should have ended awhile ago, and the only reason they keep it going is to keep Hande and Kerem on screen together, making their magic. Seriously, that’s the only reason.

You see how Serkan dying would be counter to that, right? And if the show were about to end, trust me, there is nothing in it for anyone to have a tragic ending. This started as a romantic comedy, and will end as one, with a happily ever after. And if you’re still nervous, trust this, the production company is still hopeful to sell it into even more foreign markets, especially English language ones, a surprise tragic, twist ending that gets vilified on social media (and trust me this fandom is huge, vocal and capable) would really hurt those chances.

So even if we’re headed into a bad diagnosis for Serkan, he will be fine in the end, it will just be something for him and Eda to fight through. I promise.

Anonymous said: thoughts on that wonderfully beautiful fragman? i was watching with hearts in my eyes and then read the translations.. poor serkan!! if it really isn't misleading i definitely think it's some consequence of the plane crash. but, we are secure in what kind of show this is and the full knowledge that it's not a drama and no one is gonna actually die, i'm excited for the potential this storyline is gonna give us!! (esp with the return of the old writers)

I can’t wait to see that rain scene, and the after-the-rain scene and their motorcycle ride. The fragman was very beautiful, but it also felt very poignant and a little melancholy.

It’s interesting with the announcement that the second writing team was back, there were tidbits from several legit entertainment-type reporters yesterday that the show was going back to it’s roots being funny and entertaining. So a terrible diagnosis for one of the current characters, especially the romantic leading man, doesn’t really fit with that.

It the writers hadn’t changed I’d be more concerned, not about a character dying, just about the show leaning into some big sort of health-related melodrama. But I think whatever might be happening will be in service to the plot. As far as Serkan having a health-scare related to the crash, as I said above it’s very plausible. I mean what are the chances that a man survives a plane crash, is fished out of the sea, spends weeks in a hospital, gets amnesia and is perfectly fine 3-4 months later with no other repercussion? Doesn’t seem possible!

Anonymous said: Liza, the second set of writers is really coming back! We might actually get comeuppance for Selin!

YESS!!!!! Please. I had completely lost hope with the last set of writers who seemed hellbent on normalizing her behavior. Look I’d be fine with a 3 minute conversation where Serkan tells her that he knows she’s a manipulative liar and the baby is not his, that he wants her out of their lives for good, and that if she ever comes near Eda ever again he will personally destroy her.

Is that so much to ask?

Though I’d like her to be humiliated in front of the rest of the team. Just so everyone knows what kind of psycho she is and no one in Edser’s orbit is tempted to give her another chance ever again.

It will be interesting to see how this plays out. With the news that Sarp Can (Deniz) is COVID positive, he obviously won’t be back on set anytime soon. They could probably get some VO from him if necessary, for a phone convo, but I’m gonna guess he’s done on screen.

It’s time to write both characters out!

As for the 22-23, 25-30 writers coming back, that is the best news I’ve had in ages. They weren’t perfect, but the things they did well, they did really, really well. Their comedy, romantic scenes, heartfelt dialogue, accurate characterizations and penchant for sizzling scenes that “break the Turkish family structure” will all be most welcome. I’m really excited for the first time in ages.

Anonymous said: Very interesting that the fragman did not address the Selin baby drama at all. It focused solely on Edser which was a welcome change while at the same time has me a bit nervous for the angst & drama no doubt headed our way. But if Eda & Serkan are together for good now to face the challenges coming then I cannot wait to watch. The last episode was so well done but Eda & Serkan were both near their breaking points for different reasons & you just felt awful for both of them. Really glad that the engagement did not happen and the show focused on the fallout from Serkan’s amnesia. And even had the side characters addressing how difficult things have been for Eda and that she might need some time before picking things back up with Serkan! Looking forward to the resolution of the baby story/exit of Selin and seeing Eda & Serkan heal together.

I hope that the fact that nothing Selin-related was addressed in the fragman means that we finally have people in charge who understand that we are so damned fatigued of Selin that featuring her an active deterrent for viewers. Also I haven’t seen any evidence that Bige has been on set for 38. That doesn’t mean she hasn’t, it’s still possible, but it is encouraging that the ep will be light on Selin.

