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sidespromptblog · 3 years

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A Close Friend: (1/2)

Two

Warnings: Suicidal Ideal (Logan), Hurt/ Comfort, Angst, Logan is not okay, Roman is trying his best, and Crying (Logan mostly).

Summary: Roman goes to Logan in order to vent and ramble about everything that had happened about Thomas, Patton, and Janus. But in the process finds Logan dealing with his own bottled emotions, as well as an uncomfortable thought that Logan has been dealing with as of late that leaves Roman scared for Logan’s own safety. So he decided to help, in whatever way that he can.

AO3 LINK

Word Count: 2,783

With an angry buried snarl of outrage Roman rose up into the mind space, and away from Thomas, Patton, and the lying side that caused this ruckus of emotions to take over inside of him. The outrage he felt right now was all consuming, to the point where he felt like putting his fist through any number of walls right this very second. His very fists shook with the idea of it and the pain that it would cause him to do such a thing, he contemplated it, it would be an outlet for all of his complicated emotions… even if it wasn’t necessarily a healthy one at that. Although he could pretend that it was Deceit’s face the entire time, just to sooth a little bit of the pain in his body and heart.

“This is ridiculous.” Roman snorted, more to himself rather than anyone who would listen to him. “I’m not punching something just because of that.. that liar!” Roman angrily kicked his boots off, rather satisfied with how one went flying in one direction and the other thumped against the railing of the stairs narrowly avoiding their family photos that Patton had insisted they have.

Roman could only scowl at those photos now, even if most of the people in them had no idea right now just what he was so angry about.

Would they even understand if he were to tell them? Would they get it? Would they even listen to him to begin with?

Or would they just say he was being too dramatic?

Virgil certainly would, he almost never went to the emo to vent about anything to him. It was almost always the other way around. Virgil rambling about the things that worried him, and things that he was scared would happen in the future. If he were to vent about anything to Virgil, he was almost certain that he’d be stopped and told he was just making the other side’s anxiety worse by bringing the things up. Not that it was entirely Virgil’s fault, he couldn’t help it if things triggered that anxiety. But just once…

He like to have someone to vent to, and not be the constant emotional whoopie cushion for everyone to overlook unless they needed something from him.

He needed someone who was…

Less emotional than the others.

Someone who…

An idea raced across his mind in a flash, “Logan!” He shouted, tearing his way upstairs and towards the logical side’s room, his bare feet skipping the steps of the stairs in an effort to get there faster. “You are not going to believe what happened today!” The overwhelmed sensation that had been flooding his chest finally gave way to something that felt like relief, as he stood outside of the other’s door.

Logan would listen, he'd listen objectively, but he’d still listen to him.

“Logan-”

Roman stopped dead as his hands had pushed open Logan’s door, he had never bothered to knock in the past and now was no exception. But the sound that had graced his ears made his heart drop into his stomach, and fear tangle his inside.

It was…

Sobbing.

Muffled sobbing, so silent that had he just been walking by he wouldn’t have heard it at all. It was only by stepping into Logan’s room that he’d heard it all, his heart twisted at the sound. He’d never heard Logan cry, unlike the others whom he had comforted many times after their own nightmares, emotions, and turmoils… Logan had never come to him for anything like this, if anything, Logan had never come to him at all. The silence of the other’s cries spoke volumes as to why, the logical side was probably used to bottling things up and forcing himself to stay as quiet as possible to not alert everyone around him about his own turmoils that he must’ve been going through.

How many times had Logan done this, and nobody was the wiser of it?

How many times had Logan bit his tongue when they had said something cruel to him, just to cry like he was now?

“Logan?” He saw the logical side’s back stiffen almost immediately upon hearing Roman’s voice, his jaw clenching shut as he attempted to quiet the heaving of his lungs. “What’s wrong?” Almost immediately the thoughts of venting to Logan went right out the window, he had been angry and overwhelmed yet, but right now… Logan needed his help, he needed…

A hero.

Logan sniffled, inhaling and exhaling in a way that told Roman he wasn’t getting enough air in him to stop from heaving. The logical side clenched the pillow that was stained with the evidence of his tears, his knuckles were a stark white contrast against the deep blue pillowcase. But nevertheless Logan turned slightly to face Roman, the stains of already shed tears lining his cheeks, the redness of his puffy eyes made Roman wince in sympathy.

He’d certainly been there before.

“Logan-”

“I heard you,” Logan’s voice cracked with the simple three words that he muttered out almost sourly, “I was debating on whether I should answer honestly or not.” Logan licked his lips, that were red from hours of biting them in an effort to not make a single sound while he lost himself to his own sadness. “Which would you prefer? You obviously came here wanting something from me, and it wasn’t to comfort me while I wept like an overgrown baby.”

Roman winced at the unintentional sharpness that Logan wielded even in this state, although unlike before, it wasn’t wielded towards Roman with the intent to hurt the creative side… but rather to hurt Logan.

For being caught crying? Roman didn’t accurately know, but even so, he didn’t like the thought of it.

Self deprecation was Virgil’s thing, not Logan’s.

He inched forward towards Logan’s bed, his hands raised slightly in a peaceful manner that told Logan he held no ill intent towards the other side. An action that made Logan huff almost sarcastically, as if he didn’t believe the creative side for a single second. But not before smooshing his face into the pillow, a minor attempt to hide from the creative side while he still could, and still protect his emotions that were vulnerable for anyone to see.

Roman sat on the edge of Logan’s bed not touching the logical side, at least not yet.

“I’d prefer it if you were honest with me,” Roman spoke softly, his voice much quieter than usual. “I’d like to know what’s wrong, and… if I can help in any way.” He did… gods did he want to help, but for someone like Logan.. he had no idea on how to even start. The other side was far too jaded and cynical for the usual things that worked for Patton and Virgil.

Patton could be soothed by a simple hug and food, with bodily contact enough to calm down whatever he was feeling in that moment. Virgil was tougher, but even he enjoyed the occasional hug and any kind of distraction that Roman could pull out of his sleeves at the time. But for Logan…

He had no idea.

A rough raspy laugh pulled him out of his musing, “You want the truth?” Tears brimmed on the corners of Logan’s eyes, and for a second Roman felt a bolt of panic, as if somehow he had once again messed things up. But Logan only scrubbed at his eyes, as his bottom lip wobbled with another onslaught of emotions. “I’m so tired Roman, I just want to sleep.” His breathing hitched as a whimper crawled its way up his throat, the warm comforting touch of Roman’s arms around him only seemed to make his tears come faster and faster as he buried his face in the creative side’s shoulder. “I just want to sleep and never wake up, so that I won’t be treated how I am anymore! I don’t want to wake up!”

Guilt twisted Roman’s insides at the acute reminder of just how both he and Patton had treated Logan’s interjections, Logan hadn’t even been there in person and yet…

They had treated him as an after thought, Patton had even chosen to ignore him when Logan had spoken up once… giving Deceit the perfect chance to butt in and take Logan’s place when he was out of the picture.

Roman had chosen ignorance over Logan… time and time again.

Logan’s fingers helplessly clawed at the back of Roman’s shirt, his breathing just getting more and more erratic the more he sobbed and less air he was taking in. It made Roman’s stomach clench painfully at the guilt that he was once again faced with, this was… his fault. Just another thing added to the list of things he had done wrong, they were supposed to be a family and yet-

“I know that it’s not just you,” Logan rambled on, cutting his inner musings short. “It’s just everything over a long period of time, and its unfair of me to just unload everything onto you at once, you don’t deserve to be at the center of my stupid emotions, and you certainly don’t deserve to stuck here. It’s just everything, ever since the beginning… I just.. I just…” Logan thumped his head against Roman’s shoulder in a desperate attempt to get his words out, “It's not your fault that I’m like this,” Logan admitted, almost as if he could feel the very thoughts that had been going through Roman’s head. His guilt and his shame had always been so obvious, at least Logan. “I’m just so… tired… of everything.”

Thomas wasn’t listening to him, even Patton hadn’t even stopped to consider how Logan would feel when he skipped him. His points were considered optional at best, to the point where the others felt happy that they could choose to not listen to him.

If that was how they felt about him… then what was the point of even showing up? What was the point of even trying anymore? What was the point in existing as a side for Thomas to listen to?

Sleeping forever, and not having to deal with anything like this sounded heavenly. It would stop the hurting, and it would stop everything that made these tears possible.

Roman gripped Logan tighter, his fingers bunching the back of Logan’s shirt as he buried his face into the other side’s hair. He felt a little better to know that this breakdown wasn’t entirely his fault, but… that didn’t stop the guilt that wormed its way into his heart regardless. He was still responsible in some way, be it his nicknames, how he responded to Logan’s facts, or even how he treated Logan sometimes. He had still hurt Logan in some way, even if the other had done the same… Logan didn’t always know that it was in good spirits, he had taken it seriously.

He knew that too, and he couldn’t pretend that he didn’t use it to his advantage.

So he needed to fix this, before he got anywhere close to being able to just pop in on Logan and vent about his day. They weren’t friends, he had never treated Logan like a friend, even if they were both somewhat responsible for that.

But first… he needed to help Logan out of the suicidal-idealation he was spiraling into.

He’d seen it enough in Virgil, when he was in one of his really bad attacks, as well as in Thomas when he was in high school during the peak of his closested streak.

At least he could help with that.

“Logan,” Roman softly hummed into the other side’s ear, as he gently rocked the other back and forth, his hand gingerly patting the other’s back in comforting rhythms. “Do you want to sleep with me?”

A sputtering sound erupted from the side in his arms disrupting the hitching sobs that had been coming from him, and it took Roman all of two seconds to realize just how that sounded coming from him. Or rather how it would sound coming from anybody, at least without a little bit of context first.

“Not like that!” He blurted out almost immediately, a rosy hue burning his cheeks with a vengeance, as embarrassment and awkwardness boiled in his stomach making him want to run away and never face the logical side ever again. “I meant, would you like to sleep in my room!” He quickly amended, his face getting redder by the second, even if he refused to relinquish his grip on Logan, who had gone very still. “I could use a nap after the day I’ve had, and it sounds like you need one too.” His voice softened for a moment, “You’ll have nothing but good dreams, and when we wake up… we’ll do something, just the two of us. You can have a day off, and just… relax. How does that sound?”

He could in the very least give Logan a sleep that he would wake up from, while ensuring that the logical side wouldn’t go off and do something reckless to ensure an endless slumber for himself. Plus…

It had been a very long time since he’d done anything with just the two of them, he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d spent time with just Logan without Patton having to force him to take the logical side along.

It might be nice, a chance to show Logan that for now, things would be okay and that Roman would be there for him.

They could just talk, and do things… without the worries of everything around them weighing them down.

A soft sigh left Logan’s lips, as the logical side gently rested his head on the creative side’s shoulder. “Sleep…” He began tiredly, the exhaustion of letting out so many emotions making him feel a little more than drained. “Sounds amazing…” It did, and even though he would wake up from this sleep, he would have something to look forward to, something to do that hopefully wouldn’t make him feel worse than he already did. A spark of gratitude welled up inside of him, had Roman not come along…

He probably would have just stayed here, crying and thinking things that would only lead him further into turmoil and sadness.

Until…

Logan’s body swayed as soon as Roman rose up, the creative side’s arms remained securely wrapped around Logan. Only jostling him slightly as the creative side almost too easily picked him up and sank out of Logan’s room, had he the strength Logan would have made a remark about how Roman was choosing to carry him or even given a small laugh about it. But instead he merely went limp, not putting up a fight as he rested his head against the other side’s chest and closing his eyes as soon as he felt the impossibly soft mattress of Roman’s bed touch his back.

But that didn’t stop his hand from darting out, almost as soon as Roman’s warmth left him.

“It’s okay,” The other side gently told him, his voice soft and reassuring to the logical side’s ears. “I’m just going to get on the other side, I’m not leaving you. I’m going to be right here.”

As nice as that sounded, Logan shook his head. That wasn’t it.

The logical side cracked open one of his eyes, the blurry world around him telling him that Roman had already taken off his glasses for him. “Roman,” He mumbled tiredly, the effect of Roman’s room already working to put him into a beautiful dream just for him. “Thank you,” His grasp on the other’s sleeve was already going slack, but he needed to let the other know before he lost himself to unconsciousness. “Thank you for caring about me, even if.. even if I make it hard sometimes.”

A warm and feathery softly blanket draped itself over Logan, and the fuzzy softness of sleep encroached more.

But just before he lost himself to it, Logan heard the sad chuckle from the other side grace his ears as a weight settled next to him and an arm laid itself over his chest. And a velvety soft voice murmured right next to his head:

“You don’t have to thank me Logan… you never have to thank me for listening to you.”

And just like that, Logan sank into the dream that Roman had created for him, a smile curling on his tear stained face.

Within moments, Roman had joined him as well, his exhausted body tucked against the logical side.

Protecting him from anything else that would cause him harm.

