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fiddlepickdouglas · 3 years

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Viva Las Vegas, Pt. 2 - Desert Oasis

Summary: Sunset Curve Alive AU, Willex, was it coincidence or was it meant to be?, 2.3k

@trevor-wilson-covington is my bestie who makes me these lovely edits, we stan supportive friends

Part 1

The boys entered the empty theater from backstage, all gazing at the splendor of it. Luke leapt onto the stage with a stomp, smiling at the echo. Alex just took in the high ceiling, the lights, and the private boxes that made it feel less like a concert venue and more like a mini operahouse. Reggie seemed to think something similar, and by extension made some wobbly ballerina spins across the stage. Not to miss an opportunity to show good form, Alex pirouetted and ended with a jeté, unable to resist feeling smug.

“Now that Alex has christened the stage,” Bobby said. “When do we do a sound check?”

“The stage manager guy said not till about five,” Luke mentioned. “So we can do whatever we need until then.”

“Then why’d we get here so early?”

Both Alex and Reggie gave Bobby funny looks. They knew why. Bobby’s face went from confusion to understanding as he added things together. Luke was already heading back toward the green room. Julie Molina hadn’t arrived yet, but he was clearly excited for when she did. He was probably compiling lyrics to show her.

“Met her once and he’s twitterpated,” Bobby joked, Reggie chuckling after him. “Bet you know what that’s all about, though, right Alex?”

“Well...” Alex said in a high-pitched voice. He wasn’t entirely sure if it was the same thing. Willie was nice, and seemed to accept his invitation, but he didn’t dare assume.

“Come on, that waiter couldn’t keep his eyes off you,” Bobby insisted.

“Waiter?” Reggie puzzled. “What waiter?”

Alex looked at him, sticking his tongue in his cheek. “Really?”

Reggie shook his head, still clueless. Bobby stuck his hands in his pockets.

“Your friend, Smooth McDuck, here practically asked him out right in front of us,” he said. “How many pancakes did you eat anyway?”

“Ooooh that waiter!” Reggie said, finally.

“Okay,” Alex muttered to himself as they continued toward the green room. He didn’t want to get his hopes too high, especially with Bobby being so encouraging. Part of him was almost afraid of seeing Willie actually show up at the show tonight. It was more from the uncertainty of what Alex would do if he saw him again because he didn’t trust himself to keep his cool. How he’d managed it back in the diner he attributed to either his upset stomach or mild shock.

As they reached the green room, Luke was on the phone, a concentrated look on his face. A crew member sat with his arms folded next to him.

“Uh huh...okay, thank you.” He sighed. “Yeah, sure thing. Thanks, bye.” He hung up and ran his hands over his face.

“What was that about?” Alex asked.

“Just called the motel to see when we could check in and they’re flooded, plus their other rooms are full,” Luke told them. “But they’re gonna give us our money back and hopefully we can find somewhere soon.”

Everyone groaned at the inconvenience. Finding somewhere in Vegas that they could afford within a handful of hours sounded practically impossible.

“Who wants to go hotel hunting?” Bobby said solemnly, looking around for more volunteers.

“I’ll do it,” Reggie responded.

“Me too,” Alex followed. “Is there a phone book?”

“I got you,” the crew member said, going back to a closet and pulling one out. He handed it to Alex, who proceeded to flip through the yellow pages.

“Anyone got a notepad so we can write numbers down?” he asked.

After a bit of scrambling between the rest of them, a pen and notepad were provided.

“I’m gonna go get the cash back,” Luke said, heading out to the van and disappearing.

In a combination of checking their map and collecting a list of numbers and locations, the other three looked at their options.

“Okay, I say we take turns making calls,” he said.

For the next hour Bobby, Reggie and Alex rotated between contacting numerous hotels and writing down prices and seeing where reservations were open. Most places were too expensive, the rest were booked. They were down to the last two numbers, and Reggie was on the second to last call.

“We need two rooms. Or one with room for four, if you have that,” he was saying for the umpteenth time. The silence thickened with anticipation, and then thinned out again. “No problem. Thanks anyway, bye.”

Hanging the receiver, Reggie sighed heavily.

“Man, if this last one doesn’t work, I am gonna hate driving back overnight,” Bobby stated.

“Me too, I can’t fall asleep in the car,” Reggie said. “I don’t know how Luke does it.”

“Well, let’s try this last one and hope for the best,” Alex told them.

He picked up the receiver again and dialed the last number, listening to it connect to the operator and then start ringing.

“Thanks for calling the Desert Oasis, my name is William, how can I help you?” A familiar voice said on the other line.

Alex dropped his jaw.

“Willie?” he breathed. Bobby and Reggie perked up in interest. Luke reentered the green room as he returned from collecting their money.

“Um...yes?” Willie answered in confusion. “Who am I speaking to?”

Alex chuckled nervously, avoiding the looks on all his friends’ faces.

“It’s, uh...it’s Alex. You work at a hotel too?” One of the guys playfully socked him in the shoulder and he swatted them away.

“Yeah, I do.” He could hear the slight happy tone in his voice and had to make himself focus on the task at hand.

“Cool, well, me and the guys are actually kinda desperate. Do you have any open rooms?”

“We should.” Alex pumped his fist excitedly at those words. He could see the rest of the guys’ faces light up.

“Do you want one with four beds or two with two beds?” Willie continued.

“What’s cheaper?”

“The one room. How many nights do you need?”

“Just tonight,” Alex told him.

There was a short pause on the other line.

“Okay, I’ve got you in.”

“Yes!” Alex exclaimed, to which the boys started celebrating. Luke and Bobby hollered while Reggie gave everyone high-fives. Honestly, if Willie had been in the room, Alex might have nearly choked him with a tight hug. “Thank you, Willie, thank you, thank you!”

WIllie giggled on the other line.

“Of course! You guys should check in soon though.”

“Yes, right,” Alex calmed from his euphoria. “We’ll be there as soon as we can. Thank you, again!”

“Yeah man, I’ll see you soon!”

Alex hung up and ran his hands through his hair in relief.

Luke wrapped an arm around Alex and thumped his chest, and Alex in turn messed up his hair.

“Okay boys, let’s get checked in!” Luke cried as they all ran to clamber into the van again.

Alex was still wonderstruck at the idea of seeing Willie again. It had been only a couple of hours; maybe he’d been nervous at the thought of him appearing later that evening but now he was too excited for that. Even though it was a short drive, he made sure to ride shotgun this time. The last thing he wanted was for the nausea to resurface.

As they arrived, Alex grabbed his backpack and headed straight for the front desk. It was empty, but soon a man with dark curly hair came around the corner and stepped behind it.

“Sunset Curve, I presume?” he asked. He had a slight accent that Alex couldn’t place. Maybe it was French? Either way, he was disappointed not to see Willie there. The rest of the guys had piled in behind him.

“Yeah, man, that’s us!” Luke said, stepping forward.

“Tell your friends!” Reggie quipped habitually. The concierge gave him a stiff but polite smile. Luke quickly handed him the cash to pay for their stay and he was handed a room key.

“Your room will be on the second floor and then all the way down the hall to your right. Have a wonderful stay.”

Alex sat in disbelief while Luke had handled everything, so Reggie had to nudge him. Returning to the present, he shouldered his backpack and followed the boys to the elevator. He didn’t like the unsettling feeling descending on him like a shadow. It was more than just not seeing Willie upon arrival, but he couldn’t explain it just yet. A small pat to his shoulder diverted his attention.

“He’ll be around here somewhere,” Bobby assured him.

Alex nodded back to him, glad for the support. This was a newer side he was seeing from Bobby, and it was a change that strangely didn’t make him completely freak out.

As they got into their room, Reggie sprawled onto the main bed as though he were landing on a cloud. Luke claimed the couch, which Bobby insisted was a pullout bed as well. They all got to argue over which territory they claimed, and found out that the couch was just a couch, but there was a bed that came down off the wall in the closet. Reggie had brought his stuffed bear and placed it on the main bed, saying it was now being “reserved”. In retaliation, Bobby threatened to be the big spoon, to which Reggie replied “I’ll just be the bigger spoon!” in a very flustered manner. Alex sat on the bed from the wall with his legs crossed, enjoying the insanity.

“What you should really be fighting over is who gets to shower first,” he said, knowing the seeds of chaos he was sowing.

“Dibs! I call dibs!” Reggie yelled, raising a hand.

“Not if you can’t get in there first,” Luke said as he passed him on the way to the bathroom. This caused a comical fight to enter the bathroom, which Reggie ultimately lost.

“They know there’s showers at the venue, right?” Bobby muttered over to Alex.

“Not if we don’t tell ‘em,” Alex murmured back, giving him a fist bump. He preferred not to wait for all three of them at either location to finish getting cleaned up after the show.

Bobby picked up Luke’s acoustic and started playing around, and quickly Reggie sat on the floor to listen. Alex didn’t feel up to jamming and decided he needed to get out.

“I’m gonna take a walk,” he announced, to which the other boys only nodded. He caught Reggie’s hypnotized expression as he looked up at Bobby and chuckled as he made his way out the door. He wondered if they would ever figure it out.

Alex pulled a drumstick out of his fanny pack and dragged it along the wall of the hotel, tapping a simple rhythm. This place was across the street from the diner, he’d noticed on their way in. The temptation to search for Willie grew, but he questioned it for a moment. Was he really going to get feelings for a guy he’d barely met and likely wouldn’t see after this trip? It seemed a little crazy.

He came to the end of the hallway and peered through the window overlooking the street. It was kind of a pretty view of the Red Rock Canyon, and would have been even better if the window had been wider. The sun was bright, inviting him to go outside. It isn’t searching for Willie, it’s just getting fresh air, he told himself. He took the stairs down to the main floor and waved at the concierge as he pushed his way out the door.

The wind had picked up a little, and Alex breathed in as the breeze swept over him. The heat was a little more intense than back home, but he liked the change. Heading toward the sidewalk, he chose to try just walking around the block before going back up to the room. Being on the outskirts of the city was thankfully much quieter.

Quiet enough to hear the gentle click-rooolllllll of small wheels behind him.

Before he could fully turn around, Alex was hit full force with someone’s entire body weight and they both landed together on the concrete. Grunting in pain, he looked to see Willie on the ground beside him, hand on top of a cracked helmet.

“There are better ways of getting my attention,” he said hoarsely, standing up.

“Sorry, I was meaning to stop before I got to you,” Willie said, chuckling through his own pain and holding onto his skateboard. Alex offered him a hand and Willie took it to help himself up. The closeness already had Alex catching his breath and he mentally begged to hold himself together repeatedly.

“So I don’t get it, do you just run back and forth between the hotel and the diner as you’re needed?” Alex asked.

Willie’s eyes went side to side and he shrugged.

“Sort of,” he told him. “It makes every day different.”

Alex caught a glimpse at his other hand and saw the newly opened sore that wasn’t being mentioned.

“Willie, your hand!” He cried, carefully taking hold of it so the palm faced up.

“It’s no big deal,” Willie said while trying to pull it away. Alex kept a firm grip on his wrist so he couldn’t hide it. “I’ve had worse.”

“Well, you shouldn’t stay cut open,” Alex scolded gently. He dug into his fanny pack and pulled out an alcohol cotton pad and some bandaids.

“Do you seriously carry those with you everywhere?” Willie wondered as Alex opened the packet.

“You’ve seen my friends, right?” was his only response. He continued to clean Willie’s hand, ignoring his winces, gasps and reflexive jerking, and then covered it the best he could with the bandaids. Willie just bit his lip and sighed.

“You used to play doctor with your teddy bear as a kid, huh?”

Alex looked at him and the adorable expression on his face was too much. He smirked.

“Right, hah. Not gonna be a problem, will it?”

Retaining his smile, Willie sat backward and raised his eyebrows.

“Problem? I don’t think so.”

He dropped his board and kicked off.

“Hey, where are you going?” Alex said, running after him.

Willie simply nodded for him to follow, and it was all too compelling. Holding the strap on his fanny pack, he ran to catch up, unsure where they were headed.

#julie and the phantoms #jatp #fanfic #jatp fanfic #willex #alive au #alex mercer #willie #luke patterson #reggie peters #bobby wilson #julie molina #viva las vegas #desert oasis #fiddlepickdouglas #coincidence #meant to be

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fandomlit · 4 years

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sunshine (percy jackson x reader)

requested by anon “Hey, just found you today! I was wondering if you might do a Percy x reader? Something fluffy and the reader is an artsy, music loving, child of Apollo? Percy sees her and suddenly has a new found interest in pottery or drawing or something. His friends (the seven + Nico, Will, and Reyna) notice he’s spending a lot of time at the arts center and call him out/convince him to ask her out. That kind of seems like a lot so no pressure but thank you anyway!”

summary the seven and friends are sick and tired of seeing you and percy tiptoe around your feelings, and decide to push you two together the best they can.

a/n this is super long and im not sorry in the least,, keep those requests coming y’all !!!

gif cred belongs to @pydiasterek

“has anyone seen percy?” hazel asked, walking up to her friends with frank trailing behind her. “he said we’d be able to spar after lunch, but he didn’t even come to lunch.”

“probably at the arts center,” annabeth said, smirking to herself as she flipped the page of her book.

“arts center?” hazel repeated, furrowing her brow. “since when has percy been interested in the arts?”

“since he caught sight of y/n l/n,” jason snickered, his friends joining his chuckles.

“who’s that?” frank asked.

“apollo girl,” leo said, wiggling his eyebrows as the two romans joined their friends under the tree were lounging under. “she’s super talented. percy walked by the arts center and legitimately did a double-take when he saw her. i didn’t know people actually did that.”

“are they dating?” hazel asked innocently.

“of course not,” reyna said, not looking up from where she was shining her sword.

“well, why not?” hazel asked, looking around at her friends.

they all looked around, no one seeming to have an answer.

“maybe we should help them,” piper suggested. they all looked to the aphrodite child, who began to smirk. “you know, push ‘em together a bit. couldn’t hurt.”

and that’s how it started.

“hey, percy!” jason called out. the sea demigod had just entered the arena. jason waved his friend over to him. “you up for some sparring?”

“sure thing!” percy called back, heading toward him. as he approached, he caught sight of you spinning a spear near where jason was waiting. he watched you swing toward leo, who immediately whimpered and cowered. you giggled.

“ready?” jason asked. percy’s gaze snapped back to him.

“yeah,” he said, nodding. they both got into their stances before charging at each other. as they sparred, percy glanced back every now and again to watch you and leo fight, you easily overpowering the hephaestus child. one of those times percy glanced over his shoulder, jason took the opportunity to catch him off guard, making percy stumble as he countered and fall back. but before he could hit the ground, something hard dug into his back.

he opened his eyes to see you standing over him with a smirk. “well, hello, water boy,” you said, shaking your head. percy offered you a sheepish smile. he realized it was the butt of your spear digging into his back, holding him up.

“uh... hi,” he breathed. you giggled, pushing your spear forward to held stand him up straight. he turned to you with an embarrassed smile as you leaned against your weapon. “good catch.”

“thanks,” you hummed. “maybe you should stick to swimming, water boy.”

“maybe you should stick to singing, sunshine,” percy retorted, crossing his arms. you let out a scoff, followed by a laugh.

“sunshine?” you repeated. “now that’s just lazy.”

“and water boy isn’t?” he retorted. jason and leo shared looks as you two continued to tease each other, slowly moving away to leave you two alone. they weren’t surprised when they found out nothing ended up happening.

the next day, annabeth invited you to join them around the campfire after dinner, hoping to at least get you and percy to realize the other’s feelings. when you arrived, they all greeted you warmly.

“who invited you, sunshine?” percy joked as you took the seat next to him on one of the seating logs surrounding the fire.

“someone who doesn’t think of such lazy nicknames, merman,” you tutted, shaking your head. he scoffed as you winked at annabeth.

you all talked for the longest while, telling stories and jokes and enjoying each other’s company. while you two may have not noticed, the rest of the group noticed that you and percy had gravitated closer together during the time you two sat around the fire, your thighs almost pressed completely together after just an hour.

“im gonna call it a night,” will yawned, standing and stretching. nico had slung his jacket over the boy’s shoulders a while ago.

“that’s my cue, too,” nico sighed, standing after his boyfriend. will grabbed his hand with a smile before turning and pointing at you.

“don’t get back too late, missy,” he teased, winking at you.

“i know the rules, william,” you scoffed teasingly. he chuckled and the couple waved goodnight to the rest of the group. reyna, hazel, frank, and piper followed soon after. that left annabeth, jason, percy, and you around the fire.

“you’re not tired yet, water boy?” you hummed, looking over at percy.

“no,” he shrugged, looking down at you. “are you?”

you shrugged in return, stifling a yawn. “i won’t go to bed until you do.”

“that’s not a good rule to live by,” percy laughed.

“why not?” you grinned, quirking an eyebrow.

“well, you know how im great at a lot of things?”

“you are?”

“i am,” he confirmed in a soft tone that made you giggle. he grinned down at you. “but uh, the one thing im not very good at is sleeping.”

you hummed. “that’s tragic. maybe you should just sleep.”

“you know, i didn’t think of that.”

“i figured as much,” you tsked. neither of you noticed that annabeth and jason had snuck off, leaving you two to flirt and tease alone. the only evident product of success from that night was seeing you return percy’s sweatshirt the next morning. they took that as a small victory.

the kicker was when you were all playing a game of paranoia in jason’s cabin. you were all sat around in a circle on the cleared out floor when piper had sneakily proposed the game. you were all for it. to make sure they could manipulate the game to go their way, the group had separated you and percy. you rested your head in leo’s lap and draped your legs across jason. annabeth caught percy’s stare when you had first looked into leo’s eyes and grinned as you settled in.

“i’ll start,” piper proposed. she leaned over to whisper in nico’s ear. the boy considered, looking around the circle as piper leaned back with a smile.

“annabeth,” he answered. “for sure.” said girl flipped the coin she held. they all watched it land on heads.

“reveal!”

“the question was ‘who do you think would get away with murder’,” piper snickered.

“yeah, that’s about right.”

“i believe it.”

“honestly, she probably has already.” you all turned to the athena child in question. she shrugged easily.

“that’s a woman’s secret,” was all she said, making you all laugh. the game continued on and more laughs were shared. then, it was time for annabeth to whisper to percy.

“lay it on me,” percy sighed as annabeth leaned over, making you all chuckle. percy bit his lip as annabeth leaned away with a not-so-secretive smirk. he kept his gaze trained on the floor in front of him as he considered. he turned to annabeth and asked, “why is this so hard?” you all chuckled as she shrugged.

“gotta answer, though.”

he sighed, still not looking up as he answered, “y/n.”

you blinked in surprise as your friends erupted in whistles. you watched annabeth flip the coin and your heart dropped as it landed on tails.

“damn,” you muttered. they all laughed and you joined. “i really wanted to know!”

the game continued on until it was leo’s turn to whisper to you. you sat up so he could whisper quietly in your ear.

you shivered as he leaned away. “sorry, i got chills.” you laid back down as you considered and they laughed. you smiled to yourself before answering, “will.”

leo nodded. “flip.” the coin landed on heads.

“i asked who the hottest guy in the room was,” leo grinned.

“sun child vibes!” you exclaimed, throwing up peace signs as will cheered. “no? no one? okay.” you leaned forward to whisper to will as they laughed. percy couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed.

the circle went around again, and when it was back to percy, he braced himself for a similar question to the one he received last time. he sighed as he leaned away from annabeth.

“i gotta go with y/n again,” he said, shaking his head.

“i didn’t know we were playing favorites,” jason scoffed, making you all laugh.

“what can i say, sparky?” you sighed dramatically. “you’ve been replaced.” jason placed an offended hand on his heart as you turned to annabeth. “flip, please.”

percy wanted to walk into the ocean when the coin landed on heads, making the circle ‘oo’ and laugh. “uh, i was asked who the prettiest girl in the room was.” he scratched the back of his neck and blushed. you opted to blush as well instead of saying anything as the group burst into ‘aww’s and leo started cheering.

after another few rounds, you all decided to call it a night before dionysus or some other unfathomable thing came to break up your makeshift party.

“can i walk you to your cabin?” you turned to see percy standing with his hands in his pockets.

you gave him a smile. “sure thing, barnacle boy.” he rolled his eyes at the nickname as you two walked out of the zeus cabin.

after a minute of silence, you broke, “so, you think im pretty?” he blushed.

“i was hoping you wouldn’t remember that.”

“who do you think i am?”

you both laughed as he scratched the back of his neck. “well, yeah, i guess. beautiful is a better word for it, though.” you smiled as you both stopped before the steps of the apollo cabin. you knew will was probably watching from the window, but you didn’t care. you only cared about the demigod in front of you at that moment.

“wanna know the question i answered you for?” you hummed. he nodded. you smiled, looking into his sea green eyes as you recited, “‘who would you kiss out of everyone here?’”

his eyebrows shot up, as did his heart rate. “really?” you nodded with your usual easy smile. he looked away from your prying eyes for a second to nod and absorb the exciting information. he looked back down at you and started, “can i-”

“please,” you answered with a laugh, eyes closed as you cut him off. he smiled and leaned down slowly to press his lips to yours gently. he pulled away after a moment. your eyes met his and nothing was said before he leaned down again, this time his hands settling on your waist as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

the kiss was more intense this time, both of you spilling all of the thoughts and feelings and tension you had held in since you first met onto the other’s lips. and it was nothing short of euphoric.

but not euphoric enough to drown out the cheers of your friends from all around you two.

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edgeofmyniall · 4 years

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one: “break up with your girlfriend...i’m bored”

story page | thoughts | taglist | playlist

“I know it ain't right, but I don't care. Break up with your girlfriend, yeah, yeah, 'cause I'm bored”

Los Angeles- the city of angels. Or the city that feels the need to fit in as Ginger sees. She loves the big crowds of people walking, skating down the sidewalk, or taking pictures at the touristy spots. She didn’t mind the bumper to bumper traffic she fights almost every single weekday morning and evening; she has seen and met some interesting people on the freeway. She loves watching the wildflowers bloom through the cracks of the cement in front of her house. She isn’t meant to fit in with the co-inhabitants of Los Angeles. And she’s okay with that.

Ginger sticks out like a sore thumb- red hair, pale skin, and freckles to boot. She never blends in with the sea of blonde and brunette faces. She’s also loud, cheerful, and talks to complete strangers. She loves to laugh and will tell you that her main hobby is to learn about dinosaurs. Her parents swore she would become a teacher or a librarian, but when she was accepted into the University of California, Los Angeles for their business program, both Jack and Pennie knew that she was right where she belonged.

And it was no surprise when Stella and Ginger moved in together. Cousins, Stella and Ginger grew up more like sisters. With Stella’s dad constantly traveling and her mother not in the picture, Stella lived with her father’s brother and his family. Stella and Ginger shared a bedroom at the top of the stairs in the small farmhouse. Ginger and Stella were not afraid of the farm life; growing up they helped feed the animal, and eventually, Jack and Pennie gave the girls two horses for their own.