As far as the drama and angst, I think there’s more headed our way, however I’m hopeful it will be the good kind and not the kind that made us really uncomfortable and want to tear our hair out during the Selin/Deniz era. We know that Eda and Serkan must decide to stay together (spending time together, ring finger tattoos) so the point of the pregnancy storyline is done. When Eda found out Selin was pregnant, it gave Selin the chance for one last Hail Mary pass, and she took it, trying to break them up, but it failed. So it’s usefulness is over. She can’t keep the charade going because of Deniz, and because once Serkan has time to calm down and think, he’ll realize that any time in Slovania where he was so injured that it’s possible he doesn’t remember, he also would have been too physically incapacitated to do anything of the sort.

As for Eda needing some time, yes, things in 36 were just too easy for Serkan in terms of the fallout from his amnesic behavior. Episode 37 made him work for it and I think come to terms with the fact that, Selin manipulations or no, there’s work to do and things he needs to atone for. Putting her first throughout the episode, and showering her with love, was a good start.

Anonymous said: The conversations Selin had with Eda, Serkan and Aydan in this episode had my blood boiling. Someone stop this psycho! The unnecessary hole digging was real, my god. I don't care if she's pregnant, don't hold Eda back this time and let her fight this snake. Let everyone fight her! If she's lying to Deniz now, he can fight her too.

I know, she reached new levels of abusive manipulation. They better be planning a comeuppance, if she’s just allowed to leave with people waving goodbye, I will scream. The Aydan conversation with her posing the question about abortion was something else. It came across to me more as a threat. Like... I’m thinking about doing this, if you don’t want my decision to be your fault, you better stay on the right side of me.

The Eda and Serkan stuff goes without saying. It still floors me that she’s willing to pretend like she raped him (if he can’t remember because he was that injured and foggy, then it’s impossible for him to have given consent.) rather than just giving up and living the truth.

Anonymous said: Like I get it (kind of) but I am so sick of watching Serkan be nice to Selin. Very much looking forward to Serkan chewing her out for how much she hurt Eda with this fake Serkan baby daddy story when she is exposed. I get that Serkan feels he is to blame for calling her to Slovenia in the first place & essentially in his mind giving her hope of them being together but he needs to stop excusing her horrible behavior from there. No decent person would take advantage of that situation the way she did. It seems like the only way that Selin will have an epic fall is if Deniz decides to fight for the kid he knows must be his and tell Eda everything. Going to be tough for her to believe initially but it will have to start making sense once she thinks back on things and then if the photos surface then she will know it must be true.

Agreed. I get Serkan’s guilt, and it actually shows what a good person he is, but he needs to get over it. Because seriously, all Selin was obligated to do when she got his call was to hang up, and then dial one of the following: his mother, his father, his fiancé or best friend/business partner Engin. That’s it. Call them and say, hey, Serkan’s alive, this is where you’ll find him. But NOPE! Instead she decided to fly there, manipulate him, keep him hidden and try to use it to get back with him. She made him beholden to her, just another in the long line of brainwashing and manipulation. Her flying to his bedside was the wrong thing to do, and it would be great if someone beside Eda recognized that.

Anonymous said: Even though Selin is the worst and I just cannot wait for her to finally be unmasked as the manipulator she is, I am really looking forward to Edser in the next episode. Eda taking care of Serkan after he passes out, the two of them reaffirming their commitment to each other with the tattoos & possible elopement, Eda reassuring Serkan that she will be at his side even if the kid turns out to be his and also the two of them working together to get to the truth. So darn excited! And if the spoilers are right that Deniz tells Eda the truth and Serkan sees the photos from Ferit then I will be so happy. It is time for Selin to go for good!

SELIN MUST GO. Yes, I think as soon as the news that Selin is pregnant and trying to pass it off as Serkan’s brain-fog baby, Ferit will unleash the photos. (if it’s him that has them).

I just want Selin and Deniz gone so we can focus on other things. Their presence on this show is a energy drain, and I want to focus on rain frolicking, motorcycles and bed sharing!!!!!

