#what am i doin!! stressing over silly things and silly ideas | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

btsxmalereaders · 3 years

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☆ Even in zero gravity, I would still fall for you!

♡ pairing — bang chan x male reader

> genre — fluff | f2l

> word count — 4.3k I don't know how this happened

> summary — chan realises he likes you by not being able to use pickup lines on you

> a/n — i saw a tiktok where chan says he's gonna use a pickup line on felix and my love-deprived self ended up writing this lol i hope you all like it

| 05282021

| Please keep making more whosfan accounts and keep streaming WOLFGANG on the correct platforms!

"Hey, how you doin'?" Chan casually says as he enters the kitchen, trying not to grin and start giggling right away. He even places his hands over the table and tilts his head a little in an attempt to look confident. Felix takes his attention away from the food he is cooking and turns on his feet to look at him with an eyebrow raised.

"Good?" He answers with an air of suspicion. "Why?"

Chan finally lets out a small giggle, "Oh nothing, I was just thinking that... I am not a photographer, but I can picture me and you together."

And Felix thinks it's a creative pickup line, funny even, but what ends up making him laugh is the way his best friend bends over to start laughing louder and the way his cheeks turn reddish at the embarrassment he's probably feeling.

"That was a good one, I must say," He chuckles. "Not as great as the Optimus Fine one, though. Even if it made you laugh for ten minutes after you said it."

And Chan can only laugh harder at the remembrance, placing his hands over his slightly aching abdomen and gasp for air when he can't handle it anymore. Felix giggles as well and denies with his head, going back to stir what's on the pot.

"Stays keep getting creative when it comes to flirting with you," He speaks again as the laughter finally dies down. "They probably think you might use it on someone you like, and you're here almost crying because you use them on us."

Chan hums, "Well, I don't really like anyone right now."

Felix turns off the stove and makes a -dramatic- pause, turning again to face Chan as he gets closer and squints his eyes. "I don't believe it."

"What?" Chan laughs. "Why would I lie?"

"I don't know, but I don't buy it. Maybe it's the love songs you have as drafts in your laptop."

"Ah, that doesn't mean I'm in love," He explains and takes a seat in front of him, nervously scratching the back of his neck. "That's why they're still drafts, though. They don't convey the feeling of being in love because I am not in love, you know?"

"Good point, but it still doesn't convince me."

"Why?" He asks again with a chuckle, a little embarrassed by the sudden interest in his - nonexistent - love life. "You know our activities barely give us time for ourselves, so it's almost impossible to have a relationship with someone. At least a formal one."

"You can still like someone and not be with them." Felix shrugs. "So spill it. Who is it?"

And Chan knows he's just messing around with him, but he can't help but feel flustered. "No one! I think so." He almost says it in a whisper; however, Felix doesn't comment on it.

"I still want to listen to those drafts," He stands up and smiles. "Why don't you show me?"

This was not the way Chan expected the conversation to go, so he hesitates a bit about his friend's request. Well, it wasn't unusual anyway, at least Changbin had heard a couple and also helped in the composition of the songs, so having someone else hear them wouldn't hurt. He might even listen to ideas on his part to improve them.

"Okay, I can do that. Next week Y/N will come to the studio and work on something, why don't you pop-up at some point and I can show you?"

Felix nods, "Sounds good! Y/N asked for help for his new album?"

"Yeah, he wants me to listen to some tracks he has been working on." He casually comments, taking his phone from his pocket and leading his attention to the device, so now Felix can't see the slight blush on his cheeks.

"Hm, I haven't seen him in a while. Why hasn't he come to the dorm lately? We should invite him."

"He has been busy with his album, that's why. If you think I leave late from the studio, that's nothing compared to him, he truly spends an ungodly amount of time there."

"So you see him often?" Felix asks with sudden interest, now being aware of how Chan's ears are tinted pink.

"You could say that, yeah. He also spends time on my studio whenever he has the chance. And vice-versa." He shrugs, not finding it odd. You two were really good friends, so it was a normal thing for you to do. "Why?"

"Nothing, I was just curious." He mischievously laughs. "So, next week, you said?"

After a quick glance at the time on your phone, you decide to stand up and stretch your body. It's been a long time since you started working, and you still have a lot to do; and on top of it all, the progress you've made tonight doesn't totally convince you, and that just meant you'd be spending more time in the studio.

As you take your phone again to read your notes, a notification pops up on the top. You weren't supposed to meet up with Chan until later, but in the new message you just received, he tells you that he's free from working on his stuff and you could go earlier if you wanted.

You decide to go; after all, it was nearly impossible for you to concentrate again, and you truly needed to know what does he think about the tracks you sent him a few days ago to finally make an advance. So you grab your laptop after making sure you've saved the changes and the cup of half-drunk coffee, walking out to the long hall and taking the elevator to an upper floor.

The soles of your shoes are dragged across the floor all the way to the studio's door, where you softly knock a couple of times before remembering you already know the password to enter. Your fingers press the buttons, entering code you know by heart at this point, and the door quickly unlocks, making Chan to look your way and greet you with a smile.

"Hey, how have you been?" He sweetly says, seeing you entering the room and placing your belongings on top of the big desk in front of you and taking a seat on the couch behind him.

"Busy. And tired." You murmur and let out a sigh. Chan immediately plays a song at a low volume and takes seat next to you.

"You're still struggling with the track you told me about?"

You nod as an answer and pout, "I am desperate. It's like, no matter how many times I rewrite the lyrics or change the beats, it still doesn't convince me at all and I hate it."

"I get it," He sighs. "But don't worry about it, I'm here to help you out."

And Chan isn't someone who breaks his promises, so the following hours are spent listening to your music, carefully reading everything you've written so far, listening to your ideas and giving you advice.

In between work, he tells you every other joke to make you laugh and feel at least a bit less stressed; and it works wonderfully since he has a long list of dad jokes that take you off guard, plus his laughter is contagious, so not laughing with him is impossible.

It's no surprise that his advice and opinions are so accurate to the point of clearing your mind and helping you out of your creative block. Chan has always been hard-working and so good with words that every time you engage him in conversations, you feel more relaxed and less burdened. No matter what situation you had a problem with, Chan would always help you find the best solution for it. Maybe that's why you admire him so much, maybe it was one of the many reasons why you didn't hesitate for a second to go to him and find security in his presence and words... Maybe it was one of the thousands of reasons why you had romantic feelings towards him...

"Is it better now?" His voice takes you out of your thoughts. He's sweetly smiling at you; he probably realized you got lost on the way his lips were moving as he told you his thoughts on the recent draft of your song.

"Yeah, yes, honestly, you've helped me so much. I don't know what I'd do without you." You smile and go for a quick hug, taking the opportunity to ruffle his hair. Your fingers sliding between his soft and messy curls and making him fondly smile in the process. "You're my hero. I mean it."

Chan chuckles and can't keep his eyes off you as you type something on your laptop and hum. He recalls the conversation he had last week with Felix, and that ambiguous feeling settling on his chest makes him wonder if, after all, his friend was right. He doesn't remember when was the last time he felt the urge to hold someone in between his arms and dearly appreciate, and he wants to know why he smiles and feels his stomach tickling when he sees you.

Maybe it's because you spend a lot of time with him, a voice inside his head says. But he doesn't feel this way with any other friend.

Maybe it's because you have known him for a long time and you just appreciate him a lot, the voice tries again. Maybe. He finally gives in at the last thought. He'd have to figure it out.

His phone buzzes inside the pocket of his jeans and he takes it, knowing for sure it's a message from Felix.

"Felix is arriving in a few minutes." He murmurs, making you take your eyes off the screen. "He wants to listen to some songs I have, is that okay?"

"Of course, it's your studio, silly." You giggle. "I am almost done with this, so if you're gonna be busy I can go back to m-"

"You can stay, if you want to." He quickly adds. "Plus, he says he wants to see you, you know... He misses you." Chan laughs. He wasn't lying, but that wasn't the only reason he wanted you to stay.

"Okay! Sure, I haven't heard from him in a while, either." You nod and keep making changes on the file you have open.

Just as he said, Felix enters the room just a few minutes later, smiling brightly and immediately running to give you a big hug once he sees you.

Soon, the room was filled with laughter and long conversations to catch up on everything around your lives. Felix tells you about the new pastries he baked last week and that he was waiting for you to come around and bake with him, the new video game Jeongin bought and has been playing with Hyunjin, the new songs Changbin and Jisung have been working on and how Seungmin was learning to play piano, playing songs at night for everyone at the dorm.

"And you know? Chan hyung has gotten better at flirting." He laughs as the latter gives him a threatening glare. "He can't stop saying pickup lines whenever he has the chance."

"Ah, really?" You chortle. "You haven't said one in all the time we've been here."

"Well, we've been working, and I've told you many other jokes... Besides, it's not like I come up with them out of nowhere."

"Yes, you do!" Felix says. "You do that all the time, what are you talking about?"

You glance at Chan, who's currently blushing and at the loss of words. Felix, on the other hand, seems to be happy to see what he just provoked. And he'd definitely enjoy every part of it.

"I want to hear one! C'mooon!" You laugh. "Please?"

Chan rolls his eyes and tries to look confident as he would normally do. He clears his throat and thinks of a good pickup line he hasn't used yet.

"Alright," He says and smiles, he even thinks it's gonna start laughing before even opening his mouth, but the very moment he looks into your eyes, it's like he forgot every single word on his vocabulary. "Uhm, are you, no. Did you-? Wait! I forgot what I was gonna say-"

Felix can't help but burst into laughter, and you only look at him, as if you couldn't believe it. Was he nervous or was it because of the fact that Felix was in the same room? Would it have been any different if he weren't there?

You end up laughing at Felix's loud laughter, as well as seeing Chan blushing up to his ears and hiding his face behind his hands, probably also in an attempt to cover the huge grin he now has.

"Wow, that was an epic failure. And I thought you were the biggest flirt on earth." Felix teases him, to which Chan ends up groaning.

He continues talking about other stuff while Chan stops feeling embarrassed, even though he's not able to look in your eyes for the entire time until you have to go back to work.

You close your laptop and stand up, throwing the now empty cup of coffee on the trash bin. After thanking Chan for his help and promising Felix you'd drop by their dorm soon, you walk out of the studio with a smile and feeling your heart beating fast. There was no way you didn't have feelings for him.

"Oh my god, so I was right!" Felix says a few seconds after you left. Chan's first instinct is to cover his face again. "Look who got nervous so suddenly."

"Stop, I- I don't even want to talk about it." He murmurs, feeling flustered and avoiding Felix's gaze. He types something on his laptop and presses the play button, hoping that this way, his friend would forget about what just happened and could focus solely on the music.

And Felix doesn't talk about it anymore. The next few minutes are set by the music coming out of the speakers; the room filling with Chan's voice, singing the love songs that probably no one else would listen to. Felix seems to be concentrating on the lyrics, but Chan's thoughts are solely about you. As he listens to the songs, he is aware of how his skin bristles every time his hands accidentally touch you, the times when your eyes connect with his and you give him smiles every time it happens, all those times when his heart would race when he hugged you.... It's as if all those songs that professed a love he said he didn't feel, started to make sense.

He feels overwhelmed. Maybe if he was aware of it before, maybe if he listened to his heart instead of his head, this wouldn't be a big revelation to him.

Chan pauses the music, and before Felix can ask what's going on, he speaks up: "Why- why did I do that?"

"Did... what, exactly?" Felix asks, confused.

"The pickup line thing!" He blurts out. "I mean, I do that all the time, right? Why did I just forget how to even talk?"

Felix giggles, "Well, have you considered it's because when you use those pickup lines on us you just do it for laughing? To joke around with us, and with Y/N it's because... I don't know, you have feelings for him and it gets real? Like you're flirting with him."

Makes sense, he thinks. He remains in silence for a moment, processing everything that just happened and finally connecting the dots.

"Wait, you just had your epiphany?" Felix jokes. "It took you too, too long."

"I can barely fall asleep, how was I supposed to know I was falling in love?"

"Fair enough." He says, comprehensive. "Are you telling him?"

"Should I?" Chan's eyes sparkle, but he still feels confused. Should he even try? It's been so long since he last felt this way about someone, and given the circumstances of his life as an idol, he felt more reluctant to take the next step. Even more, considering he had just taken the first one by accepting his feelings a few minutes ago.

"I was right all this time by you being in love," He says. "And I am also sure that it's mutual. I've seen you two for a while, you know? I am surprised you didn't come the realization way earlier than this."

Chan giggles. "Alright, I get it."

"But it's up to you now, I guess. All I know is that you deserve to be happy, and you deserve good things... And Y/N is a great person. You should give yourself an opportunity on love."

Chan feels chills as he hears those words. Tonight's even have been too much for him to process, so he'll think deeply about it later.

"Okay," He nods. "Thanks, Lix. You've been really helpful."

"I know, what would you do without me?" Felix laughs. "Now let's keep listening to the songs, I am loving all of them."

Fortunately, the help Chan gave you really made it possible for you to finish the songs in no time. You are just now walking out of a meeting with your managers and the people in charge of the release of the album to set the final details, and you quickly send a message to Chan to let him know the news.

In the meantime, you drop by your studio to clean up a little and maybe write down some ideas for new songs that have been in your mind for a while. After a few minutes, you hear a knock on the door, snapping you out of your thoughts and then feeling confused. You weren't expecting anyone to come. So you slowly open the door, and a smile spreads across your face the moment you realize it's Chan.

"Oh, hi!" You greet him with a hug, immediately letting him in afterwards. He shyly gets inside, taking a seat on a chair and placing a bag on the small table behind him. "What brings you here? I thought you were still busy with you guys upcoming album."

"It's okay, Changbin is working on his stuff now at the studio, so I took the chance to come here and celebrate with you!" He grins. "Congratulations on making your first self-produced album!"

He starts clapping, making you smile; he truly was the sweetest person you've ever met.

As soon as he read your message he went to the nearby cafeteria and bought your favorite drink and pastries, claiming that it was a special occasion and should be celebrated.

"For all your hard work and the success of this album!" He makes a toast as he raises his cup of tea.

Soon you find yourselves immersed in a long conversation about everything that went into creating this album; from when you had the first idea for the concept, to those sleepless nights when he helped you without hesitation. Chan was definitely an essential part of this whole process, so to be celebrating with him right now felt right. It was how it should be.

"You know," Chan clears his throat as another song starts playing. "These past days I've had this thought in my head, and after talking it out with Felix... I am certain about it. And I want to tell you about it. I know I have to."

You frown, feeling curiosity, especially since his semblance has changed to be a bit more serious. He still has a small smile that gives you some kind of tranquility, but another part of you can't help but feel nervous as he gets a little bit closer.

"Of course, what is it?"

"So, uhm" He starts. "Some weeks ago, when Felix came to the studio and we were talking with you... Well, the reason he came was because he wanted to listen to some love songs I've worked on. And, after listening to all of them I figured out why I didn’t like them. I was sure I wasn't in love. That's why, to me, they all sounded plain and didn’t convey the feeling of love... But then..."

He makes a pause, catching his breath as he feels more and more nervous. He knows for sure his ears and cheeks are red right now, and it's impossible that you haven't noticed it. His hands slightly shake behind the table, anxiously looking for yours, but refraining from doing it because he doesn't know how this was going to end. You don't want to interrupt him, so you give him his time to clear his head and talk again.

"While listening to those songs, the only thought I had in mind was you." He finally confesses, with his gaze now fixed on his lap. "I guess that for a while I didn’t realise that I started to, uhm, catch feelings for you. And, it's okay if you don't feel the same way about me. I just really wanted to let you know because the thought has been on my mind for so long and I needed to let it out."

For a moment, the only thing that can be heard in the room is your voice coming from the speakers along with a sigh from Chan, who still didn’t dare to look up and face you.

"So... what you're saying is..." You speak up, feeling incredibly shy, trying to process the words addressed to you.

"What I am trying to say is that I am in love with you."

And you swear you could start screaming to the top of your lungs right now, but you try your very best to stay calm and finally grab Chan's hands. With that, he looks at you again.

"Channie," You softly say, looking at him in his precious eyes and dearly smiling. You don't even know where to begin, but a voice inside you begs for you to give him a hug. So you open your arms and embrace him tightly, feeling instant comfort and love. "I am so glad you feel this way too. I love you too."

Chan sighs in relief, placing his hands on your waist and pulling you closer; his nose pressed against the crook of your neck and closes his eyes, melting between your arms and enjoying every single second of that gesture.

"Wait a minute," You say out of nowhere, so he separates a bit from you and tilts his head. "That's why you couldn't even say a sentence when you tried to say a pickup line?"

You laugh when his expression changes to look ashamed, his lips frowned in a pout and his gaze avoiding your eyes again.

"Try again, I'm sure you're good at this." And Chan's head only comes up with the dozens of lines he has read, but seeing you smiling right in front of him and your arms over his shoulders, he can only think how lucky he is. He can't possibly say anything to you. "Alright, let me try instead."

You hum and recall all the pickup lines you've read and have been told before, "Hm, can I borrow a kiss? I promise I'll return it."

And you expected Chan to start laughing out loud, instead he starts blushing again and giggling, covering his face as he feels nervous.