#logan sanders #ts logan #ts logan sanders #roman sanders #ts roman #ts roman sanders #logan angst #ts sanders sides #ts sides #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fanfic #ts sanders sides fanfic #ts sanders sides fanfiction #ts sides fanfic #ts sides fanfiction

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imagines-r-s · 3 years

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sticking it - j. farabee

chapter 1

a/n: ok, this chapter is very dialogue heavy lmao, but yolo. (feedback is always welcome, feel free to send asks about the series, i would absolutely love to talk about it.) i’m also kinda debating to have a ‘sticking it’ blurb night sometime soon?? anyways i hope you all enjoy this one

taglist: @butgilinsky @barbienoturbby @sunsetholland @lovenhlboys @sortagaysortahigh @hockey-racing-fubol @oopsiedoopsie23 (if you want to be added, just send me an ask)

warnings: uh, kathryn? that can be considered a warning i think, swearing, i think that’s it? if i missed anything lmk

sticking it masterlist

wc: 3.2k

(gif not mine)

“You want me to go where with you?” Joel asked the group in front of him.

“My cousin has a gymnastics meet and we were wondering if you wanted to go with us tonight after practice?” Kevin repeated for the third time.

“Dude, you have to come. These things are surprisingly super fun, it’s not hockey and there’s no physical fighting, but it’s still pretty cool,” Travis said, shrugging his shoulders.

“Are you guys going to keep asking until I say yes?” to which Kevin, Nolan, and TK all nodded their heads. “Fine, I’ll go.”

“Ok, sweet. Karly is planning on coming, too, so I’ll just meet you guys there,” Travis interjected as he grabbed his practice bag.

“We’ll pick you up around 4:30, we have to get there early since Pat has to give his pep talk, all traditional stuff, yada, yada, yada,” Kevin said.

“Yeah, okay, just let me know when you’re on your way,” Joel said as the two of them went to their cars.

…..

“y/n, I don’t understand why you’re still worried, your knee will be fine,” Nicole reassured you as the two of you walked into the arena, “Adrian already said you’ve been out for long enough and he’s waiting to hear news of the y/n y/l/n revenge tour, you can’t let him down, dude.”

You rolled your eyes, “well, Adrian can suck it up, he’ll be fine.”

“Ok, that’s how you want to be, then tell Marcus and Michelle that you’re scratching every event today. It’s fine by me, you’re my competition, but good luck petitioning onto the Olympic team after that,” Nicole said, walking ahead of you towards the locker rooms to get dressed.

“Wait, Nic, stop,” you quickly followed after her, “Your reverse psychology isn’t going to work on me, but I’m not scratching every event.”

“That’s what I thought. Now, babes, you have to realize you’re going to be okay and getting in your head about it will only push you back ten steps. And I missed having actual competition,” Nicole caught the small smile on your face in the mirror, “ok, we honestly have to get ready if we want to have time in the tunnels before we compete.”

Grabbing your garment bag that held your competition leo and warm-ups in, you started to get ready. Quickly getting your leo on, you took note of how beautiful the new leo was. A navy blue, long sleeve leo with mesh sleeves and rhinestone decals or as Michelle always called it ‘all blinged out’. Once you put on your warm up pants, you did a light makeup look that was pretty much just eye shadow and mascara and then pulled your hair up in a tight, but simple messy bun.

“Are your boys coming tonight?” Nicole asked, meeting you by the door of the locker room. “Yeah, you know Kevin wouldn’t miss it, but I don’t know if anyone else is coming,” you replied.

“Oh, well Nolan better be here, you need your pep talk,” Nicole added which made you laugh, “okay, well I’m going to let you do your pre-warm up-warm up and I’ll see you out there soon. You got this, babes.”

Once you saw Nicole leave the tunnel, you immediately put your headphones in and started listening to one of the hype playlist that Nolan had put together for you. You went through visualizing your routines, visualizing the perfect motions, tumbling, and skills. You were stretching your legs out when you heard a familiar laugh sound from one side of the hallway, turning you saw Karly, TK, Nolan, Kev, and then beside them, Joel Farabee.

You had never met him personally, but you had seen him play enough times to know who he was. He was also usually included in game highlights if you missed a game, so you were well aware how significant he was to the team.

You stood up quickly and made your way over to them, “Karly, omg, I’ve missed you, babes. Tiki Bar, I’m still planning on stealing your girlfriend, just so you know.”

“You really have your priorities in order, don’t you, y/n/n?” Travis said.

“I like to think so. Hey, Kev, thank you for bringing your friends along for the y/n y/l/n revenge tour.”

“Dude, you didn’t mention this tour?” Nolan questioned.

“Oh, well Adrian said this is my comeback meet, so it’s a revenge tour to show how cool I am,” when you got a nod in response from Nolan, you looked over to Joel who stood awkwardly beside him, “Farabee, do you talk or just stand awkwardly 24/7?”

When he heard you say his name, his eyebrows rose in surprise, “how come you know me, but I don’t know you?”

“Well, you see, I actually talk to people instead of just standing off to the side awkwardly. Plus, you’re literally Kev’s teammate, so it would be bad if I didn’t realize who you were.”

“I feel like you’re just upset I wasn’t talking to you, babe,” Joel added.

“Awe, yes, of course. The pain in my heart from not talking to you is unbearable, thank you for sparing a few words,” you said sarcastically, placing your hand over your heart.

“Ok, children, that’s enough of that for today. We just came to wish you good luck, we’re going to go wait outside the tunnel so that way you can get your pep talk as usual. Now, c’mon, Beezer,” Kevin pushed Joel out of the way and towards the exit before he could say anything else.

“Are we skipping over that for right now or?” Nolan asked as you walked back to where you were standing by the wall before they came over. When he got a simple nod in response he let out a simple ok, “what event are you starting on?”

“Floor. I’m pretty sure at least.”

“Ok, what’s the worst thing about the floor for you right now?” and the two of you talked about each event like you did every competition. Nolan doing his best to make sure that you talked out everything that was on your mind. Giving you a quick hug and a quick you got this, he made his way back towards his seat. You made your way back to get your warm up jacket from the locker room and went to find Marcus.

By the time Nolan had made it back to his seat, the announcement that warm up and stretching would start now went off. “Ok, I genuinely thought the only people that did gymnastics were like 10 year olds,” Joel said.

“10 year olds doing gymnastics is honestly a really boring thing to watch. Like when y/n was 10, I hated going to her meets. She was good, yeah, but it was boring and all of them had the same routines. 0/10 would not recommend,” Kevin added.

“Are we all just ignoring whatever the fuck happened when y/n/n met Joel? Or was I the only one that noticed?” Nolan was shocked by the fact that no one had mentioned it. When the group went quiet for a moment, the only thing that could be heard was Karly holding back a laugh. “Care to share with the class, Karly?”

“Nope. I want to see how this one plays out before I make any comments,” to which the whole group looked at her confused. “It’s a developing story. It has to develop, obviously.”

Once the national anthem was over, the first event that you had was floor. “y/n/n, I don’t care how you do today, I just need you to go for everything. You have it in you to get high scores anyways, so just focus on doing your skills,” Marcus said, “you just have to do this 1 minute and 30 second routine, land all your tumbling, do your jumps well, stay tight, and you got this.”

“Representing the United States of America, y/n y/l/n on floor,” the announcer read over the loudspeaker.

“Alright Twinkle Toes, go have fun out there,” Marcus told you one last time before you made your way up to the floor. You stood there anxiously, awaiting the judges who were somehow never ready on time to salute you. Once they did salute you, you flashed your best smile and marched onto the floor, going to your beginning pose.

The group up in the stands were anxiously awaiting for your music to start, which did include Kevin having to yell at Joel to put his phone up before you performed. All of them believed in you, but this was your first competition back and they weren’t sure how it would go. Would you be back to your old competition level? Better? Would you hurt your knee again? They knew the risks, but simply pushed it to the back of their head.

Just stick the landings. Four tumbling passes. Three leap series. Two turns. And one score. You have worked your ass off to get back to where you are now; this was your comeback and if you started off great, you could only go up from there. Hearing the beep that signaled that the floor music was starting, the first few notes of ‘Feeling Good’ rang out and you started your routine.

Starting off your routine with a small dance combo and some poses, you went straight in with two back to back tumbling passes. After the first tumbling pass, the tension in your body eased up. You were back in your element for the first time officially since your injury and you couldn’t have felt better. Right now you didn’t care what score you got, you were just happy to be back. You went for your leaps and jumps, then your final two tumbling passes.

After finishing your routine in your end pose, you saluted the judges again and practically ran back to Marcus. “I did it, oh my god. I did that,” you weren’t in shock, but the realization finally hit you that you had officially had a great start to the comeback tour. “Yeah, we all knew you could, y/n/n. I’m not shocked,” Marcus hugged you.

When the camera came around as results of your routine came back, you simply smiled and waved towards the camera as you listened to Marcus tell you the plan for the rest of the competition. When the score results came up, it showed that you were in first place. Everyone else had competed in one event already, so you knew it wasn’t just an accident. You were back.

“Dude, are you crying?” TK nudged Kevin, who quickly wiped his tears.

“No, but if I were, it’s a completely valid response to a time like this,” Kevin said quickly.

What you hadn’t noticed from where you were was how much Joel had been watching you. Before your routine started, he couldn’t have been less interested, but once he saw you performing and the smile on your face after you finished your routine he was hooked. Everyone did take note of how much he was watching you, especially Karly.

“And the story keeps developing,” she thought.

With a good score on vault and on bars, you were still doing fine in the meet - it was you and Kathryn Davis for first and second, but this event would show who won all around. The only event that you had left was beam, you only hoped that your hesitation wasn’t as obvious as you felt. You obviously wouldn’t be doing the dismount, you were just going to do a double back that you had solid and weren’t afraid of doing. But even with that, you still had fears looming around a dismount you knew like the back of your hand.

The fear that you had for beam was evident when you had a few too many wobbles - which made your score lower - luckily there were no falls, but it still affected your score. Even with a lower score you still beat Kathryn in All Around, but came third on beam.

After awards and talks with media, you made your way back to the locker room to get your gym bag. “y/n, oh my god. Babes, you did amazing. I’m so proud of you,” Nicole came rushing in for a hug.

“Thanks, Nic. I’m just glad to be back, winning was just a plus,” you said, smiling, “do you still plan on coming with me, Karly, and the guys if we go out to eat?” to which she simply nodded. The two of you made your way to the usual spot you met Kevin after a gymnastics meet.

Eventually the group made their way over there, all of them quickly congratulating you. “y/n/n, I hope you know how proud I am of you right now,” Kevin said softly after hugging you, “you’ve come such a long way and you rocked it today.”

“KD is slowly approaching,” Nolan said.

“y/n, omg, it was so cool competing against you. Sorry to have beat you on beam though, maybe if you tried your dismount you would have won,” she said, a fake smile on her face.

“Well, sweetie. You do know that’s just one event right? In everything else, I still beat you. Even when I hurt myself last year, I still somehow ended up with the gold, so you honestly have nothing to brag about,” you said, your fake smile matching hers.

“I see you brought your hockey players to help you out here, how nice of them.”

Everyone watched cautiously, Kevin ready to pull you back if he needed to; Nolan, TK, and Karly were all ready to jump in and help you fight; while Joel just stood there realizing how much he liked seeing you when you were mad. A lovely dynamic for today.

“Hun, if anyone needs help, it’s you. Especially in the math department, apparently. But congrats on the one gold medal, you deserve it,” and with that you stepped away from her and towards the doors of the arena.

Somehow Joel was the one that was walking closest to you, “hey, you ok?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good. She just annoys me a lot, nothing crazy,” you shrugged.

“You did good today. It’s crazy what you can do out there honestly,” he said genuinely.

“Awe, Farabee, that’s so sweet. ”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t get used to it, babe,” he said, slightly nudging you.

“Are you guys seeing this, too?” Karly asked the guys walking beside her, “like y/n and Bee? Or are your eyes not working today?”

“Maybe we shouldn’t have introduced the two?” Kevin says looking back towards you two just as you trip Farabee, “yeah, maybe not the wisest decision?”

“Haha, suck on that on-,” your sentence interrupted as he pulled your shin to where you ended up on the ground of the parking lot beside him, “that was uncalled for, Bee.”

“No, it was perfectly reasonable, you were rude to me earlier, so it’s payback.”

“What the fuck is she doing on the ground?” Nicole asked as she caught up to the group, confused by your and Joel’s actions, to which everyone around her simply shrugged.

…..

“There she is, the gymnastics superstar. How was the first night of the ‘y/n y/l/n Revenge Tour?” Adrian asked as you entered his office.

“Eh, same old, same old. You win some and you lose some, and then people are extremely petty about the fact that they lost, so they bring up a traumatic injury that you hardly ever talk about while making fun of you losing an event, yada, yada, yada,” you smiled.

“Didn’t really know all that, but I’m proud of you,” Adrian led you over to sit on the bench, so that he could check your knee, “your knee looks- why is there a phone number written on your shin?”

“Ohhh, haha. About that. I forgot to wash it off,” you said simply.

“Girl, I know there is way more to that story that you aren’t sharing. C’mon spill.”

“Ok, well basically. Kevin brought one of his teammates to the game, and there’s this kinda like tension that’s there, but it’s not. So, I kinda tripped him in the parking lot to show that I’m so in love with him and he tripped me back, then we all went out to eat. We’re basically engaged now, we’ve already bought a house and a dog,” you said in a monotone voice.

“Ok, enough with the attitude, I just asked about the boy. So, what’s his name?”

“Joel Farabee.”

“What’s your specific nickname for him?” Adrian placed some athletic tape below your knee, just as precaution.

“Bee, but he doesn’t have a specific one from me yet, we aren’t that close,” you jokingly rolled your eyes, “no, but he couldn’t find a blank piece of paper, so he just wrote his number on my shin.”