Anonymous said: I'm so glad that we had a scene of Serkan telling Eda that even without his memories he fell in love with her again, he just couldn't admit it. Serkan has an interesting perspective on the memory loss part of their lives where I think he almost feels too guilty about it all and just wants to move past it. I've noticed that in his dialogues in 36 & 37 where he wants to leave it in the past and basically do his all to make it all up to her in the present and future.

I think this is very well observed. He definitely was trying to leave the past in the past, but honestly I think that’s just laziness on the part of the old writers, not wanting to have to have a reckoning for all the things they had him say or do. Since the writers decided to go that way, I could buy it’s because Serkan feels too guilty about it all. We know how much he loathes making mistakes or being wrong or owing apologies. If that’s what they wanted to do, it would have gone a long way if they’d shown a bit more of him blaming himself, especially in 36.

I was also very happy that Serkan came out and said that he’s fallen in love with her again. My only thing is I wish if they were going to do that, they would have thrown a little more detail in the dialogue. Like Serkan admitting to her that he started thinking about her all the time as soon as he returned and met her, maybe admit that he slept on his office couch clutching her wedding invitation. A couple of things like that would have been very nice for Eda to hear.

Anonymous said: SCK sure loves creating difficult situations for Eda & Serkan. I really felt for Serkan in the last episode especially since he was back to being the romantic robot we all love. He so baldly wants to make up for lost time with Eda that he rushes ahead with the proposal and then gets crushed when she rejects him. And then spends most of the episode frantically trying to figure out what is going on with her and trying to show her how much he loves her. I was really happy though that the show addressed a few different times how awful the last few months have been for Eda and it also made Serkan address it. His plan to just forget about everything and move forward did not happen. Loved that the side characters stepped up to remind him of everything he & Selin put Eda through. Not so crazy that the show decided to use Selin’s pregnancy as the plot device to get Serkan to finally realize “oh yeah, what happened since my accident is a very big deal & now I have to face it & come to terms with it” but still glad it happened. Selin is obviously so much more in the wrong than Serkan but let’s hope her downfall takes place in the next episode.

All of this. I think you’re exactly right, Serkan tried to brush past everything and I’m glad that finally the other characters stepped up a little to help make him see that he had more work to do. Special shout out to Seyfi for his sassy comment about Serkan almost marrying another woman. And finally Piril was useful and acted like a friend, the first time she had since he returned.

#Sen Cal Kapimi #Edser #sen çal kapımı #SCK Speculation #SCK Episode discussion #sck 1x38 #sck 1x27 #sckask #asklizac #anonymous

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justniaaa · 4 years

Text

Unravel Me (3)

Rating: 18+ NSFW

Work Count: 3.8k

Pairing: Christopher “Rio” Martinez x black!oc

Warning: Panic attack, anxiety, self doubt, swearing, use of the “n” word

A/N: Hey loves! So excited to finally share the third chapter with you all! Forgive me for the late posting, I wanted to be a post once a week type of writer but that seems to be not the case, especially with my semester starting soon and a new job being in the works. But please bare with me, I will try and make sure you guys get content even if it’s not consistent. Thank you for reading my story and please like, comment and reblog. Alright enough of my ramblings, Enjoy and happy reading! <3

Summary: Toni forms an unsuspecting friendship with Christopher that turns into something more. As her feelings towards him continue to grow she starts to unravel the secrets that surround him and in return, he unravels her completely.

Chapter 3: Welcome back

“Finally,” Toni said with relief as she pulled up in her Honda Accord at Lux. She made sure to get to the bar early and was happy when she got there with five minutes left to spare. Taking a moment to herself before going in, she tried to occupy her mind with checking her hair and makeup in the rearview mirror. Try as she must, doubt began to settle in the forefront of her mind, in if she was making the right decision.

Toni felt her heart begin to beat faster and faster. Out of breath, and body hot she turned her AC on at full blast, Dr. Simone’s instructions ringing in her head.

--------------------------------Flashback------------------------------------------

Now Antonia if you ever feel like you’re going to have an anxiety attack, I want you to try this breathing exercise called “Calming Breath”.”

Toni listened to her therapist Dr. Simone with rapt attention, “Honestly doc, I’ll take anything to just stop this shit, excuse my french.”