"C'mon! Seriously?" You laugh and wait for him to stop being shy.

"You make me nervous, give me time." He excuses himself and laughs some more. "That was a good one, and you know what? You can borrow all the kisses you want, as long as you keep your word and return them."

"See? That's what I'm talking about!"

Chan fondly smiles at you, placing his hand on your head to pet your hair for a moment. You close your eyes as he does it, feeling his soft touch traveling all the way down to your chin. He rests his thumb on your cheek and after a few seconds you decide to open your eyes.

"Can I?" He murmurs as his gaze shifts from your eyes to your lips.

"You don't even have to ask."

And just as you give him permission, he breaks the distance between you two. He starts carefully, placing his lips against yours in a tender, chaste way, barely there pressure that makes you exhale through your nose as if you had been holding your breath all along. One of his hands still holds you by the waist, so he takes the opportunity to slide it to your lower back, carefully holding you and sending you shivers to your entire body.

You lean forward barely a few millimeters, but it's enough to feel more pressure over your lips. Chan angles his head and traps your bottom lip, tongue trying to dart out of his mouth to taste more of the sweetness of yours. He, however, contains himself and smiles in between the kiss, instead. He was probably gonna be the death of you.

The deep kiss loses intensity as a minute passes by, so you two end up giving smaller kisses and share smiles, your noses constantly touching in skimo kisses. And you think it's perfect; it's way better than what you one day imagined.

Chan can't miss the chance to make you sit on his lap, so now your head rests over his chest. Your fingers fidgeting the hem of his hoodie and shyly longing to intertwine your hands.

"Hey, Y/N?" He grabs your attention and smiles. "Are you a parking ticket?"

You raise an eyebrow, "Why?"

"Because you've got fine written all over you." He ends up with a muffled laughter.

"Oh no, what did I just get myself into?" You joke around, this time finally making him burst into a louder laughter. "You just declared war on me about pickup lines, you know?"

"Oh, so you got some lines, too? Can't wait to hear all of them, then."

And for the rest of the day you let yourself be held in between the arms of the person you loved the most. Later you'd find the way to flirt with him and make him feel flustered when he least expects it.

#kpop x male reader #skz x male reader #stray kids x m!reader #stray kids x male reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids male reader #bang chan x male reader #kpop x reader #kpop imagines #bang chan x reader #stray kids imagines

388 notes · View notes

i-write-newsies · 3 years

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A/N:

(Y/N) - Your Name

(L/N) - Last Name

(N/N) - Nickname

(H/C) - Hair Color

(D/N) - DEEZ NUTS!! /j Deadname

(E/C) - Eye Color

(H/L) - Hair Length

(Y/A) - Your Age

Ships Included:

- Jack x Davey

- Spot x Race

- Finch x Smalls (Platonic)

- Albert x Elmer

-Katherine x Sarah

- Spot x Reader (Brotherly Platonic)

- Race x Reader (Brotherly Platonic)

Summary:

You have always dreamed of living in the world of your favorite characters, to escape from whatever rotten life you have and make friends with the people you love. One day, fate decides to give you a chance. But when you're not prepared to be rushed into that universe, it becomes a roller coaster of balancing good and bad emotions and events.

Good luck, Reader!

!!TW!!

~ SELF HARM

~ TRANSPHOBIA

~ MAJOR INJURY

~ ABUSE

~ ARGUING

(Y/N) POV:

I'm (Y/N) (L/N). I'm (Y/A) with (E/C) eyes and (H/L) (H/C) hair. At least it used to be (H/L). I cut it all off today. I can tell my mom just found out because of the loud cursing and stomping. "GODDAMMIT, (D/N)!!" she yells. What scares me the most about this situation is the fact that I'm kinda used to this. I hear her coming up the stairs to my room and rush to the door and lock it. As expected, the door handle starts rattling violently, "(D/N) YOU LET ME IN RIGHT NOW, YOU UNGRATEFUL LITTLE SH!T!" She starts banging on the door, stressing the lock.

I sigh. Today was one of the worse days. I slip on my noise-canceling headphones and press play on my musicals playlist, consisting of:

- Waving Through A Window

- On My Own

- A Little Fall Of Rain

- Angel of Music

and of course...

The entire Newsies soundtrack.

By the time I get to 'Seize the Day', it's twilight outside. I lift one of my headphones to check if my mom is gone. I hear nothing. I look out the window and don't see her car. Perfect.

Unplugging my headphones and letting the music play, I walk over to my dresser, open it up, and reach deep in the back. Aha!

I pull out some bandages (A/N: DO NOT ACTUALLY BIND LIKE THIS OK BYE). I take off my shirt and try not to look in my mirror, fearing what sort of feminine body I may see. I start wrapping my chest to the point that it gets a little hard to breathe. This kinda hurts, but my dysphoria is stronger than my need for comfort and, let's be honest, safety.

Slipping my shirt back on, I look into the mirror and smile, satisfied with my flat chest and somewhat choppy short, (H/C) hair. I jump onto my bed and plug my headphones back into my phone which is now playing Santa Fe. Santa Fe honestly makes me think. I'm only, what, (Y/A)? And I still go through all this BS. I need out. Somewhere my mom can't tell me I'm female. Somewhere like...Newsies. I mean, Race is canonically trans, right? Not to mention all of them are definitely fruity. They'd accept me. The fresh, bandaged cuts on my arms are the only things keeping me in reality right now

As the song ends, I realize that I've been crying. God, why am I stuck in this wretched place? The question as well as thoughts of Newsies reverberates in my skull, a sort of white noise until I fall into a much-needed sleep.

"Aye, kid! Watcha doin sleepin on the street?"

"Especially in a place this..."

Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω

Jack POV:

I yawn, rubbing sleep from my eyes as the circulation bell drones on an' on. I let my eyes adjust to the view of the sunrise from my penthouse in the sky.

As I try to get up to get ready, a pair of arms drag me back down. "Jackieeee" a half-awake Davey groans, "come back down, it's freezing up here." "Dave, we gotta get to work. The boys can always count on me being at the gates early, so if you don't get up, I'm leaving you behind." This seems to wake him up a little more, "Alright, alright fine." he shivers as he gets up. I throw him his top shirt and vest and he desperately claws them on to gain warmth. Carefully, we climb down the ladder.

"What'd I tell ya, Dave? Even in the middle of summer, the night's always freezing." Davey rolls his eyes and does a little shiver "I know, Jackie, now c'mere and warm me up" I grin and move in closer, holding his hand, as we start walking to the gates. "Still not warm enough!" Davey said in a singsong-ish voice. I sigh and feign annoyance, leaning in to give a short but sweet peck on the lips. I think he's satisfied now. We're not usually this lovey-dovey, but I think we're both touch starved and subtly begging for a hug.

Davey, being the amazing boyfriend he is, stops by Jacobis to get us some breakfast. "Dave, you really don't hafta-" "I insist, Jack. After all, breakfast is the most important meal of the day," he says in an almost snobbish voice. I give him a small smile. That's my smartass Dave.

As we get to the gates, I notice a small figure leaned up against it. By now, the sun has come up some more over Manhattan 'n Dave 'n I don't have to walk as close to warm ourselves up. The figure seems to be sleeping, a newsies cap over their eyes. I think it's a kid. Maybe a new newsie looking for work?

I crouch down in front of him lift his hat, and start tapping his shoulder, "Aye, kid! Watcha doin sleepin on the street?" "Especially in a place this..." Davey notes. The kid seems to wake with a start. He rubs his eyes, and I chuckle a little "Whatsa matter? Ya look like youse seen a ghost." He doesn't seem to find this funny and repeatedly switches from looking at me then Davey with some confusion and shock in his eyes.

"I um-" he stutters over his words, "Aye, aye, kid, calm down, you ain't in trouble or nuttin." He takes a few deep breaths. "Okay... I'm (Y/N). I'm just freaking out because This isn't where I fell asleep, and- and I just- feel like I know you..." "Well, (Y/N) it sounds like you're one of da Newsies now," I say with a grin, "Now, we gots ta give you a nickname, we rarely eva call someone by their real name, 'cept Dave 'n Albert of course," The kid stays silent, clearly still shocked from waking up in a foreign place. "I feel like I know you.." he says, barely discernible. "Maybe ya do, maybe ya don't, Dave here's the only one good with faces." The kid looks up at Davey, who seems deep in thought, "(N/N)" he exclaims, "Ah, sorry, what I meant was your nickname should be (N/N)!" "I like it! But why (N/N) exactly?" I question, "Well, *insert reason why here*" "Well ain't you a clever boy, Dave!" I say, ruffling his hair. Davey shies away, "Jack! Now I have to fix my hair!" he complains, "Sorry, sorry." Davey then leaves to fix his hair in front of a shop window nearby, leaving me and (N/N) alone.

(N/N) seems to want to say something, but as soon as he opens his mouth, he shuts it just as quickly. I try to fill the awkward silence, "So, what's wit' da bandages, kiddo?" He freezes, "Nothing, just a ploy to get people to buy more papes..." he trails off. I have a feelin' he's not tellin' the truth, but I go along with it anyway, "Ha! What an idea, I wonder how I neva thought a' that before." he smiles, seeming satisfied with the praise. Davey returns from the shop window, "Alright! Ready to start the day?" (N/N) nods, and so do I.

Newsies start gathering, some glancing at (N/N) and some anxiously peering through the gates. I look at the headline for today: New Newsie Price! "Aye, Dave, you seein' this shit?" "Language- and yeah... what in the world was runnin' through Pulitzer's head when he thought of this??" I look at (N/N), whose mouth is a thin, pale line but whose (E/C) eyes are glinting with determination. "Heh, kid, what's that look for?" He looks at me, a little startled, but quickly regains that same tough expression, "I have a feeling that this ain't some silly little joke. And I'm worried 'bout the kids that may get hurt in the crossfire." I laugh, "Youse just bein dramatic! Surely, they wouldn't be as dumb as to underpay their own employees." I walk over to Weasel and slap down a penny "100 papes please!" "That's gonna be dime, Kelly."

My heart almost stops, and it takes all my strength not to break down in front of the boys. I fake a laugh, "Surely you're joking." "100 papes costs a dime, take a look at the headline." I hit the money box out of anger, "Then we'll just take our business to Brooklyn." Someone pipes up, "The same thing's happenin' there." "Then we'll go to Rushing!" Specs jogs over, seemingly out of breath, "I'll save ya the walk; it's the same everywhere."

Fuck.

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Y/N POV:

A sharp pain in my chest temporarily distracts me from the situation at hand. Ah. I almost forgot. I still have to bind. This sucks. I feel a pair of eyes on me and turn just in time to see Racetrack Higgins avert his eyes. I give him a confused look and turn back to Jack singing "The World Will Know" I forget all about his weird staring and get back into the determined beat from before.

Soon, the newsies and I make our way to Jacobis for some...water I guess? I do happen to have some extra money in my pocket so I think I can treat all the boys to some seltzer. I sit down on a hard wooden chair in a slouch. The room is buzzing with excited talk of the strike. I give a small, sad smile. These boys have no idea what they're getting themselves into. Crutchie sits next to me serving a wide smile just as Jacobi enters with a tray full of waters, "And here's one for you, and for you, and for you- who's the big spender that ordered everyone seltzer?" shyly, I raise my hand, "That's me, sir." "You know these cost a quarter each, right?" I pull out a handful of quarters with a cheeky smile "and I got more where that came from." The boys go wild, "Where did ya get all that money, kid??" Davey, being the concerned mom, asks "Please tell me you didn't steal that." I shake my head, "I used to live comfortably, but my mom kicked me out for...reasons." my grin falters for a second, but no one seems to notice.

"Well!" Jack stands on a table, "Here's to the strike! And, of course, (N/N)" He gestures towards me with a wink as everyone cheers. As Katherine enters, I start to zone out and stare at a speck of dust on the ground. After all, I know the plot all too well. I perk up, though, as soon as Jack asks who's goin' to Brooklyn. My hand shoots up, "I nominate me and Race!" I exclaim. I look over at Race, who's staring at me, blushing and jaw dropped a little. I grin at him and look back at Jack, who's a little shocked. "A-alright! Me and Dave'll take the Bronx, I guess."

*Timeskip to after the restaurant scene*

I walk down the Manhatten alleys blindly, no clue where I'm going, when I hear someone come up behind me. "Hey, (N/N)! It's me, Race." I smile weakly, "Oh, hey." "I always sell my papes at Sheepshead in Brooklyn, so I know where to go."

It's almost completely silent except for the clicking of our shoes on the paved roads. "So... how'd ya get here as a Newsie, (N/N)?" "Well, Jack 'n Davey found me sleepin' on the street just this mornin'" He laughs, "Wow! So you got used to the Newsie life real quick!" "Yeah, I did.." I let out a small chuckle as well. Race pulls out a cigar and clamps it between his lips and goes to light it but hesitates. "Uh- Wanna cigar?" "Wow, Racetrack Higgins giving me one of his own cigars? I'm flattered!" I joke, "But, yeah, I need smoke." He digs into his pocket and hands me another cigar, "You eva' smoked before?" he stares at me as I put the cigar in between my lips. I grin sheepishly, "No." "Okay, maybe we should stop for a second. Coughing while walking ain't the most fun thing in the woild."

We lean up against a wall as Race lights first his, then my cigar. I inhale and immediately spiral into a coughing fit. Race smacks my back, "You good, (N/N)? I ain't neva' seen a fella cough that hard on the first puff." I roll my tear-filled eyes and continue coughing.

Once my coughing fit subsides, I feel a wave of relaxation. "God I should do this more often." I groan, Race grins, "Yeah, once you get past the whole blowin'-your-brains-out part of smokin', it's real nice. Anyway, shall we continue?" he gestures to the streets ahead. I nod my head and take another puff, "Yeah, it's gettin' kinda late and we do NOT wanna wake up the Spot Conlon." Race nods in agreement and we hurry along. Even though I know Spot is kind of a softie, that doesn't stop me from being intimidated by his prowess.

We reach the Brooklyn lodging just as Race's cigar burned out. Race takes a deep breath and gives three solid knocks on the door. A kid younger than me answers the door, "State ya business" "I'm here to let Conlon know about some very important news." The kid squints his eyes but responds "I'll ask him if he's willing to meet with anyone right now. Who should I tell him is askin'?" "Race. Higgins." He says somewhat awkwardly.

The kid closes the door. Race and I stand quietly waiting for the OK to see Spot. Suddenly the door swings open to reveal Spot. "Ra-" he notices me and coughs, "I mean- Higgins, would you like to step in to discuss the important news?" I almost laugh at the way he went from totally in love to distinguished gentleman. I shoo them away, holding in laughter, "don't worry, I'll wait out here and give you lovebirds some space." (A/N: or should I say sprace) I see them both go tomato red.

I sigh as they head inside. I take a drag from the cigar and start thinking. How did I end up in the newsies universe and act this calm about it? This feels so surreal. But I want to stay here forever. Far away from my sh!tty mom and all my responsibilities.

Lost in my own head, I barely notice as Racetrack storms out of the lodging, clearly pissed. "C'mon (N/N), we're leaving." he grabs my hand and angrily powerwalks to the next street over. Once we're there, he lets go of my hand and sighs harshly, walking slow. "I assume it didn't go well?" I ask, already knowing the answer. "Not. Well." "Wanna talk about it?" he shakes his head and starts walking "No, thanks. I think we's better get to bed before Jack gets worried." he stops. "Do you have a place to sleep?" I look down, "Not really..." "Well!" he grabs my hand again with a big grin, "Looks like youse bunkin' wit' me." I start to protest, but realize it'd get me nowhere with this stubborn SOB, so I let myself get dragged along. Oh, well. I might as well get rest for the strike tomorrow, goodness knows I need it.

As I settle down into the rough sheets, the gentle snoring rocks me to sleep with thoughts of the strike. One thought flashes through my mind before I fall asleep; God help us all.

I wake up to someone poking my face. My eyes flutter open and I almost fall off the bunk at the sight of Race's face right in front of mine. "JESUS CHRIST, RACE, YOU SCARED THE SH!T OUTTA ME!" He backs off, putting his hands up in surrender, "Sorry, sorry, it's just that Jack said you had to be up and out in 10 minutes so we can have an organized strike or whateva'" Race rolls his eyes, "I'm startin' ta think that Davey's rubbin' off on 'im a lil' too much."

I groan, tempted to slide back under the covers, but get up anyway. I slept with my clothes on so I don't have to do anything about that. As I look into an old, rusted mirror and comb my fingers through my now tangled hair, I feel another sharp pain in my chest, accompanied by a dull throbbing. I really should have taken off the bandages while I slept, but now it's too late. I take one last look in the mirror and, ignoring my eyebags, quickly head out the door to join the others. As I get to the gate, everyone's waiting with anticipation, faces grim but hopeful.