Stella let her southern accent fade away over time at college because no PR rep should have an accent, but Ginger...she clung to the articulation of her speech as if it was the only thing she had left of home. And Ginger sometimes felt like she was the only one with the country accent in LA, and she is okay with that.

The city of constant sunshine has turned into a dreary grey thunderstorm. Ginger looks out her office window and watches the passers-by scramble to find anything to cover them from the unexpected downpour. She likes to watch the lightning strike the ocean, but she’s too far into the city to see the roar of waves. She watches the raindrops race down her window to the pane before she returns to her work.

It is the sudden knock on her office door that pulls Ginger out of her trance of numbers and calculations. It’s one of her favorite co-workers- Sheila from downstairs. Gingers smile toothily as Sheila, the aging woman, slides a chocolate donut across Ginger’s desk. “Stole this before Rex got to ‘em. Figured you wanted one.” Sheila winks at her friend before biting into her glazed treat.

“This...is why...you’re my favorite,” Ginger says in between bites. She covers her mouth, but the frosted glaze still sticks to her lips. Ginger and Sheila eat their afternoon snack in silence. This is a ritual for both of them. A break for the steady course of the day; a gasp of fresh air for both of them. Sheila doesn’t say much as she leans on the doorway, and Ginger is glad to be in a room with someone besides herself.

Ginger is a people person; moreover, a people-pleaser. She likes to make people happy. She has a knack of knowing when someone needs her to talk with and when she needs to be there in silence. She radiates positivity to her family, friends, and co-workers. She needs to remain happy for the sake that if she gets too into her head, she retreats. She becomes quiet and loses herself in her head. She remembers her heartbreaking and everything she’s stuffed into a bottle comes blowing out.

“You ready for the meeting next week? I haven’t even thought of my idea.” Sheila breaks the silence as she wipes her hands on her napkin. She sits down in the chair in front of Ginger’s desk. It’s lined with framed pictures and Polaroids of those closest to her. “I mean, how can we improve clientele if all we do is come up with new ideas every day?”

“If I knew that becoming a marketing manager meant I had to come up with not one, but two new grand ideas, I would have become a house sitter. Telecommunications, Inc.: Where two ideas are better than one,” Ginger forms an imaginary rainbow with her hands as she laughs sarcastically with her co-worker.

“How’s that new Capital file coming, anyway? You were so excited to get the job, you about cried,” Sheila picks the lint off her pants. For her, small talk is heaven when it’s with Ginger because she’s the one who's doing most of the talking. And Sheila likes that about her friend. She lives through Ginger and her stories. But what she’s reminded of when she comes to Ginger’s office for their daily break is that her own children don’t talk to her as much as her co-worker does.

“Yeah, well that was before I knew how much they spent on stupid shit like a virtual reality system that they used for like, a day! For promo!” Ginger’s eyes grow as her voice begins to get louder. “I mean, I know Ariana is great and all, but they gotta stop spending their money on stuff that doesn’t matter. I’ve sent the CEO an email-”

“Not the CEO,” Sheila gasps theatrically, biting into Ginger’s storytelling. It makes the middle-aged woman feel young again when she talks to Ginger- the only person who doesn’t fake their perkiness.

“Yes, the CEO. And he has me running numbers for a new promotional scheme. Hopefully, he likes it,” Ginger thumbs through the papers she’s organized and pulls out a spreadsheet to show to Sheila. “A couple thousand dollars on billboards is good, ya know, people driving will see it, but no one listens to the radio anymore. It’s all on their phones.”

“You’d be surprised. Tell your cousin I said hi,” Sheila winks before getting up and leaving Ginger’s office. It’s finally quiet and Ginger shuffles her papers back in order. The phone rings and Ginger’s eyes go wide as she reads the caller ID: her boss. Their break is over.

~~~~~

“Stella? You home?” Ginger lays her keys onto the kitchen counter as she calls out to her cousin. She shares a house with her best friend and Cousin, Stella. Ginger hears the music blaring from Stella’s room upstairs. Stella has either had a bad day or her and her boyfriend were having sex. Ginger knows best to let her be alone for a while so she decides to start their dinner for the night and call up her mother.

“Yes, mom. Stella’s fine. Yes, they’re still together. No, I haven’t. The guys out here,” Ginger waves in the air with her free hand, “they’re terrible. I mean just horrible. Self-absorbed. Yeah well, Stella got lucky. It’s not every day you meet a celeb AND they actually like you.” The music stops and a door opens upstairs. Ginger smiles as she hears her cousin’s heavy footsteps coming down the stairs. “Oh by the way,” Ginger pauses dramatically as she plans for the big reveal. “I got promoted.” Screams of joy come from both her phone and from behind her. Stella stands in the kitchen with her hair in a messy bun and only a t-shirt and shorts as she squeals. “Holy shit! You did it! Oh sorry, Aunt Pen.” Stella wraps her arms around her cousin. While Ginger and Stella share a lot of similarities, their physiques are not what they share. Stella is small: short, tiny waist, and her voice on a normal day is barely above the pitch of a small cat. The only way Stella got the job as a public relations person, Ginger once came to the conclusion of, was her bigger-than-life personality. The brown mop of a bun waves at Ginger as she lets go of her hug. Stella grins ear to ear as she giddily jumps. “That’s so great! You deserve it, doesn’t she, Aunt Pen?” Stella calls out to her aunt over the speakerphone.

“Yes, yes, yes she does,” Pennie’s tears cannot be seen, but they are heard. “Oh Stella, dear, your father keeps calling us to see if we’ve heard from you. I’m to give you the message to call him ASAP.” Pennie quickly relays the message before Stella rolls her eyes and promises to call her uncle’s brother. “We’re going out for drinks tonight! To celebrate the joyness of life!” Stella points to the ceiling before taking off upstairs.

“Guess I’ll talk to you tomorrow then. Love you, Mom. Give Daddy my love.” Ginger tells her mother goodbye before finishing up the dinner she had previously started. She guesses she’ll be eating this for lunch.

~~~

Within the hour and a half that it took to get both Stella and Ginger ready, Stella already began to compose a plan to include their friends in the celebration. They had planned to meet at their usual place before heading out to the bars: Preux and Proper. The restaurant itself was a gimmick of New Orleans where Ginger had visited once when she was on spring break in college.

By the time the girls arrived, everyone was there. A long table had been prepared for the twenty or so people at the table. All of them were familiar to Ginger and Stella, but only one who stood up to greet them as they walked to the table: Stella’s boyfriend.

“There are me two girls! Was just talkin’ about ya,'' Niall wrapped his arms around Stella’s hourglass waist and pulled her in for a small but deep kiss. “Missed you today.” Stella looked up to Niall and let out a small giggle before going around the table to give her usual hugs.

“And you! Gin, congrats,” Niall pulled Ginger in for a massive bear hug. Her throat was closing up and a knot in her stomach began to bounce around. As she enveloped her arms around Niall’s back, she breathed in his scent: spearmint soap with a little musk hinting about. She sees Niall as an older brother more than her cousin’s boyfriend, but she doesn’t deny the fact that he’s handsome and some nights she dreams about him.

“Thank you, Nialler.” Ginger lets go of her embrace, but for a moment, she thinks he’s holding on a little too long for this to appropriate. “You look spiffy.”

Niall, in his floral white shirt and navy blue dress pants, stands with his arms on his hips and poses. “It isn’t every day you get promoted, Gin. You look...nice.” Niall’s pause caught Ginger off guard. It was like he tried to choose his words, but it still came out all wrong. She looks down at her leopard shirt, ripped jeans, and black heels as if she forgot what she was wearing.

“Oh, thanks.” She smiled awkwardly. It’s around Niall that she doesn’t know what to do or say.

“Here come sit by me,” Niall holds his hand out above the empty chair next to him.

“Wouldn’t you want Stella to…” Before Ginger could finish her question, her cousin had sat down next to her best friend, Emma, which was still straight across from Niall. Ginger takes her seat and begins to look at the menu, trying to avoid any more interaction from Niall.

“Whadya gettin’? The usual?” Niall chuckles at his teasing, only making Ginger pull the menu closer to her face to hide her smile.

She had failed.

~~~~

“Gin? You alright?” the whisper of Niall pulls Ginger out of her trance- empty thoughts and dissociation from the group. She feels swallowed whole at the moment. She’s usually fully involved in the conversation, practically taking over it, but tonight, she’s alone- an outcast in the world inside her head despite the celebration of her accomplishment. She faces Niall and smiles gently. Her heart is in her throat when she comes to the realization that his thumb is on her bare kneecap and she can feel the summer heat of his palm through her ripped jeans.

“Yeah. Sometimes I live in my head. I’m okay. Where were we?” Ginger looks down at her half-eaten plate- bacon cheeseburger and onion rings. The staple meal of Ginger.

“Let’s start with dinner, yeah?” The Irish accent has grown thicker under the influence of Guinness. Ginger looks back at Niall and she feels slightly uncomfortable at how close Niall’s face was to hers. “Stella is tellin’ us about you two got banned from the rec field for life.” He smiled eagerly; his eyes crinkle and the last rays of the setting sunshine in his blue eyes. Ginger looks at her cousin and realizes that Stella could care less how close both her cousin and boyfriend are.

“But I do need to talk to ya when you get a chance.” Niall locks eyes with Ginger. Eyes dilated, he looks drunker than he really is. His words slur slightly, but he’s more buzzed than anything. Could it be from their simple embrace? It couldn’t be. “It’s about Stel.”

“Yeah, sure.” Ginger’s voice cuts through the tension between the two of them. May it be the tequila or the forbidden wanting, Ginger blushes after Niall winks at her. He ruffles Ginger’s red curly locks before laughing at the punchline of Stella’s joke, going back to his place at the table. Ginger was the punchline of her cousin’s jokes- she always was.

~~~

By the time the checks come around, Ginger is feeling heavy. She can barely keep her head up and her arm is feeling like lead. Voices dance around her as she shuts her eyes tight trying to make the outside upper terrace stop spinning. Maybe it’s from the many times that Niall’s hand faintly touched her skin or the fact that she had a few margaritas in her system- the one thing Ginger wanted to do was go home and sleep.

“Yeah, as I was sayin’, Stel babe, I’m buying Ginger’s dinner, and yours.” Niall’s voice echoes through Ginger’s skull, pounding her brain. She can’t seem to open her mouth to argue that she was perfectly fine with paying her own bill.

“It was my idea; I’m paying,” Stella says defensively. “She’s my cousin.” Stella squints her eyes despite the night has rolled in.

“And she’s me friend,” Niall’s thick accent rolls off his tongue like a sinner confessing. When the waiter comes back with cards and receipts, Niall smiles deviously. “Don’t know why you’re arguing with me anyways, it’s already done.” Niall signs the paper and stands. “Where to next?”

“40Love?” Mully asks. “I know the owner.” A loud boom of laughter overtakes the terrace, and Ginger finally feels the after-effects of the day beginning to wear on her.

“I’m going home because unlike you all I have a real job” The group laughs at Ginger’s joke before she stands and sways. The floor is spinning underneath her and she has an overwhelming sensation to giggle. Stella stands and hands Ginger her water, but Niall steadies his friend. “I have to… I have to…” Ginger can’t form the words, but she can picture what she wants to do in her mind: get under her sheets and bring out her vibrating friend while she thinks of the Irish devil that has his hands on her.

“How many drinks did she have?” Emma asks; her face scrunches at the sight of Ginger trying to catch herself. Ginger takes mental note to flick off Emma, but she can’t decide which one to do so.

“Three? I think?” Someone else answering Emma’s question. “You know she can’t hold her ‘hol.” The uncalled-for comment pairing with a thicker accent could only mean one thing: snot-nosed Deo.

“She can’t walk by herself,” Stella says when she finally reaches her cousin. “And I need to go with Sean. There’s a client…and-”

“Go,” Niall cuts off his girlfriend. He shifts Ginger’s arm around the nape of his neck and pushes the wild red curly hair out of her face. Ginger inhales the masculine scent of deodorant. “I’ll take her home. Meet you there?” Niall’s voice seems a little aggravated, Ginger thinks. She’s probably ruining his plans. Good, he’s ruined her life with his stupid niceness and his stupid handsomeness and his stupid laughter.

Niall starts to turn away to make his way down the stairs before Stella calls out to him.

“Be careful. See ya in a bit.” Stella leans up to kiss Niall, and now that she’s in close proximity of the two, she notices Niall doesn’t pucker his lips out all of the sudden but does so after a moment of hesitation. “Love you.”

It was when they were descending down the stairs inside the restaurant that Ginger begins to laugh at herself before making the comment: “You didn’t say it back, asshole.”

~~~~

It seems like forever to get back to the house, but Ginger is glad to see her small yellow home at last. She likes that color: it reminds her of sunshine and happiness. Ginger makes a note to pull the weeds out from her small flower garden, but it’s highly unlikely she’ll remember in the morning. Niall helps her out of his car and walks her up to the front door. “Why didn’t you kiss her?” Ginger asks as she stands against the white post of the small front porch. Niall’s eyes go wide as he fumbles the car keys in his calloused hands.

“What?”

“Why...didn’t...you...kiss...Stella?” Ginger slows down her words as she rolls her eyes. Oh, God, that makes the queasiness worse.

“I did?” Niall’s brow quirks and he doesn’t understand Ginger’s question. “You saw it.”

“No...you hesitated. You waited. You didn’t kiss her.” The lump in Ginger’s throat is back and it’s sobering up the loose thoughts of the alcohol. “Why?” Niall swallows hard before unlocking the white door, pushing it open. He looks at Ginger with a lost stare and his lips form a thin line. She notices his chest fall quickly before his nervous habit of picking his nails begins. Despite Niall dating her cousin, Ginger is fairly close to him. They get along well, and she’s the reason Stella and Niall met. Niall considers Ginger to be one of his best mates. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I was...um,” he clears his throat, and the longer he avoids the question, the quicker Ginger sobers up. “I was thinking about kissing someone else.”

“Who?” Ginger squints hard to keep Niall in one place that her eyes nearly close. Her heart is in her mouth and she’s afraid of his answer. “Is that why you wanted to talk to me about Stella?” Niall nods before shuffling his feet. In a moment of vulnerability, Niall's confidence quakes.

“I don’t feel like being with her anymore. I’m just some status and good sex to her. There’s no emotional connection for me anymore.” Niall’s words hit Ginger like an aftershock. Her heart is knocking against its cavity. “I wanna be with someone else.”

“Have you thought about talking to her?” Ginger looks at Niall’s hair, avoiding his eyes. It’s now, more than ever, that she wants to run her hands through his soft brown tendrils.

Niall holds back a laugh, “Yeah good one. That’ll go nowhere. It’s either we argue or we fuck. Absolutely no substance to our relationship” He holds up his hands and air quotes the final word.

“Then break up with her. If you’re not happy, go be happy with someone else.” Ginger’s words are sincere and soothe Niall, but there’s a hint of anger in them. Ginger doesn’t want to be a part of this. She wants to be left out. She doesn’t want to ruin her cousin’s happiness...or Niall’s.

“Then I wouldn’t see you.”

“Yes, you will.” But those words that were spilled out hit the floor and bounced right into Ginger’s stomach. They hovered over her making her feel heavier than before. She felt her mouth become dry and her mind started to race. She couldn’t do this. Not with Niall. Not with anyone. Ginger shook herself out of her mind and realized Niall, watching her, is waiting for an answer. She swallowed and walked past Niall, closing the door in his face.

There was his answer.

~~~~

taglist: @oyesmendes @kare38 @stayclose-holdsteady @thicksniall

#niall horan fanfiction #niall horan au #niall horan imagine #niall horan fic #niall horan fanfic #1dff #heartbreak weather #friends to lovers

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meowdymista · 3 years

Text

v. we might be dead by tomorrow

Part of the Devil’s Backbone project - Masterlist

“My God, is that Sadie Adler?”

Turning around, the woman’s mouth drops open. “Arthur motherfuckin’ Morgan!” she squeals, throwing her arms up and hugging him tight. “Oh my god! I thought you were dead! Am I dreaming? Is it really you?"

"It's me, alright." He groans as he squeezes her close, both of them laughing as he finally releases her and holds her at arm's length. "What the hell are you doin' here?"

"Bounty huntin' mostly." She slaps his arm looking him up and down, her eyes still sparkling with disbelief. "What about you? What have you been doin' all these years that you couldn't drop by to say hi to your good friend Sadie?"

"Avoidin' Pinkertons mostly." He nods at the bartender who promptly pours two double shots of whisky. They toast and only Arthur pulls a face. "Been travellin' around with Jack and Abigail, tryna get them settled someplace."

"You're still with them?" She nods appreciatively. "Does that mean you and Abigail…?" He gives her a blank stare. “Are you two… together?”

“Oh! Nah, o’course not. She’s always been in love with Marston.”

“Well, John’s been dead goin’ on eight years now.”

“So’s Jake. Have you met someone?”

Sliding another dollar to the bartender, she blows a long raspberry. “Have I hell. I think that was it for me. I’m not exactly meeting the best of suitors in my line of work.”

Arthur shrugs, accepting the beer she pushes into his hand. “Well, there you have it.”

“Oh no, you ain’t getting off that easy! You can’t be tellin’ me you ain’t ever slept together?”

“The women we travelled with were working girls, Sadie, with the exception of you. I mean, even Molly was startin’ that way ‘til Dutch picked her up.”

“I meant since I last saw y’all.” She laughs at the colour creeping up Arthur’s neck. “I knew it!”

“It ain’t like that, Sadie-”

“Well what’s it like then?” she teases with a big smile.

“It’s- y’know what it’s like. Some nights are more lonely than others.” His gaze is fixed on his fingers as they pick at the label,

“So you’ve only done it once or twice?” The heat starts burning in the cartilage of his ears. “Or once or twice this week?”

“We ain’t done it this week!” Arthur sits up a little taller, his cheeks still burning.

“No sexual activity at all?” He glances at her, his faltering voice making her laugh. “Arthur Morgan, how I’ve missed you!”

“Shurrup!” he growls, shoving her gently and draining the rest of his beer in one. “Don’t you have some work to be gettin’ on with?”

“Why? You sick of me already?” Her hand squeezes his shoulder until he meets her gaze. “Listen. I’m happy for you. You deserve to have a loving family.”

“You got the wrong end of the stick. I’m just helping ‘em get settled. We bought some land and built a ranch on it. When it’s paid for itself and they got a foot on this farming shit, I’ll leave ‘em to it.”

“How old is the ranch now?”

“About a year or more.”

“And you’re set on movin’?”

He shrugs. “I ain’t gonna outstay my welcome. Just wanna make sure they’ll be alright.”

Shaking her head, she heaves a deep breath. “What’s Abigail say about that?”

“We ain’t really talked about it-”

“So you’re sleepin’ together, runnin’ a ranch and helpin’ with her boy… but you’re still intending to leave?”

“Shit, Sadie, it won’t be for a while yet. Another year or more... it depends. I don’t know. Nobody knows.”

Quiet blankets the conversation. They each accept another beer, drinking wordlessly.

“Pearson runs the shop out in Rhodes now,” she states calmly.

“Really? Good for him!”

“Got himself a wife too - Esther.” Her sideways glance is enough to tickle him. “She’s got him as whipped as his Aunt Cathy!”

“Well, it weren’t for lack of suitors!” He laughs remembering their first trip into Rhodes. “Damn, Mrs Adler. Where does the time go?”

“Speak for yourself, old man! Them grey hairs had to come from somewhere.”

He scratches the stubble on his jaw self consciously. “Shurrup. I’m retired.”

“Didn’t know reprobates could retire.”

He chuckles again, shaking his head as he stands up. “Me neither, but it’s nice to try.”

“Well if you ever want any work, you know where I am. Most towns have bounty posters up and around. If you need money for the ranch, or if you’re serious about leaving ‘em to it…”

“Huh, maybe. I used to pick some up back in the day. You got an address, or an alias if I wanna write?”

“Nothin’ particular. Send it to wherever you hear from me last. No alias - this is legal work I’m doin’ now, so Mrs Adler is just fine. Yourself?”

“Beecher’s Hope, West Elizabeth.”

“Near Blackwater?”

“That’s the one.”

“I heard there’s some rough folk thataway.”

“The Skinner Brothers? Yeah, they can be pretty nasty.”

She hesitates. “I guess I can see why you want to stick around a bit longer… To make sure they’re safe.”

He agrees without much commitment - that reason is as good as any. “You should drop by if you’re in the area. I’m sure Abigail and Jack would love to see you and how well you’re doing for yourself.”

“I’ll definitely think about it.” She offers her hand, but he knocks it aside and pulls her into another hug.

“I’ll see you again, Mrs Adler.”

“Another time, Mr Morgan!” She tips her hat as Arthur waves back.

*****

Rufus gallops across the ranch as Arthur rides in trying not to jostle his arm. “Go away, boy,” he hisses. “Where’s Jack? Go play with Jack.” He swears as the dog begins to bark at him. His horse is too used to his grumpy antics to be moved by the aging pup.

He nudges his horse to the barn doors, using the bottom of his bow to prod them open ahead of the mare. Inside, he swings himself down, not caring if there is a steaming pile of manure where he lands. He's fortunate to land on the concrete with little more than a hiss at the jostle. Moving to the nearest stall to light a lamp, he finds Jack reading besides his favourite calf.

"Hey, Uncle Arthur."

"What are you doing out here at this hour?" he growls, snatching the book out of his hands and marking the page with a feather from his hat. "Get inside!"

"Y-yes sir." The boy is clearly taken aback. Arthur rarely exposes his fierce side nowadays - mostly he is calm, quietly cheerful, and appreciative of even the smallest conveniences. He scrambles to his feet, reaching out for the book when his eyes are drawn to the wound with a horrified gasp. "Uncle Arthur!"

He grimaces, still trying to usher him outside. "Shurrup! You want to wake everyone?"

"You're hurt!" It is more of a question than an exclamation, but his stuttering doesn't expect an answer. "What happened? Are we in danger? Is it Pinkertons? What do we do?"

"Shit, Jack! Breathe!" He squeezes the boy's shoulder, staring him in the eye. "It's nothing you need to worry about. No one's coming here, no one is coming to hurt us, alrigh'? Take a breath before you pass out or somethin'."

"Then what happened to your arm?" Arthur resists the urge to roll his eyes. "It looks pretty deep. Did a bear get you?"

"Sure."

"Do we need to get the animals in? What if it comes onto the ranch? What were you doing out so late anyway?"

"Boah!" Gritting his teeth, he closes his eyes to help keep his composure. "Get to bed or God help me, I ain't above knocking you out to get some peace!"

When he opens his eyes he expects the boy to be moving away, but instead he's leaning in to look at the wound.

"You need me to bring Ma? You look like you need stitches."

"No!" He grips his arm tight enough to make him whimper. "Do not breathe a word of this to your mother. This is between you an' me, a'right?"