“Did he not see your arm? And have you texted him yet?” Adrian asked as you started with your daily drills, rolling his eyes when he saw you shake your head, “look, he’s a hockey player. I have dealt with a few of those. 7/10, might recommend. They’re interesting individuals, that’s all I can say. But you have to text him.”

“Ok, well read me the number and I’ll text him,” opening your phone, you pulled up your texts, “wait, what the fuck do I say?”

“Well, there’s this word in the English language that works as a simple greeting when you don’t know what else to say. A three letter word, pretty simple.”

“Adrian. I don’t need the attitude today, this is stressful enough,” you quickly typed up the message and practically threw your phone across the room right after, “there, I did it.”

“Did you just throw your phone?”

“Yep, but I texted him,” you said, holding two thumbs up.

“I didn’t realize how much you doing gymnastics your whole life influenced your social skills. My deepest condolences to you,” the both of you looked over towards where you threw your phone when you heard a notification go off, “you better check that before I do.”

“Okay, fine,” quickly grabbing your phone, answering quickly to which he responded just as fast, “he simply asked if I was going to be at Kevin’s later and if I wanted coffee, so, are we done here?”

“Mhm, get your coffee. And I expect updates.”

As you were on the drive home, your phone started buzzing continuously, you realized that it was just Nicole, “hey, babes. What’s up?”

“Have you checked twitter? Or instagram? Or anything?”

“No? I’ve been at P.T, why?”

“You’re not going to like what I’m about to say, so if you’re still in the car, I suggest pulling over for your own safety.”

You pulled into your apartment complex, “ok, I’m home. What’s up?”

“Just check Kathryn’s instagram, but apparently she’s been training her 3.5 dismount on beam for months and she has it now. She said she plans on competing it at the U.S. classic in May.”

#sticking it #joel farabee imagines #joel farabee #joel farabee x reader #philadelphia flyers imagines #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #hockey imagines #hockey imagine

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flannels-and-fannypacks · 3 years

Text

Will They Won’t They | Part 2/4 [Reggie Peters]

Pairing: Reggie Peters x fem!reader

Words: 7.5k

Summary: Reggie and reader were the best of friends up until middle school where they drifted apart and decided never to speak to each other again. What happens when a shared algebra class and a resulting detention force them to spend and increasing amount of time together. Will it be enough to overcome the mutual hate? Or was the relationship doomed from the start.

WARNINGS: swears & ANGST

A/N: hey babes it’s drea posting :) i hope you enjoy this part as much as mimi and i did writing it! again, if you enjoy our writing, please like, comment, and reblog! and if you want to be updated, dm us to join our taglist! sending my love - drea :)

“Come on, let me take you out! We need to get you a new outfit for the gig coming up,” Rose insisted, dragging you to her car.

“Who said I was coming?” you frowned stubbornly, tugging your arms back but to no avail.

“I did, now let's go,” she strongly urged, pushing you into the backseat while she hopped in the passenger side and Luke hopped in the driver’s seat.

“Rose, he’s coming too! Oh, hell no!” you refused, giving the boy a pointed look.

“Sorry (N/N), I can’t drive this car, it doesn’t have learner’s insurance,” Rose apologized.

“Nice to see you Lady Bunny,” Luke grinned with a wink and you sighed.

“Okay, let’s just get this over with, okay?” you prompted and Luke nodded turning the keys in the ignition.

“Whatever you say bunny, you’re the boss.”

“Would you stop calling me that Patterson, it’s worse than when Reggie calls me Cookie,” you grumbled, your nose scrunching up in disgust.

“Oh lighten up, at least you’ve got some cute nicknames,” Rose chuckled and reached a hand back to hold yours. “We’re gonna have a blast (N/N), just trust me.”

Walking past countless amounts of stores, it seemed as though Rose’s plan to find you something nice to wear was pointless. You and Rose had very different ideas of fashion, ideas that clashed far too much for Rose’s liking.

“There’s no way I’m wearing that!” you exclaimed, eyeing the brightly colored jacket in Rose’s hand.

“It’s so pretty though!” she insisted. “The texture, the color, the price? It’s a bargain, (N/N)!”

You rolled your eyes. “Then you buy it for yourself,” you told her, pulling out a simple knit sweater from the rack.

“You know what, I will,” Rose settled before looking at the sweater in your hand. “Oh you can’t wear that! You’ll look like a grandma who got lost at a rock concert!”

You frowned at your friend, holding the sweater to your chest. “I always wear things like this,” you pointed out, slightly hurt.

Rose tugged the sweater out of your hand and shoved it back into the rack. Luke popped his head up from the other side of the rack. “Yeah, but at a rock gig, you can’t go as your typical self. A poor little bunny like you would never survive a place like that,” he explained with a pout.

“Lord, have mercy,” you grabbed your necklace pendant and kissed it, frowning when you realized you weren’t wearing your normal silver cross.

“Is that like some white person good luck thing you picked up?” she asked suspiciously and you chuckled.

“No, I just thought I was wearing a different necklace. I don't know how I could have mistaken it.”

“What is it?” Rose inquired further, taking the pendant from your hands and looking at the details. “A horseshoe? I didn’t take you for a horse girl.”

“Yeah- no, I’m not… Reggie gave it to me in middle school, he won it at a county fair or something, I can’t remember,” you explained.

“Reggie gave it to you?” Luke inquired.

“Thought I said that already Patterson,” you shot back with a roll of your eyes.

Luke fought the urge to say something sarcastic back to you. “No, I’m just- Reggie?” he repeated. “I thought he...hates you, and vice versa.”

You walked down the aisle, skimming through the various articles of clothing. “And you’d be correct,” you told him.

“It was before you moved here,” Rose explained. “She and Reggie used to be best friends up until middle school,”

“Yep, but that’s in the past and we’re in the present so let’s focus on that,” you rushed, already feeling uncomfortable about the topic.

“No let's not,” Luke rested his forearms on the rack in front of you, resting his chin on top of them. “Tell us more,” he pleaded, pouting like a child.

You glared at the boy, tossing a sequined shirt at his face, making him stagger back. “And why should I, it’s none of your business, no offense Rose, and I’ll probably tell you at some point anyway,”

“None taken cariña,” she chuckled and continued looking for some clothing that would be appropriate for the gig.

Luke sighed, following close behind you. “But why can’t you tell me now?” he whined like a child. “I adopted you-”

“Against my will,” you cut in, flicking his forehead.

“Details,” he insisted. “I’m just saying, shouldn’t we be close now? Don’t you trust me?”

You took a deep breath. “Of course I do, Luke,” you reassured him, your patience thinning.

“Then why not tell me?” he pressed.

“Because it hurts!” you finally broke.

The two friends seemed to freeze at your sudden exclamation. The quiet small girl was cracking and revealing the broken china doll inside.

“It hurts, okay?” you repeated. “And having to tell the story of how I lost my best friend for some stupid reason that I don’t even know...it hurts beyond belief. The worst part is that he probably doesn’t even care. I loved him, okay? I loved him because he was my best friend. Even when I had no one I had Reggie and I used to think that nothing in the world could ever tear us apart.” you admitted. “When we stopped talking, he took a piece of me with him. And I know that I am never going to get that back.”

Luke quietly moved over and past the racks of clothing pulling you into his chest and giving you a tight squeeze.

“Bunny I’m so sorry. I had no idea,”

You let out a humorless laugh. “No one knew,” you told him. “It’s not your fault, Luke, you were just curious.”

“Still,” Luke said. “I feel so bad. Maybe I could try and talk to him and-”

You shook your head repeatedly. “Maybe let’s not,” you countered. “It’s in the past now. There’s nothing I can really do about it and the last thing I want to do is rope my friends into this, too.”

“Well then how about this,” Rose suggested, giving you a prompt to change the topic while holding up a long sleeved white turtleneck along with an oversized black shirt sporting the album art of a famous rock band.

“I actually think I might be able to tolerate that,” you let out a soft chuckle.

“I’m hoping you have some ripped jeans at home, maybe some converse?”

“Yeah don’t worry, I’m not entirely hopeless,” you assured them and Rose laughed while Luke just pulled you in tighter for a brotherly hug.

“Look at you being mature! We love you, bunny,” he told you, swaying as he held you tight in his arms.

“Love you, too, I guess, Patterson,” you laughed. “Let me go, you’re crushing me!”

The second Luke pulled away, he leaned back in to ruffle your hair. “Now come on, Bunny, the gig starts in three hours. You all down for lunch?”

Shrugging your shoulders, you nodded. “Why not?” you replied.

Rose wrapped an arm around the both of you. “Anything but hotdogs,” she giggled.

“Agreed!” you quickly vetoed any other option and ran giggling with Rose to grab lunch leaving Luke to pay for the clothes. You were lucky he adopted you otherwise that would be a tricky one to get out of.

—

“I feel like this is an illegal number of questions to have on a test, it’s literally taking so long to mark these,” you grumbled to yourself, scribbling notes with red ink on the margins of the freshman biology test.

You had lost count of how many detentions had passed and lost track of how many were still to come, at this rate they could go on until the end of the year and in all honesty you probably wouldn’t notice.

You looked over at Reggie who was marking some short answer questions on a test, seeing his bright red check mark where there clearly shouldn’t have been one.

“That’s wrong”, you said, looking back down at your paper.

“What do you mean?”

“That. You marked it right, it’s wrong,”

“Why?” he asked curiously, putting his pen down so he could listen to you.

“Because,” you sighed exasperatedly, pinching the bridge of your nose. “the mitochondria is not the party house of the cell,”

“Well I say the mitochondria can do whatever it wants,” Reggie proclaimed, adding another check mark to the test. “Because it’s the boss,”

“No that’s the nucleus,”

“The what?” he formed and you banged your head on the desk in front of you,

“How in the world did you pass freshman science,”

“Like the rest of us, I cheated,” he countered and you looked at him with a shocked expression on your face. “Oh my God, lighten up Cookie, I was kidding, it’s been four years and I’ve barely taken any science classes since I just forgot,” he rolled his eyes.

You moved your head back to your work, only to toss the pen down in frustration moments later to try and massage a hand cramp.

“Stupid pen, stupid tests, stupid detention,” you grumbled under your breath, honestly feeling like you wanted to cry.

You pinched the bridge of your nose and sat back in your seat, debating whether you should fake an emergency so you could just go home.

Reggie silently reached over to your pile of tests and eyeballed splitting it in half, taking the unmarked tests and placing them in his own pile.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you said flatly.

“Sooner we finish the sooner we can go home and it didn’t seem like you were going to go any faster,”

You stayed silent for a moment, carefully reaching for your own again before whispering, “Thanks,” to which Reggie only gave you a nod.

The silence between you both was excruciating. It shouldn’t have been this way, it should have been easy to talk to him like it always used to be.

So, you took a deep breath and unclenches your jaw, casually continuing to write while asking,

“So how’s the band?”

There was a short silence, probably due to his slight shock in you even asking or trying to have a civil conversation and his first instinct as usual was to block it.

“Why do you care?”

You rolled your eyes and continued to do your work, at least you tried that was all you could do. The ball was in his court.

When he looked up and saw your tired expression he realized there really didn’t seem to be an ulterior motive at this point so with an audible sigh he answered,

“It’s great, we’re working on writing songs for our demo CD,”

You nodded and checked off some multiple choice questions before you heard Reggie clear his throat and spoke again,

“How about you? How’s the family?”

“They’re alright,” you said, your lips pressed in a thin line. “I mean as good as they can be. Things haven’t changed much.”

Reggie nodded in understanding, aware of your family’s financial situation.

“Is that why you push yourself?” he asked again. You froze, your hand holding the grading pen not moving. “Hours in the library, studying until your brain practically explodes with information.” You raised an eyebrow curiously at him, making him blush sheepishly. “I just know from uh, Mr. Mallard. He likes to talk, you and I both know that.” With a small smile on your face, you nodded.

“I guess you’re right,” you finally answered. “If I get a scholarship maybe I can at least make my way through a degree without plummeting further into debt.” You kicked aimlessly at the floor. “I just feel so guilty. Like...if I don’t do the right thing or make one stupid mistake I’ll disappoint my parents.”

Reggie frowned, setting the testing papers down. “You know you’d never disappoint your parents, Cookie” he told you. Chills went down your spine upon realizing he didn’t have the usual malice and sarcasm behind his name for you. “They would never be upset with you.”

You laugh humorlessly. “Right again, Flicka,” you sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe the better term would be I would be disappointed in myself? I don’t want to fail them or anything by slacking off. They’ve already done so much for me.”

“But that shouldn’t stop you from just-” Reggie drummed his pen against his thigh as he thought of the right words to use. “living? Cookie, we’re still kids. The point of high school is to just let loose and have fun, not drown yourself in schoolwork and scholarship essays.”

You playfully flicked a paper clip in his direction. “I bet you’d know all about letting loose, wouldn’t you?” you teased.

Reggie grasped his chest, gasping in feign hurt. “You wound me, Cookie,” he dramatically exclaimed, making you giggle and roll your eyes.

As the two of you continued your light banter, you were reminded of the days you and Reggie would spend at the park, competing to see who could swing the highest between the two of you. The weight on your back lifted slightly as you started to sense a bit of normalcy, no longer at each other’s throats for any reason you could find. It felt good to talk like this with Reggie, to “let loose” as he said and finally set down all the baggage you’ve been carrying since you two stopped being best friends. Everything in that moment felt right. Stress, detention, and ungraded biology tests long forgotten.