Everything happens in a blur. One moment we're striking, and the next we're beaten into a pulp. I manage to soak a Delancey in the eye when suddenly a familiar sharp pain fills my chest and wince, faltering. Morris takes this as an opportunity to knee me in the stomach, forcing me to the ground, where their take turns kicking my chest and body with those damn steel-toed boots of theirs until my clothes are torn and the cuts on my arms reopen. Suddenly, there's a small crack as my body swells up with pain and the taste of metal enters my mouth. I let out a blood-curdling scream as the pain registers in my brain. In my blurred vision, I see the Delancey's walk away, ready to torture their next victim; Crutchie.

I try to get up and reach out, try to scream at them not to hurt him, but all I can do is weakly move my hand in their direction and spit out blood. Suddenly, a small but rough hand reaches out and drags me into an alley. "Dammit, (N/N) what were you thinking?! Fighting in a gawddamn binder, and a makeshift one, no less!" "R-..Race..?" "Not now, (N/N) I have ta get youse to safety foist." I watch as he chews on his nails in thought, "Dammit! The only way back to tha lodge is through the Delancey's again!" He sighs. "Brooklyn it is..." He gingerly picks me up and carries me as fast as possible to Spot's turf.

Setting my feet on the ground and propping me up against him, he bangs on the door. "Spot!" Please! This is serious, I need your help!" I can hear the tears in his voice. Spot flings open the door, obviously very concerned. He's confused for a second, then looks at me and his eyes go wide. "GET THE MED KIT AND A COT OPEN, WESE GOT SOMETHING HORRIBLE THAT'S HAPPENED" he yells behind him. Race, now more calmed down, takes me in his arms again, but seems to refuse to look at Spot, who looks away as well, but more in shame.

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Race POV:

I watch as some of the Brooklyn newsies take (N/N) and lay him on a cot, anger surging through my veins. I take a deep breath "I'll take care of him. You guys don't have to worry about it." As they leave the room, I look down at (N/N) and can't help but feel guilty. Like this is my fault. I only got away with a black eye, but he got all this?

I regain my composure and start by taking (N/N) shirt off. I can already see the bruises starting to form and cringe. I take off his binding bandages and see his chest expand immediately. Poor kid. He must have been hurting in more way that just one. I take the gauze from the wooden box and gently wrap his torso with it. Maneuvering around his arms, I notice something. The bandages on him arms. When he was wearing them before, Jack said it was a marketing ploy, but now I see red bleeding through the white gauze.

I unwrap (N/N)'s arms and gasp. Hundreds of tiny, but deep cuts litter his forearms and wrists. F#ck. He was hurting so much more than I could have ever known. I wrap them with fresh gauze and treat the rest of his wounds, stepping back to admire my handiwork. That's when I start to cry. Full-on tears falling, face in hands crocodile tears. I turn my head with a start to see Spot, standing over me with a hand on my shoulder, looking apologetic "I'm so sorry..." Suddenly this sadness turns to rage. I grab him by the shirt collar and drag him outside to an empty alleyway. "SORRY?? SORRY, MY 4SS! (N/N) AND SO MANY OTHER 'HATTEN NEWSIES ALMOST DIED OUT THERE BECAUSE YOU DIDN'T WANT TO JOIN UNTIL YOU KNEW WE WOULDN'T "CAVE" WELL, WE DIDN'T CAVE, AND LOOK WHAT F#CKING HAPPENED! AND DONT YOU SAY SORRY TO ME AND EXPECT ME TO FORGIVE YOU JUST BECAUSE I LOVE YOU, THAT'S FOR CROW TO DECIDE." Spot seemed silent at first, but now I could see his anger building up; "WADDAYA THINK WOULD O' HAPPENED TO MY BOYS, HUH?? I WANTED TO WAIT TO SEE IF WE WOULD BE THE ONLY ONES FIGHTIN IN THIS BATTLE AGAINST PULITZER."

I open my mouth then close it. He has a fair point, but doesn't he trust me and the udda newsies not to bail in their hour of need? I sigh, pinching my nose. "I'm sorry Spot, I just-... I just wish you trusted me a bit more..." I look up at him to see tears in his eyes. "OH, SPOT HONEY, ITS OKAY, I'M NOT MAD, DON'T CRY, DON'T CRY" I shush him, pulling his head into my chest, which isn't tough considering his height.

As he lets go, the adrenaline rush from today dies down. God, I'm so tired. My knees nearly buckle and Spot notices, "Aye, aye! Tony, you doin' okay?" I nod at him, but the bags under my eyes are making them droop, "Race, honey, you need to get some sleep, okay?" I shake my head but soon fall into Spot's arms as my legs give way. "Fine..." I mumble. I can feel him grinning, "Good, we gots an extra bed for youse to sleep in." I sigh, grateful. I can feel Spot picking me up, the rhythm of his boots tapping along the ground, a pause and shift as he opens the lodging door and kicks it closed behind him as I fall asleep.

I wake up in a cold sweat. (N/N). I need to see (N/N). I need to check if he's okay. I climb out of the bed Spot laid me in and let my eyes adjust to the dark before maneuvering around all the other sleeping kids. I make my way as quietly as possible to where (N/N) is resting. I crouch down and take his hand in mine. How could I let this happen? And how did I not notice his suffering? I press the back of his hand to my forehead, closing my eyes. My body is so tired right now, but my mind is too tortured with guilt to let me sleep.

By the time my thoughts finally leave me alone, the sun is rising in the sky. I'm finally drifting when- "Race?" I turn my head to the voice, "Oh, jesus, you look horrible!" Spot exclaims, "did you even get any sleep last night?" I shrug, to be fair, I lost count of the hours. Spot sighs, "Race...go sleep. At least for a few more hours. I can watch (N/N) if that makes you happy," I nod, rubbing my eyes. I stumble back to my bed amongst all the Brooklyn newsies and fall asleep the moment my head hits the pillow.

My mind dreams of talkin' cigars and bloody bandages. I see Crow propped up against the wall, smokin' a cigar. "(N/N)! (N/N)! Oh my god, I'm so happy that you're okay!" (N/N) doesn't answer, I slowly starts walking towards him, "(N/N)...?" he starts laughing. Softly at first then roaring, and the laughing turns into a heavy coughing fit. As (N/N) coughs, red smoke pours out of his lungs and clouds my vision. I swipe at the air, trying to brush away the fog, "(N/N)?? (N/N), where did you go?!" suddenly, the smoke clears and I see (N/N) bruised, damaged, bleeding body at my feet, I gasp and step back. (N/N) slowly turns to face me, and in a painful, teary, almost sickly whisper asks, "Why did you let this happen?" Tears start spilling down my face, "I- I didn't me-" "You did this to me Race. Race. Race. Race! Race! RACE! RACE!--

Spot POV:

--RACE WAKE UP!" He wakes up with a gasp. He looks around wildly, tears dripping from his chin. I've never seen him like this. He must care for him like a brudda. To be honest, I'm worried as well, not only about (N/N) but now that we know 'Hatten isn't gonna back down and we join the fight, what's gonna happen to the newsies in general? Kids could get hoit. Bad.

"Spot?" Race starts sobbing, clinging to my shirt fabric, "Please...tell me it'll be okay..." I can't. Race, I don't know if it will. I almost start sobbing on the Spot ( A/N: heh...), but I hold my composure and smile at him, "It'll be okay, Tony...we're all gonna be fine" He seems to believe this, at least a little bit. "Now, don't you gotta meet up wit' da udda newsies?" He retracts his head from my chest, eyes wide. In a nasal voice, he goes "AW SHOOT, I 'MOST FORGOT" I watch him with a small smile as he rushes to get dressed like the goof he is. God, I love 'im.

Race POV:

Silence. I got there too early. Fuck. I can't just be alone with my thoughts, but at least I have some extra money to... I don't know? I walk up to the bar, where the owner of Jacobi's is cleaning out glasses. I sigh and sit down, "Got anything to help forget? At least for a little while...?"

"Ain't you a little too young for that, kid?" I give him a look and push my money over the counter to him. He quietly collects it, "So what can I get ya?" I'm silent for a bit "Fireball." I say with some demand in my voice. He disappears behind the counter and comes back with some shot glasses and a Fireball bottle, pouring it out into the glasses as I watch. I notice as he sighs, "Feel betta, kid." Can't promise that.

I pick up a shot glass, watching as the orange liquid spins around in it. I take in a breath of spicy cinnamon before letting the liquid slip down my throat, leaving a trail of a burning sensation. Soon, one turns into another, and another, and another and before I could comprehend it, the room starts to spin and blur. Eventually, the room fills with newsies, mumblin' 'bout how crappy the strike went. I do my very best to fit in and not act drunk, but the time zooms by and I find myself singin' 'bout bein' the king o' new york. At some point in the blurry memory, Katherine suggests getting drunk and I throw my hands up and cheer. More free Fireball! But then she clarifies that it was a metaphor, to which I am very disappointed.

The rest whizzes past me and soon I'm stumblin' my way to Brooklyn. I knock heavily on the lodging door, then lean on it. Unexpectedly, the door opens and I'm left to fall flat on my face at the feet of my boyfriend, Spot Conlon. "Race! Darlin', you okay? Youse fell flat on ya face!" He extends a hand that I receive and pulls me up. I giggle, "Ahhhh, my Spotty! Always carin' 'bout uddas. Pshht! Yeah, I'm fiiiine." I flop my hand down to wave off his concern. He wrinkles his nose, "You reek of cinnamon....and alcohol." He widens his eyes and I let out anudda giggle, "Race! Tell me you didn't jus' get drunk!" he whines, I grin, "Okey, 'you didn't jus' get drunk'" I imitate him in a deep voice and he sighs, "Jesus Christ, Racer.." he grabs my hand pulls me inside, eventually laying me on a bed, face red with a giggling fit. "Goodnight, my liege," I giggle some more, "and you my Prince," he gives a small smile before covering me with a blanket. I fall asleep before it's up over my shoulders.

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I wake up with my head feeling like it's going to explode.

Fuck Life.

I groan and sit up. "Mornin' Sleepin' Beauty" Spot smirks and hands me a cup of water, "Shut the fuck up" I whine and grab the glass, "Ooh feelin' feisty today, huh?" I shoot him a look that could rot a squash with one gaze. He holds up his hands in defense, "Alright, alright, my bad," He shrugs. I sigh and take a sip of water, which turns into me chugging the whole thing. "You betta get ova this hangover fast, hon" I groan, not ready to do anything at all today, "We gots the meetin' wit' Jack."

End my life.

"No, I don't think I will," "fuuuuck did I say that out loud?" I let out a small wail, and Spot chuckles a little, though you can tell there's somethin' on his mind still, "Yeah, ya did sweetheart." I grumble something incomprehensible and look down, red. He smiles, "Get dressed and drink as much water as possible, okay? We can't have you hungover for the big meeting, right?" I nod...which causes my head to hurt. Ow.

I sigh and decide to take my sweet time getting dressed. This sucks. "Spotty!" I call, then cringe after a new wave of pain hits, he pokes his head through the door "Yeah?". "I don't have the energy to deal wit' all dese gawddamn bandages. Help me?" He blushes a bit but agrees to help me bind. All I focus on is not hurting my head again. Spot ties the bandages and stands back to admire his handiwork but quickly notices my cringin'. "Do you want somethin' cold?" he asks gently, I nod as gingerly as possible.

*Timeskip to after the newsies meet n greet bcuz I'm power-finishing this at 12am and my mental health is steadily declining*

My hand shakes as I bring a fresh, unlit cigar to my lips.

Jack. That sellout, that traitor.

A sharp pain knocks me out of my angry thoughts. Ah. I burned myself.

I feel a hand on my shoulder, "Racer.." says a gentle voice, "You okay? that's your 3rd cigar in the past 2 hours or so." I look up to see Finch leaning over me as I sit on the ground, a concerned look on his face, "You're gonna run out all too soon" I give a bitter laugh, "Yeah, I guess I will." Finch can see that there's not much he can do to help me. He gives a weak smile and turns to walk away.

I see Davey run off somewhere. I wonder where they're going? I sigh and turn my head back down to the ground. Who cares? Without a leader, the strike'll just fall apart and Pulitzer'll win. Who was I kidding when I bragged abt being da "King o' New York"? I'm just some nobody kid without a nickel to my name. The bigger guys always win, so what's with me tryin'?

Jack POV:

I can't let any more kids get in this much danger. I visited (N/N) today. I found out about all his... injuries, as well as whatever he was born as. He's been through so much before all this, he doesn't deserve it.

It's my fault for being so ignorant. For not noticing anything was goin' on. My fault for inciting this stupid strike. For getting all these kids hoit. and Crutchie...poor Crutchie, locked up in that godawful place. I know he ain't helpless, 'e's a cheeky little bastard, I'll give him that, but the Refuge breaks down even the biggest of smiles and smothers the brightest of people. I will never forget that hell I went through. I went in a cheeky fightin' kid with a deep, strong flame, and came out with the embers barely glowing. It took years just to spark it up again. I'm terrified as to what'll happen to him.

I lean over the railing of my penthouse, not even noticing as it shakes and squeaks, making way for a young boy a little younger den me. "-Jack! JACK!" "Jesus Christ, yeah??? Oh, it's you, Dave..." I look away shamefully, he's probably here to chew me out and tell me we're done and gone. "What the hell was that?" I wince, I knew it. "Waddya mean 'what the hell was that?'?" "You know what I mean, JACK KELLY." I'm fucked. "YOU BETRAYED US FOR MONEY?!" "I WOULDN'T HAVE FELT PRESSURED TO IF I WADN'T DEALIN' WIT' A FLAKER!" Davey gives a bitter laugh and balls up the front of my shirt in his fist, tugging me towards him. "Ohoho! And if I wasn't your 'best friend' you'd be lookin' at me through one swollen eye!" "Oh, yeah? Well, don't let that stop ya, huh? Gimme your best shot!" something soft roughly pressing against my lips. The only thought at the moment is; 'Well, this is new... and passionate, 'specially from Dave' there's a heavy, awkward silence.

I back away from him, knocking over my drawings in the process. One specific drawing rolls out seemingly by fate. It taps on Davey's shoe and he looks down. His eyes widen a little as he reaches down to get it. "Is this.. the Refuge?" he puts a hand over his mouth, "weren't you stuck here once? Rats, cockroaches everywhere, 6 kids to a bunk? Holy fuc- I mean fudge." If the moment weren't this tense, I might've laughed. "Jack..." I feel a hand on my shoulder. "You don't have to tell me if you're not ready." I shake my head and he drops his arm understandingly. "Either way, we could use this. Heck..." Davey seems deep in thought before his face lights up, "We could make our own newspaper!" I look at him in disbelief, he notices, and speaks again "think about it, Jackie! Kath's a real talented writer! This art could change the perspective of hundreds! We could write to tell all the workin' boys to go on Strike tomorra'! And we could expose Snyder in the process!" Hey, that's not too bad..."But, Dave, how're we gonna print it?" His face falls, "I didn't think about it...we're banned from every printin' press in New York.."

Oh no. Ohhh no. "No. Noooo." I whine, Davey chuckles, amused "what?" "I know a printin' press that no one would ever think of!" Davey grins, "Then what are we waitin' for?" He puts my drawing back into the case, and slings it over his shoulder, getting ready to climb down. Suddenly, a thought strikes me, "Wait-" "Yeah?" "Dave- what are we exactly? Like I know how we act to each other n' everything, but we've never really said out loud what we are..." Davey giggles, "Jackie-" "No! Tell me right now, are we... in love? Boyfriends, I guess?? Or am I just something for your own experimentation?"

He cups my face in his hands, "Jackie..." he kisses my nose, "Of course I love you! And yes! We are in love! Dating! Boyfriends! Whichever way you want to define us!" Soon we're both grinning ear-to-ear and blushing. "Now!" he exclaims, hopping up, clearly on a high from the whole kiss and convo, "Let's get to it!" I laugh and stand up as well, following my over-enthusiastic boyfriend down the ladder. As Davey said; Let's get to it!

(Y/N) POV:

'My head hurts...' I think groggily. I try to open my eyes, but my vision is blurred and wonky. I sit up. Nevermind. Everything hurts. As my vision starts to clear, I see a very tired Spot Conlon sitting in a chair in the corner of whatever room I'm in rubbing sleep from his eyes. He fixates his eyes on me for a second, and I can see the sleepiness and confusion in his eyes turn into shock and joy. "(N/N)! Ohmygod! I'm so glad you'se awake!" I can see him go to wrap me in a bear hug before holdin' himself back after he remembers all my injuries. Wait. My injuries. "Does this mean you know about...?" I vaguely gesture to my arms and Spot nods sadly, "And..." I cringe and gesture to my chest, now only lightly bound with medical tape, but tighter than needed for a typical injury. I smile to myself. That must've been Race. He's like a perfect older brother, not only thinkin' about my physical health, but also my mental well-being.

Spot notices the look on my face and sees me lookin' down at my chest, he chuckles, "Yeah, Race decided on that. He wanted you to feel as comfortable as possible while you heal." I start grinning even harder. Spot spoke up again "Don't forget that even boys born seen as boys don't have perfectly flat chests, so binding as tight as you did wasn't necessary or safe, for that matter." I give him a look, is Spot really trying to be the cis savior right now? He gives me a look right back, "What? I know what I'm talking about." He lifts his shirt up to reveal two scars on his chest. I gasp, "But you're only *insert years/months* younger/older than me! How did you even know that this was an option, as well, how did you do it?" He smirks, pulling his shirt back down, "Thought so. Anyway, I don't really know. I needed them off desperately and randomly thought of it. As for the how, Buttons is AMAZING with scissors and blades. Like, scary amazing." He shivers. I blink. Damn.