Dr. Simone chuckled, amused by her slip up. “No need to apologize, Antonia. How many times do I have to tell you this is a place where you can express yourself freely without judgment?”

“I know, I know.”

“Now like I was saying before, I want you to try an exercise called “Calming Breath.” What that entails is you taking a long, slow breath through your nose, and holding your breath to the count of three then exhaling slowly through your lips. It should help you relax your muscles in your face, shoulders, and stomach. We can practice a couple of times if you would like.”

Toni shook her head in understanding, “Thanks doc, but I think I got it.” After a few seconds of silence, Dr. Simone gave her a knowing look. “But just in case I don’t have it, can you repeat the steps again?

----------------------End of flashback-------------------------------------------

Hearing Dr. Simone’s directions, Toni began her breathing exercises, breathe in, hold, breathe out. She did the steps a couple more times until she slowly felt her heartbeat go back to normal. Softly smiling Toni was proud of herself for getting her anxiety in check until she looked at the clock on her dashboard.

She had two minutes until her shift started.

“Fuck, I can’t be late when I’m literally sitting right in front of the place”

Toni made sure she had all her belongings and shut off the ignition, quickly hopping out and closing her car door. Walking to the entrance, she took in the building, like every bar it looked mediocre in the daytime, with its red brick and black awning. But at night that’s when it’s beauty really shined especially when they turned on the fairy lights outside that gave the establishment a welcoming shine. She reached the entrance and was debating if she should walk-in or call Avery, but before she could decide the door swung open, almost hitting her in the face.

“Woah!” Toni said, quickly jumping back and almost breaking her neck in the process from her heeled boots.

“Oh, shit my fault ma!”

Toni heard a low voice apologize as she was looking down at her scuffed boots. Anger and embarrassment flooded through her, she was angry because her boots had white marks all over them and embarrassed because of course, this would happen to her of all people.

“Shit, you not crying right? Your shoes are fire but they not worth your tears.”

Is this nigga for real?

Toni finally looked up to show the man she wasn’t having a breakdown, “First of all, I’m not crying, I'm pissed and second of all the door is literally glass how did yo-?!”

“Oh shit Antonia?!”

Startled by the interruption, she stared confused at how he knew her name. A few seconds passed until the realization set in after she took in his dark skin and short box braids. He’s had the same hairstyle since college.

“Sean?!”

“Yoo! I can’t believe it’s you!” Sean came in for a hug as Toni stood there in shock, her hands came up awkwardly to hug him back. “It’s good to see you girl! How you been?!”

I’m emotionally damaged, I haven’t had sex in months and I don’t know what I’m doing with my life.

“I’m good, and I go by Toni now mostly. How are you?”

Sean shook his head, “My fault, my fault.”

Her question wasn’t answered as Sean took a step back, eyes roving over her body. He had a smirk on his lips as he took in her black sheer top, fitted black jeans, and her slightly damaged snake print block heeled boots. “Damn Ant- I mean Toni, you look even better than you did in college.”

Toni was grateful that he caught himself and at the same time she sucked her teeth. “You are so full of shit, reminds me of back in the day when you would flirt with all the girls in our Humanities class, and Honey would get pissed at you for it.”

His smirk noticeably dropped, showcasing that her sister was a sore topic. Trying to lighten the mood Toni bumped him with her hip, “Anyways, I can’t believe you still work here, looking cute with your all black ensemble on.” He was wearing black, from the t-shirt to the jeans and even his Vans.

It reminds me of a certain someone.

“You know how I do.” He told her, popping his faux collar, “My I.T hours are slim to none sometimes, so a couple of months ago I asked Avery for work to keep me above water.”

Toni let out a harsh breath, “That’s why I’m here too, I just hope I can remember my orders, hell even how to make drinks properly...”

Sean nodded and wrapped his arm around Toni’s shoulders, noticing her growing unease. “Hey, no need to be nervous. You know this bar like the back of your hand and from what I remember I know you would’ve brushed up on your skills before you even thought about calling Avery for a job. I got your back, with whatever, so stop worrying about stupid shit.”

Toni looked up at him and saw the sincerity on his face. When they met freshman year he always treated her like a sibling, making sure to help her out if she ever needed him.