"You need help-"

"I can take care of myself." He releases him and steps back, beginning to get supplies from his saddle bags. "Don't you go breathin' a word about this to anyone, y'hear? Nobody."

Jack watches tentatively as the man begins to remove his jacket and shirt. Seeing the ripped flesh makes his stomach churn. "What can I do?"

"I told yer-"

"Let me help." Jack nods once, his small soft face gripped with determination. "What do you need? I- I know where Ma keeps her sewing kit. An' I'm sure there'll be some boiled water left over for drinkin'. Will salt help?"

Arthur sighs, his body sagging as he deliberates. He has never been good at accepting help. The only reason he accepted any help in the past was because of Grimshaw's steadfast stubbornness or he was outnumbered. All those years of being strong… standing tall… and now he can't even scare a boy out of a barn.

"Fine. Bring me a clean union suit too. I think I saw my blue one knocking about somewhere. An' a pair of pliers - the small ones. Should be under the sink or up in the loft with Uncle."

The boy runs off leaving Arthur to reflect. For a boy without his father, he was growing up strong. He was lucky to have his mother's lust for learning, but somehow his father's gait had survived, especially when he ran. Sometimes Arthur would catch himself watching him and remembering the crap John got into at his age. If John was a coyote, Jack was a fox. He had a good head on his shoulders, and always assessed the risks rather than blundering in blindly like his father did. It was just a shame that the recklessness had been completely swallowed by such delicate hesitation - some things were best learned by jumping in the deep end.

The door creaks as Jack slips back inside breathless, his cheeks rosy from the exertion.

"I was quick as I could. Nobody saw me I don't think."

"Good." Arthur pulls the cork from an open bottle of whiskey with his teeth, spitting it against the wall before chugging its contents. “C’mere. Best we get to by the light if you’re gonna do this.”

Jack gulps as Arthur sits himself on the milking stool, wincing as he inspects the wound. “D’you got the pliers?”

“Right here, sir.”

“OK, now I’m gonna need you to take a look in the wound. I’m sure one of ‘em got me with an arrow before the bastard sliced me.”

“An arrow?” repeats the boy, swallowing his stomach as he eyes the mess of flesh. “You said it was a bear?”

He scoffs. “I’ve said many things in my life, Jack Marston, not all of them honest.”

The boy doesn’t reply. He’s trying to breathe through his mouth but the iron in the air still caresses his tastebuds. “I can’t see anything, Uncle Arthur.”

“Alright. Grab a shirt from Gwyn and bring over the salt water. We gotta get this clean before you sew it up.”

“I ain’t done much sewin’ before.”

Arthur grunts. “Now’s as good a time as any.”

The boy is obedient. He tries to be as careful as possible, but despite his ginger pats, a hiss still seeps out between his teeth. Arthur leans his head back against the barn wall to keep himself steady.

“I saw Sadie Adler when I went out Valentine way. D’you remember her?”

Jack thinks back as he wrings the shirt out. “Maybe?”

“Well, she’s doin’ well. Bounty huntin’. Said it’s good money.” He exhales sharply. “I been doin’ some here and there. Mostly fraudsters or petty thieves. None with any fight or any weapons or shit.”

“Why?”

He tilts his head to review the boy’s reaction. The whiskey and blood loss has loosened his tongue. “I want to help you and your ma buy this place outright. Eight dollars a day is plenty to keep y’all fed and clothed but the bank likes to charge more the longer it takes you to pay it back.”

“Ma will kill you if she finds out.”

“Don’t tell her.” He grips the boy’s wrist with his good arm. “Please? This- this was foolishness. I knew I shouldn’t have taken it.”

“So why did you?”

“I used to be a good shot. A few years back I could have taken ‘em out without any bother, but either I’m gettin’ slow or they’ve got faster.” He glances at his arm and scoffs. “Maybe both,” he grunts as he takes another deep swig of liquor.

“OK, well, it looks clean. Still doesn’t look to be anything much in there.”

“A’right. Bring a needle an’ thread over. Next bit is easy, ok?”

After Jack overcomes his squeamishness, Arthur is sewn up in no time. The boy helps him clean the smaller cuts and injuries, including a bullet in his leg that hadn’t gone too deep. By the time he’s finished, Arthur is dozing, slumped against one of the beams. He wakes him with a gentle shake and heaves him to his feet.

“Hol’ up a minute.” Arthur staggers to the horse and begins to pull at the saddle. Seeing what he’s trying to do with limited mobility, Jack quickly unfastens the clasps and helps set it aside. “Thanks, son.” He ruffles his hair fondly. “Y’know, you look like your father did at your age?”

“Really?” Jack pulls his arm over his shoulder, leading him in the direction of the house. Colour is beginning to light the sky. It must be near three in the morning.

“Yeah. I didn’t care much for him then.” He snorts laughing. “Your Uncle Hosea wasn’t best pleased with me.”

****

Arthur grunts as a hammering brings him back to consciousness. His body is stiff, his mouth dry, his head thumping without the noise. Squinting in the morning light, Jack is sticking his head through the door.

“Uncle Arthur? Are you ok?”

“Never better,” he growls sarcastically. “What’s up?”

“Mrs Adler - the lady you spoke about last night? She’s outside.”

#sadie adler #rdr2 fic #rdr2 fanfic #red dead fic #red dead fanfic #meowdymista #jack marston

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wholesome-revelry · 5 years

Text

fic: “Long-Term,” Aziraphale/Crowley, outsider POV | 1.6K, G

(Nominally a sequel to this)

Officiating weddings has got to be one of Dr. Blackwell’s favorite parts of ministry, and although she’s probably not supposed to have preferences, if she looks deep into her jaded lesbian heart with any degree of honesty, queer weddings are by far the best.

Take, for instance, the couple she’s consulting with this afternoon, for their upcoming October ceremony. Seemingly mismatched in every respect. The plump, fair-haired one looks like a parody of an absent-minded professor, as sketched by someone who didn’t bother to do much actual research; his clothes are so outdated it teeters on costume. He’s wearing a bowtie, and not in that reinvented hipster way. This is a bowtie unacquainted with the cycles of fashion, a bowtie that has never heard the word irony.

His partner is a rangy, black-clad ginger in snakeskin boots. He has the look of a hungover rocker about him, and would somehow, even without the sunglasses he has fully committed to wearing indoors on a cloudy afternoon. He’s sprawled almost defiantly in his chair and keeps throwing dubious glances around Dr. Blackwell’s office, as though expecting a lightning bolt to strike him down for merely daring to be within spitting distance of a church.

Everything about his posture screams ‘Extremely complicated feelings about religion ahoy!’

Ex-Catholic, Dr. Blackwell thinks sagely.

Something funny about their names, too. Their names are--

They’re--

(She knows they both gave her their names, but as she looks at their faces, there is a curiously name-shaped hole where the sounds should go. Every time she approaches the edges of this thought, it ripples and changes shapes, and whispers, ‘Don’t worry now, it’s really of no consequence, is it?’

Dr. Blackwell didn’t get a degree in Unitarian Universalist theology by looking away from paradoxes. ‘Curiosity is earthly and holy and wonderful,’ she tries to tell the thought, pushing forward, ‘even to question truly is an answer--’

‘Ah yes,’ the thought says after her third attempt, ‘very nice, but in this particular case--’ and the absence where their names should be yawns, stretches, and swallows down all of her related concerns with a shrug.)

She blinks. She watches as Bowtie casually takes Sunglasses’ hand, as Sunglasses responds with a look so gooey and sweet and private that she feels a bit weird for intruding. How, she thinks, the fuck did you two meet?

The only thing they seem to have in common, beyond their feelings for each other, is a certain aura of personal disaster. Still, let she whose outfit doesn’t heavily feature Birkenstocks and cat hair throw the first stone. So to speak.

“So,” says Dr. Blackwell, “anything in particular I should know first? Any thoughts, or concerns?”

“The hymns,” says Bowtie, “or. Uh. The songs, I suppose?” He coughs. “Any chance we could stick with ones that don’t, you know, prominently feature--?” He pointedly casts his eyes towards the ceiling and almost seems to mutter, “No point in asking for trouble.”

“Oh, of course,” she says, shaking off the flash of weirdness like an errant cobweb. “We have plenty of non-denominational hymns.”

“About what,” Sunglasses says with a slight sneer. “Tax forms? Penguins? Automotive repair?”

Oof. Definitely an ex-Catholic, she thinks. You can smell the baggage from here.

“Mostly about the inherent holiness in doing good, or the beauty of nature?” says Dr. Blackwell. “Sometimes, someone will sort of retrofit a classical melody to Transcendentalist poetry, but those tend not to scan so well, in my opinion.”

Somehow, without any eye contact, Sunglasses manages to give her a wary look.

“You can borrow a hymnal if you’d like,” she continues. “We tend to edit out the G-word anyway. Makes the atheists and the agnostics a bit jumpy, me included.” Bowtie starts.

“You don’t,” says Sunglasses, “believe in--?”

“Not really,” says Dr. Blackwell. “Suppose I’ll allow for the possibility, but in my mind, the existence of some divine Heavenly will is just not as important as other questions. Like ‘How do I do what’s right for the planet and everything on it?’”

“How do I avert the apocalypse,” Sunglasses murmurs.

“Exactly,” she says with a laugh, “although I’d settle for doing something about Brexit.”

Neither of them laugh, and after an awkward pause, she adds,

“As far as music goes, for the ceremony. If you’ve got a song that really resonates with you, no matter what it is, let me know and we can work that in.”

“No Queen,” says Sunglasses immediately.

It feels like there should be a story here, but Bowtie only turns to him and says, “What was that band you liked? Velveteen--”

“We’re not playing Velvet Underground at our wedding,” Sunglasses says.

“Same thing goes for readings, too,” says Dr. Blackwell. “If there’s a text that holds special meaning--”

“Hm,” says Bowtie, “yes, about that--” He reaches to his side and heaves an antique leather briefcase onto her desk. “May I?”

“Of course.”

Bowtie fiddles with the latch, which clicks open to reveal a mountain of papers: wine-stained cocktail napkins and looseleaf notebook pages, parchment-looking stuff, and everything in between. It’s a veritable avalanche of love poems, as well as quotations from various plays and books, all laboriously hand-copied in the same tidy penmanship.

“Angel,” says Sunglasses slowly. “What is this.”

Pink-cheeked, Bowtie flutters his hands. “Just--some things I’d been setting aside!”

“For how long,” Sunglasses says, leaning forward. He sounds delighted but also deeply confused.

“So sorry,” Bowtie tells Dr. Blackwell, “I really should’ve organized these better! Even a rudimentary system--”

“It’s fine,” she says, blankly. She really hopes it isn’t going to be her job to narrow down the options. There are literally hundreds.

“How long,” Sunglasses repeats.

“You know how long!” hisses Bowtie.

Sunglasses plucks a sheet off the pile, rubs it between his thumb and finger. “They stopped making paper like this in the nineteenth century,” he says, sounding strangely triumphant about it.

Dr. Blackwell furrows her forehead, where a number of facts are colliding uncomfortably inside, like how some of these specimens are clearly very new, some are so old she’d be uncomfortable touching them with her bare hands, and the handwriting on every one of them is identical.

“Oh!” she says with sudden bright clarity. “Are you two vintage paper enthusiasts?”

“Yes,” says Bowtie. “Love it, love the stuff, simply cannot get enough.” And then, to Sunglasses, with a pointed look in Dr. Blackwell’s direction, “We’ll talk about it later.”

Maybe they met at a convention, she thinks. That’s nice.

“How about you pick out your top five first?” she suggests. “Or ten.” She glances down at the mound of text. “Also, we might need to get some volunteer readers for some of these, because my French isn’t exactly up to par. Or my--is that Middle English?”

“Haha, how did that get in there, couldn’t even begin to guess,” Bowtie babbles. He has to brace most of his weight on the briefcase lid to wrench it closed again. Sunglasses watches with interest, chin resting in his hands. “Yes, I will, I will absolutely weed some of these out, not to worry--”

The rest of the conversation is standard, for the most part. It’s going to be a relatively small ceremony, no child ring bearers and thankfully no animal ones either. (They have a whiff of eccentricity that had made Dr. Blackwell nervous one of them might suddenly produce a cat on a leash, insisting it was trained. In her experience, granting your beloved calico or tabby custodianship of the rings was a quick recipe for a ringless, catless wedding.) Only a shared stricken look at the possibility of involving any parents in the proceedings.

This, sadly, is also quite standard with older queer couples.

“Between you and me,” says Dr. Blackwell, “and I know this isn’t very ministerial of me. But if the people who raised you don’t support what you have together, which is clearly a wonderful and beautiful and life-affirming thing, I say to Hell with ‘em, you know?”

Bowtie chuckles unsteadily. “I’ll take that under advisement.”

“How long have you two been together?” she asks.

Bowtie and Sunglasses stare at each other. There is a long beat of silence. This is normally, she thinks, not a very hard question.

“How long have we been together?” says Sunglasses at last. The shades may hide his eyes but every molecule of his being is oriented at his fiance. “Hm?”

“Six thousand--” Bowtie starts, resolute.

“What,” says Dr. Blackwell.

“Days!” Bowtie finishes. “Six thousand days!”

“So,” she does some fast mental math, “about sixteen years, then?”

“Yes,” says Bowtie decisively.

“That’s great,” says Dr. Blackwell. “I’ve been with my wife for almost six years, I hope we’re still this much in love a decade from now.” There’s just something so reassuring about meeting older queer couples, she thinks. Bowtie and Sunglasses must be at least forty. Maybe fifty?

(It’s odd; they’re clearly solid, clearly sitting in front of her, but every time she tries to clue into any specific detail about either of them, her mind sort of skitters away from it--

Her head hurts.)

“Guessing you want a short service,” she says, rubbing at her forehead. “I’ll just write out a few remarks for you two to look over first, if that’s alright? I can email something to you by the end of the week.”

“Sounds perfect!” says Bowtie.

They shake hands. She watches them leave, watches Sunglasses mutter something in Bowtie’s ear that makes him smile on the way out the door.

Pair of oddballs, but in a nice way, she thinks. You can’t always tell, as a minster, which couples are going to make it in the long run, but she hopes this all works out for them. Maybe it will. They’ve already stood the test of time, it seems.

Sixteen years--they’ve been together since early 2000.

Imagine, she thinks. Just imagine.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #codename pending #sort of a pre-marriage fic #99% fluff and 1% soft eldritch horror #not sure about ao3ing this one bc it's just so self-indulgent

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whiskey-bumblebee · 4 years

Note

Hello lovely! After 5 weeks of being trapped in the house I wondered if I could request a bit of escapism with some holiday romance with Pale? Many, many thank-you’s in advance!

Same here pal! Sheesh, I know I’m an introvert but 4 weeks of lockdown has been interesting to say the least! That said, I hope you enjoy this!

Jump

Pairing: Pale/Reader Word Count: ~2000

Pale tossed and turned for weeks over it, your first holiday together. Wanted it to be a surprise but a good one, didn’t want to fuck it up. Looked at Cuba, Puerto Rico, the Bahamas, even Alaska. You’d been working yourself to the bone recently, deserved some time off.

There was a TV Pale walked past every now and again when he was working his ass off too, and sometimes he’d see some blonde on a boat, singing about the wonders of cruising. It looked a little bit like hell, being stuck on a boat that long, but once he started reading about it, it started looking pretty fucking good.

Entertainment on board, it wouldn’t be Broadway but hell, with your lips around his cock in the back row it didn’t matter, did it? All your meals cooked for you, buffet and fine dining options, sun loungers out on a deck somewhere, docking at a tropical island for the day and snorkelling, whatever you were meant to do on an island.

“Baby, do you gotta minute?”

“Mhm, what is it?”

“Could you get some time off work if you asked real nice? Just a week or so?”

“Probably,” You started to smile and walked over to Pale from where you had been doing your eyebrows in the bathroom. “And by probably, I mean yeah, I’ve been savin’ my vacation days.”

Pale pulled you down into his lap, kissed under your ear. “How’s a vacation sound then?”

“Sounds good, what do ya wanna do?”

“You,” Pale smirked. “I was just thinking I’d do ya somewhere different.”

You rolled your eyes with a smile. “Where have you booked?”

“Haven’t yet, wanted to check with you first and make sure you wouldn’t hate it or nothin’. You seen those big fuckin’ cruise ships that take you outta Miami?”

“Yeah,” You started to light up, getting all excited.

Pale stroked the side of your face. “How about one of those? Eatin’ and fuckin’ and swimmin’ in the bright sunshine all day. Sounded real nice to me.”

“Where to?”

“Jesus you ask a lotta questions. Don’t gotta be to nowhere, they started selling trips where you just sit and get fed and look out the window and don’t stop anywhere, but wouldn’t that be awful? Anyway the Bahamas or something, a day in Cuba, I think I’d like Cuba.”

“Baby, at the moment even Cubans don’t like Cuba,” You teased, played with your man’s hair.

“Then we stay on the boat the whole day and fuck, go to shows, go swimming, dancing, whatever. Fuck if I care.”

But you could tell he did care, he’d gone to so much trouble to research all this for you. Knew all the answers to all your questions, had a million ideas about what the two of you would do.

“I’m in, should I pack?”

Pale smiled wide, wider than you’d seen in a while. “Yeah, pack.”

* * * * * * * *

The flight had been fine, New York to Miami. Pale had rented a car so the two of you could drive around for a few hours before your ship left. Miami looked so alive, crawling with rollerbladers, men kissing men and all sorts.

“Fuckin’ hot as hell. Gonna jump in the pool just as soon as we get on the boat.”

“Same here. Do ya think I have to wear a top?”

Pale glanced at you and you shot him a wink.

“You better, Jesus Christ. Think I’d die of heat stroke and a heart attack at the same fuckin’ time. Wouldn’t even fit on my death certificate.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at your man, complaining even now, even here.

“Pale, I love you so goddamn much.”

“Yeah, yeah. Still don’t get it but I believe ya.”

You were quiet for a moment then, content to listen to the pop on the radio. Pale had ceded and let you play the billboard hits for an hour or so while you were driving. It had to be quiet but it made you laugh, seeing this tough grumpy man driving through the neon streets of Miami with Van Halen playing.

“Do you miss Miami?”

Pale was quiet, drummed his fingers across the steering wheel as he thought.

“Some of it.”

You nodded, knew if he wanted to talk about it, he’d keep going on his own.

“The coke here is cheaper, but the cops are all over it. Weather’s good but it gets boring. College kids all over the damn place sometimes. It’d be nice to see my kids more. Nice to have the beaches nice and close. You know, normal shit.”

You nodded and rested your head on his shoulder.

“You wanna go and say hi to them while we’re close?”

Pale turned his head slightly to kiss your forehead. “Where do you think we’re going?”

You sat upright then, looked at him, surprised.

He smiled. “Yeah I wanna see ‘em. We only got an hour or so left so the missus can’t get too wound up, I’ll be in and out.”

“Am I... Do you want me to-”

“Nah, I’m gonna drop you at the mall if that’s okay. Don’t want you to see it, she gets pretty loud.”

You nodded and went back to resting on his shoulder. “You want anything?”

“Pack of cigarettes, don’t know what else we’re allowed to take. Maybe some Twizzlers.”

You wrinkled your nose. “That your holiday food?”

Pale hummed in affirmation. “Yeah. Helps me get rid of all the tension in my jaw ‘cos it’s like eating rubber.”

You smiled, picturing a younger Pale chowing down on a pack of Twizzlers, chewing real hard.

* * * * * * * * *

“C’mere, you’re gonna get all fuckin’ pink on your shoulders.”

“Pale do you got a timer set or somethin’? You’ve been at this every hour on the hour,” You teased.

“It’s hotter out here than it is in New York. You’ll burn easier, just wanna take care of ya.”

“What time do you wanna get dinner?”

“Maybe 6:30, show starts at 8 so that gives us time.”

You nodded, melted into Pale’s touch as he rubbed the sunscreen all over your chest and shoulders.

“Do you wanna go to the restaurant proper? I think it’s Italian or somethin’.”

You hummed as you thought of a basket of dinner rolls with fancy little bowls of butter, then spaghetti and pizza.

“Yeah, sounds real nice.”

“Can you wear the blue dress? That one with the sparkly shit on it?”

You nodded.

“It’ll look real nice with the ocean and the lights and everything reflecting off ya. We could get a photo taken or whatever.”

“We can get it printed nice and big and hang it in the apartment. Can ya let me read my book for a minute, sweetheart? I’m dying to finish this chapter.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll stop being a menace.”

Pale picked up his own book, a thriller. You couldn’t help but let your eyes wander down his torso, following the trail of hair from his bellybutton to the band of his swim trunks.

“You know, we might need to go back to the room for a snack,” You said under your breath. “Getting a little peckish.”

Pale glanced at you over his book. “Oh are we?”

You nodded and pulled your lip into your mouth. “Just let me finish the chapter.”

Pale shuffled a little awkwardly and draped his towel over his lap.

You didn’t even have to look away from the pages of your novel to know what the sound of the towel moving was.

“Go jump in the cold pool, you menace,” You teased.

* * * * * * * *

The show was great, the costumes were amazing even if the set was sparse. Pale’s hands had wandered more than you could admit without blushing. In the interest of time before the show, you’d skipped dessert. The 24 hour buffet would serve you well.

While you helped yourself to carrot cake, Pale made small talk with the chef dishing the hot food.

“Shit shift, huh?”

The chef laughed.

“New Yorker?” His accent gave his own origin away, and you could sense the rapport that grew straight away.

“Yeah, taking a bit of a break with my girl, wanted to get some sun.”

The chef nodded. “It isn’t a great shift but there are always a few schmucks who come for dessert after the show. Real nice to see the stars though, rather see the sunset than work through sunrise on breakfast.”

“Jesus fuck, you guys gotta be up at four or whatever to serve us assholes cornflakes?”

The chef laughed again, a hearty laugh, and you joined Pale, looped an arm around his waist.

“Thanks for sticking around, sorry to be one of the post-show schmucks.” You said sheepishly.

“Nah, you guys ain’t got nothing to worry about. Nice to meet someone who actually sees me as a human fuckin’ being.”

Pale nodded in commiseration.

“What do you do in New York?”

“Restaurant industry, actually,” Pale replied.

“No shit! That’s nice. Manhattan?”

“Yeah, 90 percent of the time. Hey, uh, odd favor to ask but any chance I could come into the kitchen and see what’s going on? Must be a helluva lot of food back there, industrial ovens and shit.”

“Yeah, of course man. Let me hook your girl up with some cream though first, cake gets a little dry this late.”

You smiled. “Thank you.”

* * * * * * *

“Pale, it’s beautiful.”

“Yeah you are.” Pale swooped in for a kiss.

“Careful, sun’s making you all soft,” You smiled.

“Don’t you worry, I’ll be back to normal as soon as we’re back stateside.”

Pale lay out the picnic blanket on the sand. You smiled at the way the wayfarers sat over his nose.

“So what’s in that bag of yours?”