After what seemed like hours passed, Mr. Siezlio came back to the classroom, announcing that you were done for the day. You and Reggie surprisingly continued your conversation outside of the classroom, Reggie sharing more stories of the band as you giggled with every shenanigan. However, the moment you stepped foot outside, Reggie’s composure changed.

“Alex!” you exclaimed, running over to the boy. Alex had his arms outstretched, pulling you into a friendly hug that Reggie considered far too chummy. He narrowed his eyes at his best friend, watching and making sure his hands were where he could see them.

Reggie walked over to the two, a scowl forming on his face. “Alex, what are you doing here?” he asked, bitterness visibly clear in his tone.

The blond drummer raised an eyebrow in confusion at Reggie’s attitude, but decided not to address it. “(Y/N) and I have an AP chemistry project coming up so she’s going to sleep over at my place so we can work on it.”

You grinned up at Alex. “We’re probably going to have to pull an all-nighter to get it all done tonight,” you told him, making him groan.

Reggie’s lips fell to a thin line. “Good luck trying to do that,” he muttered. “Alex falls asleep before eleven o’clock. I’d pay to see him stay up past that.”

Alex rolled his eyes playfully. “When my grade is on the line, I think I can manage,” he said. “Especially after that one experiment in class you left me to do, I think we both definitely need that A.”

“Yeah, Alex can’t do titrations for shit,”

“I tried my best,” Alex fought back.

“And what did that get us?” you pressed.

Alex’s head hung low. “Erm, a B,” he muttered.

Reggie stared at the two in disbelief. He couldn’t comprehend this ‘nerd talk.’ “A B?!” he exclaimed. “You were disappointed with a B? I would have been happy with C-,” he shook his head and pulled his bag up higher on his shoulder, preparing himself to part ways.

You shuddered at the thought of such a low grade. “I’d never even begin to imagine a C,” you said aloud.

Reggie smirked at you. “Well, you are a nerd, Cookie,” he teased, making you shove him.

“Ass,” you shot back.

“(N/N), we gotta go if we don’t wanna stay up all night,” Alex said anxiously.

You nodded, taking Alex’s hand in yours and squeezing it. Reggie glared down at your intertwined hands, anger bubbling rapidly in his chest.

“Bye, Flicka,” you cheerfully waved goodbye.

Reggie didn’t look you in the eye, only staring down at the sidewalk with his hands shoved in his pocket. “Whatever, Cookie.”

—

Band practice the next afternoon -to say the least- was probably the shittiest the band had ever played. Luke and Bobby were incredibly confused why Alex continuously dropped his drumsticks and refused to make eye contact with anyone and why Reggie looked so angry that he could snap the strings of his bass.

“Okay, guys, guys! Come on we have a gig in like a week! We can’t go out there playing like this!” Luke insisted and Bobby nodded in agreement. “Alex I haven’t seen you fumble this much since we tried to play football and Reggie you currently have negative three hundred and forty-five dollars and seventy-three cents in your bank account so I would recommend loosening up on the strings because none of us can afford more.”

“Yeah, what the hell is going on with you two?” Bobby added and Reggie sent a cold glare towards Alex that didn’t go unnoticed by anyone.

“What was that?” Luke asked, pointing in between the two boys.

“What was what?” Reggie asked, his head snapping back to send the same glare to Luke.

“Okay you two clearly have things you need to settle so get it out there,” Bobby nodded, motioning to the floor, metaphorically saying it was open for one of them to take.

Alex took a deep breath and nervously started, “Well I think it’s pretty clear Reggie is mad at me it’s just I have no idea as to why,” he shrugged his shoulders. “D-Did I eat your sandwich or something? A meatball sub maybe?”

“That’s not it, but did you? Because if you did you are dead to me,” Reggie said venomously.

“No! No, I didn’t,” he insisted quickly, very much so wanting to stay alive and not murdered at the hands of his best friend. “But what the hell is making you mad Reggie, I’ve never seen you like this,”

Luke and Bobby seemed to nod carefully in agreement and Reggie swung his bass around the strap so it was hanging from his back.

“You need to stay away from (Y/N),” Reggie said in a cautionary tone, pointing directly at Alex.

“Lady bunny?” Luke asked curiously with furrowed brows and Reggie just looked at him back with confusion before remembering the nickname.

“Yeah, I guess, but seriously Alex, you shouldn’t be with her,”

“What do you mean I shouldn’t be with her. (Y/N) and I are just friends! We’ve been lab partners since freshman year,” Alex insisted. “And in case you forgot I’m kind of really gay?”

“That doesn’t change the fact that you shouldn’t be spending time with her!” Reggie exclaimed furiously. Was he mad that you were spending time with his friends or that you seemed to be getting just as close with them as he once was with you. Right now, that was all a muddled mess in Reggie’s mind and heart so naturally, he started spewing out words that probably didn’t even have meaning at that point.

Bobby discreetly made his way to Luke. “Hey Luke,” he whispered. “I can go ask Rose to make some popcorn,” he shrugged.

“Oh yeah, for sure, and tell her to come in, she’ll wanna see this,” Luke added, equally invested, as their two other bandmates seemed to really be going at it.

“Reggie, you need to calm down. (Y/N)’s my friend, too. I don’t know any of your past, but you can’t tell me I should just drop her completely,” Alex said in a level toned voice.

“Oh don’t act like you know (Y/N) better than I do,” Reggie snapped. “I know her like the back of my hand, and I know she’s bad news.”

“Do you really even know her?” Alex pressed.

“Of course I do! Who was there when she broke her ankle? Me. Who was there when her fish died? Me! And who was there when everyone else wasn’t?”

“Not you anymore,” Alex cut in softly. Reggie's rant stopped short. The teen stopped pacing to look his friend in the eyes. “Reggie, I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but you have to admit to yourself, you still care about her.”

Reggie fumed silently. “I don't know what you’re talking about.”

Alex pressed his lips together. “I think you do, Reggie.”

“Alex you don’t get it! (Y/N) and me, that’s over!” his anger had sent him over the top. “Stop trying to say something’s there! It’s not!”

“Listen to yourself Reggie, just listen to yourself talk! If you heard what I’m hearing I think you’d have a different opinion,”

“Just-Just!...” Reggie pursed his lips and grabbed the neck of his bass pulling it back in front of him. “Can we just take it from the top,”

“Y’know Reggie I think Alex has a point,” Luke butted in, remembering his previous conversation with you, realizing how much losing Reggie had actually affected you.

“Oh joy,” Reggie sighed.

“Just hear me out,” Luke continued, regardless of Reggie’s reluctance. “Why did you get into music in the first place?”

“Because I loved it,” Reggie scoffed as if it was obvious.

“No really Reg, be honest,” Bobby added. “Specifically when did you start playing music more seriously?”

Reggie bit his lip, hard enough to draw blood, tasting the metallic liquid in his mouth he shrugged his shoulders and flopped onto the couch.

“I got into it after I stopped talking to (Y/N),” he admitted. “But what’s your point?” he asked.

“You don't confront your problems Reggie,” Alex explained. “You came to music because it helped you block out the fact that losing her tore you apart.”

“Well if it tore me apart then why am I still here, huh? Why am I happy? Why am I even alive? If she was my everything then how the hell am I still here?!”

“Because she’s keeping you here,” Luke whispered. Reggie turned to Luke, at a loss for words. “Because even though you two had a falling out, you know that seeing her everyday at school...you’re glad she’s okay.”

Reggie ran his fingers through his hair. “You don’t know me,” he snapped back. “You don’t know what I think, or who I-I care about. You just don’t, so you can’t stop playing “mom,” Luke.”

Luke slowly approached him. “I don’t understand you,” he said truthfully. “You never open up or tell us anything. You say we don’t know you, you won’t even tell us anything. If no one knows you, then who does-“

“(Y/N)!” Reggie finally broke. The boys froze in their spots, only staring back at their struggling friend. “(Y/N), okay? She’s the only one who listened to me, the only one who cared. And now she’s gone because I pushed her away. All because I was so stupid and my pride got in the way. It’s my fault the best thing in my life is gone.”

Reggie realized what he had said and quickly pushed himself up and away from the couch.

“I’m sorry, I have to go,” he shook his head and tried to make his way out of the studio.

“Reggie wait!” his friends called back for him, but he shook his head and pushed his way out of the door just as Rose was heading into the studio. “Reggie come on! We’re sorry!”

Biting the inside of his cheek he cursed under his breath, knowing that they were right. He did push people away before they got too close and right now he didn’t have the strength to blame himself so he blamed you instead.

—

Reggie stormed into the almost empty library on Saturday, having had to walk to his detention from his home by the beach which was not close to say the least.

When he pushed on the door to come into the library with such force it startled you as you organized the books and put them back on the shelves.

Reggie didn’t speak to you as he tossed his things to the side and grabbed a cart, going to his designated spot in the library.

You were careful to not try and push any buttons, knowing he was in a fragile state, it was kind of obvious, but it was even harder not to address.

“Hey Flicka?” you said gently, trying to be as compassionate as possible.

“What,” he spat, shoving some books onto the shelf without much care.

“What’s the matter?” you asked, expecting to be met with barriers, that seemed to be all that comprised your relationship now. Walls, fences, barriers, and barricades.

“None of your business,” he said, his breathing slightly heavier as the tears burned in the back of his eyes and the lump grew in the back of his throat.

“I-I mean are you sure, you seem really agitated,” you noted and he didn’t respond. “Reggie you don’t have to hide anything. It can be my business if you want it to-”

“No it can’t!” he snapped, throwing the books that were in his hands on the table. You flinched at the loud noise the impact made. “It stopped being your business the second we stopped talking to each other so just leave it Cookie,” his voice carrying the same hostility it did weeks ago.

You paused for a moment, looking down at your pile of books before whispering,

“They’re fighting again… aren’t they?”

Reggie’s throat was burning, he wanted to scream into a void, empty himself of the pain because you were right, you were always right. Even when it felt like you didn’t know each other you were always there proving him wrong.

His hands started to shake and he dropped the books he had just picked up again, turning around so you couldn’t see him. Reggie didn’t know if it was because he was embarrassed or if he just didn’t want you to worry.

You wanted to reach over to your old friend, offer him some sort of comfort because you knew Reggie’s family and you knew how hard it was on him.

So you did the next best thing. Pulling out your MP3 player from your pocket you went over to Mr. Mallard’s speaker system and plugged it in, turning up the volume to the max, letting the soft plucking of guitar strings fill the library and the hallway surrounding you.

You went back to your pile and turned your back to him, giving him some sort of privacy, what you thought he needed.

Reggie wasn’t sure if there was another time in his life where he had listened to this song and related to it more.

So when he wiped his nose on his sleeve and turned around and saw you, he realized he didn’t want to be far away from you, he didn’t want to yell at you, he didn’t want that distance.

So he quickly pushed the chair and table with wheels out of his way before stopping right behind you, carefully reaching for your hand that was resting by your side.

When you felt his long slim fingers wrap around your own you turned around to look him in the eyes. They were still the same beautiful shade of blue and green, but unlike the last time you really looked into those eyes, they carried so much hurt. So much hurt and sadness that should never have been there in the first place.

But through it all they said I’m sorry. I’m sorry for yelling at you, I’m sorry for all of this.

And you nodded, back, accepting that apology.

So he didn’t hesitate a moment, wrapping his arms tightly around you and burying his face in your shoulder. You nearly gasped in surprise as his grip around you tightened. It was as though he was afraid of losing you, and didn’t want to let you go. Lucky for him, you felt the same.

Slowly, your hands found their way around his neck. You could feel Reggie’s tears dampen your shirt, but you couldn’t care less.

“It’s going to be okay, Reggie,” you whispered.

Reggie sniffled quietly, shaking his head. “Don’t say that,” he murmured.

“Say what?” you asked.

“Say that everything’s going to be okay,” he continued in a hushed but angry voice. “Say that everything is all sunshine and rainbows when at the end of the day my parents will still fucking hate each other while yours struggle to keep their home.”

You stiffened under his touch. His words struck a nerve in you, but you pushed down the anger in you. He was hurting, and what he needed was a friend, not a fixer.

Instead, you squeezed him tight against you. “Then, don’t think,” you said. “Clear your mind and- and forget everything. Forget your parents, forget this stupid detention and the musty smell of these ancient books, forget me.”

Reggie dug his head deeper into your chest. “I don’t want to forget you, Cookie,” he murmured. “I-I don’t want you to leave me again a-and-“

You shushed him. “I’m not leaving, Flicka,” you reassured him. “I promise.”

Reggie let out another broken sob. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I-it’s just that we both don’t have a good record with those. Promises, I mean.”

“Let’s clear the slate,” you suggested softly. “Start over to a point where all broken promises of the past are nothing but a mere memory, okay?”

Reggie nodded, placing his hands over yours. “I’d really like that Cookie,”

You smiled, removing your hand from his cheek and linking your pinky with his. It was just like when you were kids, but slightly different. This time, it had so much more meaning of hope and love. “Then take my promise to your heart, Flicka, because I’m not leaving. No matter what.”

Reggie rested his forehead against yours, closing his eyes and letting whatever tears had gathered to fall down his cheeks. You lifted your head slightly, pressing a soft kiss to the spot right in between his eyes, letting your lips linger there a moment longer than they should have.