He gives a shy grin "Do I really pass that well?" I look at him enviously "Of course! But... how do you look so...masculine?" "Well, I tried my best to copy the behavior of other boys I saw. And the whole working out didn't hurt." I nod, taking a mental note. Behavior, got it. Can't promise sticking to a workout, though. Spot scoots closer, taking my hand in his, "But the most important thing to understand is- behavior, body type, and a powerful reputation doesn't define being a true boy. What does is what's in here-" he taps my head, "-and here." he points to my heart. Spot looks me in my eyes, "You could wear dresses, skirts, use a 'girly' name, hell, even go by she! and you'd still be a boy in my eyes." I feel my eyes water, and Spot opens his arms to me with a sincere look. I fall into his arms and cry tears of joy. Spot and Race are the older brothers I never had, helping me at every fork in the road of my transition.

(A/N: I noticed that a big issue in trans fanfics was that the cis person was always the one to condescendingly teaching the helpless trans kid how to bind properly. I decided to make both of your mentors trans, had them both know what they're talking about, and made sure that you weren't completely useless or clueless, only that you needed guidance seeing as (Y/N) is a trans kid with no former knowledge about his transition. As well, I kinda wanted this fic to be of help to any newcomer trans men. Anyway, on to the last of the story!)

"So how are your ribs feeling?" Spot asks after we both calm down, "A little sore, but pretty much moveable. Is it really this painful to bind? I mean, the past few weeks I had the binding stuff on was my first time." "It shouldn't, I mean, lookit Race. He seems energetic and flexible even when he's binding." I think he sees my insecure face because he speaks again, "What I mean to say is- if you have more experience binding, you'll know how to mix mental and physical comfort. Either way, what fucked up your ribs wasn't the binding, it was the Delancey's. Not saying the way you were binding wasn't bad and wouldn't have caused lasting damage, of course."

I see Spot have a flicker of thought behind his eyes, he pulls out an obviously stolen silver pocket watch with the initials H.A. engraved on it to check the time. "Almost time..." he mutters. I give him a suspicious look, "Almost time for what...?" he looks sheepishly at the ground, "Nnnnnothing." I let out a noise halfway between a snort and a scoff, "Uh huh." "Fine." he sighs, "All the newsies and workin' boys is comin' together today. We'se hopin' ta finish up this strike Once And For All."

"Let me guess, I shouldn't go because I'm still healing." He nods, "Spot!! I need to do my part in this strike! I can't miss the most important day of my life." he gives me a weird look, "You don't even know what the outcome'll be, plus I promised Race that you wouldn't get hurt." "Please, I've been bedridden for WEEKS. And I won't get hurt" I protest stubbornly, he sighs exasperatedly "FINE, but I'm gettin' you right outta there at the foist sign o' danger, okay?" "Okay!" I say, content with the compromise. "We should prolly get you up and used to legs again before the strike--" my stomach rumbles harder than Les when he sees the chocolate croissants in the Pastry Shop window, and that's seriously saying somethin', "--and something to eat, too."

Spot holds my hands as I get out of bed and basically learn to walk again with wobbly legs. You could just paint my back with spots and call me a baby deer. Once I get my legs to work with me, Spot leads me to a tin tub. I give him a 'seriously?' look, "What am I doin', goin' ta church?" he laughs sarcastically, "Ha, ha. (N/N), you haven't cleaned yourself since the last time you were conscious. I also need to refresh your bandages since those haven't been touched since Race changed them in the foist place." "Fiiiine" I growl.

Spot unwraps my arm and chest bandages, but when it comes to me taking off the rest of my clothes, he looks away (not even for my privacy, but just because he is highly repulsed to the idea of naked bodies) I add enough soap suds on top of the water to cover my body so he's comfortable.

He grabs some soap and lathers up my hair with it, soon rinsing it. He also lathers and rinses my face, removing the built-up dirt, grease, and sweat, which accumulated surprisingly quickly for only spending a month, or was it two, here. Spot brings out a small piece of scrap fabric and a bottle of some liquid, then gently grabs my arms. "This might burn a little," he said empathetically. He dampened the cloth with what I am assuming is disinfectant and started pressing it against my healing cuts. I tried to hold in my pain but let out a small hiss when the cloth reached the deeper cuts on the backs of my arms. Spot stopped temporarily, letting my arms adjust to the sting a little, before continuing. Once he's finished, he hands me the soap and leaves the room to let me bathe myself in peace and picks up my dirty clothes and old bandages. "Holler if you need anything!" he yells on his way out.

I create a lather in my hands and stand up so I can actually wash my body. The air is chilly compared to the bathwater, so I do my best to be quick as I let my soap hands travel gingerly over my body. I look down, and for the first time in a long time, I don't feel ashamed. Spot words echo in my mind as I smile softly; 'You could wear dresses, skirts, use a 'girly' name, hell, even go by she! and you'd still be a boy in my eyes.' I guess, for now, I'm confident in my masculinity.

I sit back down, enjoying the warmth, and rinse myself off. I step out of the bath and look at the grey-ish brown-ish water. Ew, was I really that dirty? As the cold air envelops me once more, I realize I don't have a towel. Or clothes. "Spot!" I call out, "Yeah?" I hear a faint voice, "I need a towel and some clothes!" I answer. There's quiet, then a series of rustling sounds that slowly get closer. The door opens a crack and I see a tan, muscular hand slide a pile of clothes and a towel in my direction. I smile gratefully, "Thanks, Spotty!" "Aye! Only Race can call me dat..." "Okay, fine."

I dry my hair as much as possible, before continuing to my body. There's not much actual rubbing rather than patting because of my injuries, so when I get my pants on and slip my button-down onto my shoulders, they get a little damp. "Spot?" I call out again, "Do you think you could help me with my bandages?" "'Course!" He casually picks up the chest bandages and binds it pretty much perfectly- Tight enough to make a difference in my chest size, but loose enough to let my ribs heal. Spot then starts re-bandaging my arms, "Can I ask you a question, Spot?" "Sure, (N/N)" he says nonchalantly, "Why is it you are repulsed by fully naked bodies, but you're perfectly casual and fine about helping me bind my chest when I'm half-naked?" he clears his throat as if he was ready to spin a whole story, "Well, Race used to live with me and we started trusting each other a lot more than when we first met. He trusted me enough to teach him the best way to bind, and he trusted me enough to feel comfy without a top on when around the house, so I'm kinda desensitized. But when it comes to people being naked or bein' overly suggestive, I just..don't like it. At all."

'Asexual,' I think, 'Knew it."

"Anyway, you ready to fight off the bulls and get our rights back, (N/N)?" He stands up and offers a hand to help me up, which I receive. I catch my reflection in the dirty bathwater. I can see crystal clear, that I am dapper, strong, and ready to kick some Delancey ass.

But first, Lunch.

Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω

I arrive at the strike on Spot's shoulders, hyped for the happy ending they all worked so hard for. Spot sets me down gently and scans the crowd for someone. It seems he found them because his face lights up. I see Race run over to us. "(N/N)! Oh my god, I'm so fuckin' glad that you're awake! Especially today of all days!" however, his enthusiasm is soon replaced with concern, "But is ya sure yer okay? You must've woken up just today, so are you feeling good? Yer injuries don't hurt too bad, you're not dizzy, hungry, thirsty?" "Calm down, Tony, I gave him a bath, changed his bandages, gave him food n' water, even a pep talk, so you don't need to worry!" Race takes a few deep breaths, "Okay, okay, yeah I'm fine. But that's great!" He engulfs me in a firm, but gentle hug. I look around the crowd and see some familiar faces, Katherine seems to have brought another girl with her, who I'm assuming is Sarah, Davey's sister. I see Albert and Elmer tightly holding each other's hands. I see Finch and Smalls exchanging jokes as a form of distraction. I look back at Race and Spot, who are being so romantic, it's almost gross. Almost.

The adrenaline still hasn't left me so when people start getting as excited as me, it just hypes me up even more. We look up at the window of Pulitzer's office and see Jack and a few others standing there, waving. I wave back vigorously. Not too long after, Jack, Davey, Pulitzer, and The Governer appear on a balcony, Jack at the front. "Newsies of New York City..." cue the pause for dramatic effect, "WE WON!!" The crowd of newsies roars with joy. I watch as Crutchie limps out and beats Snyder's ass as the abuser is dragged away, I don't understand why so many people see him as an angel, it's obvious that he's a cheeky lil' rat bastard.

Suddenly, it's like everything is in slow motion. I look around once more and see Katherine and Sarah kissing, same with Albert and Elmer, Finch and Smalls are hugging each other tightly. I look back up at the balcony and see Davey and Jack gettin' it ON. I look once again to Spot and Race, who just finished kissing. Spot reaches down and hoists me onto his shoulders to cheer. And as I take in this momentous victory one sense at a time, I realize in a moment of pure bliss-

I finally found my true family.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Word Count: 8190

(A/N):

This took VERY LONG (approx. one month, I just finished after working from 9 pm to 5 am) I know it was supposed to be a simple one-shot, but since there was no one to help narrow down and shorten the plot for me, I got carried away. I am, however, pleased with the length of it. This may be the longest fic I've ever written. As well, I hope any underlying advice or tips mentioned in the story helped you to understand/realize something.

I would love it if you were to vote, give me some constructive criticism, and/or request something for me to write! Don't forget- I live to write that one fanfic you can never find.

Love y'all!

~ Race

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chloe-clegane · 4 years

Text

My Devotion and Mah Protection, Our Love - Chapter 1

Summary: Rayla and Callum have been together for three years and are ready to transition into adult life and marriage. The fight against Aaravos isn't over but they refuse to let prejudice or fear keep them from living their life together. Having the first Human and Elf marriage, in over 1,000 years was never going to be easy.

AO3

Taking Care of You is Part of Loving You

Callum returned to their (his) room late and took his boots off. Having separate rooms in places like this was a silly facade. It would be unseemly for a Prince of Katolis to be sharing a bed with anyone prior to marriage. So they played along lackadaisically and everyone knew to look the other way. No one was going to stop them after everything they’d been through, plus one offender was a trained assassin with disappearing powers. The sun was going down, Callum was starving and surprised Rayla wasn't waiting for him.

He kicked off his boots and walked to the mirror. He was unsurprised by what he saw, his fair skin was brown with dirt and mud. “Yup, this is what success looks like doesn’t it?” he spoke to the empty room, frustrated. “It’ll be fine they said, trust that the branch will catch you they said ugh!” He accentuated each mocking quote by pulling twigs out of his hair “15th times the charm, don’t give up. Why do I need trees to catch me anyways? Don’t have to worry about falling when I can fly!”

“Oh no, that bad?”

“Rayla!” He nearly dropped the water jug he’s been using to fill the washbowl, you would think after all this time she would have a harder time sneaking up on him, but no. He sighed “I mean it went kind of… sort of… yeah it went bad”

“Well I found somethin today and I think you should come see it, It’s a surprise” She smiled and moseyed up behind him.

“Rayla, do I look like I’m ready to go out anywhere? I’m dirty and hungry and… kind of grumpy” While he spoke she reached behind him, dipped one of the wash clothes and wiped a spot clean on his cheek and proceeded to kiss it.

He pouted “can we do it tomorrow? I need a bath”

“Well ye’re in luck, you won’t need a bath where we’re goin” she walked away and grabbed a clean pair of shoes from his trunk.

“But where is it?”

“I told ye it’s a surprise”

“Bu-” her finger was on his lips as she handed him the shoes

“No buts put these on”

“Hungry” he whined

“Good news”, she danced away when he tried to grab her waist. She picked up a large basket he hadn't noticed by the door. “Food! In the basket!”

“My clothes?”

“In the basket!” she said it in an identical tone.

“Can I grab my sketchbook?”

“In the basket!” She gave an exaggerated point. He laughed and let her drag him willingly

“I love you… but why am I’m going to change my clothes out in the woods?”

“Hush! We’re almost there” She squeezed his hand and continued to lead the way

“Rayla I spent all day in the woooods, can’t I at least have a hint? Or- ”

She stopped walking and he bumped into her. “Callum, this is the surprise!” she pushed away a branch and what Callum saw made his jaw drop. It was a hot spring, steam was rising from the warm water. It was surrounded by glowing purple and orange flowers, he’s seen them before but never this many lighting up a whole area. Here in the moonlight, it was beautiful. Even the rocks had veins of quartz that seemed to exude magical energy.

“Wow, Rayla, ok this was worth the dark walk in the woods.”

“See I told ya to trust me” She gave his hand one more squeeze and started unpacking the basket. The picnic spread looked delicious. “Here’s yer clothin and yer sketchbook as promised” He knelt down next to her and took them

“Yeah I should never have doubted you” she mmhmmed in agreement, gratified. “Thank you” Callum felt the kindling in his chest catch fire. All he could do was smile and stare at her beautiful face.

“I found this hot spring earlier this mornin when I was doin some training. I ran miles today. Also I did the stretching and the lifts for mah arm“ Rayla spoke casually as she opened the waxed linen packages revealing the tasty contents. “Yesterday you were so worn out, I thought this would be a perfect place to bring you. Mind you I didn't know you’d be this stinky, if I did I woulda packed soap” She chuckled and looked up with a cheeky grin. She pulled out a bottle and two small ceramic cups “I brought a bit’a honey wine. We can toast to muh excellent picnic packing skills or-“

“Rayla, you planned all of this for me?” He spoke softly and sincerely.

“Yeah o’course, I Iove you.” She quickly kissed him on the lips. ‘Here try this.” She excitedly shoved a cube of cheese in his mouth before he could speak again.

“OH that is good cheese.” It was nutty and creamy and Callum savored it.

“I know right! She was clearly pleased with herself and giddy to show him what she’d packed.

“But seriously Rayla” he wanted to get back to the subject and reached out and cupped her cheek “Really, thank you”.

She leaned into his touch and sighed happily “Yer welcome. I know I’m the best most kind, beautiful and funny girlfriend you could ever ask fer. Now eat! I brought these bacon-wrapped sun dates. Apparently this merchant imports them from Lux Aurean. Oh and these she pointed to another open package this is a smoked fish that tastes like berries. In’t that weird?”

She pushed that into his mouth too. Callum scrunched his face “Um… eh… that’s really... weird... it’s like my mouth and my tongue are confusing my brain”

Rayla popped a piece in her own mouth and cringed “that sounded good in theory when I bought it” She tried one more piece and then shook her head no. “ok yeah, no, it’s a weird texture thing” she stuck her tongue out and scraped it against her teeth before moving to the next item “This is better I actually sampled this one”.

They went on like that for the rest of the meal, giggling and feeding each other various foods imported from around Xadia. They each had a cup of wine and she teased him for the way his cheeks turned rosy.

“Ok stinky prince, let's get you cleaned up. Take yer clothes off”

Callum chuckled nervously. “Get naked here? In the woods? What if someone comes or a monster jumps out or-?”

“That’s what towels and muh blades are for, duh” She said it as the most obvious thing in the world and tossed both to the edge of the water. She stood up and pulled her shirt over her head without hesitation and tossed it aside “yer turn!” she wiggled her eyebrows.

Callum inhaled sharply when he saw her. The glow of the flowers caught her hair and silhouetted the shape of her small perky breast. He clumsily pulled his own shirt off. When the fabric was out of the way he looked back at her. She had moved onto the laces of her pants. Now her perfect lavender nipples had grown hard in the chilly night air. He felt his blood rush, first to his now scarlet cheeks, second was the throbbing between his legs.

She stepped out of her pants and was now stark naked in front of him. Her lithe frame was begging to be grabbed and her white curls were ready to be stroked. “Ok get those pants off or I’ll do it for you” She chuckled.

He laughed nervously, feeling exposed. Part of him liked the idea of her doing it for him but he did as he was told “Oh um yeah let me just” he turned trying to position himself in a way that would somehow make his erection less obvious.

She teased him saucily “Callum are you gett’in nervous because yer willy‘s hard?”

“What! No! I…” He protested a little too strongly. She raised her eyebrow at him and he relented “Yes...”.

She rolled her eyes “I’ve seen it plenty” she laughed. Oh, how he loved that laugh. “Now hurry up and get you and yer big’ol pecker into this pool” Then she jumped in and her head went below the surface, he immediately knew this wasn’t going to go well. He rushed to get his foot out of his pant leg and nearly fell over. As expected when she resurfaced she was waving her arms and spluttering “It’s deeper than it looks!” she floundered “CALLUM!” She coughed and bobbed “this was a mistake, I regret everythin” she squealed “HELP”

“RAYLA, I got you!” freed from his pants he immediately jumped in after her.

After a lot more flailing, a little not crying and Callum being accidentally elbowed in the nose he swam her over to a shallower side of the hot spring.