“That guy I met the other night, the chef, he gave me a bit of bread and some fruit salad. He said it wasn’t enough to save to put out tonight so it would’ve gone to waste.”

“And this?” You laughed as you pulled out a bottle of champagne.

“Thought you might like a mimosa or somethin’. Gotta stay hydrated.”

You sighed with a wide smile and lay down on the picnic blanket, soaking up the sun and the love you felt for Pale.

“Thank you.”

Reaching out with your eyes still closed, you fumbled to hold his hand.

“He’s a nice guy. Might help him out with a job or two once we’re back.”

You hummed. “You getting nervous? All that talk about being back?”

“A little. There’s a reason I’m the top dog over there, I’m the only one who can keep that shit all happening like it needs to. Fingers in a bunch of pies and all that.”

“But you’re glad you’re here?”

“Of course sweetheart. Probably would’ve keeled right over if we’d stayed, I needed a break. Can’t say I feel any less tired with how often we’ve been fuckin’, but still.”

You laughed and swatted at Pale with your hat, then moved it back over your face.

“I checked with some of the crew who know this island and they said you’re all good to whip off your top, even out the tan lines. Locals don’t care.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah, so c’mon, roll over. I’ll untie ya.”

You half-heartedly rolled, enough for Pale to reach the strings of your bikini top.

“Don’t go gettin’ too excited,” You teased.

“Too fuckin’ late, I’m hard as a rock just from seeing you in the bikini.”

You laughed. “Pass me a grape or something?”

You stayed on your front for now, didn’t feel like showing off your tits to the whole beach just yet. Pale took a grape out of the salad and extended his hand over to you. With a deadly smirk on your face, you licked the sweet syrup off his fingers, then sucked the grape out of his grip.

“Baby, that ain’t gonna help my situation.”

“C’mon then, I’ll feed you one.”

Pale’s eyes widened and you laughed as you pulled a piece of melon from the salad.

He shook his head with a smile and bit the melon from your fingers. “You’re a terror.”

You laughed again and he couldn’t help but smile at the sound.

“What now?”

You glanced at him from under the floppy sun hat.

“Lovers of New York, Book Two: The Terror Goes Tropical.”

#pale/reader #for babbushka #pale x reader #pale #my writing #burn this #pale burn this #pale/you #reader insert #self insert #fanfic #fanfiction #fan fiction

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finleyjayne · 4 years

Text

Dancing into Destruction

previously named Dancing Dreams

Boyfriend!Bucky x reader

Thank you to this anon for the request hope you like it. This is my first request ever so feedback is definitely welcome

Warnings: as you can see warnings include but are not limited to, Swearing, ANGST, intimidation by a loved one.

Your relationship with Bucky was a dream. You both were naturally inclined to fill each other’s needs. Being with the other was as natural as breathing. Don’t let anyone fool you; you had gone through your fair share of lover’s quarrels with the tough super-soldier. They just never lasted longer than a few days. You built it with great care, making a foundation of trust and respect. Even though you had been dating each other for a bit over six months, he was very considerate of your need to wait to take it into the more physical aspects of a romantic relationship. There were often moments when you would have to take a step back when things got heated, but he never made you feel even the slightest bit uncomfortable about your need for abstinence like some of your past boyfriends did. It was commendable, making it easier to commit to him and plan for your future together.

As you reached new heights within your connection, things became even more smooth. The time spent with Bucky seemed to be the best moments in your hectic life, leaving you with clarity and peace. Though most of the time you spent together consisted of you doing your schoolwork, lounging on the floor between the coffee table and the couch, while Bucky read or filled out reports from his latest missions. This complied with your idea of a perfect date; Simply spending time with the other without feeling like you have to suffocate the other with your presence or physical contact. Sure, every once in a while, you would cuddle close, watch a movie, just lay in his arms for hours talking. It was perfect. You were sure that Bucky felt the same way.

Your six month anniversary all but proved to you how much Bucky cared for you. He gave you the five-star gala treatment. A trip to the spa where they pampered you until your thoughts swam away, then dinner at the most exuberant restaurant he could convince Stark to pay for, then he finished the night off with a walk in the park where we first ran into each other. Well, more like you ran into him. To top the whole experience off, he gave you a gift showing just how much he listened to you when you went on your many long random tangents. When you had first opened the envelope, you were confused as to what exactly you were reading. The paper had a list of six dates and a pair of little stick figures dancing together, nothing else. Looking up at Bucky, you saw him blushing lightly.

"You mentioned once that you had always wanted to go dancing but were scared that you wouldn’t be any good, so I signed us up for dancing lessons at the dance school on 3rd. Those are the days and times that we have scheduled,“ He rasped bashfully, hand finding the back of his neck.

You looked back up at him, the embodiment of deer in the headlights, as your brain raced to put the pieces of what he just said together. “Well, shit.”

The words slip out of your mouth before you can stop them. Bucky’s face droops immediately as he looks at you like a kicked puppy.

"We don’t have to go if you don’t wanna. I just thought it would be fun—something to add variety.“ Bucky quickly covered, his cheeks turning even ruddier as you continued to stare at him.

"What? Oh, oh, that’s not… I don’t mean that that way, Buck, I just…. my gift will look real stupid now.” you explain quickly, trying to calm him. “I mean like I wasn’t expecting you to actually… so I made you something.” You hand him the small box from your full-skirts pocket.

His eyes grew bright as he hesitantly opened it. The delicate chain floated over his fingers as he pulled the set of dog tags and small running man charm into the light. “I was doing some research and came upon a tutorial for how to stamp metal. It seemed neat and thought you could use a reminder of what you have waiting for you when you’re out on missions.”

"I love ‘em, doll.“ He said, letting out a chuckle when he read the inscription stamped neatly onto the metal of the tags.

The weeks continued to pass in your typical fashion. The thought of spinning around on a dance floor in Bucky’s arms grew more and more enticing as the first lesson approached. Bucky was just as excited, occasionally whisking you into a simple box step as you cooked together in your small flat’s kitchen or dipping you into kisses, muttering how it was only the start.

When the day finally arrived, nothing could keep your attention for more than a few seconds. The sun was shining in the cloudless spring sky, and you were going to meet Bucky at the address he had texted you earlier that day after your last class. Your pace quickened as you neared the small boutique/studio. Your cheeks hurt from how much you were smiling as you walked in the metal gated door.

No sooner did you make it into the small studio’s hallway when your phone started blaring Man on a Mission by Oh The Larceny. Swiftly digging it out of your messenger bag, you answer. "Hey, love, I just got here. How close are you?”

"Heya, Sugarcube. I know you were so excited for this to be an ‘us’ thing, but I just got paged onto a mission. I wouldn’t go if there was an alternative. I will definitely make it up to you. I’ll be back as soon as I can.“

Crestfallen, your shoulders slump. You can feel the telltale sting behind your eyes, but you fight them off. You sigh into the phone while trying to keep the hurt from your voice as much as possible. "It’s okay, not that I’m not going to let you off on your promise of making it up to me. There’s nothing you can do, though. So stay safe, Make sure you come home to me. And keep me updated if you can.”

"Of course, I wouldn’t dream of doing anything else. I know you are probably bummed about missing the class, but it’s a mixed class of singles and couples. So why don’t you stay and try to enjoy it? You can teach me what I missed when I get back. Sound like a plan, Doll?“

With your eyes downcast, you nod, "Sure thing, Buck. I love you.”

"Love you, too. I gotta go get briefed. Talk to you as soon as I can. Try to have fun, please. Who knows, maybe you’ll make a new friend.“ And with that, he hung up the phone, leaving you in a heap of disappointment.

Taking a deep breath, you walk into the mirrored classroom, head held high. As you scan the class, you find a place out of the way to put your bookbag for the duration of the lesson, taking the extra second to put your phone back on silent.

There seemed to be quite a few couples paired off in the center of the room as the stragglers kept to the edges. Trying to keep your spirits up, you take a count of the fellow singles. At the sight of a few men leaning against the back wall, you let out a sigh, looks like there won’t be any problem coupling us off without having to deal with the confusion of women pairs. You were left-footed enough without the lack of a leading partner.

You took a seat on the side of the ballet barres as you waited for the class to begin. Within the few seconds it took you to get settled in the chair, you were approached by a taller man. He looked a little bashful as he shuffled his feet before clearing his throat and saying in a rich baritone. "Hello. I hope you don’t mind me coming over here, but my name’s Sean, and I kinda hoping you’d be my partner before we have to go through the awkward teacher mandated pairing.”

Looking up at him, you can’t help the smile at the adorably bumbling man in front of you. “My name is (Y/N), and I’d love to be your partner for today. Truth be told, my boyfriend-slash-partner kinda ditched me for work but wanted me to come anyway.”

"Well, his loss is sure to be my gain.“ He smiled, his straight white teeth making an appearance through his pink-tinged lips.

"I wouldn’t count your chicks before they hatch, I will warn you that I am a bit clumsy."

"Ha, look at that, I don’t mind as long as you can be patient with my inability to pick up steps.”

"Patience is a virtue I am known to exude when the time calls for it,“ you reply cheekily. You could feel the beginnings of a great friendship.

And great friendship it was. Throughout the class, you shared many laughs, smiles, and the perfect amount of innocent banter. By the end, you were sure that you couldn’t wait another two weeks before you talked to Sean. He was super cool and was actually taking some of the same classes as you at the university. So you did what you always did when you found someone you liked, you gave him your phone number and made plans to grab a coffee after your shared class the next day.

Walking home, Bucky’s slight was pretty far from your brain. You sent him a little summary of the class and how he was right about you making a new friend, before plugging your phone into it’s charging station in the kitchen and going to bed.

Bucky came home five days later, flowers and chocolates in hand, ready to shower you in all the love he could give you. Knocking on your door, you answered with a squeal before jumping onto him, throwing your arms around his neck.

"You’re home! Why didn’t you tell me you were on your way back? I would’ve met you at the tower.” You ramble, peppering his face in kisses.

"I wanted to surprise my best girl. After all, What better way to ask for forgiveness for missing our last date than with flowers and your favorite chocolates?“ He proclaims, squeezing you back as he walks you both into your flat, kicking the door closed behind you.

You are a giggly mess as he pushes his head into the crook of your neck, holding you to him as if you were a lifeline back to himself. "Well, I guess I’ll forgive you this once. After all, without you bailing on me, I wouldn’t have a new friend and note buddy in sociology.” You say.

"Well, I’m glad to hear you had a good time. I promise I’ll make the next one. Speaking of dancing, I wanna see what you learned.“

And so went the rest of your night; you catching him up on all the things that happened throughout your week, and him telling you about how stupid Sam and Steve were while they tried to be undercover. Followed by copious amounts of cuddles on your old couch while A little Princess plays on the TV. That is the first time that Bucky slept over at your apartment.

Weeks go by rather quickly, you find yourself balancing your life differently. You spend your free time between classes going over lecture notes, talking books, and just generally spending time with Sean instead of calling Bucky. You still spend most of your nights with Bucky unless he has a mission. Your study time was also different. Instead of spending it on your floor, you spend it in the on-campus library with a group of fellow classmates.

Honestly, you don’t think twice. Sure, you were spending less time with Bucky, but he was usually the one telling you to find ways to get out more. That’s precisely what you were doing. You were positive that Bucky would fully endorse your new schedule, and you were blind to all the signs that he wasn’t.

Months flew by with this new agenda. You were happy, things with Bucky were great. You loved him. Your dance classes were full of spinning around the floor with him, laughing when your eyes met with Sean’s across the room. Often times, Bucky would give a half-hearted smile that didn’t reach his eyes, and squeeze you tighter into his arms.

The first time you noticed his sour face, your heart gave a subtle flutter. Why was he acting so cold? He’s the one who wanted you to make more friends. Shrugging it off as just one of his moods, you give his shoulder a little squeeze, smiling up at him.

More time passes, Finals draw nearer, and you find yourself spending more and more time with Sean instead of Bucky. You fill your days with endless notes, quizzing the other on what seems to be infinite terms, principles, and scenarios.

As you fill your days with academics, your nights fill themselves with Bucky. More time is spent with him following you around, not letting you out of his arms for more than a few minutes, and it was driving you into insanity. Bucky never was a clingy boyfriend. He always respected that you had a life outside of him. Usually, there was nothing he loved more than seeing you enjoy the freedom he fought to protect. Recently it felt as if he resented your life outside of him. He texted you constantly. If he knew you were with Sean, he would call you. If you were even ten minutes late to a date, he would get super angry. There was nothing you could do right. He was a boiling pot of hot and cold.

The night of your big sociology test, you came home, after a celebratory drink with Sean, to Bucky sitting on your couch. His back was curved, elbows rested on his splayed knees, hands clasped over his frown, brows pulled together in a tight scowl. This isn’t good.

"Hey Buck, I wasn’t expecting you to be here tonight?” you say, setting your small wallet and keys on the entryway table. You try to keep your voice even as you approached him.

He huffed, his eyes following you as you walk further into your apartment. “Of course, you forgot.” His beautiful bariton was dark with unspoken accusations.

"What do you mean, forgot? Did we have plans?“

"Yeah, Doll, we did. We were supposed to meet to go to Tony’s birthday party together. When you didn’t show up and didn’t answer your phone, I got worried and came here.” He growls derisively

"Isn’t that next week, on the 28th?“ your brows scrunching in confusion?

"It’s been a week. Today is the 28th!” He spits, standing. “I see my concern was misplaced. You obviously don’t care enough to read my texts anymore.”

Your jaw pops open, “What do you mean, I haven’t gotten any texts from you!” You pull out your phone and click it on to see not one, but several missed texts and a few missed calls with voicemails. “Fuck. I’m sorry Bucky, I mustn’t have turned my ringer back on after my test.”

"Yeah, well, I would say it’s okay, but it’s not. I’m hurt, you are always gone, and when you are here, your head is a million miles away. I don’t know what happened. Actually, I do. Sean happened. Ever since you met him, it’s always 'Sean this, Sean that.’“

Your eyes are opened so wide as you stare at the fuming Bucky. You knew he was a little jealous, but you’ve never seen him this upset at someone being close to you.

You open your mouth to respond, but Bucky cuts you off. "I bet you were with Sean while I was sitting here wondering if you were dead in a ditch somewhere.”

"That’s not fair, Bucky. Sean has nothing to do with this. It was my own mistake, and Sean is my friend. It’s not like I could even try replacing you. Sean isn’t interested in me.“

"That’s a load of bullshit. I’ve seen how he looks at you.” Bucky rages. “And you’re no better. You are continually eye-fucking him. If I didn’t know better, I would assume that you were actually fucking him, but you’re too much of a baby to even try that.”

"What do you mean too much of a baby? And how does he look at me?“ you yell back, hurt piling behind your eyes, causing your sinuses to burn with unshed tears. Where was all of this coming from? This is not the Bucky that you know. The Bucky you know is sweet and loyal, not this insecure dickwad.

"Oh, you know exactly what I mean on both counts! He looks at you like you are a piece of meat he’s hunting. Another notch in his belt. Too bad for him. You can’t even get to second base with your long-term boyfriend without backing out.” He insults, coming to stand in front of you. The few inches he has on you feeling like feet as he towers over you.

"Bucky, I think you need to leave.“ You say as calmly as you can, trying to keep the fear from your features.

"I think your right. I think you need to think really hard about what you want. I love you, but I won’t play second fiddle to some snot-nosed brat. When you decide that you are willing to put forth effort in our relationship, you know where I live.” He says, walking out of your front door.

The door’s slam shut is the last straw; tears stream down your cheeks in salty turrets. You don’t even notice the pencil falling out from behind your ear as you collapse into a heap of sobs on the floor. How dare he? How could he say such hurtful things? I thought he was happy that I had a new friend.

A few days go by with no word from Bucky. Your last final comes and goes. You ignore everything, preferring to mope in your self-pity alone. Your home turns into a giant blanket-fort before you can even think about what you are doing. Thinking about what Bucky said to you, you hide away from the hurt you feel. Maybe he was right, you had been spending more time with Sean lately than you did with Bucky. When was the last time you saw him that wasn’t just you collapsing onto the couch and falling asleep in his arms? A few weeks at least.

Gods, you were an idiot. How could you not see how far away you had drifted from him? He was right, you were scared to go with your instincts when it came to the physical things in your relationship. It was wrong of him to use it against you like that, but it was true.

Was he right about what Sean wanted with you, though? If so, you were going to need to set some clear-cut rules. If not, you were still going to have to make sure that you weren’t ignoring Bucky just to spend time with Sean. It wasn’t right to do that, because you love Bucky. He gave you a joy that you had yet to find with anyone else, Sean included.

Sighing into your body pillow, you sit up. You know what you have to do. Climbing out of your blanket fort, you pull on a hoodie and some simple trainers. Quickly, you gather your keys and wallet before you chicken out on what needs to happen and head out the door, pushing your way swiftly to where you know Bucky will be.

When you finally make it to the Avenger’s Tower, you have gotten one too many disapproving stares from the businesspeople. You march right into the building and scan your card to get into the Avenger’s only elevator. “Friday, will you take me to where Bucky is. It’s important.”

"Of course, miss.“ came the swift reply.

Not five minutes later, you were face-to-door with Bucky’s office placard. You take a deep breath, closing your eyes to center yourself. Before you can knock, Bucky opens the door.

"Doll,” He said, His tone night and day to the one he used the last time you spoke.

"Hey Buck, we need to talk, do you have a moment.

Your puffy eyes, disheveled pajama fashion statement, and dejected tone must have tipped him off to how well I was doing because he simply stepped aside, letting me into the office before pulling me into a tight hug.

"Does this mean you are choosing us?“ He whispers nervously.

"Yes. But you need to know that you hurt me and it wasn’t okay. You should’ve just told me how you were feeling. You are an adult, Buck. The main reason our relationship has been going so well is that we are honest with each other. I love you, but you exploded, and it not only scared me, but you also used the one thing that I have problems with against me.” you say tears wetting his shirt as you lean into the hug.

"I’m so sorry, Sugarcube. I knew as soon as I said it that I crossed the line, I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t come back. I love you. Please forgive me.“

"I forgive you, but you are going to have to earn back some of the trust I gave you. You are my priority, but Sean is still going to be one of my friends.”

"Reasonable. I love you.“ He whispered, holding you tighter to his chest. And you knew that even if it wasn’t alright at the moment, it was going to be.

#boyfriend!bucky #reader insert #bucky x you #bucky barnes #idk what im doing #thank you anonymous #fins reads #fins' fic recs #fins' recs #fins recs fics #fanfiction #fic reblog

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faunusrights · 4 years

Text

OFFAL HUNT REMASTERED LIVEBLOG // CHAPTER 19

IN THIS EPISODE OF MURPHY IS SCREAMING, CONSTANTLY, TRAPPED IN THEIR PERFECT NIGHTMARE:

Glynda was saying: “I know we aren’t friends. I know we aren’t partners. I know you’re a criminal. But—I think I can trust you. I think I have to trust you, even if you’ve done awful things before.”

EVERYTHING GOES WRONG BUT LIKE SOMEHOW WORSE THAN EVER? LIKE A WHOLE NEW BRAND OF LOW. LIKE CINDER’S GOT A PICKAXE AND THE CENTRE OF THE PLANET CALLS FOR AID.

IT’S BEEN A WHILE HUH!!!!!!!!!!!!!! but dw offal hunt, like the rising of the sun, the arrival of winter, and the eventual downfall of capitalism, always returns. so lets go.

(i just quickly reread chapter 18 liveblog to remember what happened and Ah Yes I Remember Now. The Suppressed Memories)

The place was emptier without Glynda. Quieter.

/gunshot oh we’re in danger right out of the gate huh? we got some yearning right out here? right now? how quickly the turn do tables.

Cinder appraised her work, holding the beige coat up to the light and squinting.

man i forgot. i FORGET. how much i just love cinder in this fic. sometimes she kinda zones to the back of my mind where she sits waiting for me to start thinking about her again, but now i remember that this cinder is Peaque. look at her GO, minding her own BUSINESS. im proud of her. does she know i love her.

It didn’t take long to don her new, fire-proofed clothes.

in another world, in a more comical plot, she used asbestos. it didnt go well.

The subtle warmth of the Dust teased tension from Cinder’s stiff muscles, even as she marvelled at the strangeness of her own bedroom’s space. It seemed bigger now than it had the last two nights.

She chose not to dwell on it.

i choose to dwell on it! ME!!!! I CHOOSE TO DWELL ON IT. HEY CINDER WHAT THIS GAY SHIT. hello. ma’am. can we look deeper into this. i, for one, would like to, and i, for one, think its of value to think abt this. that said, small segue

Quietly, Cinder murmured, “I didn’t freak out.”

THE FACT SHE SAYS IT ALOUD LIKE EM AND MERC CAN HEEEEEEAR HEEEEEEEER i am. INFATUATED with this family. cant wait for the 100k spinoff thats basically an elongated beach episode where they go to like. alton towers. or butlins. six flags??? thats a thing in america right??? anyway. beach episode. call me. (wink wink nudge nudge push push shove shove)

We had to stop back in because Merc left his favorite binder, and it was 2 in the morning, so it was easier to crash here for the night than mess with the ship’s autopilot.

them,,, THEM!!!! mercury is just a son and childe. thast it. he canot change this. i love these kids so much i am SHAKING THE MONITOR RN!!!!!!! AAAAAAAAA

Stuck here in one of the homes they’d shared, Cinder missed them terribly. Missed the sound of their voices and the easy comfort of their presence. Finding the time to contact them had been difficult, between managing Glynda and Hati both, but Glynda was gone, and she’d sent Hati onwards to Atlas. She remembered her call with Emerald, before arriving in Umbraroot; she knew it had not soothed her or her fears.

im sorry was this chapter targeted at me, specifically, as a human being on planet earth? GOD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I LOVE THIS FAMILY!!!!!!!!! THIS WONKY OLD BANDAGED UP FAMILY UNIT!!!!!!!!!!!!! i thrive every time they are mentioned on the page. it is a blessing. my succulents grow stronger each time they show up.

“No,” Cinder argued softly, “I had to. Mercury, you deserve to hear it from me as well. I am sorry. And I am promising you: I’ll come back.”

For a long, heart-wrenching moment, he was completely quiet. It was good that Cinder was alone in the apartment; laying herself bare like this would be unbearable with an audience.

GODDDDDDDDDDD AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

i am OBSESSED WITH THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! IM GOING TO BE THINKING ABOUT THIS UNTIL I D I E. of all thing the remaster does better than og, this is just. SPEEDING AHEAD. this whole CONFLICT this whole MESS just makes everything so much RICHER its like when u splash some wine in yr fancy food or stick some cinnamon on yr favourite desserts u dont NEED TO but it adds that lil SOMETHING,,, that little KICK that just ties the flavour profile together and in this case ofgughugguhu it just GIVES SO MUCH. im making SNOW ANGELS in the WORDS on the PAGE.

“Mercury. If I could prove it to you, I would. But you have to—trust me. For just a while longer.”