“Dance with me Cookie?” he whispered.

“Flicka, you know I suck at that,” you laughed quietly, ducking your head as your cheeks tinged red.

“Don’t worry,” he sniffed as you wiped a few of his stray tears. “I won’t leave you hanging,”

“Okay,” you breathed, allowing his hands to gently hold your waist while yours were wrapped around his shoulders.

As you gently swayed in the library you could vividly see two young teenagers in a brightly lit room dancing to the same song.

You could hear Reggie softly humming along with the tune, but when you opened your eyes and looked at him you were brought back to reality and realized what you needed to do,

“I’m gonna call the boys okay?” you said gently and Reggie winced. “I won’t tell them. I was just going to stay over at Rose’s place tonight so maybe we could all stay in the studio.” you suggested. “So you don’t have to go home.”

“Y-You’d do that?” he asked, a certain tone of surprise in his voice.

You pressed your lips together and nodded, pulling away from him.

Making your way to the phone behind Mr. Mallard’s desk, you dialled Rose’s house number first to ask if it was okay to have everyone over, before making the subsequent calls to Alex, Luke, and Bobby.

After dealing with the phone you checked the time. Technically you still had an hour of your detention left, but for today Mrs. Hillside just swore you to honesty.

As much as it made you anxious to do so you looked over at Reggie and raised a brow.

“Should we call it? We can walk over to Rose’s place. I told Luke to bring some comfortable clothes for you,”

“Sure,” he nodded and you hesitantly let go of his hand. For some reason it felt like it was too much at once. You just needed a few moments to yourself.

All you ever wanted was for things to go back to the way they were, but now that it seemed to be happening it was a lot to take in and Reggie sensed that so he didn’t push farther, only grabbing his bag and walking quietly by your side as you left the school through a backdoor that was locked from the outside.

The situation for you both might have been one to cause panic or worry, but right now you both relished the fact that your friends were sure to provide a wonderful distraction.

—

“Lady bunny, you’re wearing your pyjamas already?” Luke chuckled from his spot on the couch while you walked out of the washroom, day clothes folded in your arms.

“I intend on relaxing today, kidnapper, thank you very much,” you said in a matter of fact tone.

“You still wearing my shirt to bed, Cookie?” Reggie teased and you stuck your tongue out at him before retorting with,

“Still wearing that Star Wars underwear Flicka?”

“Yikes,” Alex scrunched up his nose and Reggie’s cheeks went a darker shade of red than they usually were.

“They still fit okay, it would be a waste,” Reggie fought back.

“No one wants to hear that,” Bobby grimaced while you and Rose laughed together, relaxing on the futon.

“Why don’t we play a game or something?” Rose suggested. “Just to pass time, I mean this is a sleepover isn’t it?”

“That sounds like a good idea,” you nodded. “Any suggestions?”

“We could play would you rather?” Bobby said, “I mean that’s a favorite right?”

You nodded in agreement. “I haven’t played that game in a while, but I’m down.” Everyone gathered around the coffee table. Prepared to sit next to Reggie, you felt someone’s hand grab yours and tug you down. Looking to your right, you saw Luke smiling giddily at you.

“As your parent,” Luke said in a motherly tone. “I need to sit by your side in case any inappropriate language is used.”

Bobby rolled his eyes. “Fuck off, Luke,” he said.

Luke gasped, covering your ears and pulling you to his chest. “Language!” he hissed. “We have a bunny here and I don’t want you to taint her mind with your demon words. No fucks, no shits, no dicks.” You shot the boy a look before pushing him off you.

“Would someone tell this guy I’m not five?” you rolled your eyes only to have one of your cheeks pinched by Reggie while he snickered and said,

“You sure look like it,” You threw an empty solo cup at him.

“Who wants to go first?” Rose asked with a wide grin.

“Oh me!” Luke exclaimed, raising his hand and waving it around wildly.

“Sometimes I don’t know what you’re on,” Alex sighed and the rest of the group laughed.

“Okay, okay, um, Bobby would you rather smash your guitar or have it run over by a semi?”

“That’s just cruel,” Bobby looked at Luke wide eyed and he just gave him a smirk in return. He sighed heavily before saying, “I’d like to think if I smashed it, it would be from rocking out so hard so I’ll go with that one,”

“Okay now it’s your turn,” you raised your brows at Bobby.

“Alright, (N/N), would you rather be locked in a room with Reggie or Luke?”

You scrunched up your nose. “Both are horrible options,” you began, making the boys yell out in response. “But the real question is: would I rather be babied to oblivion or be murdered?” you thought for a moment.

“I wouldn’t murder you!” Reggie exclaimed. “That’s too easy,” he smirked and you gasped, slapping his arm.

“Hush you!”

“What would you do to torture her then?” Rose asked curiously, knowing exactly what buttons she was pushing.

“Well see if you really want to get someone you make them fall in love with you and then break their heart,” Reggie explained casually.

“Oh that is cold Reggie,” Alex said with wide eyes.

“But I wouldn’t do that to (N/N), I think she deserves a murder,” Reggie shrugged his shoulders, taking a sip from his cup.

“Put me out of my misery,” you nodded. “Alright, I’d go with Reggie,”

Luke pouted, leaning his head on your shoulder. “But we’d have fun, Lady Bunny,” he whined. “Don’t you love me?”

You scoffed, flicking his forehead. “Barely,” you joked. Luke just grabbed you by the arms and brought you up to him, pressing a smacking kiss to her cheek.

“I’m your mom you have to love me,” he poked and you made a face, wiping your cheek after he had kissed you. “Hey! That was a sign of motherly love, how dare you!” You smirked, flipping him off before continuing the game.

After what seemed like hours passed, you and your friends got bored of the game once you started to run out of ideas.

Alex was nearly passed out on the floor, but Bobby nudged him awake. “Can we play a new game now?” Bobby sighed. “I know would you rather was my idea, but I’m kinda tired of it.”

You nodded tiredly, before your mind clicked with an idea,

“Wait how about MASH?” you asked curiously. “Reggie and I used to play it all the time,”

Reggie’s lips quirked up to a smile. “Yeah!” he exclaimed. “I’m still hoping I get that mansion and forty horses.”

“I don’t understand how you play rock music. Were you born in Montana or something?” Rose chuckled.

“Pfft,” Reggie scoffed while you laughed. He sighed and finally conceded with a nod. “Yeah okay, I’m not from here,”

“Wait you’re not!” Luke exclaimed and Reggie shook his head.

“I’m from Wyoming,” he said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I moved here when I was like...four.”

Bobby’s face turned sour. “Wyoming doesn’t exist,” he said stubbornly.

Alex coughed, “Wait you don’t actually think that do you?”

“It’s a joke Alex, and you ruined it,” Bobby rolled his eyes. “But seriously Reg, Wyoming?” he frowned. “Like what do you even do there?”

“Live on a ranch,” Reggie sighed longingly and you tried to stifle a laugh, prompting him to put you in a headlock and ruffle your hair.

“You’re laughing right now, but no one knows where you’re from,” he smirked.

“Oh Reggie, you’re a dick.”

“Language!” Luke exclaimed, trying to cover your mouth while you protested and Reggie explained that you also were not a California native.

“(N/N)’s not from California either, she moved here when she was five,” Reggie explained.

“From where?!” Alex asked, completely invested.

“I thought we were gonna play MASH?” you tried to interject, but no one was listening to you and Reggie still had you locked under his arm. “Flicka don’t do this!”

“She’s from Canada!” he grinned and you groaned. “And the town she lived in is called Saint-Louis du Ha!-Ha!”

“Reginald!” you protested, finally wrestling yourself out of his grip while he laughed uncontrollably.

“The city has two exclamation marks in its name!”

“Guys,” Luke started seriously and Reggie’s laughter faded to silence as you listened to the band leader. “I-I have a confession to make. I’m also not from here,”

“You’re not?!” Bobby was coming close to losing it, having not known about his friends.

“I’m also from the Great White North,”

“Wait really?” you asked.

“Yeah, I’m from Fredrickton,” Luke grinned.

“No way!” you exclaimed giddily. “So are you Acadian?”

“Proudly so,” he nodded and you gave him a high five.

“Canucks unite!” you laughed, not noticing the pointed glare Reggie was sending Luke.

Bobby pulls his hair in frustration. “Okay, who else isn’t from California here?”

Rose sheepishly raised her hand, much to Bobby’s disbelief. “Puerto Rico?” she answered, more so like a question.

“Dude,” Alex said, shaking his head. “She has a strong Puerto Rican accent.”

Bobby stood up abruptly, storming off. “I’m out of here!”

You stifled back a giggle, calling out, “Bobby! Where are you going?”

“TO THE FUCKING GOLDEN GATE BRIDGE,” he yelled back. “MAYBE I’LL FIND ACTUAL CALIFORNIANS THERE.” You rolled his eyes at his dramatics. You knew he would probably make it out the door before coming back in. The boy was far too lazy to make the drive, anyway.

“I wonder if he realizes that I’m from California, too?” Alex pondered aloud. The entire group burst into laughter.

“Let’s just start the game without Bobby,” Rose suggested. “Who wants to go first?”

“I can go,” Reggie nodded, grabbing a scrap of paper and writing down the things for each category.

“Okay hit me with some career options,”

“Stripper,” you said, slapping his back and he rolled his eyes, but still followed the rules and wrote it down under occupations. “You’d be a terrible stripper though, you can’t dance and you have terrible balance,”

“Okay I’d be an amazing stripper, but that’s besides the point,” Reggie countered and continued writing all the names and places his friends wanted thrown in his options. “Alright numbers now right?” You hummed in response.

“Do five,” you said with a toothy grin. “That was how old we were when we met.”

Reggie nodded, starting to go down each list and circling whatever he landed on. At one point as he counted, his face turned red as he hid the paper from you and everyone else’s view. Once he was done, you tugged on his arm.

“Come on, Flicka,” you teased. “Show us what you got!”

Reggie cleared his throat, “I mean is that really necessary?” he asked cautiously.

“Come on it can’t be that bad,” Alex insisted.

“Um, well it’s not bad perse,”

“How do you know that word?” Luke teased and Reggie rolled his eyes. “Just tell us,”

“Alright well I got a house, a music teacher, two kids, five horses and I’ll live here,” he nodded, trying to avoid a certain topic.

“Who do you marry?” Rose asked curiously.

“No one?” he answered unsurely.

Rose rolled her eyes. “That wasn’t an option,” she reminded him. “Come on, it’s just a game, Reg. Just show it.” When Reggie refused to move, Rose resorted to snatching the paper from his hands.

“Rose!” he cried out, reaching for the paper.

The girl only held the paper far away, squinting her eyes to read the circled mark. “It’s (N/N)!” she squealed. Rose and Alex high fived each other while you dug your into Reggie’s chest, completely flustered. As a response, Reggie wrapped his arm around your waist and rested his head against yours.

“It’s okay (N/N),” he said loud enough for the rest to hear. “We can just murder them,” he smirked and they all burst into a fit of outrage, during which Reggie leaned in closer to you, his lips coming close to your ear while he whispered,

“It’s nice to take a break every once in a while, right?”

You nodded with a smile.

“Yeah, Cookie can let loose,” you joked.

“Of course she can,” he smiled, lifting his head and pressing a kiss to your temple before resting his chin on the top of your head.

“Oh my God did you see that!” Rose pointed to you and Reggie and he stuck his tongue out at her.

“What can’t a guy hug a gal?” he countered and you just placed your hand on Reggie’s mouth before he made it first, prompting him to teasingly bite your finger.

“Flicka!” you complained while Luke immediately came to your rescue.

“Guys! You gotta leave at least a foot for Jesus, come on this is beginner stuff,” he poked. Luke swatted Reggie’s hand away. “Get your hand off my daughter. I’m not ready to be a grandmother just yet, Peters.”

“Luke,” you whined at his extra comment.

“If they think this is bad they should’ve seen the dance Mrs. Leona made us do,” Reggie nudged you and you agreed with a chuckle.

“Since when are you guys in the dance class?” Bobby asked, coming back into the studio with more snacks.

“We’re not, Mrs. Hillside assigned under Mrs. Leona’s care for a day and we helped choreograph a dance for the sophomores next semester,” you explained, totally not realizing the implications of what you had said.

“You know they’re gonna make us dance now right?” Reggie sighed.

“Shit, they are, aren’t they,”

With a loud groan you both stood up and Reggie took your hand.

“From the top Cookie?”

“From the top,” you sighed with a roll of your eyes.

Rose reached for the speakers, connecting her MP3 to them and playing the song.

“Swing those hips, Reginald!” Luke whooped, reaching for the bowl of popcorn in the middle of the coffee table. Reggie mouthed a swear to his friend as his hands found his place on your hips.

“Watch where you’re putting those hands!” Rose warned. Rolling his eyes, Reggie teasing dropped his hands lower, only for you to swat them away.

“I’ll still bite you,” you hissed playfully.

“Promise?” he shot back.

Once the music started to play, you felt Reggie’s hand trail down your arm. Every move was burned to your memory as you danced along with Reggie. The comments of your friends -either cheering or teasing- escaped your mind.

And all that you wanted was for the night to never end.