“You’re such a brave warrior” He was laughing at her “I think you’re swimming has really improved”

“Shut it, don’t patronize me or this time I’ll hit your face on purpose”

He raised his hands in surrender, “You’re such a bully”

“Aye but I’m yur bully” She kissed him “I’m cleaning you off now, yer a bit ripe” She waded to the side and pulled herself out. She repositioned the picnic spread and her swords to the shallow end of the pool, she stopped and scowled at the deep end muttering an insult he didn’t catch. He loved her annoyed face, he found it cuter than he probably should.

His current view was exceptional. The erection that had melted away during the deep end incident was making its return. Callum can’t imagine wanting anyone else, she was it for him, brave, kind, heroic and that ass... He could look at her all day and never get bored.

“Alright, I got a washrag but as stated earlier no soap, makin do.”

Callum tisk tisked “I guess that basket isn’t as infallible as you claimed” She rolled her eyes and carefully lowered herself into the shallow end. Callum knew it will probably be years before she jumps into water like that again. She took the wet rag and started wiping his chest and shoulders.

“Rayla you don’t have to, I can clean myself off” He smiled and reached for the cloth but she pulled it away.

“I want tae do it,” She said it soft and sweetly and stopped to kiss the places she scrubbed. Now lean back, you can float” He complied and she starting washing his hair. Her nimble fingers massaged his scalp, he couldn’t keep his eyes open. The sensation of floating in the warm water the way her hands felt on his body was phenomenal. Every piece of stress was evaporating, he couldn’t feel the bruises or sore muscles anymore. Then she was kissing him and like a damsel in a storybook, he opened his eyes serenely.

“Did ye like that?” she asked coyly.

“Mmmm hmmm” he pulled himself up and kissed her. “You knew exactly what I needed Rayla. You put together the perfect evening that I didn’t even know I wanted”

“Well I figured you would’a spent the whole evening moping in bed, Nobody likes a mopey mage. It was mah duty to intervene”

He chuckled “your assumptions would be correct” another long sweet kiss. “I like this much better than sulking. Thank you Rayla, for taking care of me”

She closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around his neck. She played with the hair at the nape of his neck while she spoke “I think take’en care of you is part of lovin you.” She smiled and it was radiant, her eyes were bright in the moonlight and It melted Callum. “How are those bruis-?”

“Marry me” he didn’t know he was going to say it until the words had left his mouth. Both of them froze, she blinked one, two, three times.

“Yes” She said it with no hesitation or indecision and smiled sweetly, she cupped his face in her hands stroking his cheek with her thumb. He stood there frozen with his arms around her waist processing what just occurred, what he had just said.

Rayla’s smile grew increasingly nervous the longer he stood petrified “uuuuuh Callum?” Impulsivity seemed to be a trend, he grabbed her and crushed her lips with his. They stayed there kissing until they had to pull away for air.

He caught his breath and tried to clear he daze “Did I just… did we? Are we engaged now?” Callum tried not to stutter.

“Um, I think so? Is this not how humans do it? One person asks, the other says yes? Am I miss’in some weird human thing?” she asked it genuinely concerned.

He laughed and spun her around in the water. “Yes! No, that’s all fine, it’s perfect, you’re perfect. Wow, I didn’t plan that at all.” He laughed “Rayla, I love you! Oh, I need to get you a ring!” He was blathering.

“So we did miss a step then?” She chuckled presumably at the sheer joy and absurdity of what just happened. “You know I feel pretty lucky muhself... Whats the ring for?” She gave him a cheeky grin.

He hollered into the night, not caring who heard “YEAH! WE’RE GETTING MARRIED!”

She shushed him with kisses, giggling “What have I told you about being a loud mage.”

“It’s a lie, I’m loud and you’re gonna marry me anyways! Agh you’re so beautiful.” He gushed. “I love you!.” She just giggled before pulling him in for a passionate kiss. She tipped the mood from jovial to seductive by wrapping her legs around his waist.

She smirked at what she felt “Oh hello! were you wantin somethin?”

“Um, hehe, I mean… I wasn't intending to but yes always… always yes… whenever you let me yes”

“Yeah I know, I am pretty irresistible aren’t I?” she chuckled and teased before enticing him in a husky voice “give it to me you big dumb human” He immediately started kissing her, walking them over to the side of the pool, his hands started groping at her ass and her waist, her hands gripped at his back.

He broke their kiss “wait, did you want me to give it to you give it to you? In the woods?”

“YES!” she shook his shoulders “Take me now sweet prince!”

Callum ran his hand up her thigh under the water and kissing her neck and muttering “You know you’re a gift to me right? Every time it’s an exciting surprise” He ground himself against her and she whined. He lifted her out of the water partially so he could take one of her firm nipples into his mouth swirling his tongue around it. “Playing with you never gets old”.

“Mmm You try’na drive me mad Callum?” She was practically purring as she rolled her head back.

“Maybe.” He ran two fingers along the outside of her folds. She moaned unabashedly and he smirked “All I know is I want to spend the rest of my life making you do that”

“Good thing I just agreed tae marry ya isn’t it” She pulled his face to hers and kissed him, nibbling his lower lip and ground against him.

This time it was his turn to shudder “it’s a veeerrrry good thing” He agreed muffled by her lips.

He used two fingers and rubbed a circle at her opening. He’s learned her body over the last few years of hand stuff, he knew exactly where to touch and what speed. Always able to find her little bundle of nerves. Despite the wild pace their kissing had escalated to, he tried his best to keep his touch smooth and light. Slowly increasing the depth of his penetration with each thrust of his fingers while trying to keep his thumb on her clitoris.

“Calluuuuum” she moaned and rolled her head back “hmmmmmmm I want’a feel you”. But his work has already paid off and she writhed and panted, tensing up and then slumped forward kissing his shoulder lazily. Making her cum always made him feel smug and proud.

He had once over heard Gren say (with a beat red face) “a gentleman always serves his lady first” Callum had tried to uphold that standard of curtesy.

When she caught her breath she started kissing him again and this time she was the one who did the groping. With her narrow hand, she started working the length of his erection. He massaged her ass and moaned. She spoke low “I want you inside me Callum”. She didn’t need to ask twice. Together they lined him up and he pulled her down onto the length of him. He buried his face in her neck and nibbled. Starting to rock slowly he found her little nub again and rolled circled around it.

He focused more on her than on thrusting, she made up for if by grinding on her. Still sensitive from the first climax she started to fall apart again quickly. She was scraping her nails across his back.

“Rayla, look at me” her violet eyes opened and she smiled the sweetest smile he’d ever seen. He took a moment to enjoy the way the moon seemed to make the violet glow. She struggled to maintain eye contact when she cried out and shuddered. He loved seeing her like this, feeling these sensations with her. Looking her in the eyes felt intimate, like in completed him.

The feel of her contracting around him almost put him over the edge. This was the first time he’d tried something like this. To pleasure her while simultaneously being inside her. They’d only had sex less than a half dozen times. He knew his longevity needed some work so he wanted to make the most out of it. It was exceptionally more difficult than he thought it would be but the reward was dazzling. Her nails dug into his shoulders and her back arched. She cried out again and then whimpered between gasps. Rolling through the waves.

Now it was his turn, he put his head down kissing her neck as he began thrusting into her with full force and enthusiasm. The pleasure ramped up and she started to whisper “I love you” He thrust “I love you” thrust “Callum” thrust “I love you-”. He barely had enough time to unsheathe himself before he came.

"Rayla I love yo-” he groaned. As his head spun he was too late to realize his knees buckled, he slipped into the water and took Rayla with him. He was smacked in the face as she tried to pull herself up, it didn’t feel entirely on accident.

“I coulda drowned“ She shrieked

He just laughed at her while the tingling sensations dissipated. “The water is barely three and a half feet”!

“Still!” she was being dramatic “So this is the story we’re goin’ta tell our children someday? You ask me tae marry me you, make sweet love tae me and immediately try tae drowned me! And after I went through all this trouble settin up this picnic for you?”

She never fails to make him laugh “I think we leave out the making love part”.

“But I like that part” She smirked.

“It sounded like you did, didn’t it?” He was so smug. “But really I don’t think other people want to hear that part of the story”.

They toasted each other with another cup of wine, continued to flirt and relaxed in the pool awhile longer before dressing and making their way back. Partway Rayla asked a serious question “Callum?”

“hmm?” he hummed.

“Is it wrong for us to get married now? While Claudia… and them… while they’re out there and the war isn’t done.” She asked it tentatively.

Callum stopped walking and thought a moment. “No, no I don’t. I think if we let them stop us, stop us from being happy and living our life, it means they won in a way. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah” She agreed “I suppose that’s a good way to think of it”

Callum’s thoughts turned a little darker. “I also, I don’t want to risk any regrets, or missing out on anything with you. You never know what could happen”. The nightmares of her falling to her death had been usurped by their more recent encounter with Viren and company. His mind slipped back into the memory. Rayla’s arm twisted behind her back as Claudia used the withered octopus tentacle to hold her down and contort her limps. He’ll never forget the sounds, Raylas screams and the way the bone popped as the shoulder left it’s socket. To make things worse the dark mage was so focused on torturing Rayla she didn’t see Callum’s blast of lightning coming. If Claudia hadn’t had a healing spell on hand the electricity probably would have killed her. Screams and the vision of black eyes with nothing but hatred and malice behind them have been burned into his psyche. He felt himself shiver. As his fiance knocked him out of the sour haze.

“Callum, it’s ok” She moved in front of him and directed his face with her hands. “We don’ have tae think about that now. It’s fine, I’m fine. Look!” She rolled her shoulder, raised and wiggled her arm. “See, it’s ok” She hugged him and he relaxed into it, holding her close. “I agree, I don’t want tae miss out on anything.” She did the Rayla thing she does and lightening the mood by making him laugh. “What happened tae the hoot’in mage blabbering about marrying the world’s most lovely and perfect assassin? Huh?”

He chuckled and tried to let the worry melt away. “I love you”

The rest of the walk back to the Earth Nexus he banished the nightmare and embraced that this was a dream he never wanted to wake up from. They held hands and all the sensations were perfect, his clean skin against clean clothes, the cool breeze on his damp hair and the post-coital glow. He had so much hope that their future together.

#rayllum #rayllum fic #rayla #Callum #fanfic #ao3 #the dragon prince #older rayllum #skinny dipping #my fics

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morethanithoughtofficialblog · 5 years

Text

Chapter 7: As useless as a broken mirror

In which you realize your life is crap...

for now

*Your POV*

Talking with someone yesterday was good, I guess. I normally talk about work topics only, so it feels weird to have a casual conversation about... anything. And it was weirder, considering Sans was the one talking.

It would be today, though, the day where we would see each other again in order to discuss... more terms. They all deserve to know and I also need a few papers for them in order to get them into society. I just need the basics, though- report cards, previous jobs on the Underground, and I will put them some tests in order to see which educational level fits better each of them. But that will be later.

So there I was, waking up and trying to french kiss the morning as Bon Jovi does. And failing miserably, just as always.

I tried my best to keep a smile on my face. It didn't work out, either. I groaned loudly, realizing that it was four in the morning. So yeah, I just can't french kiss the morning when it isn't morning, you know. And so I felt stupid and went back to sleep...

...

Except I didn't.

No matter how many positions I tried or how many different pillows I took, I just couldn't get my head together. I was thinking about everything and, at the same time, about nothing at all. I felt numb yet desperate to be a normal person and fall sleep immediately, considering how freaking tired I actually was.

I sat on my bed silently and put on the lights. Bad idea, but I still do it every night like this.

I frowned remarkably and stood there until my eyes got accustomed to the light. And then I started to question what the hell was I doing, as usual.

I looked at my annoying digital clock again: 4:11 am.

Great, guess I'll stay like this until the day officially starts... or until I pass out, that is.

Maybe a good drink would have been great to forget it all. Then I remembered that I had work and that, besides, I don't drink. I groaned again.

I felt like crying, like screaming or like to go outside and let a fucking weirdo kill me or make me disappear forever...

That's the worst idea I've ever had.

I wanted to punch something; maybe a mirror, maybe that elegant flower vase with a dead daisy on it, or the TV. All of those were great options, honestly. But I wasn't up to clean the mess or to deal with angry neighbors, so I didn't move.

I shoot a glance at one of my bureaus, that only had an old book on its top. Maybe I could read. I tried to stretch my hand and get it, but I ended up falling out of the bed, making my head hurt like hell. Ouch. Maybe I couldn't, after all.

I, unsurprisingly, groaned again. If I had a cent for every time I have groaned in my life, I could probably have a car instead of taking that goddamn subway. Or I could get a house. Or a life...

Nah. That's way too expensive.

I eventually got up and stared at my drawer. Then, without thinking, I opened it. My heart sank when it did.

Medicines here, medicines there. Medicines FUCKING EVERYWHERE! There was barely any space left for even a fricking pill. This is not the first time I have seen this, though, but it still hurts to see how pathetic I am. This is just a small proof. There's more, that's for sure.

I stood there silently, anxiety consuming me over. I could even make a fucking drug store out of this drawer...

Actually, that doesn't sound like a bad idea.

I shook my head, resisting the urge to be sarcastic to myself... again.

But, yes, I had such a huge variety I could make a store out of it. Do you have anxiety? Well, Zoloft for you, that is! Are you depressed like me? Well here, took a Prozac pill! Come here and get your problems away...

And contribute to mine.

Oh my god, just end my suffering.

Thanks to my wonderful boss and work partners (including college and the monsters' case, of course), I forgot that I had emotional problems as well. And that means that I haven't been following my treatment. For months.

Shit.

Then I started to wonder when I had to see my psychiatrist again. I probably missed the date he gave me. Just wonderful, right?

I sighed and closed the drawer, feeling worse than before. I went to the bathroom to see my wound but there wasn't anything there. Thank God.

I ended up looking at my face, slightly frowning. People have said that I'm pretty, yes, but I think that's just out of sympathy. Therefore, I haven't been comfortable with my looks since... a long time ago.

My (e/c) eyes looked paler than when I was a kiddo. Ah, childhood. It was wonderful in its own way. No problems, no low self-esteem, no nothing. Just laughs and friends, videogames and nights playing Dungeons and Dragons with my dorky dad and my aunt. Those were good days.

I remember that I received a lot of comments, telling me that I would have a brilliant future. Hard to believe in that now, looking at what was happening.

I work in Congress and I am finishing my studies to finally become a biochemist. Being a scientist has been my dream, and I'm just a few steps before I can call myself "Dr. (Y/N)". And I'm just twenty.

When I was little, my dad took me to a neurologist in order to see my IQ. She said, in a few words, that I was super smart and super talented. I believed it but never used it as an excuse to think of me better than anyone else. Right then, I thought everyone had talents and intelligence. Now... I'm seriously doubting all those encouraging words were true. Because, even if I was a nerd, that never meant my future would be brighter.

A lot of my school partners and friends are being way happier than I am, having a perfect balance between emotions, college, and work. Me, who 'has it all' to become an important person, somehow has three mental breakdowns (at least) in one day, and it's struggling between having or not new friends, afraid of screwing up.

Is this what my parents would have wanted? For me to be a coward?

Well, surprise surprise. Your daughter is such a disappointment of a kid.

I'm a genius. That's what experts told me. They also said that this high IQ thingy may include problems socializing and, well, even mental illnesses. To be honest, I prefer being normal and not having these things than being a Leonardo Da Vinci and die internally every five seconds.

Then I noticed a warm feeling on my cheeks.

Oh crap.

I snapped back to reality and saw myself in front of the mirror, crying as if my life depended on it. Well, it kinda does, but that's not the point.

I tried to wipe them as quickly as possible, trying to banish that feeling instantly. But instead, I cried harder. And harder. And I felt more miserable than before, if that was possible.

My legs felt like jello and my eyes turned all red and puffy. My mouth was shaking, trying to transform itself into a smile. Why was I crying, again? Oh yeah, because I hate myself so much. I look awful, I'm just full of myself, lonely, and easily replaceable. There's nothing I can do about it.

I will finish my dream career, but all for what? To be more stressed? I don't know if I can quit at the Congress since I kind of accepted to be the ambassador of the monsters. Wow. I should have left someone more capable than I am to do the job. Now I'm going to disappoint them as well, whenever they see how weak I am. I mean, I'm crying while I'm looking at myself in the night... again. This is isn't new. But it just feels worst every time.

I gasped for air, almost forgetting how to breathe thanks to all that crying. I blinked a couple of times and took long breaths until I calmed down. When my vision wasn't blurry anymore, I saw my face again. All red and uglier than before. I looked like a baby losing its toy, like a child whining, or like a teenager who has an impossible crush.

I frowned, knowing I wasn't any of them. I was an adult, for God's sake.

Can this get more frustrating?

Can I be more pathetic?

I closed my fist and punched the mirror until my fingers went numb and my blood painted my whole hand...

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

*Frisk's POV*

I woke up later than usual, rubbing my eyes at the incoming sunlight. I groaned at the clock, seeing it was 10 am. But deep down I knew that Toriel would come for me, and so I got up.

I took a quick shower and put into more presentable clothes. I colocated a cute ribbon on my brown hair, feeling quite silly yet pretty. I stared at the mirror and saw my look with satisfaction. I was looking great! I even made some silly faces and giggled a little before coming out, interrupted by an angry skeleton who wanted to take a shower.