“It’s getting harder,” he said. He didn’t sound like he was lying just to hurt her. That wasn’t spite. That was honest anger. And it made her feel like dirt.

im less picking these for specific instances of like, things i want to say, but more just because bits of this r rly just so /chef kiss. cinder has these.... endearingly (take that whichever way u like) human qualities in OG to rly make u realise she had ties to add to her #Doubt but the remaster is just AMPING it up and u FEEL IT and ive never been more SYMPATHETIC to a round-faced sinnamon bun of assholery and fire id DIE for cinder fall and this is a fact PUT IT ON MY GRAVESTONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Is there anything you need?” What was this? Cinder could barely focus on her words. It felt like... “Anything? At all?”

“We’re fine.”

“Mercury, wait please—” She was losing him. “I think—”

“Just hurry up.”

The line went dead.

this place is not a place of honor.................. no highly esteemed deed is commemorated here........................ nothing valued is here................ IM DYING

Cinder began to type out her response, and that was when the nausea really kicked in.

[...]

She recognized this now.

Glynda.

stress stress stress stress STRESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

There shouldn’t be anybody. Cinder had done everything in her power to cut Glynda from people who would interfere. To isolate her. Make it easier to bring her to Atlas, to the frozen north, to her mother and the machine…

Cinder’s esophagus quivered; furiously, she shut her eyes and thought of nothing.

god cinder don’t remind me that you’re an asshole and dipshit and also a moron im trying to be NICE and CARE ABT YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! STOP REMINDING ME YOU’RE A PIECE OF SHIT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

FOR FIVE MINUTES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The front door clicked open.

Cinder couldn’t have said how much time had passed, only that it had passed slowly. What she did know was that it was Glynda returning, the sensation of boils bursting wafting off her soul. It crawled over Cinder’s flesh. She curled in on herself.

There were mites under every nailbed. Salt in her weeping mouth.

offal hunt’s brilliant use of this horror aspect is something i have tried previously to emulate and here’s a fact, take it from me: that shit is HARD. offal hunt consistently able to whack those real nasty, really Disgusting vibes on the head EVERY TIME is a work of art. i mean, kc and diesel do not fuck around, and therefore i am NOT surprised, but it’s only when u try this shit yourself that you realise: this is hard! this is difficult! it’s a huge testament to how GOOD this fic is in every way. also this whole fucking body horror aspect is something i didnt know this fic needed, but it did, and here we are.

Thickly: “Things were going okay. If you hadn’t gotten nasty, I might have smoothed things over. I could have fixed things with my son.”

with my son

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA I CANT TAKE IT EVERY TIME ITS TOO MUCH FOR TO BEAR I CANNOT HANDLE IT I CANNOT STAND IT ITS LIKE BEING SHOT JUST DIRECTLY IN MY DICK

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

im like sweating rn

Glynda said, “I’m scared.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want to tell you.”

I SAID IM SWEATING

Glynda asked, “Are you lying to me?”

And Cinder said, “What?”

“About me. About Witches. About Ozpin—” Cinder’s guts went sour. “—About anything. I need to know if I can trust you.”

I SAID I! AM! S W E A T I N G

“I know you’ve lied to people. Hurt people.”

Adrenaline and the image of her kids’ faces behind her eyes made a potent, sick cocktail. “—Not. Now.”

so lets like double back to when i said hey was this chapter written to target me specifically and as it turns out, yes. yes it was. yes it was and as MUCH AS I AM LIVING FOR THIS MOMENT THIS SWEET BUILDUP THE EXPLOSION AND THE CRATER IT ALL LEAVES BEHIND

so this next bit is like. i cant really quote one section but as i was saying in Vague DMs, this whole bit feels like wading through mud. usually if you say something consumes energy to Read it’s in a Bad Way when yr bored but this is more like. you Feel cinder all over everything feels so sluggish and it’s like dragging your own corpse around as you try and leave and you’re TIRED and your LEGS HURT and you’re kinda thinking god what if i just fell face down for just a moment of my LIFE.

The putrid weight of Glynda’s soul filled the room until there was no space left for her.

it’s like being trapped in a sauna, like getting stuck in a humid waiting room. where do you GO. what do you DO. god this whole section is fantastic and offal hunt NEVER fails to fucking nail the Vibes but reading it is HARD. i literally keep having to stop and breathe like ive been holding my breath. jesus h christ.

a small intermission for a mood:

“Get fucked.”

back to regularly scheduled hell

Out of the bedroom. Down the hall. The walls were sweating with heat. She tasted smoke.

i love that i just said how i feel like im trapped in a sauna and it turns out: thats because me and cinder both, baybee!!!! hahahaha help

Glynda’s soul chewed her to the marrow. “Move, Glynda.”

cinder being hunted at the start of this fic: teehee! im running away! now im gonna getcha! heehee! arent i clever :) cinder being hunted now: this uh. this blows, actually,

Cinder’s pulse roared in her ears. Her hands twitched. She smelled Ochre Brown’s round face melting off. His wide smile shattered with each of his teeth, going black and popping like corn.

this chapter is probably my favourite so far for this blending of so many elements. i cant even begin to like. THINK STRAIGHT about how all of this is tying together. the lore. the THEMATICS. like i said this character rly is just Rich with what og lacked and oh is it RICH. im gonna read this chapter in future and see so much that i know ive already missed. holy shit.

“Ms. Fall,” she said. “The White Fang requires your presence immediately.”

NOT NOW

Cinder stood there looking at it for a moment. Her thoughts were slow. Copper-tinged. Something small and indulgent whispered to her through the blood-fog.

It was obvious enough what would happen if she got into this car. The driver would take her to a secluded place, where she would be ambushed by a squadron of battle-hungry White Fang grunts.

They’d try to take her down. And she was a killer, wasn’t she? Ochre Brown wailed in her ears with every thump of her runaway heart. Her hands itched for action; her teeth, for blood.

She’d burn them black.

never mind! you are already dead,

She thought about Glynda. About her saying that if there was trouble with the Fang, she wanted to come. That she would fight for Cinder.

She thought of Glynda’s question: What aren’t you telling me about Ochre Brown?

Yeah, fuck that.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA OH MY GOD!!!!!!!!!! WHAT A CLIFFHANGER!!!!!!!!!! WHAT A MOMENT!!!!!!!!!!!!! MORE MOMENTOUSLY: WHAT A CHAPTER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

this is EASILY my favourite chapter so far. EASILY. everything about this was peak offal. the relationships. the dynamics. the dialogue. the vibes. the Grossness. the fighting. the EVERYTHING. this is some other level and its BITCHIN. PEAK. that said im now very tired. im going to have a cup of tea and Consider Things for a few hours. brb.

#liveblog #rwby #offal hunt

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snow-lavender · 4 years

Text

The Last Day of Mediocrity

AKA, “Enter Marvin, Stage Left.”

Word count: 2382

Here’s a little ditty I like to call: Whoopsie, completely forgot to put these on Tumblr so now I’m posting three chapters in rapid succession. This is my take on Marvin’s creation, hope you enjoy!

AO3 Link Here

Marvin O’Sullivan paced around his apartment, talking animatedly on the phone. “It was great, you shoulda seen the kid’s face! I think Luke took a video of it. And we made so much cash, I’m gonna make my rent and then some this winter.”

“So what I’m hearing is ‘I had a great time, Emily, thank you for convincing me to go even though I was being a stubborn brat.” replied the phone.

Marvin rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I’m sorry for being a dick about it. But c’mon, cut me some slack! This was my first time leaving the country.”

“Well, that’s the kind of shit that happens when you’re homeschooled.”

“I’m not disagreeing.” Marvin snorted. He sat down on his sofa and started flipping through a book. “Really, Em, thank you for letting me take your spot.”

“Eh, don’t worry about it.” she said. “Gotta keep the talent fresh, am I right? Seems like it did you some good.”

“Yeah, it did. I got so inspired by the other performers there, I gotta jot some of these ideas down. Talk to you soon?”

“Sure will. Bye Marv.”

“Bye Em.”

Marvin hung up the phone and slumped back into the couch. He summoned his notebook and started writing.

quick change?

Art on stage for ambience ambiance

More riffing w/ audience

kid orented set?

balancing shit

Amethyst out of juice

Need more rosemary

Flashier teleportation: saltpeter, indigo? got a theme

buy coffee

Small flames

↑LOTS OF PRACTICE↑

Aura residue on cards

After a few minutes of brainstorming, he put down the notepad. If he was going to get

anything done, he needed to do some shopping. Which then lead to the hardest decision of any day.

What to do about his face.

He fiddled with the crude mask in his hands. Deal with disgust, or deal with disapproval? There was, of course, no good option. Either way people were going to stare at him. And normally he loved the attention. Hell, it was why he chose a career as a busker. But then, it was okay to be wearing a marker-covered mask from Poundland. At Tesco, not so much.

His hands automatically went to his cheek. Even after five years, the skin was scarred and rough. He remembered the doctor saying it would be that way for the rest of his life, never fully healing.

The flames around him grew higher as he screamed, Ma, please, help me!

He stopped that train of thought right in its tracks. He was better off now. He was a fairly successful performer, he was providing for himself. He had coworkers who respected him, and people at the local coven who said he was the most talented wizard they’d seen in years. Hell, he even went to Pride in Dublin last month! Everything in his life was flying in the face of those assholes.

He was strong. He was accomplished. He was magnificent.

“Fuck it.”, he muttered, pulling the mask over his face.

Today, he was going to be who he wanted, general public be damned.

>=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=<

A few hours later, he returned to his flat, arms full of bags. He hung his mask up and shoved the door closed with his hip, making a beeline for his kitchen. The green light from the orb reflected off some of the cans and into his face, so he put those away first. Then he threw the beef in the fridge, restocked the butter, and shit, he was almost out of jam. Why didn’t he notice that this morning?

Finished with the groceries, he closed the pantry and grabbed the other bags. The more volatile plants would need to be stored carefully to prevent reactions, and he needed to grab some iron shavings for that new potion, and-

Wait.

Green glowing orb?

Marvin turned toward the TV, confused. Sure enough, there was a strange sphere floating above his sofa.

What the hell?!

He backed himself slowly into the wall. Thankfully, it didn’t react, but he still moved very carefully toward the hall. As soon as he figured he was out of its line of sight, he ran into his bedroom and slammed the door shut.

“Okay, okay, calm down.” he whispered. He couldn’t think of any recent spells that could have caused...that.

Which meant this was something else. An intruder?

He ran for his bookshelf. Panicking, he pulled out the largest book he could find and started flipping through it. “No... no...no, come on!” He dropped that one and grabbed another. Halfway through it, he found the section on wards. “Okay, okay, weak, strong, proactive.. ...reactive!”. Silently cheering, he went over the spell in his head. Nothing too complex, just some clove and mugwort. He dogeared the page, grabbed those herbs, and left his room.

The orb was still there.

Marvin cursed and laid the supplies in front of him. He opened the book and started to cast the spell.

“Cruinne beannaithe, iarr mé do chumhacht. Moladh dom neart agus rath a thabhairt dom.”

Purple energy began to swirl around him. He relaxed, but then noticed the other light source was growing brighter.

“Bacainn a chur in aghaidh olc. Cosain an teach seo ó dhaoine ar mian leo dochar a dhéanamh orm!”

His voice grew louder with fear. The things should have been weakening by now! He squinted, the light making it harder to read.

“Iarr mé go héasca-”

Just as he reached the climax of the spell, the light became overpowering. He dropped the book to cover his face, and his magic vanished. He could feel power swirling around him, foreign and uncomfortable. It grew brighter and more stifling, making him cry out, until suddenly there was a flash, and everything disappeared.

Including himself.

>=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=<

Several miles away, he crashed to the floor. “Shit, shit, shit.” he muttered, scrambling for his spellbook. If he was quick, he could whip up a teleport before anyone noticed he was here-

“Uhh…”

Marvin whipped around. Standing in a doorway was a dumbfounded teenager, holding a steaming mug. He froze, still on his knees, grasping the book. “Hi….?” continued the teen.

Marvin was on his feet in a second. “I don’t know who you are, but let me go, now, and no one will get hurt.” he snarled. The other guy took a step back. “What? Let you go? You’re the one who materialized in my cousin’s flat!”

Marvin lowered his hands. “You didn’t summon me here?” he asked. “Then what was that light in my living room?”

“Light?” the kid repeated. He perked up. “Like a green, glowy orb thing?”

Marvin nodded. “Okay, great!” the other said. “I mean, not super great, cause I bet you’re confused as hell, but that explains a lot!” He fished a phone out of his hoodie pocket. “I’ll text Seán. He’ll need a few minutes to stop recording, but then he can help you figure stuff out. You’re probably Marvin, right?”

Marvin bristled. “How do you know my name?” he hissed.

Kid shrugged. “It’s kinda complicated.” He held out a hand. “I’m Jackie. You want anything to drink? There’s still hot water in the kettle, I think.”

“Sure.” he replied, shaking Jackie’s hand warily. Marvin followed him into the kitchen, not wanting to let this stranger out of his sight. “You cast the spell that pulled me here, then?”

“Pfft, nah.” Jackie snorted. “I can’t do magic. Not traditionally, anyhow. That’s Seán’s scene.” He pulled another mug out of the cupboard. “Earl grey cool?”

“And Seán is your...cousin? The one who owns the flat?” Marvin guessed, leaning against the wall.

“Eehhh…”Jackie replied. “Technically no? He’s got custody of me, but we’re not...exactly...related. At all.”

“Then why..?”

“So we may have fudged the papers a bit. But hey, no harm done, right?”

Marvin stared at him. “And you’re just telling me, a random stranger, this? Not a great way to stay in his custody.”

Jackie shrugged, pouring more tea. “You’re gonna be living with us anyway, so why not?”

“Wait, what the hell?” Marvin stood up suddenly. “How did you get to that conclusion?”

“Shit.” Jackie replied. “I didn’t mean it like that. I mean, usually people like us stick together. I think. I’m still the first one here, but with the others, it seemed like-” he stopped. “Marvin, you okay?”

Marvin wasn’t listening. What the fuck did he mean by that? He’d said he wasn’t trapping him here! He hadn't felt any wards when he’d got here, but Jackie had acted like he wasn’t leaving. How was he so calm about this? His chest was tightening. Was it darker magic that had brought him here? Was this Seán dude a warlock, had he brainwashed this kid? He couldn’t breathe. He didn’t want any exposure to corrupt magic. The last time that had happened…

What the hell are you talking about? Please, just help me!

“Hey, Marvin, dude.”

Marvin’s head snapped up. When had he sat on the floor?

Jackie knelt next to him. “You back with me?” he asked.

“Y-yeah.” Marvin stuttered, accepting Jackie’s help as he stood up.

Jackie nodded. “Great. You really spaced out there for a sec.”

Marvin rubbed at his face. “Sorry, I-” he stiffened. He didn’t have his mask.

Jackie backed up as Marvin started looking around frantically. “You need something or…”

“My mask. Did you see where it fell?”

Jackie shook his head. “I didn’t see any mask.”

“I need it.” Marvin insisted. He hated how standoffish he sounded, but this was important.

Jackie bit his lip. “I can go look, if that would help.”

“I need it.” Marvin repeated. “People are going to see.” See...see…

But Jackie had already seen his face. He hadn't been wearing it when the orb had shown up.

“Yeah, I got nothing.” Jackie said, returning to the kitchen. When had he left?

“Never mind.” Marvin said shortly.

“Are you sure? It sounded important-”

“Just drop it.” Marvin, pushing Jackie aside.

Jackie looked lost. “Oookay?” Then his phone dinged. “Oh! Seán’s finished recording. He’ll be down in a sec.”

Right. Fuck.

Marvin turned back to the living room. “So what exactly is going on?” he asked as they sat on the couch. His hands twitched, ready to cast at any moment.

“What did you need Jackie?” a new voice said.

Marvin turned. Standing in the hall was a man a few years older than him, maybe 25? He looked confused, but that changed to shock when he saw Marvin. “Oh.”

“Tada…” Jackie said, doing jazz hands in Marvin’s direction. He stopped when Marvin glared at him. “Where the hell am I?” he demanded, standing up. “He says you pulled me here. What the fuck do you want?” His hands glowed purple.

Seán raised his hands. “Calm down man. No one’s going to hurt you.”

Marvin’s eyes narrowed. “Explain. Now.”

“You know what a tulpa is?”

“Yeah, so?”

“Okay, so, as far as I can tell, sometimes the universe tries to make tulpas based on characters I do, but it gets lazy and just pulls someone similar here instead.”

Marvin stared at him in disbelief. “What?”

“Look, I don’t get it either. Jackie can vouch for me though, he got pulled here when I did a superhero character last month.” The teen waved nervously.

“What, and you think I’m like that? I’m human, not preternatural. Don’t pull that ‘magicians are a different race’ shit, that got disproven in the seventies.”

Seán pulled a face. “Hell no. I’m just trying to make an analogy. Nothing really fits with this situation.”

“Just...okay, fine, I’ll go along with this. For now.” Marvin said, rubbing at his face.

Seán stuck out a hand. “I’m Seán McLoughlin. Nice to meet you.”

Marvin shook it. “Marvin O’Sullivan.”

“Wait, wait?” Seán pulled back. “Holy shit, I haven’t seen you since we were kids! How have you been?”

“Huh?” Marvin squinted at him. Then it clicked. “Jack!?”

Seán beamed. “Yeah! Man, of all people...it’s good to see you.”

“Wait, you two know each other?” Jackie interrupted.

“The McLoughlins used to be some of the strongest magic users out there. My parents wanted connections, so we used to hang out.” Marvin explained.

“Yeah, I was the only kid in our family around his age, so we’d play together when the adults were talking.”

Marvin looked Seán up and down. He seemed to be doing pretty well for himself. He was almost as energetic and happy as he had been when they were kids. And if that hadn’t changed, well, he didn't seem like the type to deal with shady magic.

“Alright then. What was it you were saying about tulpas?”

>=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=<

Marvin stared out the window of the bus. Thankfully, Seán had paid for his fare back to Galway, since he’d left his wallet in his flat. He’d be back to his place by midnight.

This was a lot to process. Meeting someone from his childhood like that, well, it had brought a lot back up. Stuff he’d rather keep buried. He’d burned most of those bridges, and the rest had been burned for him. Now, a lot of the wreckage from those fires was coming to light.

Oh yeah, and the whole “figment of the imagination” thing. That was a lot to take in too.

Still, it was nice to see Jack again.

Marvin looked down at his phone. Seán had given him his number if they needed to get back in touch.

Of all the people he used to be close to, Jack was probably the least asshole-y. Maybe talking to him more would be nice. Especially since they had similar backgrounds.

The drive to Athlone was short enough that he could travel it for a weekend.

He opened the texting app.

From: M. O’Sullivan

To: S. McLoughlin

M.O.: Hey, could I come back up in a few days? I’d like to hang out more.

A few moments later, the phone dinged with a reply.

S.M.: Sure thing! :)

#writersofjack #writers of jack #marvin the magnificent #marvin the magician #jackieboy man #jackieboyman #jacksepticeye #jacksepticeye fanfiction #jacksepticeye egos #septic egos #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #the last day series

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goonlalagoon · 5 years

Text

The Great Haus Bake-Off || Check, Please!

I have no memory of what caused me to start writing this, but been re-reading some Check Please fic and finally got motivated to go back and finish it...

(also on Ao3 here)

No-one was quite certain, later, who started it.

It had been a post-practice brunch, they all agreed, sometime in that period when everyone on the Internet - or at least, about thirty percent of the parts of the Internet that Bitty frequented and re-tweeted things from - was obsessed with Great British Bake Off, and someone had eventually said “It’s baking, it isn’t like it’s exciting”, and it seemed like almost everyone in the room made a sound of thoughtless agreement.

Then came the terrible ‘clang’ of an oven door being closed.

Instantly, the room fell silent. The look Eric Bittle turned on them all would freeze enough water for an ice rink, and for a long moment everyone at the Haus kitchen table was both trying to remember whether they had said the terrible thing, and wondering with deep seated horror whether if no-one owned up Bitty would actually withhold all baked goods.

Chowder actually gulped when he began to smirk.

“Oh, really? Y’all better be ready to put your money where your mouths are.”

It’s really only supposed to be a small thing. Bitty plans to just get the boys to try and make something - maybe a pie, or maybe he’d give them something fancier, patisserie of some kind - which they would all inevitably fail at but would probably make fools of themselves in some deeply entertaining fashion while baking. But Lardo listens to him patter on about it for fifteen minutes, swallows her pie, and grins.

“Say, Bits? You reckon we could turn this into a Samwell Men’s Hockey publicity thing?”

They even manage to get a sort-of sponsorship out of it by dint of Lardo sidling up to the manager of the cute little store Bitty goes to for baking apparatus - he’ll compromise on many things for the sake of budgeting, but when he needs another pie dish or his scales go on the blink, Eric Bittle is not afraid to invest - and cheerfully explaining the entire story. The manager is delighted and insists on being a judge in exchange for giving them a deal on some of the key equipment, because Bitty loves his teammates to pieces but wouldn’t dream of letting them near his mama’s set of cake tins for love nor money.

When the delivery arrives he discovers that the manger has even managed to get them cake stands patterned with skating boots and little snowflakes.

One of Lardo’s arty friends agrees to film it in exchange for permission to submit it as part of his film and media portfolio, and Bitty indulges himself in a full rerun of every episode of Bake Off aired so far to gather ideas.

Lardo joins him for most of it, already planning the spiel she’s going to stick up on the SMH website to cover the event and organising a few people for taste testing (with a guarantee of a Bittle produced rendition of the days challenge in case all other offerings are truly inedible as they both half suspect they will be)

Meanwhile, the rest of the boys begin to panic. Baking is not a skill that was widely associated with the SMH Haus before the arrival of Bitty, and their main interaction with baked goods is still firmly on the consumer end of things.

Ransom is seen carrying a stack of cookbooks up to his chin across campus from the library, and spends his evenings memorising recipes with the fervour he usually saves for last minute test revision. No-one quite dares use the Haus kitchen to practice, because what if they damage Bitty’s baking stuff he will either cry or kill them or both, and take over miscellaneous dorm kitchens to try and memorise the basic sponge recipe. A bemused Farmer lets Chowder use her kitchen, and promptly tracks down Bitty to ask what on earth is going on, because “he accidentally used salt instead of sugar and I know for a fact he’s done that several times before, why is he trying to bake again now??”

(She joins in with the GBBO re-watch and makes some excellent suggestions for possible challenges.)

Shitty attempts to make macarons, because he suspects that Bitty is going to make them all suffer. He pokes his failed attempt and concludes that Bitty may be prepared to make them all suffer, but he also loves baking too much to inflict this level of horror on himself, surely?

He largely stops trying to prepare himself and instead starts waxing lyrical about baking in the context of gender roles, mostly the hypocrisy that being able to bake a cake is still considered an essential life skill for a girl, but no one has ever thought it unreasonable that he has never baked a cake before in his life, and winds up on Wikipedia at three fifteen A.M. having gone down a Google rabbit hole that has somehow led to him reading the page about the societal structure of meerkats.