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inky-duchess · 3 years

Text

21 History Ancedotes for my 21st Birthday

So today I celebrate my 21st birthday and I have decided to gift you all with 21 of my favourite historical Ancedotes. Some are funny, some are sad and some are plain bizarre but I hope the make your day 💜

Mary Maloney, an Irish-born suffragette in England followed Winston Churchill around while he was campaigning for a seat in Parliament, drowning out everything he said with a very large bell and calls for him to apologise for his comments on women's rights and suffrage movements.

Clodius Pulcher was a well born Roman noble during the last day's of the Republic. He gave up his Patrician status to become Tribune of the Plebs (an office in which one had to be a Pleb) by being adopted by a much younger Plebian man who became his "father". Clodius was a bit of a riot, sneaking into religious festivals dressed like a woman to sleep with Caesar's wife, building a shrine to Liberty in the ruins of the Conservative Cicero, vetoed the last speech of one of the Consuls (who basically did nothing all year and was apparently going to roast Caesar) and burned down the Senate House with his funeral pyre (the Plebs who loved him literally tearing up the furniture to build his pyre). He was honestly the best fun.

When laying on her deathbed, Queen Caroline of Ansbach turned to her husband George II of England and told him he should marry again. George refused to ever wed again... But added he would have mistresses. Caroline said , likely with a roll of her eyes, "oh my god that doesn't matter."

Florence was a pretty cool city in the Renaissance until Savanorola came to town. He disliked the loose living artists that crowded the city, with their naked pagan gods and rampant homosexuality. He expelled them all with help of the French hoping to make Florence Holy Again. When the Borgia Pope excommunicated him and sentenced him to death, one man in the crowd was reported to have said. "thank God, niw we can return to sodomy." One Floretine man in the 1490s said Gay Rights.

So this list couldn't be complete without an entry of the only American politician I love, Alexander Hamilton who was just a walking entity of sass. I could go on about his sharp sarcasm or his disaster bi vibes with John Lauren's but my all time favourite Alexander Hamilton ancedote has to be this exchange with Thomas Jefferson "There are approximately 1010300 words in the English language, but I could never string enough words together to properly explain how much I want to hit you with a chair."

Caterina Sforza was an Italian noble woman during the Renaissance. She was apart of the powerful Sforza family, which drew many enemies to her. One fateful day at Forli, Caterina's children were snatched as hostages. The besiegers threatened to kill her children if she did not cede the castle. Caterina refused, lifting her skirts and shouted to the besiegers that she had the means to make more children.

Hannibal Lecter's creator Thomas Harris was happy to end his great character's story with the original trilogy. However his publishers forced him to write an unneeded prequel explaining why Hannibal became Hannibal. Thomas Harris agreed lest he lose the rights to his character so he wrote Hannibal Rising, where Hannibal as a young man hunts down the Nazis who ate his sister with a katana.

Nell Gwyn is my favourite mistress of Charles II, mainly because of her sass. Once while trapped in the middle of a riot where Londoners swamped her carriage thinking she was Charles's Catholic mistress. She popped her head out the carriage and told the people "Pray good people be civil. I am the Protestant whore." She also dosed her rival Moll Davis with laxatives in order to free up some of Charles's time and she once flashed her underwear at the French ambassador after asking him why the Franch King did not pay her to spy on Charles because she was with him every night. A true Queen.

Emperor Ai of the Han Dynasty of China once rose from his bed to go do some ruling when he realised his lover, Dong Xian was sleeping on his sleeve. Rather than disturb his lover, the Emperor cut his sleeve off at the wrist to leave Dong Xian nap. Nothing has ever been more romantic than that. Y'all could never.

Princess Margaret the sister of current Queen Elizabeth II was a socialable Princess and often tasked to visit the up and coming music stars of the day on behalf of the Crown. When meeting the Beatles one evening, she noticed George Harrison was acting a little odd. When she asked what was the matter, he replied "We arent allowed eat until you go." Princess Margaret laughed and promptly left so the Beatles could get some dinner.

During the Siege of Jadotsville, Irish soldiers under the flag of the UN were attacked and besieged by local insurgents allied with the Katanga Regime. The insurgents numbered thousands while the Irish only had 158 soldiers, all who were lightly armed. They radioed to their allies assuring them that "we will hold out until our last bullet is spent. Could use some whiskey though".

Napoleon was famous for writing raunchy letters to his wife, the Empress Josephine while he was away. She used to reply with really mundane letters or not at all. She really just could not be bothered with him.

Josip Broz Tito was so fed up with Joseph Stalin sending assassins to kill him, he wrote to Stalin personally to say "If you don't stop sending assassins to kill me. I will send one to Moscow and I won't have to send another." It didn't work but Big Dick Energy.

Successful Roman soldiers returning from war often got to march along in parades known as Triumphs. During this, it was customary for them to sing bawdy songs about their commander. One surviving one about Caesar goes like this "Romans, lock up your wives. Here comes the bald adulterous whore. We pissed away your gold in Gaul and come to borrow more."

Matilda, Lady of the English was a woman so badass that history cannot handle her. She was the daughter of Henry I who left his throne to her after the death of her brother. She was away in France when her father died and her throne was snatched by her cousin Stephen. They battled back and forth for years with neither side ceding any ground. Matilda was once besieged in a castle during a snow storm, with Stephen's men all around her. Instead of fighting her way out. She simply donned a white cloak and walked out of the castle. Just walked out without any of Stephen's men seeing her.

Pedro of Portugal once fell in love with a beautiful lady in waiting called Inez de Castro. For years, they lived as man and mistress, popping out a few kinds. Pedro's dad really did not like Inez and wanted Pedro to find a legitimate wife so he had her killed. Pedro returned home to find the mother of his children dead. Pedro went a little crazy. He had all his father's assassins killed, ripping out their hearts as they had done to him. When Pedro ascended the throne, he demanded the Pope legitimize his children by Inez. The Pope not wanting to upset the King, said he couldn't because Inez was never crowned Queen. Pedro dug Inez up and crowned her as Queen, having all the nobility swear loyalty to her corpse. The Pope had no choice but to agree to his request.

A famously clever general once saved an entire city with an ingenious stragety to sit outside the city waiting for the attacking army to come. The attack had come to fast for the city to ready themselves for a Siege so, the general had to move quickly. He evacuated the city and took his place waiting for the army to come. The enemy forces stopped and took one look at him and bolted, thinking he meant to lure them in one of his famous traps.

Michaelangelo was really badly treated by the Vatican when he was painting the Sistine Chapel. He constantly fought with the Popes over the design and his work, which he was paid peanuts for. Michaelangelo got his revenge in his work, painting the gates of Hell behind the Papal Throne and an angel flipping the ol' fig (the Renaissance version of the bird) toward the Pope's chair.

Peter the Great was not a perfect guy. He kept serfdom as a practise in his kingdom, he had his son tortured to death and he could be an unpleasant guy. But Peter was a dreamer. He wanted nothing more to build a fleet for Russia and bring Russia beyond its borders. Peter took a gap year from ruling Russia to wander around Europe. When he stopped in England, he was granted Leicester House to chill in while he did his shipwright studies. It was here that Peter found a new passion. The wheelbarrow. Cue Peter and his new found English buddies drinking in Leicester House, punching the artwork and rolling each other around in barrels across the house's Great gardens.

Diogenes is hands down a walking shit post. He was a great thinker in Greece during the reign of Alexander but a rather dry, sarcastic wit. He lived in a pithos/a jar because he shunned all vanities and values of society. He trolled other philosophers, attending their debates to heckle them and eat loud foods through them. When Alexander the Great came to fan boy over him, saying that if he were not Alexander he would like to be Diogenes to which Diogenes just said "yeah me too, now get out of my sunlight."

Cosimo de Medici was the son of a Floretine banker with a great knowledge and love of art. Cosimo wished for Florence to release its potentially and join the Renaissance. He hired Filippo Brunelleschi to finsh the Great Dome of Santa Maria del Fiore which had láin unfinished for over a century, a symbol of a failure of ambition. The builders had lost the knowledge of creating a dome so large so it remained unfinished. Despite much opposition from the other nobility and denouncers of the Renaissance, Cosimo's dream of the completion of the dome was completed, making it the largest brick dome in creation at that time. There is nothing like achieving your dreams and certainly nothing like leaving a lasting reminder that screams 'I was right and you were wrong' to stand for centuries.

#Instead of doing shots I decided to give you all a gift #History is our greatest gift #And it's filled with dick jokes and idiots #Anyway happy birthday to me #Go forth and enjoy this great gift #history dump #History Ancedotes #History bites: kinda?

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crownjimin · 3 years

Text

✰ 099 | no takesies backsies

la vie en rose ━ in which lee aera, a girl who has been crushing on choi soobin for a long, long time, is starting her junior year and her friends decide that its time for her to make her move.

( masterlist | prev | next )

A/N: whoop! one more update + the epilogue and we’re donezo!!

“I can’t believe it’s really red—,” He flipped and shuffled his hands through her hair as he said this.

“So bright, so pretty,” Soobin muttered to himself, going as far as to bend down and push his nose into her scalp, taking a long, dramatic sniff. “Oh, it doesn’t smell like strawberries.”

Aera laughed at this, shoving her not-boyfriend away from her softly. “Of course not. That’s like me saying your hair should smell like chocolates.”

Soobin had recently dyed his hair back to brown--well, dark brown, and as much as it made Aera sad to see the purple gone from his hair, it was well past due. His roots had grown out terribly, meaning that he was either going to have to redo his roots or retreat back to his natural brown. Also, the purple was less purple and more of a faded ash gray, from all the washing Soobin did to his hair.

For a while, he was set on just letting his hair grow out, then cutting it at the brown once the ash gray was to the tips of his hair but Aera told him he would look crazy. They debated about it for a few days, but one day Aera showed up at his house with a kit with brown hair dye and a few hours later his chocolate brown locks were back.

“Well, if you used strawberry shampoo it would smell like strawberries.”

“I will when you use chocolate shampoo.”

Soobin pouted. “I bet Ariel’s hair smells like strawberries.”

“Go sniff her head then,” the red-head quipped. “And I actually highly doubt that is true. She lives in the ocean, you know. The place where fish pee--that ocean.”

“Is there another ocean that I should be thinking of?”

“Yeah,” There was a teasing lilt in Aera’s voice. “The one I’m going to toss you in if you keep sassing me.”

The two were currently sitting in Soobin’s living room on Saturday morning, Soobin having asked Aera on Friday night if she wanted to spend the next day with him. Of course, without hesitation, Aera agreed, telling him that she would be there by ten, and now they were there.

Soobin had suggested watching YouTube in his living room until his mom got home from the gym, and Aera found no issue with the idea. During the past hour and a half, they had watched way too many Girls’ Generation music videos, and even attempted to learn the choreography to Catch Me If You Can. After forty minutes of them attempting to get past the first verse, they called it quits. Soobin claimed that he was too talented in girl group choreography to continue and further embarrass Aera with her lackluster movements.

But if you asked Aera, Soobin just didn’t want to have a dance battle, because he knew he was going to lose.

At noon, Ruha walked through the front door, her arms loaded with three market bags, filled to the brim with groceries.

“Soobin-ah,” Ruha yelled, a little too loud since she hadn’t realized he was right there in the living room. “Come help me with my bags!”

Both Soobin and Aera rushed to help Ruha, the older woman being slightly startled by Aera being there but she quickly perked up and said, “Oh good, Ae Ae is here. More hands to help!”

Everything felt so natural with Soobin and his family. Aera had spent a lot of time at his house since the picnic, and his parents seemed to love her. Soobin’s dad was obsessed when he saw how small Aera was, often leaning his elbow on her head whenever he stood beside her as a way to ridicule and tease her about her height. Then when she turned up with red hair, he almost had a better reaction than Soobin, dubbing her Strawberry Shortcake and hasn’t stopped calling her that since.

Aera had also gotten Soobin’s parents’ phone numbers, Ruha often texting Aera at random times throughout the day whenever Soobin talked about her.

ruha-ssi

he said you brought him lunch to school today. says that he loves how much you care about him

i’m sure he cares about me way more than i do him

ruha-ssi

does he show it well?

that he cares for you.

wouldnt ask for him to treat me any better than he already

does ruha-ssi.

Or the time Ruha told her that Soobin was sleep talking and had muttered her name.

ruha-ssi

he’s napping.

[picture attached]

ruha-ssi

he just grumbled your name and had the biggest smile

aw that’s so cute

ruha-ssi

i know :)))

Soobin was aware that Aera had his mother’s number, but he didn’t know that his mother was revealing just how lovestruck he was. Aera didn’t plan on mentioning it to him either, thinking that Ruha is godsent for giving her so much dirt and content to tease Soobin with whenever he decided to get too sassy with her.

Plus, Soobin has had Dongmin’s phone number much longer than Aera has had Ruha’s, and she is one-thousand percent positive that her mother lived to embarrass her, so Soobin for sure had some dirt on her.

It’s a win-win situation, all is fair in love and war.

“So, Soobin-ah,” Ruha spoke as she walked into the kitchen. “What time do you want to head out?”

Aera was busy placing things where they belonged from the market bags (yes, she knows where their groceries belonged—she’s been over there that much), but she raised an eyebrow at Ruha’s question.

“Head out where?” she asked.

“Soobin wanted to take you to an early dinner today,” Ruha paused, with a nervous expression on her face. “I-I don’t know if it was supposed to be a surprise or not-”

“No, mom, it’s fine,” Soobin waved it off. “It wasn’t really a surprise, I was gonna mention it to you later, Pouts.”