“You getting soft on me nigga?” Toni asked, breaking the sappiness between them. She lightly punched his stomach, making Sean playfully wince in pain. She laughed and wrapped her arm around his side, “Damn, you really are soft Sean.”

“Shut up killa, before I tell Avery on you for being rude to his favorite employee.”

“Now that I’m back, I think that title comes back to me,” Toni gestured to herself.

“Fuck out of here.”

They both chuckled as they walked to the entrance, the joking continuing between the old friends.

********************************************************************************************

Toni had been at the bar for hours, and like Sean said she quickly got back into the swing of things. When she walked in three minutes late because of her small catch up with him, she was worried Avery was going to wring her neck especially since it was technically her first day. But all he did was yell out, “Toni, baby welcome back!” His New York accent prominent.

The Italian man looked mostly the same if not a little gray on the edges of his once all black hair. The last time she saw him he didn’t have crinkles near his eyes when he smiled but Toni thought they fit him perfectly. Avery had a small belly now and wore a red dress shirt that was rolled up at the sleeves, showcasing his tattoo of his favorite pinup girl Bettie Page on his forearm. After all these years he still hadn’t strayed from the black slacks always saying, “The color never shows the stains of a bad night.” After introducing Toni to the rest of her coworkers he went to the backroom to meet with some associates, letting her know he would be back to help out later.

It was ten o’clock and Rihanna’s Work was playing in the bar, making the mass of people sway to the music and talk with drinks in their hands. The crowd seemed to not be getting any smaller and Toni was taking people’s drink orders as she was making other customers drinks. She didn’t remember it being this busy on just a regular Wednesday night, but she could guess as areas started to get more gentrified the crowds began to change.

The hanging lights gave Lux an intimate glow but provided enough light for people to see each other. Stools were lined up in front of the bar, and they were all filled with customers, laughing and drinking, some of them eating onion rings and french fries or whatever other bar snacks that were served. The wooden booths that were along the wall, gave patrons the option to be more personal and away from the crazy that was the bar counter.

“Hey Toni, I need a pitcher of Budweiser,” Rosa, her coworker, stood next to her, her voice was slightly raised because she was trying to be heard over the volume of the chatter.

“Gotcha babe,” Toni got out the plastic container and put it under the spigot, pulling the lever. As the brownish-gold liquid poured, she looked out into the mob, watching individuals coming in and out of Lux. Sean was vaguely seen from where she was standing, checking ID at the door. Toni stopped the stream of beer and turned to Rosa, handing her the pitcher, “Thank you!” The blue-haired woman said with a smile, leaving to go tend to her customer.

Toni was about to put her hand out to stop Rosa before she got too far. Wanting to let her know she was going to take her fifteen-minute break, when she heard, “Can I get a Jack on the rocks?”

Toni frowned, in confusion at hearing the deep voice that had been on her mind for the past several days. Was she thinking about him too much, that she conjured him up somehow? She slowly turned to the individual that never failed to give her goosebumps whenever she laid eyes on him. In his usual calm demeanor, Chris was sitting at the bar, looking at her with a raised brow and smirk playing on his lips.

And he looked good, really fucking good.

He had on a black button-up and a chain around his neck that made the eagle tattoo on his neck stand out on his tan skin. She didn’t know if it was possible but he looked even better than when she saw him last.

Fuck me.

Toni bit her lip from her sinful thoughts and got a glass from behind the bar, beginning to make his drink. She glanced up and saw him watching her with his dark eyes, making her downcast her gaze. Not wanting him to notice her slightly shaking hands as she got ice out of the chest, Toni finally spoke, “Well, look who's back.” she said while she poured the liquor into the chilly glass.

Chris looked amused as she put the drink down in front of him and in the process of releasing it his hand came up, holding onto the glass as well, making his fingers come in contact with hers.

“Missed me?” He asked both of their hands still on the drink and unmoving as they checked each other out.

Toni shrugged, “Hardly.”

“I think my feelings would be hurt if I actually believed you ma.”

Toni grinned at his words, “How was work? I didn’t think you would be back so soon.”

“Cut ties with some of my partners for fucking up the numbers, but shit is all good now.”