In the end, Bitty decides on three challenges, as a nod to the format and a fun way to get some variety; cookie decoration (he’ll provide the prepped dough, bake ‘em once everyone’s used whatever cookie cutters they want, and then they do the decoration), mini-cake construction (everyone gets a batch of miniature sponges, their choice of how to glue the two layers together and add finishing touches), and one actual baking round - the showstopper pie.

Lardo makes a schedule, because the Haus kitchen won’t take all seven of the team who got themselves into this mess trying to work in it all at once, so that they rotate between stages and go in batches to Murder Shop ‘n Stop to buy their pie filling ingredients.

It’s a disaster, and Bitty watches the chaos unfold with entirely unconcealed glee, keeping up a cheerful voice over - and if his chirps happen to distract the boys and lead to much panicked responses and second guessing, well, that’ s just the nature of baking in a high-pressure environment, isn’t it?

The first round of judging involves a lot of guesswork. Admittedly, Chowder’s blue and white creations are a lot easier to figure out if you’ve seen the inside of the boy’s room and could reliably guess what he was going to attempt, so there are a lot of puzzled looks exchanged amongst the judges until someone makes the link with the Sharks hoodie he’s wearing.

It turns out that Dex can do a pretty neat galaxy icing pattern if he puts his mind to it, even if he got the consistency wrong; Bitty may actually have to try it himself, sometime.

(”Jack, did you…did you actually do maple leaf cut outs with a maple glaze? That’s…”

“Gotta stay on brand, eh? And I was told I wasn’t allowed to do plain circles and decorate them as hockey pucks.”

Most of the minature sponge cakes are gradually sliding more and more lopsided as the various attempts at butter-cream or other fillings prove unable to hold. Holster has somehow managed to cut his at almost a perfect diagonal instead of in half; Nursey simply gave up and presents his as an ‘open sandwich’ rather than trying to glue the layers back together.

(“Shits, what did you even put in the middle of - is this marmite? Did you - did you seriously - why?”

“Listen, love it or hate it, and I happen to love it. Sweet and savoury, a classic combination -”

“Marmite victoria sponge is not a classic combination, Shitty.”

“I was told to be creative, thank you very much, unlike those of us who went with jam and butter-cream.”

“I like jam and butter-cream. Anyway, I did use apple jam, that’s not typical. And I put maple syrup in the -”

“Bro, I am also from Canada, and even I will say that is incredibly Canadian of you.”)

Bitty almost weeps when he sees the final range of pies produced. He was braced for them to be terrible; he just wasn’t quite prepared enough. For a moment, he wonders if this whole stunt was really worth it.

Fillings are burnt while pastry is undercooked to the point of being raw - or the filling is horribly flavoured and the pastry overcooked until it’s about the consistency of wood chips.

Ransom has managed a surprisingly pretty lattice over three-quarters of his pie, but ran out of pastry for the last section. Chowder forgot to leave air-holes in the lid of his (and put salt instead of sugar in the filling).

Nursey isn’t sure what ingredient he forgot, but it was clearly one of the essential ones.

But there is one pie that actually looks…if not something that Bitty would have baked himself, at least something he wouldn’t be instantly offended to be connected to. The lid is a near perfect golden brown, with precisely spaced snips to let the steam waft gently out. The pastry is precisely crimped around the edge of the pie dish, with the excess trimmed away to leave a clean margin. The filling is sweet but not sickly.

The decorative pastry maple leaves add a certain artistry, the main judge declares with the pleased smile of someone who knows they were created with a cookie cutter bought from his own shop.

The video of Jack being presented with an ice-skate patterned cake tin and a matching apron as he’s declared the ‘Samwell Hockey Haus Bake-Off Champion gets re-tweeted by Bob Zimmerman within five minutes of being posted, to a flurry of Twitter activity.

Lardo and Bitty were definitely not expecting their slightly-spite-motivated publicity stunt to go quite this public.

(It was a really good pie, though.)

#Check! Please #OMGCP #omgcp fic #my writing #I...can't remember what sparked this idea but it's been sitting 3/4s finished in my drafts for ages #I actually cannot recall if Jack's love of maple syrup is canon or fanon at this point #or at least his insistance on using Proper Maple Syrup

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winterknight1087 · 4 years

Text

Flower from the Fae (ch 38)

Chapter Title: Everyone is Grumpy, What Else is New?

Summary: Virgil likes plants, but when he goes to investigate a plant his friend, Remy, tells him about, he doesn’t exactly check out the plant. Little does he know that the handsome man he meets there is a fairy who is about to challenge the world Virgil knows.

Word Count: 2097

Chapter Warnings: Sympathetic Deceit, Sympathetic Remus, cursing, poison mention, weapons mention

Chapter Pairings: LAMP, Demus, Sleep/Picani

AO3 Link My Writing

A/N: this is chapter 38, so read the first chapter here!

“HOW DOES IT GLOW! VIRGIL, DID YOU POISON MY HUSBAND? IF YOU DID, I AM GOING TO KILL YOU!”

Virgil was laughing as he turned off the UV light. “Come on, Dee. I told you I found the perfect hair dye for Remus and you didn’t expect it to glow? Did you not even glance at the bottle of hair dye to see it said ‘glows under UV light’?”

“EVEN HIS MUSTACHE IS GLOWING TOXIC GREEN!”

Remus cackled. “Well, I love it!”

“I am curious why you didn’t tell us about this yesterday when you were dying his hair,” Emile said, smiling at the cackling man.

Virgil lost the grin. “It wasn’t a good time? Heck, even now is still bad as we literally got together to discuss plans and whatnot, but I also wanted to show Remus the extra part.”

“Sometimes, I think you understand me more than this snake boy.” Remus giggled, hugging Dee. “Not only did you accept my challenge of green hair but made it even better! Now to find me one of these light thingies!”

Virgil offered the little flashlight to Remus. “Here, you can take mine. I have a regular keychain flashlight anyways.”

Remus took it. “Are you sure?”

“Just accept it, Remus. I don’t need a UV light anymore.”

“Why did you need one in the first place?” Emile asked, curiously.

“Spilled a potion and became so paranoid that I bought it to make sure that I had fully cleaned it up. To which both Dee and Remy called me an idiot and handed me a gallon of bleach, insisting that would cause stuff not to be harmful, which I disagree with as some things can make bleach more powerful and then the matter would be worse and…”

“Virgil, take a breath.”

“I still hate this plan.” Dee spat, looking over the papers the group was discussing.

“Hate it all you want, so long as it keeps you and Virgil safe…” Remy sighed.

“I still wish you’d go with them, Remy. Your post is fairly large. Surely you can go hide somewhere…” Emile started.

“Nope, we spent hours arguing about this last night. I’m not going through that again, Em.” Remy sighed before flipping one of the pages. “For now, we need to see if Vee can use the circles on his own. Then Dee and Vee make a temporary deal where Dee agrees to act as his familiar. And after that… well… I guess it’ll be goodbye.”

“If those pests found us somewhere to go,” Dee muttered, mentally hoping that they didn’t.

“The Prince of the Fae not being able to find a safe place for his partner? Yeah, I wish you luck with that one, Dee.”

“Hey, shut it, Sand Bitch.” Dee snapped. “All of this… is shit. Sure, send Virgil halfway across the country. He and that damn fairy got themselves into this mess. If you’re going to stay here, I don’t see why I can’t as well. It’s complete shit that this dumbass gets himself into trouble and I have to go down with him.”

“Dee.”

“Not only that but I have to trust that those damn pests are actually willing to help. This is complete shit and-“

“DEE.” Remy’s voice instantly silenced the upset man. “Look, I know it’s a mess, but it’s no one’s fault. What we are doing is ensuring that you guys don’t get hurt. You agreed that this was the best course of action. If you have any other ideas, please share them. We need to work fast as we don’t know when or what that bastard has planned. If your murder map is anything to go by, this hunter knows what they are doing. You and I have known the risks of being who we are. We can’t help it. This is one of those times, where we just have to work fast and hope. It is not forever.”

“Rich coming from the being who isn’t leaving, because they are so-called safe.”

“Dee, I’m sorry.” Remy sighed. “Virgil, when are the fairies coming to test your stuff?”

“I…uhh… in about an hour?”

Emile sighed. “You two should start heading over then.”

“Probably for the best.” Remy agreed, standing up. “You ready, Virge?”

“Mrrrph.”

“Gala, your name isn’t Virge. It’s Galaxy. I was speaking to your human.”

She gave a yawn before digging her claws into her human’s shoulder. “Mrrrrph.”

Virgil rolled his eyes at his cat as he stood up. “I mean, I have less say in any of this than Dee, so do I really get to say in if I’m ready or not?”

“OK, please, no more of this,” Emile asked, upset. “None of us are happy with this decision, but it’s been agreed on by everyone, so can we please?”

No, I didn’t agree, you all just decided on what was best and are making me follow your decision. Virgil managed to bite his tongue though, knowing they were trying to act in his best interest. He just led Remy out into the garage and climbed into the passenger's seat of their car. Remy noted that Vee wanted to spit and rave about all of this but was keeping it to himself. They drove down the street, silently, wondering where they wanted to begin.

“Virgil, I am sorry about all of this. I swore to you that I would keep you safe and I… I just keep messing up.”

“You have nothing to apologize for, Remy.” He stated, watching the passing trees. “Like Dee so kindly reminded me, it’s me and Logan’s fault for this mess. You all should just save yourselves the trouble and just tell me to get lost. It’d save you a lot of suffering because of my own incompetence and inability to do one single thing without messing another thing up.”

“Virgil, don’t say that. You are an amazing individual who has suffered through the bad hand you were dealt. Sure, you’ve made some mistakes, but who hasn’t? Mistakes are just a part of life. Those mistakes do not define you. And what are you talking about, not being able to do a single good thing? You have a certain kitten on your shoulder who you literally hand-feed and cared for until she could do so herself.”

“Sounds fake, but whatever. I’m not really in the mood for this, Remy. Let’s just get to the hill and get this over with. Sooner you lot can get rid of me, the less you have to worry about my mistakes.”

“Virge…”

The purple-haired man turned his body so he was facing the door window. Remy was sure that it was uncomfortable, but they understood the meaning. They tiredly sighed as they continued on. Maybe his partners can help him.

As they pulled up to the bottom of the hill, they couldn’t help but weakly chuckle to themselves. “I can’t believe how much has changed since I told you about the weird flower I found up there. I know you’ve gone through a lot the past couple of months, but you’ve also seemed the happiest since meeting that fairy.”

Virgil paused before climbing out of the car. Remy sighed but followed him up the hill. They took a seat inside the fairy circle. Gala happily started to prowl through the grass. She brought her human all sorts of things, trying to find one that would make him smile. So far, no stick, leaf, or weed interested him. Bugs made her human scream before throwing her gift away as far as he could, which was rude, he could just give it back!

“Greetings, fair beings!”

“Roman, if you do not return home this instant!”

“Oh come away from your ring of toadstools, Lo.”

“I think your cuties just arrived, Vee.”

Remy and Virgil watched as the prince and his advisor argued before Patton stepped in. “This is getting us nowhere, you guys. Lo, RoRo isn’t going to return. He’s a bit too stubborn to do so and he’s already here. Maybe we can just move on?”

“Actually, I agree with Logan on this. The Prince of the Fae shouldn’t be here when there’s a high chance of a hunter coming.” Remy said. “But I see your point, sunshine. How about this: Nerd, you said you were skilled in protecting your prince. He agrees to stick with you and he can stay.”

“No. His Highness is to return to the palace, where he is properly protected.” Logan commanded.

“I’m not afraid of some old Dragon Witch, Lo. Lay off. I’ve got my swords. Pat has his whip thing. You have weapons upon weapons on your person that I’m not even sure what you have anymore. I’ll be fine.”

“Hey, VeeVee!” Patton announced, trying to outmatch his partners in loudness. “How are you!”

“Worse than earlier,” Virgil stated, standing up. “Let’s just get this over with. Then you two can stop arguing.”

The partners noticed the comment. “Virgil, if you are…”

“No, this has to happen for any of the plans in place to work. Let’s just get this over.”

I am so going to regret this, Logan sighed. “Roman, I swear upon my wings…”

Roman understood the branch Logan was offering him. “Alright, Lo. Compromise for our beloved dark Knightmare over here.”

“Patton, head over to the restaurant,” Logan ordered.

Patton saluted him, offering a small grin. “You got it, Teach!”

With that, the fairy vanished, leaving a confused Remy, looking over the remaining three. “What’s that about?”

“Patton is acting as a familiar energy source that Virgil can reach out and find. It’s essentially a fall back option along with reappearing in the palace.” Logan looked over his anxious partner. “Are you sure you’re up for this, Virgil?”

No. “Let’s just do this, already.”

“Alright,” Logan sighed before softly instructing Virgil on what was about to happen.

After a few minutes, Logan finally nodded as he stepped back, giving the witch some room. Virgil took a deep breath, concentrating on what he was about to do. With a final breath, he stepped forward as time seemed to slow down, crawling past.

Remy suddenly found themselves being thrown back. They saw tiny Gala hissing, with bright glowing eyes, as a bright purple wall slowly sprouted between Virgil and the rest of them. As the wall grew, a blinding light shot down. Remy’s eyes struggled to close as the lightning struck the hill, but the wall blocked most of the light. It didn’t stop the roar that ripped through the air, shaking their bones, as the earth beneath them growled in response.

Then, as suddenly as time seemed to slow, it jolted back into proper motion. Remy’s body still vibrated from the thunder, but as Gala’s wall vanished, their eyes were drawn to where their best friend had been. All that was left, was a smoking patch of burnt grass.

“Get off me, Specs!”

“Oh, yeah. Hold on.”

Remy was only vaguely aware of the movement from their side as Logan stopped shielding Roman and stood up. Their eyes were busy following the small lines of smoke floating up. They could hear movement and a couple of little sounds from Gala, but that didn’t match the warning bells in Remy’s head. Where is Virgil?

“What. The. Heckety. Heck. Was. That.” Roman demanded, before noticing the patch. “Wait! Where… No! I’m coming for you, Emo Knightmare!”

“Roman!” Logan’s shout didn’t stop the prince from vanishing. “Damn it, Roman! We were supposed to wait here for confirmation!”

Remy finally managed to knock themselves out of their daze. Logan’s words took a moment to process, and they heard him sprouting more, but they could only focus on so much after nearly being struck by freaking lightning! Still, they yanked out their phone and called Virgil. Nothing. Called Emile. Nothing. Dee. Nothing. Remus… Nothing.

“No dice from anyone.”

Their body was trembling, but they forced themselves to stand up and inch over to the black ground. The magic flowing through the very air around the spot was overwhelming. Remy became lightheaded as they moved closer, almost drunk on the feeling of that extraordinary power. Logan cut off in time to rush forward and yank the sand being back.

“Don’t. We don’t know what happened or if something will happen if someone touches such violent remains of pure magic.”

Remy shook their head, trying to clear it. “It doesn’t have the same feel of Virgil’s magic. Whatever just happened, someone has bigger plans.”

“Someone always has bigger plans. Particularly for your group of misfits.”

Next Chapter

Taglist: @that-one-nb-kid, @hufflepuffxfox

#Flower from the Fae #LAMP #sympathetic deceit #sympathetic remus #deceit #remus #demus #romile #tw weapon #tw cursing #tw poison mention #Sage writes

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theawkwardterrier · 5 years

Text

things left behind and the things that are ahead, ch. 19

AO3 link here

He wakes up alone that morning. The note that Peggy’s stuck to the bathroom mirror reminds him that she’ll bring Emma and Drea with her after work. (They’d already discussed this together last night, dreamy and worn out as they curled beside each other, but she might have thought him too close to sleep to have remembered.) Perhaps Eric too, she’s written, a hastily added postscript even though it’s above the signature. Emma had mentioned that they were back together, and no matter how much Peggy had been encouraged by their breakup after high school graduation, Steve has the feeling that it will stick this time. It’s fine with him; Eric is a nice person, and Steve doesn’t doubt that Emma will live her life and find success whether they’re together or not. Staying with her high school sweetheart won’t limit that.

He doesn’t technically have work himself - he'd been called in on Saturday, and was taken off the schedule for today in exchange despite his protestations - but if he slides into the office around 10, Bella will be shut up doing budgeting and he can tuck himself away without being noticed. He needs the distraction.

Nate’s already down in the kitchen when he gets there, although he’d finished with school yesterday and doesn’t really need to be up either. He’s hunched over a book at the table but glances up when Steve enters.

“Food on the stove,” he says, removing the fork he has stuck absently in his mouth. The plate already on the table in front of him has the remnants of his own portion of scrambled eggs, along with traces of the strawberry jam he likes to mix in with them. It’s a good thing Emma isn’t here yet: she thinks it’s a sin.

Steve brushes a kiss to his head on the way past. “Thanks,” he says, going to fill a plate. They’re all used to Steve’s metabolism: Nate left probably eight eggs worth in the pan despite his own teenaged appetite. He sits down across from his son, whose nose is back in his book, another one of the science fiction novels he loves. Nate isn’t a fast reader - he spends a lot of time thinking about what he’s reading, taking in the words, their implications, what it all means - but he is steady and voracious. His bookshelves upstairs are lined with carefully cracked paperback spines, slotted in one at a time as he finishes them.

“What are you up to today?” Steve asks.

Nate finishes his page and looks up, blinking, though more from leaving another world than from the bright sunlight filling the kitchen. “There was a problem at the printer and they didn’t get the yearbooks done in time to sign them in school, so we’re all going to Nancy Taylor’s house to do it there instead. Then we have graduation ceremony rehearsal at the school anyway, so we’ll probably go over there all together.”

“Sounds good.” Steve focuses on forking up more eggs. Of all of his children, Nate would probably best accept his tearing up over the thought of these kids spending one last assured day together before they all go their separate ways, but it’s a little early for him to start falling apart.

The work distraction is actually fairly successful. With Mary Alice’s retirement, his caseload has increased, and he manages to lose himself in files and phone calls for most of the day. He doesn’t even notice that he’s worked through lunch until Bella, finished wrangling the budget for now and in a mood from the effort, tells him loudly that even if he is going to ignore both her instructions and official regulations, he isn’t going to starve while he does it. He gives a token protest, but ends up biting ravenously through a couple of sandwiches as he stops at red lights on the way across town for a home visit he’d been able to hastily set up.

It’s actually easy to check his personal life at the door when he’s talking to families, to the kids he works with. His feelings can matter later; it’s the job that he needs to focus on now.

He’s surprised when he returns to the car and finds that it’s 4 PM. By the time he has gone back home, changed clothes, and driven over to the school, it’s about forty-five minutes to the start of the ceremony. Sliding his hands into his pockets, he sets off across the grass of the sports field where they have set up a small stage and seating all around. Back when Rose and Drea had graduated, the school had chosen to use the auditorium, but Steve guesses that the weather today was too fine to resist. The temperature has dropped from its peak of several hours ago, and a breeze brushes through his hair.

He stakes out seats, making sure to get an extra for Eric just in case. He sees some people he recognizes: parents and siblings who he’s run into around town or at past school functions for Nate and the girls, Nate’s old English teacher Mrs. Krentz, who comes over to gush praise again even though she retired last year. He tries to store away the details of it all to tell Bucky about in their next phone call; Libby will be graduating in just a couple of years. (Buck will probably have another one of his good-natured breakdowns when it happens, starting off with mentioning how young most of the other graduates’ parents are.) Mostly, though, he sits and waits.

Drea finds him first. There’s a looseness to her spine, a grin on her face, as she walks across the grass, says, “Hi, Dad!” and wraps her arms around him. Though she likes school and he can see the little smile that lives at the corners of her mouth even when she is simply telling people where she’s at college, there’s a feeling each time they drive up to Cambridge that she is constructing defenses, restructuring herself in some way. All of that is gone today. She’s wearing a belted denim dress - she never went in for Emma’s long florals, or the sorts of busy patterns and fire-bright colors that Rose prefers - and she’s gotten her hair cut since he last saw her. It’s just a couple of inches, but he smoothes a hand over it as they embrace.

“It’s good to see you,” he says quietly. “I know Nate’s looking forward to it.” The day Nate had called with the date of the graduation, Drea had circled it on her calendar while he was still on the phone (“In red, Nate, I promise”) and when they’d hung up, Steve watched him smiling with unconscious excitement. It’s not that he mopes around, whining over being left behind as his sisters have gone off one by one, and it’s not that he loves Emma and Rose less, but it’s still unfamiliar to him, being apart from Drea.

“I guess I could stand to see him,” Drea says, shrugging, but she is smiling too.

Peggy comes up behind Drea as she is pulling away. Emma and Eric are with her, Em’s hand tucked into Eric’s back pocket. Peggy catches Steve’s eye as he takes that in, raising an eyebrow and pulling her mouth just barely to the side. Steve covers a grin by dipping to kiss her cheek.

“Lovely group of seats,” she says innocuously as Steve turns to greet the other two.

They all settle in beside each other. Peggy always likes the aisle seat - quick egress - and Drea slides in after her, Emma and Eric next, and Steve bracketing the other end. Emma talks about her summer courses. Drea tells stories about Tony’s antics, the mischief he’d gotten into as he tried to prevent her from leaving even for just a few days; she’s obviously charmed by that in a way that Steve isn’t sure he would be.

The seats fill up around them, chattering relatives and friends, staff members. It is almost time.

The crickets are starting to chirp, but Pomp and Circumstance drowns them out, the high schoolers in the band clearly putting their all into it. The graduates enter in twos, each member of the pairs representing one of the school colors. Nate walks with Jillian Lee. Nate went out with Jilly on a couple of occasions, but not much came of it as far as Steve knows. She is standing very straight and walking steadily, wearing a respectable green cap and gown. Nate is stuck in the version that’s meant to be the corresponding gold but looks instead like unfortunate mustard. The robe doesn’t even fit him right, slightly too short above the ankle and draping loosely over his bony shoulders, but he manages to pull it off just through his own lack of perturbation over those facts.

As the last of the graduates file into their seats and the band silences their instruments, Drea intones quietly, “Guests, faculty, scholars,” anticipating Principal Connor’s traditional, pompous opening. After a bit of microphone feedback, he echoes her precisely, and Steve, smiling and shaking his head, angles himself to begin translating the words for Emma and Eric. Em places a hand on his after only three sentences.

“This speech - I think I can quote all of it now.”

Steve looks up at the stage. Principal Connor raises a finger in the air to emphasize a phrase. “That’s new,” Steve points out. Em rolls her eyes.

“Only one more time,” she says, hands weighty and mouth parted to emphasize the exhaustion of it all.

“Only one more time,” Steve repeats, the words coming slow and numbed on his fingers. He feels a little stricken and barely manages a smile for her.