Aera walked out of the pantry, an excited glint in her eyes. “Will there be steak at this dinner?”

“Do you want there to be steak?”

“Yes.”

“Then there will be steak.”

━━━━━━━

The restaurant Soobin had chosen was very dark, Aera noted. The only light that was supplied was from a single candle lit in the center of the table, which left everything as shadows and tinted orange.

It seemed super expensive, and once Aera picked up the menu, her suspicions were confirmed.

“Soobi,” her voice seemed hesitant. “How are you affording any of this?”

She should’ve realized that the meal was going to be an expensive one when Ruha had offered Aera one of her old dresses, seeing as Aera had came over to their house in a pair of ripped jeans and a tattered t-shirt. The dress Ruha lent her was a dark blue, high-necked dress, where the waist tapered in and then flowed out to mid-thigh. Luckily, Aera had worn black flats that day, those being the shoes closest to her front door when she left for Soobin’s house.

Soobin was dressed in a simple button up and black slacks. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and the top button of his shirt was undone—if Aera hadn’t known better, she would’ve thought Soobin was a young adult that worked a nine-to-five office job and not a sixteen year old boy taking his not-girlfriend out for an early dinner.

Everything was fancy, and the two of them were tucked into a corner booth where once they sat down the hostess had wished ‘Mister and Missus Choi’ a nice evening.

“Months of allowance that I’ve saved up,” Soobin lifted his gaze from the menu and once he saw how worried Aera was, he rushed to reassure her. “Plus, I work a summer job! Don’t worry, Pouts, I promise it’s not too much.”

“You don’t have to spend your allowance on me, Soobi,” she spoke softly. “You should spend it on something you really want-something to make you happy.”

“Seeing you happy makes me happy.”

Aera blushed. “Don’t try to flatter me into running your pockets dry.”

“Ae Ae, seriously,” Soobin put down his menu and reached his hands across the table to touch her hands, which laid on the table. He tugged her index fingers once, attempting to soothe her and get her to not worry. “It’s fine. If it makes you feel better we can just split something, so that way I won’t have to spend much.”

The crease in her eyebrows gradually faded and she nodded in agreement. “Are you okay with splitting a steak?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he nodded. “Just order whatever, I’ll eat anything.”

Aera looked over the menu, her eyes skipping over the more expensive items but honestly the cheapest things were the hor d'oeuvres and even those weren’t cheaper than 74,000 won.

“How about I choose one, you choose one, then we pick something together?” she suggested. “That way we can both enjoy something.”

By the time the waiter came to the table, they had decided on their personal picks and their combined choice, and once the food came to the table, Aera knew it was more than enough. The steak she had chosen ended up being as big as her face and had the both of them gasping in surprise once it was set on the table. Soobin decided on a rose pasta, in a dish large enough that it could feed a family of five. And their combined choice was a large platter of American-style french fries, but the way the menu phrased it made it seem like they were ordering a fancy potato.

Soobin offered to have the kitchen take it back, but Aera refused to give back french fries--she’d be crazy to ever turn down french fries (plus it came with a gravy boat filled with a white sauce that Aera could literally guzzle down in one go, so she was more than happy to keep it).

The moment the waiter told them to enjoy, Aera was shoving her fork into the steak, which was thankfully pre-cut, and the second she bit into it, juice ran down her chin and she had to squeeze every muscle in her throat to not let out a moan.

Soobin noticed her expression, the way her eyes fell close and she paused mid-bite. “Is it good, Pouts?”

“Tho goof,” she attempted to speak around her bite but she just gave up and nodded enthusiastically.

“It’s so juicy,” she said once she swallowed.

When they were ordering, she wanted to get the steak cooked well-done, but Soobin had told her to get it medium preaching something about it being more tender and juicer as if he knew everything and anything about steak. Aera argued and said she didn’t want to cut into her steak and hear it mooing back at her, and Soobin chuckled but promised if it was too raw for her when it came out, they could just send it back and she obliged.

She most definitely was not sending back this beautiful piece of heaven, and shoved another piece into her mouth. The scene from Ratatouille when the rat fused together strawberry and cheese and had color swirling around his head played inside Aera’s head the second she took another bite of the steak. Her eyes were closed, her head lolled from side to side as she swayed euphorically to the warmth of the steak and the flavor on her tongue.

Once she noticed what she was doing, she sat up stark straight and opened her eyes, watching as Soobin recorded her and laughed silently at her actions.

“You seemed to be enjoying yourself alot there,” Soobin ended the recording and set his phone on the table.

“Delete that.”

“I won’t. Here,” Soobin held out his fork where some of his pasta was twirled on the end. “Try it.”

Aera opened her mouth, letting him guide the fork inside and once she closed her mouth around the fork, the Ratatouille scene played again. She pulled away from the fork, her hand shooting over her mouth as she chewed and her eyes shot wide.

“Good?” Soobin asked, stabbing his fork in a piece of steak and eating it, much less dramatically than Aera had.

“Is amayshin,” Aera muttered. “Why ish ev-wee-shing hwere sho amayshin?”

Soobin swallowed and laughed. “It better be with these ridiculous prices.”

“Oh, yeah,” she nodded and swallowed her bite. “It’s so worth it.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

“I’m glad I like you,” Aera giggled, shoving some fries into her mouth. “You buy me expensive steak.”

“Only because of the steak?”

She nonchalantly shrugged. “Pretty much.”

Soobin faked a scoff, halfway knowing she was joking, but once he watched her pick up another piece of steak, and then kiss it before she ate it, he wasn’t so sure if she was joking anymore.

━━━━━━━━━

Thirty-five minutes and an entire steak later, Aera and Soobin were slouched over, bellies full, with their plates cleared.

“I am going to sleep so well tonight,” Aera grumbled as she rubbed her stomach. “This was so amazing.”

The waiter came to give the receipt and return Soobin’s card, wishing ‘Mister and Missus Choi’ a good night, and left them to their vices. Aera chuckled at being called Missus Choi, because did she look old enough to be married?

Did married people dye their hair red? She didn’t know but did she look married? Did her and Soobin resemble a married couple? Oh god, that just fueled her fantasy of marrying Soobin and she knew that she would never let this go.

“Alright,” Soobin groaned, shoving the receipt and card into his pocket as he stood and rounded the table, reaching his hand out to help Aera up from her chair. “You okay?”

Aera blew out a breath. “I’m stuffed.”

They both stood in place, Aera swaying a bit from standing up too quickly and Soobin attempted to stabilize her by setting a hand on her waist. “Careful.”

“I’m fine,” she tapped his hand on her waist. “I’m okay, just stood up a little too fast. Let’s go.”

They walked out of the restaurant hand-in-hand, Soobin somewhat leading Aera as she momentarily closed her eyes as a way to wheeze out air around her full belly. This was the best meal she has had in entire life, one that she never imagined having unless she was filthy rich and drank gold for breakfast, lunch, and dinner but here Soobin was taking her on a date just because he wanted to see her happy.

When they made it outside, Aera tugged his hand, causing him to stop and turn to her. She eased her arms around his waist, resting her head on his shoulder as she softly hugged him. He returned the gesture immediately, cuddling his head on top of hers and they just existed in the moment, in each other’s arms.

“Thank you for this, Soobin,” Aera squeezed him tightly, nuzzling her head further into his shoulder. “You made me really happy by doing this—you make me happy always.”

“I’m happy to make you happy,” Soobin chuckled, pulling away from the hug. “But the night isn’t over, we have one more stop!”

“Is it far?”

Soobin nodded. “My mom is going to take us there. She’s on her way here now.”

“Where is it?”

“The beach.”

“The beach?”

Soobin nodded again. “The beach.”

“The beach,” Aera said flatly. “I like the beach.”

“That’s why we’re going.”

“Hm,” Aera sighed happily. “The beach.”

━━━━━━━━━━

Upon their arrival, Aera realized that when Soobin said the beach, he actually meant the boat dock by the beach. Well more like the yacht dock by the beach, because as they made their way to the end of the dock, they passed massive yachts, the type that only rich people could afford. Ones with balconies and two-stories that have some corny name etched onto the side that were either named after an important woman in their life or something like Old Betsy.

“What are we doing on a dock,” Aera giggled, swinging her and Soobin’s hands where they were connected. “I’m almost positive we aren’t supposed to be here.”

Soobin laughed as they came to stop in front of one of the smaller yachts, which wasn’t exactly small (but in comparison to the other yachts it was more compact), where a man was waiting for them.

“Choi Soobin?”

“Yes sir,” Soobin nodded, then gestured behind him. “And this is my mother, Ruha.”

The man extended his hand to Ruha, giving it a firm shake. “Yes, we spoke on the phone. Everything is set, if you guys want to climb on in, we’ll head out in about ten minutes.”

“Thank you,” Ruha said as the man helped her onto the yacht by her hand.

The man then lent his hand to Aera, but instead of grabbing it, she took a step back, a conflicted look on her face.

“Wait,” Soobin placed his free hand on Aera’s wasit, causing her to look up at him. “You aren’t afraid of water, right? Boats or anything? Because I was just trying to surprise you, that’s why I didn’t as-”

“No, no,” Aera shook her head. “That’s not it, but Soobin how much was this?”

Soobin raised an eyebrow at the question, confused as to why she was asking this. “What?”

“It’s just—” she sighed. “You’re spending a lot of money today, and I don’t want you to think you have to blow a bunch of money just to make me happy. You could’ve just given me a bottle of water and I’d be happy that it came from you, so I don’t get why you are taking me to all these expensive places and things.”

“I just want to spoil you,” he softly replied. “Even if it’s just for a day. I want you to have some of the best experiences with me, so I don’t mind spending a lot of money on you.”

“But, Soob-”

“And plus,” Soobin smiled wide. “My friends chipped in to help, they wanted to make us both happy so they offered to help. You don’t have to pay them back, I don’t have to pay them back, they were just doing it out of the goodness of their hearts. Me as well.”

Aera stood there frozen.

“I just want you to be happy.”

“But I’m already happy with you.”

Soobin leaned down to rest his forehead on Aera’s. “Yes, but you’d be even more happy on the boat, so let’s go!”

Aera laughed as she reached out for the man’s hand, him having stood there and watched that whole sappy ordeal, and he pulled her into the boat. Soobin followed and guided Aera to the very front of the yacht, where Ruha sat with a blanket over her legs.

“Choi Soobin, this will be the last time you spend a shit ton of money on me, do you understand?” Aera scolded, her finger pointed at Soobin but a smile was on her face.

“Yes, ma’am, never again,” Soobin spoke jokingly, totally not meaning a word of what he just said.

“You’re not going to listen to me are you?”

“Nope.”

The yacht got moving a few moments later, things feeling a bit shaky for a few minutes, but Aera acclimated to it quite fast. She and Soobin had taken to roleplaying the scene from Titanic that nearly everyone does when they are at the frontmost point on a boat.

Soobin held her waist as Aera held her arms out to her side, feeling the wind whip on her face and the smell of salt infiltrate her nose.

“The ocean is kind of stinky,” her nose scrunched up as she said this. “Smells like raw fish and high cholesterol.”

Soobin cackled, tightly wrapping his arms around Aera’s waist as he pulled her into his chest, her back to her front. “You ruined such a good moment.”

She giggled, placing her hands over his arms and squeezed. “I was just telling the truth.”

“Kids!” Ruha called out. “Come sit down for a few minutes, you’re making me nervous by the ledge.”

They obliged, walking to sit across from Ruha and they talked amongst themselves for a few minutes, playing a few rounds of rock paper scissors to pass the time.

“So are we just going to cruise around the ocean for a few hours or what?” Aera asked, peering over the side of the boat to look down into the water. “Because no offense to the ocean or anything, but this is a bit boring.”

Soobin pulled out his phone, checking the time before he answered, “Actually, no. Just seven minutes until what we came here for happens.”

Aera looked intrigued now, “Oh, is it fireworks? Are we looking at fireworks?”

“I don’t think lighting explosives on a yacht would be smart.”

“A yacht,” Aera chuckled. “Never thought I’d see one of these in my entire lifetime.”

“Well, there’s a first time for everything.”

“I’m glad my first time was with you,” she softly spoke, her voice almost a whisper.

“Me too,” Soobin smiled. “We’ll have many firsts together, hopefully.”

“Hopefully.”

At the moment, they were sitting side-by-side with their waist turned to face one another, but Soobin pointed behind Aera as he muttered, “Look.”

Aera turned her body around, to face the ocean, a gasp leaving her mouth as she absorbed the breathtaking scene in front of her. She watched as the sun burned a hypnotizing orange and pink hue, reflecting on the ocean’s surface. Slowly, the orb lowered to meet the horizon line, kissing it softly as the glares glittered across the rippling water.

She had seen nothing like this, ever. Mother nature and the Earth’s natural occurrences never appealed to Aera, they were never something she found interesting or attention-catching, but this—this was so worth it.

Her awestruck trance was broken when Soobin rested his chin on her shoulder, whispering, “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

“It’s-I-” Aera searched for the right words but there were none that could accurately describe exactly what she was witnessing. It made her speechless, her jaw going slack as she once again watched the sun move lower and lower.

They sat in silence, taking in the scenic view before them. Ruha sat opposite of them, snapping pictures of the sunset as she oh’ed and aw’ed at the scene.