Toni went to reply when suddenly Avery came up next to Chris, he put a broad hand on his shoulder, “Toni I didn’t know you knew Rio.”

She moved her hand away from Chris’s touch and picked up the rag that was on the counter, cleaning up the sticky bar top. Toni felt like Avery caught her hand in the cookie jar and from his knowing look, it seemed like Avery might have the same sentiment as well.

Toni cleared her throat, “We just met, actually.” She didn’t really understand where the hell “Rio” came from when she had been calling him “Chris” for the past several weeks.

“Well let me introduce you two then, Rio this is Toni my returning employee and one of the best damn bartenders, I’ve ever had and Toni this is Rio, the co-owner of Lux and your boss,” Avery said making introductory motions between the two.

Toni’s eyes widened and she stopped fake wiping the counter. My boss?! How many businesses did this man have?

“That shits all semantics Avery, you're the real boss of this place. I’m just here to be a helping hand,” Chris said, giving Toni a pointed look, showing her that it wasn’t as simple as it seemed.

“I suppose.” Avery patted Chris’s shoulder again with a grin, then turned to Toni once more, “I think it’s time for your fifteen Toni the crew and I can handle it if another wave comes in.”

Toni nodded, “Thanks Avery, and nice to meet you, Rio,” she said sickly sweet. Toni left the rag on the counter and squeezed behind Rosa, leaving from behind the bar. She took a look behind her and saw Chris and Avery talking and her usually chill boss didn’t seem all that happy. Toni walked outside, seeing Sean sitting on a chair, his fingers moving quickly on his iPhone. He looked over when he saw her walk out, and gave her a smile displaying his pearly whites. “I was right, wasn’t I? Shit was like you never left.”

“Yes negro, you were right.” Toni said leaning against the window, her feet becoming achy.

“You can take my seat sis. I need to be standing anyway or Avery will have my ass if he catches me sitting again.”

Toni laughed, “Thanks.”

Sean got up and let her sit down, standing in silence. He kept glancing over to her while opening his mouth and closing it like he wanted to ask Toni something. After the third time of this, Toni sighed, “What Sean?”

“Nothin, Nothin…”

She gave him a sour look until he finally broke, “What’s with the name change?” Sean put his hands up in mock surrender, “Don’t get me wrong Honey and some of your friends called you Toni but you’ve never told anyone that they had to do the same.”

Toni went for nonchalance not wanting to alarm him, “I just thought Toni was better, it definitely helps with the awkwardness of people calling me Antonio all the time until I corrected them.” She thought that would be enough for Sean, because what she said made total sense but Toni was very, very wrong.

“Bullshit,” Sean said, making her mouth fall open.

“What do you mean, bullshit!?”

“You loved watching people get red in the face when you corrected them, so whatchu sayin’ is bullshit. We haven’t seen each other in a minute but I still know you, so give me the real reason before I call Latoya.”

They both knew her mom couldn’t hold water sometimes and even if she didn’t know the real reason, Toni didn’t want Sean talking to her and possibly unearthing secrets that she tried to keep buried for as long as possible. She took in a breath and crossed her arms. At first she didn’t know what to say to appease her old friend, as he waited for an explanation but she decided to stick to the truth as close as possible.

“I just wanted a change, I went through a hard time and to completely be rid of it, I made the decision to have people just call me Toni rather than Antonia. It really cemented for me that I was a different person than I was before.” Toni fiddled with a loose string on her jeans, “I mean my parents still call me Antonia and there are certain family members as well that do it too, but in my everyday life, I stick with Toni and the solace it gives me.”

Sean appeared satisfied with her answer, but Toni noticed there was a little squint to his eye like he knew that wasn’t the full truth but he let her statement stand.

“So, I’m probably hella corny for this and I know you won’t let me live this down but..”Sean outstretched his hand, “It’s nice to meet you, Toni.”

His expression was sincere and comical at the same time and it made Toni grin, “Nice to meet you too, Sean Puff Daddy Combs.”

Sean sucked his teeth, “Here we go with that Puff Daddy shit.”

A party of people came walking up as they were laughing, making Sean check their ID’s ending their conversation.