The valedictorian and salutatorian speak one after the other. It’s obvious that they, at least, have written new speeches of their own: the words of triumph and hope, of lessons learned and more to come, might be cliche, but they are still somehow new. Even if he’s heard nearly the same sentiments at the girls’ graduations, for these kids, they are only just discovered.

When it is Nate’s turn to walk across the stage, he does it with a firm step and his family cheering loudly from the crowd. Steve, applauding hard, can’t even tell if he can pick them out in the audience, but he watches Nate raise his diploma in the air with a smile on his face and is certain that it’s meant for them. It is that same smile Steve knows so well, that peaceful, open-armed upturn of the mouth that Nate has displayed since childhood. Sometimes Steve thinks that Nate was born smiling like that, that this was the way he greeted the world on his first moment in it. He’ll never know if he’s right - that first smile belonged to someone else - but he has a lifetime of Nate’s smiles saved up and that’s something that not many people have.

As Melvin Casper is called next and they all sit back down, he and Peggy catch eyes, even down the row from one another. Despite the smile he gives her, she tilts her head, closes her eyes in an understanding blink which she holds for a beat longer than usual. I know, it seems to say, but also, How lucky have we been?

There’s a bit of a debate regarding the pictures. Nate fights his way through the crowd to find them with Emma and Peggy in the middle of a standoff over whether Eric should be included in the family photos and Steve and Drea are trying to make polite, distracting smalltalk with the man in question.

“Eric can take four, five,” Nate compromises calmly, “and then we’ll find someone to take some with him.” He searches around for a moment, then raises his voice. “Ricky! Hey, Rick, come over here for a minute.”

Ricky Blake, cap in hand, has been standing nearby, taking his own turn to greet Mrs. Krentz. He glances over at the Carters, at Nate and his beckoning hand, and excuses himself.

“What’s up?” he asks as he walks over, and Steve notices that he’s lost the awkward sort of meticulousness to the way he does the sign. He does it confidently now, casually, even if he doesn’t quite have the accompanying mouth movement down.

Eric actually has a good, artistic eye and arranges them all so that Nate is the center of the photos without throwing his shadow onto the rest of them.

When they’re finished, Steve goes to reclaim the camera.

“How are you, Ricky?” He puts out a hand to shake. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks, Mr. C.” A grin spreads across Ricky’s face as he grasps Steve’s hand enthusiastically. Even when Steve first met him, he was slightly bigger than average for a kid his age. Now Steve looks firmly up at him; he’s probably six and a half feet tall, and solid across. His graduation gown, unzipped in front by this point, has clearly been altered to fit him. He looks around. "Rose couldn't come?" He's always had a bit of a fascination with Rosie.

"No, she wasn't able to take the time off of work. She'll call tonight."

"Too bad."

“Did you decide on your plans for next year?” Steve asks. The last time they spoke, a few months ago, Ricky was still considering whether he wanted to end up at GW like Nate. He’d laid out the entire pro-con list while leaning against the counter watching Steve make carrot cake and waiting for Nate to finish getting ready for the concert they were going to.

“I’ll be staying in state,” Ricky replies, and though Steve is watching closely, his smile does not slip, the light in his eyes does not dim. “Maryland has a better education program anyway, for undergraduates at least.”

Steve can feel his eyebrows jump up. “Education?”

“Yeah.” Ricky glances back over his shoulder. “I was just telling Mrs. Krentz. I want to be an English teacher.”

“You’re going to be great at it,” Steve says with confidence. He doesn’t bother asking how Earl Blake took this news.

“Thanks, Mr. C.” Ricky looks down at the ground and then back up. He fiddles with the tassel on the cap he is still holding. He clears his throat. “I just—I wanted to tell you how much you helped me. You’re a good listener, and—um, it was important to me, to watch you with your kids or talking about your work. So, thank you. I just wanted you to know.”

For a moment, Steve can't say anything. Finally, he manages to speak. "I don't think I did much," he says with soft feeling, "but if I did, it was my pleasure."

There's always a bit of a wrench watching Ricky go back to rejoin his family. He's taller even than his father now, but there's still a little stiffening to Ricky's shoulders when they are near each other. Tim, still only just gaining some height of his own, shifts to stand beside his brother.

He thinks about how everyone still calls him Ricky, a child's name. He could have grown up into a Rich or a Richard by now, but he hasn’t. Perhaps he will never make the change. Or perhaps it just isn’t time yet: how easy it is to see Ricky and Nate and all the others on this day, at the top of a climb, and to think that it is all over. Maybe he should try to remember that it is only just beginning.

Peggy is leaning against his chest, his arm around her, before he even fully registers her there.

"We've done well, haven't we," she says, looking over at the children with pride, and he nods against her and kisses her hair.

"More to come?" he asks, a little waver in his voice, and she looks up at him, surprised.

"Of course," she says, taking his hand. "Always."

The custodial staff is beginning to come in to fold up the chairs. It is time to go.

"I want to finish telling Mom something," Drea says as they head over to the parking lot. "I'll ride with her."

Emma has her bag in Peggy's car, so she and Eric decide to join them as well. Steve squeezes Peggy's hand, still in his. She looks up at him fondly. Em's as stubborn as she is, and clearly trying out her version of exposure therapy. It's a good thing that Eric's a good sport.

"What about the man of the hour?" Peggy asks, looking over at their son. "Are you certain you don't want a nice dinner out?"

"I told you what I wanted," Nate says. Steve has the lasagna already prepared to go into the oven as soon as they get home. Every restaurant in town will be crowded tonight anyway, but that's not the reason Nate chose it. "And I'll ride over with Dad."

Peggy's parked farther in. She parts from Steve with one last squeeze of the hand and a "See you in a moment." Nate and Steve walk over to Steve's car together.

"How are you feeling?" Steve asks.

Nate takes in a deep breath of the night air. "Really good. Proud. Excited. Tired, a little, too." He looks over at his father. "How are you feeling?"

"Good. Proud of you." Steve repeats. "A little sad that this part of things is over."

"Sure," Nate says easily. "But there are other parts. And I want you there for all of those. We all do."

Steve looks over at him. “You ready for what comes next?” he asks.

Nate stretches his hands up toward the slowly darkening sky, fingers spread on one, diploma still held tightly in the other. “Course I am,” he says. The departing crowd is loud, all shouts and laughter and car engines, Nate’s voice quiet even in its surety, but Steve hears it anyway. He would hear it anywhere.

He looks at his youngest, taller than he is now by a half inch, maybe a bit more. It’s clear that Drea and Nate have height in their genes. His slim build, the lankiness of his limbs, just makes him look even taller, but he’s never seemed awkward with it. Nate always just puts one foot in front of the other, attentive about it but confident too, trusting that he’s placed himself on solid ground.

“Course you are,” he agrees. Under the beginnings of the slimming moon, he puts an arm around his son’s shoulders, pulls him close, and holds tight.

More chapters here

#Steggy #Steggy fic #Steve Rogers #Peggy Carter #things left behind fic

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bookenders · 5 years

Note

HELLO YES I LOVE THESE ADORABLE PROMPTS PLZ GIMME FLUFF. 8 with Fred!!! I dunno who's first job it is but!! Whoever you think would fit!!!

[Send me numbers and make me write fluff!]

QUILL!! HELLO!! I would love to write some Fred fluff for you!

And guess what? This one is canon! And it echoes the first scene of the story! Weee!

(Now I wanna write a Mel and Fred one, because holy crap their interactions would be pure gold.)

(Oh no, this got long. Like, way longer than I expected. Gotta make room for all those feels, I guess.)

8. It’s A’s first day of work and they’re nervous, but never to fear, B is here

A: Gemma | B: Fred

It’s normal to be concerned about her, especially when she’s the only kid in town who appreciates his blog. That’s the excuse he gave Mary, anyway. Otherwise she would have told him to stay home and not bother the poor girl until tomorrow. Gemma would be stressed enough as is, what with it being her first day on the job. And at fifteen, no less.

Fred assumed that being an apothecary was complicated. If he had a very complicated job like that, he would want someone to check in on him to make sure he was okay.

So he knocked on Gemma’s door and hoped she wouldn’t mind him stopping by.

The door swung open and there she stood, bright smile painted on her face and eyes strained with a little bit of fear.

Her whole expression slipped into mild confusion when she saw Fred standing there. “Oh! Hi Mr. Coriander. I wasn’t expecting you.”

Fred blinked. Wasn’t she the doctor? If she was open, she should at least expect people to show up, right? Ah, well, must be the nerves. Sometimes they get the words all jumbled in your head.

“Just stopping by to check in on ‘ya, Miss Gemma.”

“Aw, you didn’t have to do that,” she said, and shuffled back, gesturing for him to come in.

“‘Course I did. Got to make sure our doc is tip-top.”

Inside, the air was warm and smelled like peppermint. A fire crackled in the living room hearth. In the middle of the room, the couch was draped in long loose-knit blankets, all cozy autumn colors. A collection of bottles, jars, and test tubes covered the kitchen counter.

She was prepared, all right. Maybe a little too prepared.

“Hah, right,” Gemma said, voice strained and thin. After shutting the door, she flit over to the counter and started adjusting the bottles and bits and bobs of her craft, moving this one an inch to the left, swapping that one with the one over there, turning labels to face outward and lining up pipettes to the tips were all even.

“You okay there, kiddo?”

“Me? Oh, yeah, definitely. Very okay. Right as rain, you know.”

“You seem a but nervous.”

Gemma turned and made a face. Fred wasn’t sure what kind, exactly, but it didn’t look very comfortable.

“Nervous? Nah. Not at all. Look how prepared I am! I can’t be nervous when I have everything I need right here.”

Fred wasn’t buying it. And that was saying something. He once gave his e-mail address to one of those clipboard people outside the grocery store. He was still getting spam years later. Maybe Gemma could help him set up one of those filter things later.

But back to the point.

Fred sighed and adjusted the collar on his polo shirt. Gemma’s eyes went straight to his forearm.

“Hold on, what’s that?” She stepped closer and leaned in to examine the angry red flush of his skin.

“What’s what?” He turned his arm and scrunched his eyebrows. “Oh. Just something I noticed this morning after my walk by the lake.”

Gemma looked up at him, none too amused.

“And you didn’t think to tell me about this?” she asked, pointing at the rash.

“I was just coming by to wish you luck.” Fred rubbed the back of his neck and ogled his shoes. He always forgot about things like this, ones that might be important if only he could remember ‘em.

“Have a seat, Mr. Coriander.”

“But I-”

“No buts,” she said. “Sit.”

As Fred made himself comfortable on the couch, Gemma slipped on a pair of green non-latex gloves and rifled through her special pantry behind the kitchen. She came back out holding a small jar with a duct-tape and sharpie label.

She smiled and tapped the top. “Witch hazel,” she said with a smile. “Excellent for stuff like this itchy mess.”

“Who’re you callin’ a mess?” Fred asked, his smile quirked with teasing.

Unscrewing the cap, Gemma sat down on the coffee table and playfully nudged his shin with her foot. “No one, mess-ioeur.”

She probably got that sass from Jill. They’d been spending more time together lately. It was good for them, but the detriment of everyone else in town. Trouble makers, the both of ‘em.

Gemma dabbed her fingers in the ointment and held Fred’s arm with her other hand. With careful sweeps, she began to rub the ointment onto the rash.

The itch started to fade as soon as she touched him.

“This stuff works like magic, kiddo.”

“I know, right? It’s one of mom’s old recipes. Most of the basic stuff is. You should see what I can do with some foxglove extract. It’d blow your mind.”

Smiling seemed to come easier to her now. There was none of that strained business happening like before. She was in her element, doing what she loved best.

“Now where did you run into poison ivy? By the lake?”

Fred sighed. “I knew I shouldn’t have gone off the path, but there was this cluster of mushrooms just a few yards off or so. I only wanted to take a peek at ‘em. Didn’t notice the itchin’ until I got home.”

“You could’ve called me, you know. Or told me when you got here.”

“Naw,” Fred said, flapping his free hand. “Didn’t wanna bother you.”

“Mr. Coriander, it’s literally my job to do this. And you’re never a bother.”

“Thanks, kiddo.”

It doesn’t take long for her to finish up. She wraps his arm in soft bandages and pats the end so it sticks to itself. “So you don’t scratch,” she said with a gentle smile.

Fred returns it and pats her shoulder. “Thank you.”

Taking a deep breath, Gemma looks up at Fred, suddenly sheepish.

“I was sort of losing it earlier, huh?”

Fred takes her hand in his and pats it. “We all do, sometimes. But you’ve got this.” He looks pointedly at his wrapped arm. “There’s your proof.”

She pulls her hand away and wraps him in a hug, mindful of his arm. “Thank you, Mr. Coriander.”

Fred holds her tight for a moment, then lets go. “I won’t keep you any longer. Far be it from me to get in the way of a doctor and her patients.”

“If you insist,” she said and walked him to the door.

Fred stopped at the edge of the porch and turned back to Gemma, who was still watching him go from the door. “Now do as Mary would say and make yourself some tea to calm those wayward jitters.”

She laughed and leaned against the door, brushing her curls out of her face. “Will do.”

They waved, and he turned down the road toward home.

Through the window, he saw Gemma take a deep breath and put the kettle on, lips pursed as though she were humming her favorite song.

Nothing to worry about with that one.

She was a good kid.

Oh no, it’s too cute. I can’t with Fred. The hapless goof is too good-hearted.

Sometimes you need a reminder that you can do what you’re afraid of. That you’re strong enough to deal with what shakes you.

WIP Intro Post | H2H WIP Tag | Character Page | WIP Page | PowerPoint Intro

Character Tags: Gemma | Mel | The Ladies | Fred Coriander | Officer Oz

H2H Tag List: @katekyo-bitch-reborn, @cawolters, @wasting-ink-not-youth, @quilloftheclouds, @snickertoodles, @mvcreates, @writeness, @half-explored, @dc-writes, @aslanwrites, @minusfractions, @purpleshadows1989, @royalbounties, @waterfallwritings, @the-clockwork-anything, @kriss-the-writing-nerd, @abalonetea, @timefirewrites, @tricksexual, @introspective-outreach

[Let me know if you want to be added or removed!]

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dogbearinggifts · 5 years

Text

He Saw the Ghosts

Umbrella Academy

Author’s note: An AU in which the vet who accosts Klaus at the VFW bar is told to chill.

“You see that?”

Jim saw just about everyone who walked through those doors—which tended to be a small but devoted crowd, plus or minus a handful depending on the day of the week—but this one was hard to miss. He’d walked right through without a word of greeting, his mop of dark curls bobbing against the sea of white and grey.

“Lookit him. Marching on in like he’s one of us.”

“It’s not like Vietnam was the last war we fought.” Jim took a stab at the cue ball. His shot sent it crashing into the four which in turn sent the two across the table. “I’ve seen younger vets.”

“Not here.”

The kid had helped himself to the bar, sure, but he was a first. Most young folks preferred to flock with their own, flitting around the trendier bars downtown, the ones with names like Hawk and Hound or some word chosen by a blindfolded drunk man from a random page in the dictionary. Places that served pretentious drinks at pretentious prices, with little to offer besides an admittedly good—if overpriced—selection of craft beer. This kid should’ve headed to one of those, or else curled up at home with a bottle and whatever thoughts drove him to it. A VFW bar should’ve been the furthest destination from his mind. A memorial wall should have been out of the question.

He almost didn’t see Mike start forward until he was three steps past, but instinct honed by years of familiarity with the man prevailed and Jim caught his shoulder. “I’ll talk to him.”

“Like hell you will.” Mike tried to shrug the hand off, but Jim tightened his grip. Not enough to hurt, not enough to insult—just enough to let him know it wouldn’t be that simple.

“If he’s pulling the same shit as that asshole at Outback,” Jim said, meeting Mike’s gaze, “you can handle him.”

A few seconds passed, and Mike broke free with a turn back toward the pool table. He snatched up his cue with enough force to let Jim know he didn’t have long to sort out the truth, but until then he wouldn’t do much more than miss easy shots and grumble under his breath. He’d want Jim to march straight on over and make demands, but Jim moved with the slow reverence the wall’s solemnity demanded.

The kid’s head was bowed, but that didn’t hide the tears, didn’t mask the heaves of his chest as the sobs came. Silent sobs, quiet tears, the sort of grief that didn’t call attention to itself as it devoured its host from within. Jim nearly placed a hand on his shoulder, but a glint of steel dangling against his shirt made him think better of it.

“Somebody you know?”

“Yeah.” He opened his eyes. Jim followed his gaze to what seemed to be the picture in question and his heart skipped a beat.

The soldier had been a mystery long before Jim relocated to the city. He wasn’t the only one assumed MIA, not by a long shot, but he was the only one whose name remained missing. No draft card. No papers. No ID. Nothing to prove he’d ever served, nothing to prove he’d ever existed, save for a half-smiling face in an old photograph.

A face mirrored by the young man standing before it now.

Jim tamped down a dozen questions and any semblance of enthusiasm. This wasn’t a time for questions—not that kind, anyway. He nodded to the mystery man. “That him?”

“Yeah.”

The answer didn’t sit right. The photograph dated from 1968, and this kid couldn’t be older than thirty. He wasn’t old enough to have met the soldier, let alone to plow through a VFW bar to cry over his photograph. The stink of alcohol hung about him like cheap cologne, but of the many drunk men Jim had met, this was the first and only to sob over a stranger’s photograph in a bar patronized by veterans thirty to forty years his senior. It was a lie, the kid knew it was a lie, and Jim wouldn’t in a hundred years call him on it.

A stick cracked against the cue ball, and pool balls clattered across the table. Mike swore, likely less at the outcome of his shot and more at the continued presence of an unwanted stranger. The kid closed his eyes as a fresh round of tears slipped down his cheeks.

“You don’t have any other pictures of him?”

He shook his head.

“I can see about getting you a copy of that one, if you want.”

It seemed to take a moment for the question to register, but when it did, he looked another long moment at the photograph before turning to Jim. And when he did, Jim saw the reason he’d come.

He saw the ghosts.

They were there in his eyes, of course, but they’d also made themselves at home in the lines on his face, settled on his shoulders to hold him lower than gravity alone. Jim couldn’t name them, not without knowing where he’d served, but he did not for a moment doubt this kid had served. The tears and photo, the dog tags and the tattoo partially covered by the sleeve of his shirt formed an image and the ghosts completed it. He’d been to hell, and hell had followed him home.

“You….you could?”

It wasn’t quite hope that had edged its way into his voice, but it made Jim’s chest ache. He hadn’t promised anything, hadn’t offered more than half a chance, but he might as well have offered the shirt off his back.

“Picture’s fifty years old and a military record,” Jim admitted, “so there’s got to be some special procedure for getting a copy, if they can get one. But I’ve got friends over at City Archives, and they’ve got contacts. I’ll see what they can do.”

Whatever had buoyed him up for those few seconds leaked out like air from a balloon, leaving his shoulders to sag. “Like they’d bother.”

With some effort, Jim kept the pang from his voice. With more, he added a subtle note of false cheer. “Archivists are just librarians who hoard books instead of lending ‘em out,” he said, repeating a quip he’d heard from both parties. “You ever met a librarian?”

“No.”

“Bunch of sentimental bastards.” His mouth quirked at the saga he’d witnessed during his first few months of volunteer work, of the time and expense and calls to libraries in ten different states before one of them finally turned up a copy of a rare out-of-print novel, all so one old woman could reread a story she’d loved as a teenager. “If they can get you a copy, they’ll get you a copy.”

Another crack, a louder one this time, accompanied by the sound of pool balls rolling across a felted table, filled the silence.

“You want me to check?”

After a moment’s consideration, the kid nodded. “Yeah.” His voice cracked. “I…I’d like that.”

HIs fingers brushed the glass laid over the photograph, brushed the face of the man whose resemblance he bore. No—not him. The man beside him. Jim recalled his name, but at that moment, at the very moment when remembering it seemed most important, the name refused to surface.

“Klaus?”

The kid didn’t turn from the photo, but he let his hand fall. “Yeah?”

Jim tensed as a young man clad in head-to-toe black started forward, calculating how many steps it would take to place himself between Klaus and the newcomer. But the newcomer’s movements were cautious and slow, absent a single trace of irritation or anything that might be taken for aggression, and Jim allowed himself to relax, allowed the newcomer to place a hand on Klaus’ shoulder. The resulting flinch was enough for Jim to see and probably enough for the newcomer to feel, but no more than that.

“You wanna tell me what’s going on?”

Klaus’ lips parted, then pressed together. His gaze lingered on the photograph a second longer before dropping to the floor.

“I was just about to get his number before I talk to Archives about getting him a copy of that picture,” Jim said, nodding to the photo in question.

The newcomer blinked as though Jim had spoken gibberish. He stared, opened his mouth for an apparent question, then closed it and shook his head, as if it was all too much to consider at once. “Fine. You got a pen?”

The newcomer’s name was Diego—or at least, that was the name he’d scribbled beneath one number before taking the paper back and writing a second beneath it in smaller print. “Call that first one and ask for Klaus. Or me, I guess. If you can’t get anyone at the first number, hang up and try the second one.”

Klaus was steady enough getting to the car, but Diego helped him into his seat anyway. A partially empty bottle of vodka was pushed to the floor, only to be retrieved with unsteady hands. Jim waited to see if he peered through the window to meet his gaze or simply seek him out, but for a long moment he stared at nothing but the floor. A breeze, chillier than usual for this time of year, made Jim long for the jacket he’d left inside.

“You his brother?”

Diego halted, turned around. The question had been a guess, but from the looks of things, that guess was correct.

“Yeah. I’m his brother.”

Jim cast another glance at Klaus in the front seat, head tipped back against the headrest, eyes closed. The face of the unnamed soldier broke into Jim’s mind again, imposed itself over the face of the man before him, but none of the questions the resemblance brought made Jim’s insides twist the way the sight of Klaus did. None of those questions were as important as the man who had caused them.

“Take care of him, will you?”

Diego looked at Klaus too, watching him through the window, seeing the weary anguish and the bottle in his hands. He let out a short sigh.

“I’ll try.”

They exchanged nods, and Diego climbed into the front seat and started the engine. Jim watched from the sidewalk as he pulled out onto the street, watched until the car rounded a corner and disappeared from sight. Even when it was long gone, he kept on watching.

#the umbrella academy #umbrella academy #tua #fanfic #klaus hargreeves #klaus #au fanfic #slight au #diego #diego hargreeves #oc #oneshot #just thought klaus deserved better in this scene

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my-creative-hell · 4 years

Text

Comfort (child au)

The young twins were having somewhat if a relaxed day as they sat on the couch, watching the TV as it plays some sort of children’s show in front of them, bundled up in some blankets to keep warm as they sit together. They had been staying with Grave for a week, and they were starting to relax and grow more comfortable, though they still found it difficult at times.

“Books!!!” Grave exclaims as she wanders into the living room with a large smile on her face. This exclamation makes Iden look at her from the couch, and though Hannah doesn’t turn to her, it was obvious she too was listening.