"kid, just fucking get out of there! what're you doin'? takin' a trip to narnia?"

"Sans, behave yourself!!!"

"...sorry ari-mom..."

I contained my laughter, knowing that Sans would be really angry if he heard me, and I walked out of the bathroom. Just a second passed before a quick flash of white ran into the room and locked the door. Oh, Sans, since when are you this desperate to take a shower?

The ones who hadn't showered groaned impatiently. I would have too since Sans lasts a long time in the shower. One time I swear I heard him singing a popular rock song (so popular I don't remember its name) and then eventually creating a song of how much he loved ketchup...

...I must admit I feel worried about his future...

Eh... let's just hope for the best.

After a bunch of complainings towards him and more people showering, we could finally take breakfast together. Thank God they were pancakes, or else Undyne or Papyrus would be trying to find out the best egg combination (which, according to them, hasn't been found yet). At first, it is fun to hear their crazy ideas, but then it turns into a competition that I get somehow dragged into it. Most of the time voluntarily, though.

However, I was too excited to let all my energy be drowned into an egg fight. Today we will be seeing (Y/N) again, and honestly, I was looking for it! She's nice, and I've been waiting to be friends with her all this time. So now that everything was, well, settled, this was my chance!

We all ate rather quickly and head out of the house. However, Asgore stopped us before we could go running to... anywhere, actually.

"Let's wait here a moment, ok?" he smiled eagerly, making me suspicious.

So we waited there for five minutes or so until a simple-looking taxi made its way towards the house. Then a 5'5 feet tall woman got out of there, who I recognized immediately.

"(Y/N)!!!!!" Papyrus screamed unearthly loud, hugging (Y/N) immediately. She looked a little bit startled by such a sudden move but hugged back shortly after him.

"Hello, Papyrus. It is good to see you again...!" she tried her best to sound enthusiastic, but she felt somehow... different. Why, though?

"Oh, (Y/N) sweetie, I'm so glad you could make it!" Goat mom added with a smile, which (Y/N) returned it kindly. Maybe I was just imagining things, after all "But, hey, come in! We want you to see where we have been living all this time!"

Sans looked a bit tense but quickly relaxed. He must have forgotten for a second that Papyrus was his roommate. Therefore, there was NO WAY his room could be dirty. Since when he cares about that, though?

And so we gave (Y/N) a small tour through the small house. She behaved as always; shy, anxious, not wanting to intrude or sound rude, making small compliments and comments in amusement. She was just super nice! I think she's one of my favorite humans.

After making her laugh a bit and answer some of her own doubts about the Underground, we all headed off to the Congress, talking about the simplest of topics.

"Oh! I remember hearing a song called 'Imagine' one day!" I told (Y/N), keeping up with the musical topic (at Sans's petition).

"You have? Well, I mean... which artist are you talking about?"

"I think it was Marshmello"

"...then no, I haven't heard that one"

"Is there another song called 'Imagine'?" Alphys asked, curious about our conversation.

"well, there's john lennon's, y' know..." Sans added, smiling lazily.

(Y/N) seemed perplexed for a second, then smiled widely.

"Yep, John Lennon's 'Imagine' is my kind of... 'Imagine', you know"

Throughout all the way we all were talking about music. (Y/N) turns out to be a Rock N' Roll and Indie listener, similar to Sans's taste. She is kind of a music nerd, actually. She would give a casual comment of something history-related to music. I think Sans felt like he was on his own mind, opening up strangely. Then I realized he was just another music nerd, and that both of them were never given the chance to talk about this with others so freely.

However, I noticed an unusual expression on Sans's face. Not a good one, I must say. He wasn't suspicious or anything- by any chance, I think he was worried...

but of what?

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

*Sans's POV*

It feels good to have someone to talk about these things. I mean, someone that at least can say who Slash is.

While I was talking to (Y/N), however, I noticed a wound on her right fist. Not to be rude, but she is a bit taller than I am, and I didn't want to look at a... private part of her body. Therefore, I ended up noticing a serious-looking injury on her fingers.

Should I ask?

I saw how happy she looked, talking about when she started to hear Rock N' Roll and watch concerts on TV.

Eh, I'll do it later...

Still, my mind wandered about that topic the rest of the road. And so, I didn't talk anymore, focusing on other things. Well, can you blame me? That looked like some serious shit happened.

When we arrived at the Congress, I noticed different looks from her work partners. I recognized one of the feelings on their looks: shame. They probably felt ashamed after hearing that we succeed. My smile grew wider, at least a bit, after thinking that.

We discussed a few things in her office like it was any day. Except it wasn't.

The human president made a public announcement on TV, radio, and social media, saying that monsters would be finally released and be accepted as legal citizens. Despite everything, I felt a bit uneasy. He might have been nice, but the others are clearly not like him. I just don't want to put Papy's security on risk.

We ended up leaving sooner than I thought, and for the first time in our lives, we used public transport. We received some glances, but in between, there were also kind smiles. Just like (Y/N)'s, just less dorky...

Did I just call the ambassador a dork?

I mentally groaned and took a seat, never erasing my apparently permanent smile. I felt like I was forgetting something, so I made a quick rewind on my head. But what would I have forgo- oh.

Oh.

You forgot to ask her, you idiot.

#sans x reader #more than i thought fanfiction #more than i thought #chapter 7 #sans #x reader #undertale

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sassycassie-s-writing · 5 years

Text

South Pole Wedding

By: SassyShoulderAngel319

Fandom/Character(s): Avatar: The Last Airbender/Zuko, Aang, Katara

Rating: PG

Original Idea: Nothing in particular. An argument could be made for This Imagine even though it’ll be used in more depth later

Notes: (Masterlist)(By Character)(About Me) This one is a doozy. 2,500 words long! Hope you like it! @welovegroot

^^^^^

I shivered, teeth chattering. “W-we do-on’t belo-o-ong h-here,” I managed to get out through my shaking.

Zuko didn’t seem quite as perturbed by the environment as I was. “Really? What gave it away?” he asked with his wry, dry sarcasm.

“We-we’re F-Fireb-benders.” I held myself and tried to keep warm. This was ridiculous. “Wh-why c-c-couldn’t A-Aang ‘n’ K-K-Katara g-get mmmmmarried at the S-Southern Air T-Temple? It’s wwwarmer there.”

Zuko wrapped me up in a hug, pulling his cloak around both of us. There was an amused grin on his face. Didn’t matter that I had the same number of layers on as he did and was also a master Firebender, I couldn’t get warm for some reason. “Better?” he asked. Under his cloak it was comfortably warm and my shivering eased out, teeth ceasing to chatter.

I nodded. “Much,” I said. “How come you and I are wearing almost the same thing but you’re fine and I'm freezing?”

His amused grin widened. He shrugged. “Men tend to be warmer in their limbs. Women in their cores.”

“Rude,” I muttered.

“I'm not meaning to be rude, darling. I'm just saying that’s why I seem warmer.”

I grunted, snuggling against his chest. “Zuko, you’ve been the Fire Lord for almost ten years,” I said. Well, about eight. But whatever. Eight was, by definition, almost ten.

“Yes I have. What’s your point?”

“Do your advisors and whatever keep nagging you to get married and have an heir?”

“Are you asking if it bothers me that Aang is four years younger than me and getting married before I am?” he asked, almost playfully.

“Well… that wasn’t what I was asking but now that you’ve brought it up I want the answer to that too.” I giggled and held him tighter. I felt him chuckle in his chest as his hand cradled the back of my head.

“Yes, my advisors have been talking about it for a while. I’ve gotten pretty good at ignoring them and brushing it off. And no, it doesn’t bother me that Aang is getting married before I am. It’s a bit odd because I still see him as an awkward, irritating twelve-year-old sometimes, but it doesn’t bother me.”

I giggled. “I’ll take your word for it.” A thought struck me, and I started laughing.

“What?” Zuko asked.

“I just imagined your advisors—bunch-a stuffy old nobles telling this young war hero that he needs to settle down and get married while they all turn beet red in frustration at their leader’s blasé refusal.”

That got him to chuckle too. “Yeah it is pretty funny,” he agreed. “They get so huffy about it.” He rubbed my back. “C’mon. I'm going to show you a Firebending trick that’ll keep you warm down here.”

“Oh goody,” I said.

^^^^^

“Katara! Aang!” I shouted when our ship touched down at the Southern Water Tribe. It had grown bigger and more prosperous since the last time I saw it. I ran down the front ramp of the boat and staggered through the snow to reach them. Gosh I hated snow, but it was so good to see our friends again.

The bride- and groom-to-be both whirled around and rushed toward me—and Zuko who was following behind a little slower. They threw me into a double-hug. “It’s so good to see you!” Katara said.

“You too, guys! Gah. I missed you so much!”

“We missed you too,” Aang agreed.

Zuko caught up. “Hey,” he greeted.

“Zuko!” Katara and Aang dragged the hug over to include him too. “How are you buddy?” Aang asked.

“Doin’ alright. Thanks,” Zuko said, a little rigid in the hug.

“I heard you two are together now,” Katara said, releasing us from the hug.

“We… we are,” Zuko agreed. His hand rested on the small of my back.

“How’s that going?” Katara asked.

“Great!” I replied brightly, beaming at them. “So? Excited? Nervous?”

“All the above?” Aang suggested.

The four of us laughed.

“Where’s Sokka?” Zuko asked.

“Trying to wrangle Toph into wearing shoes for the wedding,” Katara answered.

We all snorted.

“Even here? Where there’s very little earth—if any—and it’s coated in freezing-cold snow?” I asked.

Katara shrugged. “You know Toph,” she said.

Yeah. The most stubborn—and powerful—Earthbender on the planet.

“Listen, Katara, Aang, I’m sorry we couldn’t come earlier to help out more—” Zuko began, before getting cut off.

“Don’t be silly,” Katara interrupted. “You have a country to run. And I'm sure this one—” She nudged me with her elbow, hard. “—is busy doing everything she can to help you. We understand that you can’t take that much time out of your lives to come down here. It’s a lot of work.”

“Thank you for understanding,” I said quietly, putting my hand on her arm to get her attention. She gave me a smile.

“Of course,” she said quietly.

“Come on!” Aang said, beckoning us closer to the village—that was really thriving as more than a village now. “Let’s get inside. It’s warmer there!”

Thank the lion-turtles.

Looping my arm through Zuko’s elbow, we followed after Aang and Katara. I glanced over at Zuko. “Remember the first time we came here?” I asked quietly.

He chuckled. “How could I forget?” he replied.

^^^^^

“Prince Zuko, this is a bad idea,” I said from the safe warmth inside the ship.

“NO! That light came from an incredibly powerful source! It MUST be the Avatar!” Zuko retorted.

I sighed. “Alright. If you insist,” I muttered.

“You just hate the cold,” Zuko spat.

I shrugged. Nothing I could say to defend myself that wasn’t a lie. “We’re Firebenders, sire,” I said instead. “We don’t belong in the cold.”

“Keep going. We’re going to capture the Avatar.”

“Yes, sire.”

^^^^^

“Toph! It’s great to see you again! You too, Sokka!” I said when Aang pulled us into a remarkably warm igloo that was two stories high and made of ice.

“Hey guys!” Sokka greeted, throwing me and Zuko into a bone-crushing hug.

“Oh. Hi Sokka,” Zuko ground out through the hug squeezing his lungs.

“Been a while,” I said.

“No kidding!”

I wriggled out of the hug to give Toph one. “Hey Toph,” I said.

“Hey, will you tell this lily-liver I'm not wearing shoes and I don’t care what he says?” Toph snapped.

“Good to see you too. Hey Sokka, Toph says you’re a lily-liver and she’s not wearing shoes no matter what you say,” I said, keeping the same friendly, but sarcastic tone throughout. Zuko escaped Sokka’s hug and stood behind me, putting me between him and Sokka. The two of them had always been close pals since Zuko’s change of heart, but Sokka’s hugs could be intense.

“Thanks,” Sokka said sarcastically. Zuko and I snickered.

“So. Is there anything Zuko and I can do now that we’re here?” I asked Katara.

“We could always use a hand lighting the torches and the fireplace in the great hall where the ceremony’s taking place,” Katara said.

“Right. Because Aang isn’t the Avatar and couldn’t do that,” Sokka muttered under his breath.

“Sokka,” I soothed. “Aang’s the one getting married. He’s busy and stressed. And lighting torches and a fireplace something Zuko and I can do with no problem. Come on, babe.” I grabbed Zuko’s wrist and followed Katara out of the igloo—back out into the freezing cold but Zuko’s Firebending trick worked like a charm—and through the town to the great hall.

“I gotta say, this place has come a long way since the first time I saw it,” Zuko said.

“No kidding,” Katara and I agreed at the same time. We giggled. “Jinx! Jinx again!” We kept laughing all the way to the great hall—which wasn’t terribly far away from the igloo that I assumed was someone’s home.

“Wooow!” I said when we got into the great hall. It was long and tall with torches between the sheer ice windows at regular intervals. “Y’know, I'm a little surprised you’re not getting married in Republic City.”

Katara shrugged. “This is home,” she said.

“I understand that. I always thought that if I got married I’d want to do it in the Fire Nation capital. Home,” I agreed.

“Really?” Zuko asked.

“Well sure,” I agreed. “Hey, babe, how about I get the fireplace and you get the torches. You’re taller and your fire reaches higher.”

His hand rested on the small of my back. “Good idea,” he said before moving to get started. I crossed with Katara to the fireplace. I bent down and aimed my fist at the piled-high fuel.

“So,” Katara said quietly. “What with all this talk of the wedding, when are you and Zuko getting married?”

My fire choked before it even appeared, a trickle of smoke drifting toward the ceiling. “Wha… what?!” I demanded softly. Over her shoulder, Zuko was shooting tongues of flame up to the torches, lighting them without any trouble.

“Well you’ve been together for a while, right?”

“I mean… well… yeah…”

“So? I'm sure he’s under pressure to get married, being the Fire Lord and all. So when’s it happening?”

“I… I don’t think either of us are ready yet,” I said. “I mean, yeah he’s under a lot of pressure from his advisors and court and the nobility and stuff to get married but there’s still so much work to do with Republic City and demilitarizing the Fire Nation and peacekeeping and, heck, just keeping the country running. There’s just no time for a wedding right now. Especially the Fire Lord’s. It’d require so much planning and preparation and it’d take forever and we don’t have a minute to spare yet.”

“Hey, listen. No one’s ever completely ready. Aang and I are both nervous,” Katara said as I dropped back into my stance and hurled a fireball at the fireplace. It caught the fuel and flames roared merrily. “But there’s never a right time. You just have to take the dive. If he asked you, would you say yes?”

“Of course,” I said. “I love him. He knows it. But… ah man.” I ran a hand over the top of my hair, smoothing down flyaways. “We just can’t right now.”

“Well. Maybe this’ll put him in the mood.”

I snorted. “Don’t say that out loud. You might jinx it.”

Katara grinned and giggled.

“What are you two ladies talking about?” Zuko asked as he made it to our side of the great hall. “Ooh. That bonfire feels great. Nice work, darling.”

“Thanks,” I said. He planted a kiss on my temple. “We’re just talking about the wedding.” He moved to light the next torch.

“And when yours might be,” Katara added mischievously.

Zuko’s fire choked the same way mine did. He dropped his fist and turned to stare at her. “What?” he asked.

She shrugged. “I just asked her when you two might follow suit.”

“And I said there’s no time right now,” I put in.

“That’s the truth,” Zuko muttered. “We all knew the end of the war wasn’t going to be easy.” He punched with his other fist, a jet of fire shooting up to the torch and catching it.

“But maybe that’s what the world needs right now,” Katara said.

“Katara,” Zuko said seriously. “The Avatar is getting married today. I think that’ll be enough for a good long while.”

“I'm just saying,” Katara said. She put her hands up and moved to leave the great hall. “See you guys back at the igloo.”

“See ya,” Zuko and I said at the same time.

Zuko sighed and dropped his hands before lighting the last few torches. “Maybe she has a point,” he muttered. “A show of… solidarity. Life in the Fire Nation is still going on as normally as it can—even with the demilitarization and the establishment of Republic City and everything that entails.”

“Zuko,” I said, taking his hand and arm in both of my hands. “Don’t rush into something like that for political reasons. If you want to marry me, make sure it’s for the right reason.”

“Darling, if I wanted to marry you, it’d be for love. I love you. I do. But I can’t always think just about me. There’s going to be a political angle on almost everything I do. It’s just part of being the Fire Lord.”

“I know. But don’t think we have to get married tomorrow because it would look good.”

“No I know. And I don’t think that. But it is something to think about.”

“Wait until you’re ready. Wait until we’re both ready. We’ve been together for nearly a year now, but that doesn’t mean it’s the right time.”

“Is there ever a right time?”

“As the Fire Lord? Maybe.” I brushed my fingers over the sides of his face and into his hair. “It’s a conversation we should have when we get home—or at least back on the ship. We don’t want to sully Aang and Katara’s wedding with our own worries.”