For a few minutes, Toni was scrolling through Instagram readying herself to go back inside soon when she saw Chris walk out of the bar. He was standing at the threshold and he seemed to be scanning the parking lot. When it appeared he didn’t find what he was looking for he went to turn back around, but he suddenly stopped when he saw Toni sitting in the corner.

Toni waved her hand, “Sup, Rio.”

Chris snickered and walked towards her, getting close enough that Toni could smell his cologne. He looked down at her as she looked up at him. “I can start calling you Rio if you prefer. I mean I have my own hang-up with my name, so it’s really fine,” she said.

“Nah,” He said, a matter of fact.

He didn’t supply any other explanation so Toni gave a soft “Okay,” and leaned back into the chair. Sean gave Chris a head nod as he kept doing his job and telling an apparent drunk couple, that they couldn’t come into the bar, much to their dismay.

“I didn’t know you had a problem with your name, I’ve been calling you Antonia since we met,” Toni turned her attention back on him, taking notice that he had a blunt in his hand and was lighting it up with a skull covered lighter. His gold rings glimmered from the lights coming from the windows of the bar.

“It’s my own personal shit, but shockingly I don’t mind hearing it from you.”

“Is that right?” Chris said. He took a hit and held in the smoke until he released it into the cool air, through his nose and mouth. Toni was mesmerized by the tendrils of smoke, she didn’t understand how he made even smoking attractive but everything Chris did turned her on. He offered her the blunt, probably thinkings that’s why she was staring but Toni declined, not really into smoking much like she used to because of a bad trip she had years ago.

“You probably think I’m weird as hell, that I pick and choose what people can address me as.”

“Nah I get it, some believe knowing a person’s real name makes you have power over them.”

Toni knitted her brow, “Do you believe that?” she asked him. Chris took another hit and rubbed his beard like he was mulling over the question.

“I tell my associate’s my name is Rio ‘cause I don’t want them to get to close, too familiar. When they start to get too comfortable and start to think we friends or some shit than that interferes with my business and I can’t have that.” Chris began playing with his rings like it was a tick of his that he probably never noticed he had, “So yeah I think having knowledge of someone's name can have some sort of power.”

She sighed and crossed her leg, “I think I agree with you, but if you don’t mind me asking, why don’t you care about me knowing your real name? It's not like we’re exactly friends.”

“Oh shit, we not?” Chris said feigning shock, “ Damn mama that’s fucked up.”

Toni rolled her eyes, “Oh please.”

Chris grinned at her and licked his lips, throwing the finished blunt on the floor and ashing it under his black and white Converse. “You’re different and if you gonna be my girl, I think it’s best if you know who I really am right?”

“Your girl? You haven’t even taken me out on a date, so how in the hell am I going to be your girl?”

“Right, Right,” Chris said. His phone began to ring and he took it out of his dark blue jeans and muted it, his eyes never straying from Toni. “So let me take you out this Friday.”

Toni snorted thinking he was joking but stopped short when she realized that he didn’t even crack a smile, “Wait you’re serious?”

“Dead ass”

Chris’s phone rang again and this time he did look at it, with an evident scowl. Abruptly he said, “I gotta go Antonia, but I’ll text you the details,” Chris kissed Toni’s cheek and turned to leave, in the process he took his keys out of his pocket.

Toni’s eyes were wide as hell at what just happened. She blinked a couple of times to get out of the fog that took over her mind and noticed that he was almost to his Range Rover.

As he walked further away Toni yelled out, “Wait I don’t even have your number!”

He took a look over his shoulder, “It’s straight, I got yours!”

She went to nod then paused, “Wait, what?!”

Toni heard Chris laugh as he got into his car, turning it on. He sped out of the parking lot, leaving her to watch his taillights disappear into the LA traffic. Sean came over to where she was sitting and heavily sighed fatigue, and annoyance relevant in his form. “Got damn, did you see how fucked up they were? Imma have to tell Avery I need help ‘cause I can’t take ID’s and pat them down while babysitting grown-ass adults. Fuck that shit.”

Toni didn’t say anything, her thoughts still on what transpired seconds before. Sean took notice of the silence and softly elbowed his friend, used to her having a sarcastic quip. “You good? What did I miss?”

I’m going on date,” Toni said, feeling a glimmer of happiness.

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