“Books?” Iden questions in a slightly quieter voice, unused to raising his voice still, both twins speaking naturally in a lower tone. He looks at her with questioning eyes as he speaks, confused.

“Books! I got em! And!!! I can teach you how to read!” Grave exclaims happily, having taken classes on how best to teach both of these children to read properly, wanting to make sure she got it all right. This proclamation makes Hannah perk up slightly, facing Grave now when she speaks.

“But I can’t see…” Hannah reminds her, deflating slightly in her confusion and sadness, which runs across her face clearly.

“That’s what Braille is for!” Grave explains, Iden already getting off of the cough in excitement to learn how to read properly.

“Braille?” Hannah questions in a small voice, sounding and looking confused.

“Yeah! It’s like lil bumpy things that mean certain letters and stuff. Its pretty cool!” Grave explains, watching as Hannah thinks it over, a small smile building on her face.

“Okay.” She agrees quietly, allowing Iden to swiftly help her down from the couch so Grave could lead them elsewhere to learn. Grave heads upstairs for a moment, swiftly coming back downstairs with children’s books in her hands, grinning.

“Books, babey!” She exclaims as Iden pulls Hannah over to the dining table, looking excited.

“Books!” He says happily as he drags his twin sister along after him carefully. Grave places the books she has on the floor, sitting down as Iden follows her, dragging Hannah down to sit on the floor with him, watching Grave.

“Book time book time. H e c c y e a h.” Grave’s feet tap happily against the floor a little as she talks, Iden bouncing in place as Hannah listens in an intrigued manner, head turned towards the books on the floor in front of them.

“We get to learn!” Iden exclaims happily as he bounces on the floor, his positive emotions written clearly on his face for Grave to see.

“Yeah!!! Gonna be the book bois!!!!” Grave exclaims happily, making Iden giggle as he looks down at the books in front of them, his bouncing coming to a halt, though a happy expression still remains on his face.

“I’ve always wanted to know how to read.” He says in a slightly lower voice as he looks at the books in a sort of fascination, anticipating the moment when he would understand the printed words inside of them.

“That’s good! That’s very good.” Grave reassures him, her feet tapping more in happiness as she giggles. Iden grins, hesitantly reaching for a book, gripping it gently in his hands as he brings it into his lap.

Grave brings out some learning materials she had as well as the books, which contained alphabet sheets for both children to learn from, as well as some writing materials for Iden to use with his. She carefully hands the materials to each twins, Iden taking his happily, already understanding some of it due to the teachings at the orphanage. Hannah is more hesitant in taking hers, not knowing anything about reading since the nuns hadn’t even attempted to teach a blind child. Absentmindedly she runs her small hands over the Braille on the sheet, feeling the bumps beneath her fingers, looking nervous and confused as they both pay attention to Grave.

“I believe you’re feeling ‘A’ right now…” Grave mentions to Hannah, squinting a little to get a better look at what the child was doing. “Yeah, that’s it.” She nods, Hannah pausing slightly, running her hand and fingers over the letter in a more precise manner. She looks shocked, not speaking for a moment due to the overwhelming feelings inside of her.

“A?” She questions, trying to memorize the textured pattern, wanting to burn it into her brain so she would never forget it.

“Yeah, like apple! That’s the first letter in it.” Grave explains as she quietly flops to lie on the floor beside the child, who looks quite shocked as she keeps going, gently running her fingers over the next letter, Iden absentmindedly paying attention as he works through his own.

“B?” Hannah questions as she feels the texture under her fingers, trying to commit this new pattern to memory.

“B. B. B. Butter Boi the Billionaire… and bees!!!” Grave exclaims, giggling as she wiggles her fingers around. Hannah shakes lightly as her hand moves to the letter C, tracing over it a bit faster, her brain getting used to this a bit more with every letter.

“C?” She still questions, though she’s pretty sure it had to be, due to the ordering on the sheet. The pattern dwells in her brain, and would hopefully soon stick in her memory.

“Mhm, like a cat. Or a chinchilla… wow, that doesn’t sound like what it is.” Grave comments as her mind starts to drift without her meaning for it to, though she still tries to give sincere answers for the small child, who was only half listening now. All of this was so overwhelming to Hannah, but in a good way. She had never been able to read before, to have that opportunity, and now here it was, looking her in the face.

“D…” Hannah continues, her head continuously facing down at the sheet in her hands as small, excited spasms make their way through her body, making it tremble ever so slightly.

“Deception! O-Or December.” Grave sits up quickly, making Hannah jump with the sudden movement as she continues to skim her fingers over the Braille.

“E…” She continues, growing a bit nervous as she keeps trying to map out the bumps in front of her and turn them into letters and meanings inside her head.

“Elephants. They’re lorge and cool and stuff. Absolute units.” Grave says, happy the children were able to learn something. Iden was clearly having his own fun, clearly knowing most of the alphabet on his own. Hannah half nods at what Grave says, though she really wasn’t paying too much attention, not that it would matter since she didn’t really know what an elephant was.

“…F” Hannah keeps going, though the overwhelming situation is making it hard for any of the shapes to even begin to stick in her memory, and it only seemed to get harder the more she continued.

“F…ferrets. Long bois.” Grave comments, nodding slowly. “You’re doing good, by the way!” She compliments the small child in front of her, who is barely paying attention to her anymore. Hannah just wants to get through this and keep going, even though it all felt strange to her now. Besides, she didn’t know what a ferret was anyway.

“…G…” She continues, the bumps on the page feeling weirder in texture with every new letter she tries to map out inside her head.

“Y e e.” Grave nods, playing with her fingers as Hannah continues, starting to shake a little, being overwhelmed by all the new things going on.

“h-H…” She continues as she traces her finger over the letter on the page, which managed to feel both familiar and foreign to her.

“Hannah!” Grave says happily after a small gasp. Hannah nods, and she would have smiled if she could make herself.

“I-I…” She presses her finger into the page a bit harder out of instinct and the small tremors of stress she could feel welling inside of her.

“Iden. The smol bois… y e a h.” Grave replies, making Iden looks up from his own work at the mention of his name, smiling as he works on his own sheets.

“j-J?…” Hannah keeps going, trying to push away the strange feeling of stress inside of her chest as she attempts to remember what she had learnt so far. Grave raises her hands for a few seconds as she thinks, lowering them down again.

“J…Jem? No, jewels… yeah.” Grave corrects herself, Hannah’s face unreadable as she moves along with her alphabet, pausing only for a moment to listen to Grave.

“k-K…” She continues, her voice getting quieter in an effort to make it sound more level and hide the slight tremor in her body, not wanting to make an issue for anyone.

“By the way.” Grave looks at Hannah with a smile. “You don’t have to figure it all out right now. Learning takes time. And breaks. Those are important.” Grave clarifies kindly, Hannah pausing as she refused to look at Grave.

“B-but I don’t know a-anything…” She tries to reason, though she drifts off, realising she doesn’t know what to argue or counter with.

“That’s why you’re learning it! It’s not gonna rake like a day and them bam, you know the entire alphabet and how to write perfectly.” Grave reasons, though Hannah doesn’t answer her now, frowning as she shakes gently, visibly upset.

“Whats wrong?” Grave questions, concern immediately flowing through her as Hannah refuses to turn to her, instead trying to hide her face in her hands.

“F-feels bad…” Is what she eventually comes out with, though her voice is muffled by her hands pressing into her mouth.

“What feels bad?” Grave asks, her concern growing as Hannah continues to press her face into her hands, muffling her already quiet voice even more.

“C-cant do i-it…” Hannah admits quietly as she attempts to hide herself away, not wanting to deal with the stress and impending sense of failure she felt.

“O-Okay, um…” Grave lightly taps her fingers on the floor as she thinks. “Touch? I-Is touch good for you right now or-or is it bad?” Grave questions, wanting to hug the small child but not wanting her to feel uncomfortable with it. Hannah continues to hide her face in her hands, but she nods visibly as a sign of permission for Grave.

“Okay.” Grave smiles as she pulls Hannah towards her, enveloping the small child in a soft hug as Hannah pauses for a moment before instinctively moving to gently cling onto Grave.

“S-sorry…” Hannah says in a small voice as she buries her face into Grave, out of sight as she speaks, her voice muffled.

“It’s okay, there’s nothing to be sorry about.” Grave reassures in a soft tone as she hugs the child.

“B-but I should k-know how to d-do it…” Hannah uses an even smaller voice, and it was impossible to tell by her voice alone whether the small child was crying or not as she buries her face further into Grave.

“It’s not your fault you weren’t taught how, Hannah.” Grave reasons, smiling gently.

“B-but…” Hannah, unsure of how to finish that sentence or argue with Grave, settles for clinging onto her more, hiding from the rest of the world.

“It’s okay, I promise.” She reassures, hugging Hannah a bit tighter. The small child doesn’t respond verbally, instead clinging on tighter to Grave, making it harder to tell if she was crying or not.

“… I love you.” Grave says to the small child, unsure of what else to do. Those words elicit a small and quiet sob from Hannah as she clings onto her, still not used to so much affection, and not used to the desperate feeling of joy it brought her.

Grave makes some small noises of happiness as she hugs Hannah, feeling an overwhelming need to protect her in that moment as Iden pipes up from his own work, having been watching the situation.

“Break time?” He suggests in a quiet voice, giving Hannah a reason to pause the work, which was clearly stressing her out, and Grave a chance to further comfort his clearly upset sister.

“Yeah, break time!” Grave smiles at Iden, who grins in return as Hannah releases herself from Grave, revealing her face as she wipes some tears from her cheeks in a gentle manner.

“Yay!” Iden exclaims, though he is careful not to be too loud. He smiles at Hannah, hoping a break might lift his twin’s spirits and allow her to relax.

“What do you want for a snack? There’s… stuff.” Grave shrugs, giggling. “I forgot the things that are there, but they’re there and it tastes n o i c e.” Grave elaborates as Iden thinks for a moment, Hannah patiently listening to the interaction.

“Dunno…” Iden admits as he looks at Grave, face scrunched slightly in thought.

“We have… cookies and milk! Very good combo.” Grave offers, watching Iden’s face light up into a grin at that.

“Yay! We’ve never had that before!” He exclaims happily, immediately excited at the prospect of new things. Even Hannah seems to calm down at that; intrigued by this new thing they hadn’t yet tried.

“I’m sure you’ll like it!” Grave reassures them happily, getting up off of the floor and wandering into the kitchen, the twins following after her. Carefully, Iden helps Hannah sit at one of the chairs at the table before sitting himself down, both twins observing Grave in their own ways, Iden pointedly watching her while Hannah listens to her every movement.

Grave pours some milk out for each twin, putting the cups into the microwave for a minute to warm the milk, making sure it wasn’t hot enough to burn the small children.

“Milk time. Aw y e a h.” Grave hands the cups to the children as she speaks. Iden happily accepts his, sipping on it with a big smile adorning his face. Hannah takes a bit longer to find the cup, but she takes a small sip of the milk when she does, looking pretty happy with the result.

“It’s warm!” Iden exclaims as he drinks some of it, finding the sensation weird, but pleasant as he sips the warm beverage.

“Yeah! I just gotta get the cookies.” Grave comments as she moves over to the cookie jar she keeps inside one of the cupboards, high up enough that the kids wouldn’t be able to constantly get inside of it. She happily sets up a portion of cookies for the children, four each, handing them over to the kids.

Iden looks like he could explode with happiness as he bites into the cookie he grabs from the plate, eyes lighting up and smile spreading as he chews on it. Hannah’s reaction is more subdued, but Grave could tell she was happy as she too began eating the cookies presented to her.

“These are so good!” Iden exclaims, though his voice is slightly distorted by the amount of cookie inside of his mouth as he tries to talk.

“I’m glad you like them, cookie man!” Grave comments, giving Iden the nickname on the spot as the childs grin widens as he finishes devouring his cookies, drinking the remainder of his milk happily as Hannah finishes her snack at a slower pace.

“Yeah, they were great!” Iden says happily as he finishes his milk, wiping away the milk moustache he had formed as he smiles.

“That’s good!” Grave giggles, giving Iden a thumbs up as he grins, Hannah even giving off a small and soft smile as she too finishes drinking the rest of her milk, shifting to fiddle silently with her fingers.

“What now?” Iden asks in a curious manner, looking to Grave for the answer.

“I dunno…” Grave shrugs in response. “What do you wanna do?” She asks, watching as Iden scrunches up his face, trying to think of an answer.

“What do kids normally do in a break?” He questions as he looks up at Grave, face still scrunched up.

“Kid things! Like…” Grave crosses her arms as she thinks, huffing. “H m…” She thinks as Iden watches her, not knowing the answer either, since the twins had never really had the chance to just be normal kids before. Hannah listens to the conversation absentmindedly, fiddling with her fingers to keep herself entertained as she starts to feel a little less awake.

“I dunno… we could play a game… or sleep.” Grave poses the options, noticing that Hannah was looking a little sleepy to her as Iden scrunches up his face more.

“Sleep? But isn’t it the middle of the day?” He questions, unfamiliar with the idea of sleeping halfway through the day, not understanding the idea behind it.

“I mean, Hannah looks kinda sleepy.” Grave points out, shrugging. Hannah jolts slightly at the use of her name as Iden turns to look at her, his scrunched up face softening slightly as he can see the sleepiness in his twins face slowly ebbing in, making him huff gently.

“…Okay, we’ll… do that thing.” He concedes, not sure what the specific word for it was, though he was sure there probably was one.

“Yeah, it’s napping. Like sleeping whenever for a shorter time than you usually do. It’s n o i c e and its c o o l.” Grave explains, rambling a little as she talks to Iden, who look confused. But nevertheless, he gets down from the table, moving to help Hannah down as well, who was noticeably slower due to her getting sleepy.

“Where should we go?” Iden asks as he helps her down, looking to Grave when they were both safely down from the table.

“I mean, there’s two guest rooms. There’s nice, somft warm beds and… yeah! It’s pretty comfy.” Grave explains, Iden nodding as he gently grabs one of Hannah’s hands so he could safely guide her.

“Okay!’ He smiles, gripping onto his twin to prevent any accidents from occurring.

“Nap time, babey. Aw yeah.” Grave bounces slightly as she begins leading the twins to one of the guest bedrooms, Iden smiling as he guides Hannah, who looks neutral, not paying much attention to what was going on.

“What are you going to do while we’re asleep?” Iden asks as he follows Grave, cocking his head in curiosity much like a puppy would.

“Probably-” Grave pauses her walking for a moment before continuing. “Sleep. I think. I dunno!” She explains, Iden looking confused as they walk.

“Grown ups take naps?” He questions, face shifting to confusion as the twins follow Grave upstairs quietly.

“Yeah, they do sometimes!” Grave explains as they approach one of the guest rooms. Granted, she personally was lying, and didn’t plan on sleeping. But they didn’t need to know that.

“That sounds cool!” Iden smiles as he nods, leading Hannah carefully to the room behind him.

“It is! Also, do you guys want separate rooms or do you wanna stay together?” Grave asks, wanting to make sure of what the twins wanted to ensure they would be comfortable.

“Together…” Iden clarifies, his face scrunching slightly at the idea of being separated from each other, since it tended to make the twins nervous and jumpy.

“Alright!” Grave exclaims as she opens the door to the room, which contains a large bed that was even too big for Grave, making it enormous to the small children by comparison. Iden smiles as he leads Hannah over to the bed proceeding to jump onto it, wriggling around in the soft covers as Hannah slowly follows him up, climbing onto the bed carefully.

“It’s soft!” Iden says happily as he lays on the bed, Hannah carefully crawling to the centre of the bed to minimise any risk of falling off, also noticing the softness that was now enveloping the two twins.

“Yeah, that’s why I wanted you guys to have it!” Grave explains, her feet tapping on the floor gently out of happiness as Iden grins, laying down in the bed and swaddling both twins in the covers, wriggling around as he does so. Hannah is notable more subdued than her brother, but she looked comfortable enough.

“Thank you!” Iden says happily as the two twins lie in the bed, both turned towards Grave as she looks at them.

“You’re welcome! Is there anything you need before I go?” Grave asks, watching Iden wriggle further into the sheets as he smiles, Hannah gently shaking her head.

“No!” He says happily as both twins burrow into the warmth they have been presented with in the bed, making Grave smile and giggle.

“Okay, I love you!” She says as she softly closes the door, Iden grinning as he closes his eyes to sleep. Even Hannah manages to crack a small smile at Grave’s genuine words as she too closes her eyes to try and get some sleep.

While the two twins are in the room, Grave heads down to the basement of the house, where her lab now resides for her to make whatever she wanted whenever she wanted. Sitting down at her desk, Grave begins messing around with security cameras in the area, checking on the police’s activity and crime counts as she scans the world around her remotely. Fact checking information she’s obtained on criminals and other shitty people keeps her occupied as she sets about solving cases and clues many were too dense to even begin to understand. She is a quick and swift worker, sifting through information and piecing things together at an inhuman pace as she works.

But she only gets in about a half hours worth before Grave can hear some footsteps coming down into her lab, incredibly quiet and soft as they move. Grave hears the sound, though she stays turned away from it as she continues to work on the doodle she was coming up with.

“I’m not even surprised they didn’t do this themselves…” She mutters as she works, the footsteps coming to a halt as whoever it was entered the basement fully. But they didn’t seem to move beyond that for some reason, staying still and silent as Grave lightly pushes her laptop away from her, putting her head on the desk.

“I know you’re down here, by the way. You can come here if you’d like.” Grave comments, knowing one of the twins had come down to join her, though she didn’t know why, or which one it was. The child sniffs a little, but they do wander over to Grave, stopping just behind her to hide out of view.

“Whats wrong?” Grave questions, immediately concerned for the small child she knew was behind her. The child sniffs more, telling Grave that they either had been crying or were currently crying.

“T-t-tired…” Hannah’s voice rings out quietly; barely making a sound as she vaguely tells Grave what was going on, still hiding behind her.

“Well, I don’t know if this is the most comfortable place to sleep but… what could I do to help?” Grave asks the small child behind her.

“I-I-I tried to s-sleep but I c-couldn’t… I d-don’t know w-why.” Hannah explains, crying slightly as she speaks, making her words catch in her throat as she tries to talk to Grave about what was going on. Grave turns to Hannah, opening her arms up.

“Would… do you think a hug would make you feel better?” She asks, watching more tears stream down Hannah’s face as the small child nods, moving closer to Grave to get inside her arms for a hug.

Grave gently hugs Hannah, pulling the small child carefully into her lap, Hannah leaning into Grave gently as she provides a safe feeling presence for her. Grave smiles, hugging Hannah a little tighter, making sure not to hurt the child as she sniffs away some tears, pressing her face into Grave to hide it. Grave’s warm presence was giving the cold and tired child a sort of lifeline to cling onto.

“I-I-Iden fell asleep, w-why couldn’t I-I?” Hannah questions in a small and muffled voice, sounding defeated and saddened.

“I… I don’t know, but I can try my best to help if you want?” Grave offers in a gentle voice. And though Hannah continues to hide her face, her hands come to cling to Grave as she speaks.

“H-how?” She questions in a small voice, sounding defeated as her voice cracks.

“I dunno, what do you think would help?” Gave asks in a gentle voice as Hannah clings onto her, shaking lightly due to the tiredness she felt but couldn’t seem to act on.

“I-I don’t k-know, t-t-this hasn’t h-happened b-before…” Hannah explains, her voice tight as she starts to cry more, fresh tears sinking into Grave’s clothes, making them slightly damp.

“Well… its kinda cold in here, so I could get you a blanket.” Grave offers in a soft voice as she properly holds the small child now, keeping her close to her as Hannah nods gently.

“O-Okay…” Hannah agrees quietly as she shivers, clinging onto Grave as she speaks. Grave looks in a nearby box in the basement, which to her delight was full of blankets for the small child she was currently holding.

“Here we go.” She says softly, smiling as she carefully wraps Hannah up in a blanket. While the child doesn’t speak immediately in response, she does huddle into the blanket as Grave swaddles her, continuing to cling gently onto Grave.

“S-s-sorry…” Hannah eventually chokes out in a tiny voice, her shaking decreasing as she warms up a little with the blanket and Grave’s warmth slowly heating her up.

“It’s okay, it’s not your fault you couldn’t sleep.” Grave reasons, using a soft voice to talk to the small child.

“I-I-I don’t k-know why, and i-it’s a-annoying for you t-to deal with m-me…” Hannah counters in a small and muffled voice as she hides her face in Grave’s clothes, clinging onto her a little more, making Grave frown slightly.

“Hannah, its not annoying at all! I love having you here, I really do.” Grave explains softly, watching as Hannah slowly pulls her face away from Grave, allowing her to see how tired the small child looks, tear tracks running down her face.

“B-but…” Hannah tries to think of something to say, but trails off as her mind draws a blank for how she could possibly respond. Grave leans down, pressing a gentle kiss onto Hannah’s forehead.

“I love you, okay?” Grave asks gently, looking at Hannah as she whines slightly, re-burying her face into Grave as she clings onto her again, knitting her small hands into her clothes as the sweet words uttered by Grave make her mood slightly brighter.

Grave gently squeezes Hannah in the hug as she sits down with her happily. Hannah noticeably relaxes as Grave squeezes her, feeling safer as she unravels her hands slightly from Grave’s clothing, though she still holds on.

Graves feet start to lightly tap on the floor as happiness swells within her, making her smile as Hannah warms up from the blanket and Grave’s heat enveloping her, making her shaking stop after a short while as she continues to calm down.

Grave squeezes Hannah again softly, closing her eyes as she tries to make her feet stop tapping on the floor below them. The small child leans into Grave more as she is gently squeezed, starting to get sleepy as Grave hold her.

Grave smiles more as she notices the child getting more tired, Hannah squirming a little s she moves to huddle further into her warm blanket.

“G-Grave?” The small child almost whispers to get Grave’s attention, sounding sleepy as she speaks.

“Yeah?” Grave questions, looking down at Hannah as she pulls her face away from Grave to look in her general direction.

“T-tired…” Hannah admits in a small voice, her word stuttering and slurring as she talks.

“You can sleep down here, I don’t mind.” Grave offers in a soft voice as Hannah’s face turns to a look of nervousness.

“S-s-sure?” She questions as she listens to Grave, eyes wide and innocent as she looks up at her.

“I’m sure.” Grave reassures gently, smiling as Hannah nods slowly, releasing her grip on Grave in favour of curling up inside of her blanket, leaning softly against Grave. Grave makes a small noise of happiness as Hannah’s face starts to relax as she begins falling asleep.

“L-love you…” Hannah says in a very quiet and small voice, as she gets sleepier.

“I love you too, Hannah.” Grave reassures her in a gentle voice, Hannah making a small noise in recognition of the words as she falls asleep in Grave’s arms, feeling safe and warm.

#writing with friends #writing #my writing #original writing #not my oc #others ocs #original characters #original story #child au #alternate universe #House of Hell #sleepisafuckinglie

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