Zuko perked up. “Nope. You’re right. Let’s go.” He held his hand out for me. I took it and together we left the great hall.

^^^^^

The ceremony was great and the party afterwards was fun, and the next morning Aang and Katara had taken off on Appa for a honeymoon and Zuko and I were back on our ship heading home.

We found ourselves in the empty captain’s cabin galley, watching the water out the porthole.

“So I had a thought after Katara and Toph talked to me at the party,” Zuko said.

“Yeah?” I asked. I wondered what was coming. It could have been about maybe getting married, but with Zuko I never knew for certain. His mind was quick and tended to jump around as wildly as mine did. That, and I had no idea what Katara and Toph had talked to him about since I’d been on the other side of the hall talking to Sokka and Suki.

“We’re not ready to get married. Katara mentioned that no one’s ever really ready.”

“Right…”

“But, I can think of nothing better than spending the rest of my life with you,” Zuko said. I liked where he was going, but I stayed quiet to listen to the rest. “So, I was thinking, maybe we could get married next summer solstice? Is that enough time?”

“I… I think we can make it work,” I said. “Whether we and the world are ready or not—when it comes to politics.” I twiddled my thumbs. “If this is your way of proposing, by the way, it’s a little lackluster.”

“Well… I was going to wait till we got back to the Fire Nation and things settled down but… things will never settle down. That’s not how life works. Not ours anyway. So I might as well ask now.” He shoved his hand into his pocket and pulled out a beautiful red box. “Will you marry me on the next summer solstice?” The box opened to reveal a beautiful gold ring with a red stone.

“Of course.” I leaned forward and kissed him.

#South Pole Wedding #Zuko #Zuko Imagine #Zuko FanFiction #Avatar The Last Airbender #Avatar: The Last Airbender #Avatar #Avatar Imagine #Avatar FanFiction #avatar: the last airbender fanfiction #avatar: the last airbender imagine #avatar the last airbender fanfiction #avatar the last airbender imagine #ATLA #ATLA Imagine #ATLA FanFiction #a:tla #a:tla imagine #a:tla fanfiction

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rustandruin · 6 years

Text

can’t buy me love (but you sure can show it)

AO3

Home isn’t the four walls you stay in, day in and day out. It’s a place where you feel free to be yourself, and are cared for.

Or, Robert, Aaron, Liv, and Gerry’s lives together observed through a series of vignettes about the random purchases they make for each other.

Day 1: Home/Domesticity

“He doesn’t even like yoghurt.” — Ancient Dingle Proverb

:::::

Dark Chocolate

Robert Sugden doesn’t have a lot of indulgences, but he does like to reward himself with a single square of dark chocolate every now and then, usually after a meal, or a job well done — and sometimes, very rarely, when he’s stressed about something big.

It’s not until they’d officially moved in together (the first time) and bars of some kind of dark, bitter German chocolate started appearing in the refrigerator that Aaron had put it together. Because as much as Robert likes his treats rich and somewhat sweet, he also likes them in small bites doled out over a long period of time.

They’ve never quite talked about it, but anytime Aaron sees that telltale bar is nearing its second or third last square (usually once every couple of months), he makes sure to pick another one up at David’s shop, even noting the name of the exact brand Robert likes so as to never deviate from the norm. The older man never says anything when he spots it among the rest of their groceries, but always finds a way to show his gratitude; cooking a favourite dish the next day, or being a little extra attentive in the bedroom that night.

When Robert moves back in (the second and final time), there’s already an unopened bar of chocolate sitting in the refrigerator — one of the many surprises Aaron has had waiting for his husband. Only this time, the older man proceeds to unwrap it in front of him, breaking off squares for both of them, and offering Aaron his with a soft smile.

Despite the slightly bitter taste, their kisses that night are little sweeter than usual.

:::::

Pads

She can tell who’s bought them based on which kind appear in the little wicker basket under the bathroom sink. If it’s Robert, there’s usually two kinds (regular and overnight), both always the same brand. If it’s Aaron, it’s the standard kind, with the brand varying based on what kind of sale there might be at the chemist’s — or if Tracy’s working at David’s Shop that day, eager to give her big brother a quiet but understanding nudge in the right direction. (She’s never been so grateful they’ve started stocking up on and selling these kinds of necessities.)

It shouldn’t matter, but it does.

Not because they’re both men daring to buy feminine hygiene products in public or anything silly like that. But because it’s a sign that they’re thinking of her and what she might need and making sure she’s always provided for. Even though she’s more than old enough to take care of this kind of thing herself. Even though this is something they could have left to Chas.

(And because she can still remember the first time she’d gotten her period while in their care, and how they’d both been ill-equipped to deal with it. But now? Now, one of them — probably Robert — has figured out that she prefers pads to tampons, and so stopped them buying those, the box of them mysteriously vanishing after their first few months living together.)

There have been many times she’s wanted to thank them. But it always feels silly, in very much the way it feels absolutely ridiculous to say, “Thank you for loving me.”

Only that actually is what she does mean to say.

Because she is thankful that they love and care enough to know these things about her, in very much the same way she knows little things about them. Like how Robert has instructed Marlon and Vic to always give him double the regular helping of chips for when Aaron doesn’t order any, so her chip-loving big brother can pick them off of Robert’s plate, while still enjoying whatever it is he has decided to order that day, or how Aaron’s been secretly learning Klingon so he can surprise the older man on his birthday by saying something in it. (She didn’t ask.)

And because she’s never quite able to form those words, she does her best not to be so gobby every now and then, or just help out around the house more. But then, there are days like today, where she’s seized with the sudden desire to give them both a hug as they’re sitting there watching yet another episode of Top Gear, quietly bickering among themselves, their conversation intersperse with low chuckles at the other’s jokes. It’s all so utterly domestic — and nothing like she’d have ever dreamed she’d be a part of. So she gives in to that particular desire, going over and leaning forward and squeezing them both from behind, before quickly heading upstairs, a hot blush staining her cheeks red.

“What was that about?” She hears Robert ask, confused by this sudden turn of events.

“I have no idea,” Aaron replies, sounding just as baffled. He then calls out, “Liv? You okay?”

Yeah, she thinks to herself before yelling it out. I’m doing just fine.

:::::

Frozen Pizza

He’s never been the best cook, but Gerry knows a thing or two about frozen pizzas. After all, he’s only been buying and making (and eating) them his entire life, seeing as how his parents were never very good cooks — if they ever bothered putting food on the table, that is.

So the first chance he gets, he goes down to David’s shop and buys five personal size pizzas and a range of different toppings, rushing to get home before anyone else.

Thankfully, Liv’s the only one there, spread out on the sofa, watching yet another rerun of The Simpsons.

“What’s all this?” She asks, intrigued enough to get up and come see what he’s up to.

“What does it look like?” He asks her as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I’m makin’ tea.”

“Not sure it counts if you’re just reheating something in the oven,” she teases, examining one of the boxes peeping out of the bag.

“Yeah, but I’m not just doin’ that, am I?” Gerry says, as he takes the box from her and starts opening it. “I’m makin’ them special.”

He nods at the other bag beside the first one. “I got toppings for each of ya.”

Liv’s expression softens at that.

“Why ya doin’ this?” She asks, but judging from the way she’s picking up and opening the other boxes for him, he guesses she already knows.

“Just wanted to say thanks, I suppose,” he shrugs at her. “They don’t have to keep lettin’ me live here like this.”

She nods and starts unpacking the rest of his purchases.

~~~~~

Aaron and Robert are both surprised and touched by his display of gratitude, neither of them having expected this. For once, neither man teases him, even though dessert is quite literally a cheese pizza with Nutella spread across it and various chocolate candies stuck on it, as well as crushed peanuts. (When he was little, he named this creation the “Peanut Butter Gerry Time.”)

(And though no one really says it, they all kind of get it. Because home isn’t the four walls you stay in, day in and day out. It’s a place where you feel free to be yourself, and are cared for.)

As they begin to clear up, Gerry does his best to explain what tonight was about. But Aaron quickly brushes it off. “Come on mate, it’s us that should be thankin’ you. Never had freshly fried bacon on a cheese pizza, but I’m tellin’ ya, I’m never going back.”

“Duly noted,” Robert had replied, before turning to Gerry. “I know you’re a master of frozen pizza and all, but if you ever want to learn how to make one from scratch, I can teach you. It’s quite fun actually.”

It hardly takes him less than a second to agree.

~~~~~

It takes them less than a month to institute “Pizza Night,” a night where he and Liv relieve Robert of all cooking responsibilities as they do their best to follow his carefully demonstrated instructions.

It’s then, gently stretching the freshly risen dough in his hands — and listening to Robert and Aaron discuss something Vic had said earlier in the day — that Gerry smiles quietly to himself.

He may know everything there is about making a frozen pizza, but he much prefers this instead.

:::::

Cold Medicine

There’s a lot of things that make Aaron Dingle grumpier than usual — and falling ill is one of them. In that regard, he gives Robert a run for his money as the worst patient in the Dingle-Sugden household. (Though he is fairly less dramatic about the whole thing, preferring to suffer in silence, except for the occasional sneeze or cough.)

So anytime the older man hears his partner produce even a hint of a telltale sniffle, he springs into action, first hitting up the chemist for the extra-strength cold and flu medication before stopping over at David’s for every manner of Dingle comfort food possible. (A box of milk chocolate Digestives, a bunch of bananas, and this awful powdered chicken noodle soup that his husband really shouldn’t eat but remembers fondly from the days Chas used to make it for him as a teen.)

By the time Aaron gets home from work, the entire place is smelling of Robert’s own made-from-scratch, Thai-influenced chicken soup — the blonde deciding to save the packet kind for if his husband really finds himself in the throws of a fever — and the sofa’s been turned into some kind of blanket fort hybrid. (The first time Gerry’d seen it, he’d wanted to dive right in, but had quickly changed his mind after seeing the ice-cold glare Robert had thrown his way.)

“You don’t have to do this you know,” he grumbles even as he kicks off his shoes and strips down to his usual hoodie and slides under the comforter Robert has purchased for this purpose alone. It’s clear from his slightly sluggish movements and a grumpier-than-usual demeanour he’s well on his way to a head cold.

“I know I don’t,” Robert tells him, bringing over a tray of soup, as well as a tiny bowl of those oyster crackers he loves so much. “But I’d rather over-pamper you now than sit through two weeks of you refusing to see the doctor until you’re on Death’s door, in which case I’ll have to carry you to the hospital myself.”

“What happened to, ‘In sickness and in health,’?” Aaron asks in between loudly slurped bites, drops of warm soup splattering across his chest.

“When you’re sick, it’s more a case of, ‘When will Death do us part’?” Robert jokes, joining him under the covers with a tray of his own.

The younger man takes a break just to elbow him in the stomach, before resuming his eating with gusto.

Robert switches on the TV, already having cued up Rocky Balboa for them to watch. But before he hits play, he turns to Aaron and softly says, “I only do all this because I’d like to keep you around for as long as I can, you know.”

This brooks him a response from the younger man, who turns to him and gazes at him with warm, understanding eyes. “I know.”

Robert leans in for a kiss but Aaron doesn’t. He shakes his head. “I’d like to keep you around a lot longer as well.”

A twinkle of mischief finds its way into his face as he quickly adds, “Because if you get sick, it’ll definitely be Death doin’ us part. ‘cause I’ll have to kill ya to stop all the moanin’.”

“I don’t moan when I’m sick,” Robert protests, insulted by the very notion.

Aaron gives him a pointed stare.

Finally, Robert concedes, “Okay. Maybe I do moan. But it’s only a little.”

(Aaron just snorts, but quickly covers it up with another loud slurp.)

:::::

Candles

It’s Liv that first alerts them to the fast-approaching date, something Gerry, rather surprisingly, doesn’t say a word about — even though they’d all expected him to not shut up about it for at least a week.

“Maybe he doesn’t want us to make a big deal of it?” Aaron suggests as he laces up his work boots, one morning before work.

“Have you met Gerry?” Robert asks him, only a hint of sarcasm in his voice, as he buttons up his shirt. “He texted me pictures of the first carrot he pulled from Doug’s garden.”

“Then why wouldn’t he mention his birthday?” Aaron asks, getting to his feet.

“How should I know?” Robert shrugs. “So, what are we going to do then? The usual?”

“The usual?” Aaron asks, confusion entering his voice as he turns to face his husband.

“Breakfast, cake, and presents?” the other man explains, as he checks himself out in the mirror. (The younger man uses this opportunity to admire his husband’s firm behind, sending out a mental thank you to whoever sold him that pair of jeans.)

Aaron tears his eyes away a moment later and nods thoughtfully, “Yeah… And then maybe a small party at ours later.”

“Sounds good,” Robert confirms, stepping forward to give him a kiss on the lips. “Alright. I have to rush to that meeting, but we’ll talk about this later, yeah?”

Aaron smiles back in response. “Yeah.”

~~~~~

When he doesn’t show up the morning of his actual birthday, they all exchange concerned glances across the table, while a chocolate ice cream cake slowly melts, and a stack of freshly made pancakes begins to cool.

Liv goes up to check on him but returns shortly thereafter. “He’s not up there, and the bed doesn’t even look slept on.”

“Does that mean he just didn’t come home, then?” Aaron asks, confused by this development.

“He could be staying at a mate’s,” Robert suggests. “It is a Sunday.”

“No,” Liv tells him, sure of herself. “Gerry always comes home. He would have told me. He never stays out this long.”

“Alright, let’s give him a ring then,” Robert tells her. “Find out where he is.”

Liv does as he says. But she shakes her head a second later. “It went straight to voicemail.”

“It must be switched off,” Aaron says, running a hand through his hair. “Like usual. This is why I’m always tellin’ him to keep it charged.”

“Let’s not panic. I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for all this,” Robert says calmly. “I’ll ring Doug. Aaron, you call Belle and see if Lachlan’s seen him. Liv, ring Chas and find out if he was at the pub last night.”

They all get to work, each calling the person they’d been assigned, despite the relatively early hour.

Doug, an early riser, is the first to confirm he hasn’t seen Gerry. Followed by Chas, and eventually Belle (and Lachlan).

No one’s seen him today — or last night for that matter.

“What do we do?” Aaron asks, worry starting to creep it’s way into his voice. “Do we call the call the police?”

“Maybe we better check with a few more people first,” Robert says, even though there’s more than a hint of doubt in his tone. (If anything, Gerry is an over-texter, constantly alerting them to any update in his or Tip’s lives. Robert’s never known so much about a dog’s poo in his life.) “It could just be that his phone just died before he could phone Liv or one of us. Do we know any of those friends he’s always hanging out with?”

He sounds like he’s barely convinced himself.

“Know any of whose friends?”

They all look up to see a slightly sweaty Gerry standing in the doorway, none of them having noticed his entrance. He’s dressed exactly the way he was yesterday.

“Gerry!” Liv exclaims, the first to recover from her shock. “Where were ya?! We were worried sick.”

It speaks volumes that neither man corrects her or makes a joke. Because it’s true. Though they’d been hiding it, they really had been concerned for his welfare.

Thankfully Gerry has the grace to look apologetic.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry ya,” he says, concern etched all over his face.

“That still doesn’t tell us where you were,” Aaron points out gruffly.

Gerry’s cheeks turned pink.

“Today’s my birthday,” he tells them, unaware that they already know, and not nearly observant enough to have noticed what’s been sitting on the table. “Thought I’d go and see my mum and dad.”

The mood in the room instantly shifts, the intense worry transforming into a more gentle version of itself.

“So, how’d it go?” Liv asks after a long beat of silence has passed.

“They weren’t there,” Gerry shrugs, as if it was the response he’d expected.

Robert and Aaron exchange a look at that. Liv’s attention is focused on her mate. “So they just left ya?”

“I guess,” he says with another shrug. “I tried to ask around about them, but no one remembered. They still thought I was in prison. I was gonna call you but then my phone died and I used the last of my money to get back…”

No one says anything for a bit, each one of them knowing there aren’t enough words for a situation like this, and that nothing they say will be adequate enough.

“Is that an ice cream cake?!” Gerry suddenly exclaims, unfettered joy shining through his voice in that way it always does. “For breakfast?!”

It takes him another second to realise the significance of it. “Wait… Is this for me?”

“No, you idiot,” Liv tells him warmly. “It’s for the other Gerry Roberts who lives here. Of course, it’s for you!”

Gerry looks at all their faces, one by one in succession. “I love it!”

And then, a little more shyly, “You didn’t have to.”

“We know,” Aaron tells him firmly. “But we wanted to.”

“Everyone deserves a birthday celebration,” Robert adds, leaving the counter he’d been leaning against and taking the empty seat by Aaron at the table.

“Even teenagers who never remember to charge their phones,” Aaron adds, slightly sternly, with a twinkle in his eyes.

Gerry’s cheeks turn pink at that, but it does nothing to dampen the sunny smile on his face.

“Alright,” Robert says, clearing his throat. “Let’s get this party started. Liv, pass me that knife.”

~~~~~

Finally, it’s time for presents, which of course Gerry is completely bowled over by. (“You mean this wasn’t it?!”)

Robert and Aaron go first, the scruffy haired man handing him an impeccably wrapped rectangular package. The teen opens it to find a set of grey sheets. The look on his face is a mixture of confusion and delight, clearly not having anticipated this at all.

“Uh. Thanks. I’ve never owned my own bed sheets before!” He tells them, running his hand over the soft, folded fabric.

Both older men trade knowing glances and smiles at that.

“We’ve all had a chat,” Robert informs him gently. “And we decided you won’t be sleepin’ in our guest room anymore. You’ll be sleeping in your own room instead.”

“You’re kicking me out on my birthday?” Gerry asks in surprise, pausing from feeling the softness of the fabric in his hands.

“No, you muppet,” Aaron says, shaking his head. “We’re giving you the guest room. It’s going to be your bedroom from now on.”

The boy’s eyes widen in disbelief at that news. He looks at Aaron, before turning back to Robert, before turning back to Aaron again.

“What… What about Seb?” Gerry asks, turning to Robert. “Won’t he need a place to stay?”

The older man smiles at the consideration the boy is showing.

“Yeah, well, we decided I didn’t really need a home office after all,” Robert tells him, his eyes flitting to Aaron for half a second. “We’re going to turn that into Seb’s room instead.”

Gerry nods, but now there’s a confused frown on his face. “But… Why?”

“You’ve been livin’ here long enough,” Aaron explains with a shrug. “Just thought we’d make it official. Give ya an actual place to call ‘home.’”

“I don’t even have stuff,” the teen insists, the news still sinking in.

“Then it’s a good thing it’s ya birthday,” Liv pipes up. “Now you have someplace to put all your presents.”

He blushes at the very thought.

“Speakin’ of which,” Liv says, before sliding over her present.

Gerry picks up the long, thin, rectangular object and rips away the paper to reveal a wooden sign bearing his name. He grins at the sight of it.

“Just thought you’d like to really make it official,” she tells him, happy with his reaction to it.

“I don’t know what to say,” he says, unable to take his eyes off of it.

“That’s a first,” Robert quips, eliciting a chuckle from all of them — including Gerry, who’s still clutching the sign.

“Thank you,” he finally manages, the word laced with all the emotion he’s currently feeling but simply unable to express.

“You’re one of us now,” Aaron tells him firmly. “So you better not go out without telling one of us ever again. You get that?”

“Yes sir,” Gerry replies, bashfully.

“Good,” Robert says, stepping in. “Now go upstairs and start figuring out where you’re going to put your stuff. Aaron and I have got to start clearing up if we’re going to get ready for your party tonight. Half the village is coming. Even Cain.”

“When did you get so popular?” Liv asks, surprised by this news.

“I dunno,” Gerry shrugs. “Guess I just have a way with people!”

~~~~~

“So, what’d you wish for?” Liv asks Gerry as she removes another one of the candles she’d picked up from David’s Shop earlier in the day off the cake they’d gotten for the party. Beside her, the older boy is busy helping himself to yet another slice, effectively reducing the amount they’d had left over even more, reasoning that this would make it easier for her to store the rest in only one container. Neither Aaron or Robert say anything, seeing as they’re currently preoccupied with their own task in the living room, the younger man playfully taunting the slightly annoyed older one by repeatedly moving the big black garbage bag he’s holding just out of reach any time he attempts to deposit an empty plastic cup or a used napkin.

Gerry thinks back to that moment right after they’d finished singing ‘Happy Birthday’ to him, when he’d looked up and seen Liv and Aaron and Robert all smiling at him from off to the side, and he shakes his head.

“Nothing really,” he tells her earnestly, using a fork to cut carve out a bite for himself. “Don’t really need anything else, do I?”

NOTES

I’ve always thought you can learn a lot about someone by what they’re choosing to buy at the grocery store and who they might be making that purchase for. It’s a nice little act of domesticity that can be filled with so much meaning. Hopefully, I nailed all that.

I DID tweak a few things from canon (like Liv’s choice of period management products), but I just felt like it lent something to the story to do it this way. (Also, the Dingle proverb thing cracked me up and I couldn’t bring myself to cut that weird joke. So apologies for that.) I’m also not quite sure about the characterisation and tone in certain parts, so if there’s an issue, please let me know. As always, please leave any thoughts, comments, questions, or concerns you might have below, or come find me over on Ao3 under her_dark_materials.

#robron #emmerdale #rw18 #robron week #robron week 2018 #roblivionberry #aaron dingle #robert sugden #liv flaherty #gerry roberts #her dark materials #rust and ruin writes #my fic #robron fic #robron fanfic #robron fics #my writing #rw2018 #their dark materials

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purkinje-effect · 7 years

Text

The Purkinje Effect, 18

TW: Drug use and synth vore. Lol uh

Table of Contents

"Deacon...?”

Geek glanced the figure up and down, nearly uncertain of it. The pair had arrived under the Lexington-Concord Interchange, and found this one tatterdemalion pile of human being topped with dark glasses and a trilby.

“Ah, you brought a friend with you,” Deacon confirmed. “Sometimes three wheels make an operation run more evenly.”

“That getup is ridiculous,” Hancock muttered, unimpressed. Even without having met him before, he knew Deacon was in disguise. He’d broken out a pair of aviator shades and a red ampuole. “What kinda trouble are you intending to get into, dressed up like that? A garbage heap?”

“I call it the ‘Wasteland Scavver’ look,” Deacon replied impressively, striking a pose. Clearing his throat, he briefly changed to a husky, irate intonation. "This is my pile of trash. Just be glad I didn’t do one of my face-overs. Heh. Heheheh.”

“I imagine you’ve got a pair of Groucho Marx glasses, too,” Geek cracked, seconding Hancock on it being silly. “Why the getup, though?”

“I collect intel. Gotta go under the radar with folks, depending on the type of information I’m digging. As far as what trouble we’re going to be getting up to... our previous base was underneath the Slocum’s Joe here. The Institute discovered it and we didn’t have enough time to get everyone, or everything, out. We need to check with our information man before we head in preemptively, though. There’s no telling how much of a synth hotbed it still is.”

“And... where’s this information man?” Geek asked.

Deacon pointed up.

“Follow me.”

"Oh brother,” Hancock mumbled with a heavy eye-roll, following furthest behind to take a hit off the ampuole of jet.

"Who's Groucho Marx, anyway?"

The trio found a downed slope of overpass pavement and scaled it, following along the Route 2 overpass as the crumbling concrete path would permit. Peppered among the mixture of eighteen-wheelers and automobiles, as well as an abandoned tent, several ghouls tried to ambush them along the way; but, the three made quick work of them, between two guns and a knife. As they walked, Deacon indicated the various graffiti trail markers the Railroad used, as a way of teaching Geek the ropes before he’d even gotten his foot in the door. He got well-acquainted with the ring of light rays with an ‘x’ in its center, suggesting ghouls frequented the overpass.

“You take the lead here,” Deacon told him, holding Hancock back and nudging Geek to approach the figure at the cooking pot at the abrupt end of the interstate. "And whatever he says, reply mine is in the shop. Trust me.”

“Why me?” Geek started, looking back over his shoulder after a moment.

“You’re gonna have t’learn this stuff sometime,” Hancock retorted with a smirk.

The two hung back behind a few yards to chew the fat over something. The trio’s presence became noticed by the lone man in plaid who tended the fire. The long-haired older man stood, both urgent and irate, his peppered whiskers nearly bristling as he spoke.

“Do you have a Geiger counter? Do you have a goddamn Geiger counter?”

“Mine... is in the shop?” Geek steeled himself not to reply that he’d eaten it.

"It's about damn time. Name's Ricky. ...I thought there was just gonna be two of ya. Who's HE?" Ironically, the man pointed at Deacon and not Hancock. "The whole lot of ya looks like a bunch of clowns, honestly. I was on the brink of a heart attack."

"I, I'm new," Deacon replied apologetically, before anyone else could. "These guys are just showing me how it's done. Pink guy here's the lead."

"Besides the getup, you all look serious in the face, so I've gotta tell you. This ain't a place to be dragging your training wheels, boy," Ricky chastised, visibly stressed. "It's crawlin' with Synths, and God knows what else."

"What can you-- tell us about the location?" Geek stuttered out, glancing startled back to Deacon, who'd put him on the spot to look the seasoned one. Why the fuck had Deacon taken the role of a greenhorn?

"They're all over the front end. Turrets and mines, too. It'd be suicide to go in headlong."

"I, thank you, Ricky," Geek said, offering a handshake to make it feel official. "Your efforts and information are invaluable."

Ricky's demeanor softened in the handshake, and he smiled through his haggard fatigue.

"I hope it helps. Really, I do. It's a thankless job for the long of it, so it means a lot to hear."

As they walked away to retrace the interstate back to how they'd merged into it, Hancock was taking in the other half of the ampuole from earlier, sighing pleasantly. Geek himself lit up a cigarette, and snarled briefly.

"Deacon, why the fuck--"

"He's not an agent," Deacon interjected, watching the drugged ghoul cautiously rather than looking to Geek. "I have to cover my steps to separate the confidentiality of cases from the individuals working it, on a need to know basis. If he knew I was in the inner circle of agents of the Railroad, he'd know the value of what we were diving for."

"--What exactly is it we're doing here?" The incredulity in Geek's voice crackled through, and he just stopped walking for a moment to focus on his cigarette. He stared out off the overpass at the forested skyline below them.

"You think I'm not telling the truth? What about our man Ricky?"

"I don't know that I have reason t'distrust him," Geek replied, exhaling sharply at the end. "On the other hand, you're making me wonder whether you're t'be trusted. Seriously. You coulda at least given me some forewarnin' before throwin' me in the fire like that."

"I suppose it's a good lesson, to take every statement with a grain of salt," Deacon suggested, glossing over the elephant among them. "Most people won’t lie without a reason to. If you can figure out why somebody would lie, it becomes so much easier to tell whether they are. I mean, he's probably telling the truth, but I'll follow your judgment call here, Boss. This is your crash course, so I'm your backup."

"Why am I startin' t'suspect you just wrangled me into doin' your dirty work, and that you got no idea what we're up against?"

"Grain of salt," Hancock echoed, unamused. The aviators concealed just how glassy his gaze was then.

"Well, going with your theory Ricky's honest, the front entry would require us going in guns blazing. But if that's not your style, there's also the back way." The postulation held in it the implicit irony that he felt like brute force seemed exactly to the pink fellow’s preference.

"Which way's easier? In your expert opinion?" The ghoul offered the ampuole to Geek, who took it and swallowed it. "Heh, rubbish bin on legs. Convenient."

"Takin’ advantage of the fact I snack under stress. Clever."

"Did you just. I had no idea jet was edible," Deacon deadpanned. "...Sake of ease is subjective. The front door is a matter of thick skin and brute force. If you trust my finesse with a keyboard, the terminals will make sneaking in the back way doable--not easy, but still doable. So what'll it be, Boss?"

"First order of business, y’stop callin' me that."

"...Right. Geek."

"Secondly: Which way has a chance encounterin' fewer Synths? Seeing as this is my first time fighting one, I'd like to even out my chances best I can."

"Back way, in my opinion, but that's no promise."

"Back way it is, then." Geek stormed off ahead of them.

"I think I trust the front way better," Hancock jabbed, taking aim at an airborne enemy only he could see. "Least we'd get inside faster, away from these things."

"You're a keeper, Mayor," Deacon remarked, astounded.

The back entrance was through the water drainage pipe, and Deacon hacked the terminal of the weed-overgrown entry to let them inside.

"It shouldn't be too rough," Deacon narrated as they walked to the first checkpoint. "It's likely mostly just Gen Ones and Twos." Geek looked to him for elaboration. "The Institute went through a few different prototype models before they got to the ones that look exactly like a human. Had to work up to that level of hubris. Depending on who you talk to in the Railroad, opinions differ as to where to draw the line between the true AI and simply being a smart robot. Some of us even get into semantics as to whether Assaultrons and even turrets have rights. There's a lot of grey area to mince in the downtime between action."

"...Be straight with me for once. What are we here for?"

"Like I said, Geek, when the Institute hit us, they hit fast and hard. You met most of the survivors already. We couldn't even pack up resources and still make it out in one piece. ...You can understand why we're so short-handed on training availability at the moment. We're here for something the Doc was cooking up. According to Dez, it’s a pivotal piece of prototype tech."

"A grocery store run, seems more like it." Deacon took Hancock's tone as a jab at the value of the recon, rather than it being fun at Geek's expense. After a moment, an easier-to-read joke slipped out of his tremulous mouth: "Shopping when you're hungry means ya pick up more than was on your list." In it, an implicit I know you're teetering on stress-eating anything that isn't nailed down.

Geek muttered a forced laugh, rolling his eyes at him.

"There's probably not food supplies left, but you're welcome to all the ice cream and pickles you find," Deacon offered, hacking the next terminal. "It's not like we're leaving anybody standing when we walk out of here."

The security gate opened, and they descended the split cobblestone steps into the sewer. Deacon and Hancock still favored their guns, but in the face of an unfamiliar enemy, Geek fell back on the comfort reliability of his knuckledusters.

"Is anyone there?" they heard an artificial voice inquire.

Silently, they all armed themselves, and squared up against the single Synth. Geek's eyes went wide to see the thing was an amalgamation of wire and plastic on an exposed metal skeleton. Horror overtook him and he froze up, leaving the Synth to come across him first. The way the ocular lenses intimated lidless sockets, the fake metallic teeth... It was like a skinned human face devoid of gore. The pit of his stomach dropped even heavier.

"Shit." Hancock’s intuition snapped, and he cocked his shotgun and unloaded a pair of shells into the Synth from a short distance. When the dust settled, he walked up to Geek. "You look like you saw a ghost."

"My reflexes are just fine." Seconds later he flinched at the aftershock memory of Hancock's gunfire. "Fine."

"Mmm. A little... something to liven up the day?" Hancock surreptitiously slipped a syringe into Geek's gloved palm and looked at him slyly. Psycho. He had some in his pocket too, from the gym, but he hadn't even considered using it. The gift wasn't so much the item itself, but rather the observation that Geek might make use of it. "Help you steel your nerves a bit."

"Do you peddle candy, too, or just drugs?" Deacon joked naively. "I want a lollipop, Mister."

"Knock it off," Hancock muttered.

"Ah! a turret terminal," Deacon sidestepped, ignoring Hancock's displeasure. "Let's fire it up and give our freeloaders a nasty surprise." The two gave Deacon some time to tinker with the computer.

The next chamber of the sewer had in it multiple Synths, as Deacon predicted. Deacon held up his hand to pause their forward motion, and he held it up to an ear eager with anticipation. Sure enough, the turrets powered up and unloaded hundreds of bullets before several laser shots and a short explosion rang out. The two had been around Deacon enough to read the childish prank-like pride in his otherwise expressionless features. Hancock genuinely cracked a smirk for once at something Deacon had done, though the same couldn’t be said of Geek.

The smell of charred metal, oil smoke, and gunfire wafted down the moldy, damp corridor. The hard and angled, inorganic face of the first Synth overlaid Geek’s conscious thoughts. He glanced down to the yellow tri-component syringe in his clenched fist. In his history of chem use, such substances intended to becalm his tumultuous, anxiety-depression addled mind--but would dialing all that up to eleven instead serve him in this situation? He knew that the military had given soldiers the chem to override cowardice and increase pain tolerance, but he had no idea what to expect as to how it went about achieving that. Hancock briefly looked back to check on him, and when he was observed not having moved, the pink wreck impulsively followed through with plunging it into the underside of his jaw, shutting his eyes in the moment and not giving it a another thought.

Within seconds, the stringent injection lit his veins afire. His lip curled, and he began to drool a bit as his breathing became off-kilter. Everything was uncomfortable, and he had to find the source of it and dismantle it. Hancock noticed his companion had administered the hit and poorly hid an admiring smile, nearly proud of him for letting chems help him through this rough patch.

Grease. Gunpowder residue. Titanium alloy. Nuclear components. Geek’s senses heightened, intensifying the discomfort like a bad migraine. The spotlight in the room threw a nasty halo on the whole place, and he growled through frothing, clenched teeth. Before, the Synths’ footsteps had been nearly silent, but now he could likely pinpoint their location in this room with his eyes shut. He squinted in frustration and, trembling with distress, grunted hard.

His stomach hurt so badly. He had to fix that.

The face of the nearest Synth found itself between his hands. It cracked on the cobbled steps, over, and over. The chest plate cracked open with only a few flung punches, exposing the soft innards. Analogous to ribs, the chest of the now mangled Synth easily accommodated Geek’s ravenous mouth, and he burrowed face-first in to chew apart wire and fluid line alike, pulling them out by the teeth.

Coolant, oil, and other substances saturated his face and front as he could tell a second Synth was beneath him. There was no slaking the thirst that overtook him as he guzzled the construct dry. If he’d been outside himself in that moment, he’d have noticed himself rip out and swallow this one’s ocular lenses.

But he didn’t notice anything.

#fallout 4 fanfic #fo4 fanfic #hancock #deacon #fallout 4 oc #fo4 oc #geek #the purkinje effect #cannibalism tw... technically...?#synth vore #drug use #ricky dalton

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