“Pouts,” Soobin muttered into her ear, keeping his voice low so as to not ruin the moment. “I, uh-”

“Hm, Soobi?”

“Please, be my girlfriend.”

All of Aera’s breath left her body, all of her blood seemed to run cold. Was she hallucinating? Was she hearing things?

“Huh-” Oh god, she sounded so stupid. Who responds to the boy of their dreams asking them to be their girlfriend with ‘huh’.

“I-” Soobin sat up straighter, Aera being able to feel so behind her. “I really like you-no, love you, and I want to be with you. Officially. For a very long time.”

Aera eased her way around, turning to face Soobin who looked like he was going to pass out any second if she didn’t give him an answer within the next millisecond. So she carefully raised her hands to his cheeks, cupping his face softly.

“I’d love to be your girlfriend, Choi Soobin,” she breathed. “I’d kind of be an asshole if I said no after all of this, am I right?”

Soobin held onto her wrists. “I hope that isn’t the sole reason you are saying yes.”

“Lucky for you, it is not. It’s probably one of the lower list reasons.”

“There’s a list?”

She giggled. “There has always been a list.”

The sound of her giggle seemed to have him smitten, his eyes zoning in on her lips which caused her heart to skip a beat. She wasn’t dumb, she knew what he was thinking of, what his eyes were asking for, and for some reason, she had no qualms about complying.

Her first kiss was always something Aera fretted about, thinking about how awful it was going to be, how she was going to mess everything up. But for some reason, right here, right now, with Soobin, she knew for a fact it was going to be amazing. This is maybe the first and only decision Aera didn’t hesitate to make, and so she leaned in.

The touch of their lips was soft. Simple. A measly, quick peck.

When they pulled back, both of their cheeks were colored rose, a look of fondness between the two of them and Aera leaned in to kiss the the corner of Soobin’s mouth before pulling away and dropping her hands from his face.

“No takesies backsies, Choi Soobin.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Lee Aera.”

#choi beomgyu #choi soobin #choi yeonjun #hueningkai #kang taehyun #kpop #choi soobin x female oc #social media au #txt #txt social media au

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r6sblitz · 3 years

Text

Happy Valentines day! I don’t have an AO3 but I am debating on making one. Nevertheless, I haven’t written anything fictional since middle school so if it’s bad...at least I have an excuse.

It’s Valentines week, and Montagne needs a date to get entry to the fabled Valentines party. I wonder who it’ll be? (This fic is mild, just some kissing, a little less than 5k words, Montagne/Blitz)

Montagne turned the paper over, inspecting both sides. Valentines was coming up once again, and as per tradition Rainbow threw a huge Valentine's party at whatever hotel ballroom would let them. He's heard the stories of past years--like the one year someone made a "punch" that was nothing more than a concoction of pepto bismol and fruit punch. Or how every year would end in someone finding a couple making out in numerous secluded areas. The Frenchman himself had never been to any of the outings, as the big bold print at the end of the rose colored flier always barred his entrance.

‘Must have a date!’ it read in it's silky letters, mocking him.

It was no secret Gilles loved a good party, especially one where he could engage with his fellow peers. Sadly though, he's yet to find a date. He's thought about just taking a friend and lying, but his poor communication skills also factor into his inability to lie.

With a sigh, he places the flier next to his plate, eating his lunch in peace. That was, until two familiar faces joined him at the table.

"Hey Gilles!" Emmanuelle's warm voice brought a smile to his face as he watched her and Rook sit across from him.

The two very much reminded him of his siblings when they were younger--bright and protective, but they could be mischievous at times. Montagne hasn't even had a chance to greet her back before the flier is snatched from across the table by Julien.

"Planning on attending this year?" he asks with a smirk. Emmanuelle's smile brightens, "Oh it's so much fun Gilles! Please tell me your coming."

Gilles gives a waning smile, "I haven't got a date."

Julien let out an amused huff, "As if that's ever stopped Bandit from sneaking in and stealing the snacks."

Twitch gives him a fake slap to the shoulder, "Don't be mean!" she turns to Monty, "What he means to say is don't feel bad for not having a 'date'," she says with air quotes, "you could just bring a friend. I'm sure everyone would be happy to see you there."

Montagne rubs the back of his neck, "I'm not so sure. I feel it is...out of the spirit?" The two across the table share a confused look unbeknownst to Monty, Julien simply shrugging his shoulders in response. A few moments of silent eating pass before Julien speaks up.

"Well...is there anyone you're close to? Maybe you could use this chance to get to know them a little bit better?" he asks before sticking another forkful of food into his mouth and winking.

Montagne chews the inside of his cheek a moment, cogs in his head turning. He honestly hadn't had a romantic relationship in decades, deeming his job too important to have something take more of his focus away. But if it was a fellow operator...No. That was equally as bad. Job relationships were known to crash and burn when they went south, and with this job they needed exactly the opposite of that. However his mind wanders to the relationships of Rainbow--how despite so many disliking and downright hating each other, it hasn't caused catastrophic issues.

"I think you might have broken him." he faintly hears Emmanuelle giggle, causing him to snap out of his thoughts.

"Well, Valentine's isn't for another week, so there's plenty of time to think it over." Julien says, standing with his empty plate and bidding farewell.

Emmanuelle searches her empty plate a moment, trying to find the right words for the older man.

Eventually, she picks up her plate, "Try not to think too hard, I say just go with a friend. Who knows what might happen!" and with that he is left alone once again. He peers down at the pink flier and it's swirling text, pocketing it as he too exits from the cafeteria.

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

The note has burned a hole into both his pocket and his mind. Every time he casually puts his hands in his pockets, or reaches for his wallet or phone, he is reminded of it and it's connotations. The past few days he's been taking Julien's advice, thinking about who he would want to bring given the chance.

When he's practicing his shooting, he thinks of Thatcher, has to admit the elder man is rather handsome. Though he highly doubts he's gay or bi or whatever sort of things people call themselves these days.

A technology session with Dokkaebi has him wondering about her, but quickly stuffs the idea--she's much too young, he'd feel like a creep asking her.

After training, a few cuts bring him to Gustave. He too admires him, both for his looks and for his dedication. The two made small talk as Doc inspected the cuts, seeing if they needed stitches or if a heart covered bandaid would do. Montagne laughs at the bandages, oddly cute for a man like him to have, to which Doc sighs and explains someone must have replaced the regular ones with these--the name of the culprit not explicitly said but known anyways.

"Are you attending the Valentines party?" Montagne asks as he pulls the sleeves of his coat back over his now Valentine themed arms.

"I do actually," Doc replies offhandedly, busily putting away the peroxide and bandages, "do you?"

Montagne shakes his head, pushing himself off the gurney.

Doc hums in response, “Well if you can’t find one, don’t feel bad for bringing someone more platonic.”

“Emmanuelle told you didn’t she” Montagne sighs, rubbing his face. The younger GIGN members had good intentions but, sometimes they were a bit too much for the old man.

Doc chuckles, “My lips are sealed. Take it easy friend.”

Montagne leaves, spending the rest of his free time pondering a potential partner and wondering who the hell Doc is bringing as a date. His pacing has led him to the upper floor balconies of the base, one of the many enhancements from their old station at Hereford. He sits on a relatively new cushioned bench, watching wistfully as the setting sun stains the sky a deep orange and the clouds purple. It seems he is destined to not have any time to himself as the glass door facing out onto the balcony opens with a quiet squeak. A familiar figure in a puffy white jacket steps out.

Blitz.

The younger man strides toward him, "Hey, mind some company?" he asks.

Montagne shuffles a bit, making room for the german to sit down. He does, with a long winded sigh.

"Hope I'm not interrupting anything." he chuckles. Montagne smiles back at him and shakes his head. The two enjoy the sunset in peace, though Montagne's mind is elsewhere once again.

Why hadn't he thought of Elias earlier? The german was one of the first people he ever met when Rainbow was conceived. He remembered back to when he was first working with everyone, how he enjoyed Blitz but first thought him naive, or a thrill seeker like Smoke. However as time went on, he found it was the total opposite. Occasionally the german would regale an enthralled younger operator about his time in Kosovo, or in India, or wherever he was stationed in between. Oftentimes the story would horrify them, sometimes along with any older ops within earshot, but he'd lighten the mood by bringing in a happy ending, or following it up with a lighter story. The two also shared morals--the need to protect and make sure everyone was safe regardless of their own situation.

The more Gilles looked at Blitz, the more he began to see. He was kind and pleasant to be around, and had even been helping Montagne improve his english skills. And yet it seemed he was spending less and less time with the german, whether due to more responsibilities or more operators to deal with or a combination of the two. The fact really saddened him, just as they were becoming good friends, they were beginning to drift away.

With his mind lost, he failed to notice Blitz had turned and was now staring at him.

"Er...is there something on my face? Please don't tell me it's marker again, it took me weeks to get that doodle of my neck." he groans, beginning to pull out his phone to check. Montagne shakes himself of his thoughts.

"Ah no, I was just wondering-are you attending the party this weekend?" he asks, unusually nervous.

Blitz tilted his head, "No I'm not, though I have been curious as to how Dominic manages to sneak in every year." he says, putting his chin on his fist in thought.

Before Montagne could reply, the man interjects, "I have an idea, do you have a date?"

Montagne nods his head no.

"Great! We could go together!" he says as if it's just a casual everyday line. Montagne gawks at him, unable to process what's happening until Elias explains further.

"I've always wanted to know how Dom gets in, and I assume you want to go cause well," he vaguely gestures at the frenchman, "it's your type of thing. It's a win win! Unless, you didn't want to go?"

Montagne blinks, waving his hands in front of him, "Oh yes, yes I do." He says, and is surprised he sounds slightly disappointed.

Blitz hops up from his seat, "Great, this will work out perfectly. See you on Saturday?"

"8:30 sharp" Gilles hears himself mumble with a smile. With a lazy salute, the younger man leaves Montagne alone with the rising moon and an odd feeling in his stomach.

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

It had been a long time since Gilles had gone shopping for clothes. Typically he’d wear whatever was supplied, and rarely dress up in an old tuxedo that forever sat in his closet. But with a little egging from a certain two GIGN members, they convinced him to go out and buy some nice clothes for once. So now Gilles was inspecting a large map of the mall along with Julien and Oliver, the latter coming along in place of Twitch who claimed she wanted the three of them to have some “guy time”. After a few moments of inspection, Oliver points to the shop.

“Looks like it’s downstairs, toward the east entrance.”

Julien groans, “Should’ve parked at the other lot.”

The three set out, passing by various clothing boutiques, kiosks of toys and gadgets, and sickly sweet dessert stands. Their leisurely walk leads them to a large outlet at the other end of the mall. As soon as they enter, they’re immediately bombarded by the staff, who manage to wring out of them that Montagne was buying an outfit for his “date”. He’s corralled into a changing room and given several different dress shirts, jackets, and chinos before Julien and Olivier manage to drive them off.

He takes his time, putting on the matching sets before coming out and asking the two’s opinions. Gilles almost instantly regrets bringing the two along--both of them manage to find something or other to downvote an outfit. His latest attempt is simple, a peach colored dress shirt with tan brown dress pants. His hands are folded on his chest, exhaustedly listening to his two countrymen.

“Hmm I don’t know Gilles, I think the shirt is too close to your skin tone.” Julien tuts.

“Why did they think that was a good color to make pants out of, it looks like they're made of—” Gilles stomps back into the dressing room before he can hear the rest of Olivier’s sentence.

It wasn’t an easy feat to make Montagne frustrated, but after nearly an hour, he found himself at the end of his rope. The hangers clatter as he inspects what he’s worn and what’s been tossed to the wayside. A pair of black pants and black shirt are the last two items.

He disrobes before shouldering the shirt on, mumbling to himself that if they didn’t like this one, he was just going to wear his old tuxedo. After putting on the outfit, he takes a moment to inspect it in the thin mirror at the back of the changing room. At first he thought the shirt was just a plain black, however the sleeves bare an intricate lacework of swirling gold vines and roses. The pants have a similar, smaller pattern along the seams going down the outside of the legs.

It’s probably one of the more risque things he’s worn, though nothing will top his April fools butterfly armor, but he takes a deep breath and walks out. To his surprise, the two of them are stunned into silence.

“That looks...amazing!” Julien beams. Olivier nods his head in approval. A nearby store attendant comes by and gushes about the outfit, doing their best to flatter Gilles who takes the compliments with a fake smile.

Montagne lets out a relieved sigh, quickly zipping into the changing room and paying for the clothes before he’s hounded anymore. The three of them merrily made their way back to the other side of the mall, finally getting to the car and heading back to base.

—————————————————————————————

The day of Valentines was like any other day. Training, training, and more training. Though the regiments didn’t seem as intense, the day ending earlier than usual and Montagne found his muscles weren’t as sore as they normally would be. He showers at his dorm, taking his time. Personal bathrooms were among many of the luxuries afforded to them at his base, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t appreciate some privacy every once in a while. After he’s done, he dresses in his new attire, and stands in the mirror. He fiddles with his shirt collar, adjusting it this way and that. He’s oddly anxious, a feeling that’s rare for the older man. He couldn’t help but chuckle at himself, years of firefights and hostage situations and he’s scared over a date. Not even--it’s just a friendly outing to get in. Despite his initial excitement for the party, it’s turned into mild disappointment. With a deep sigh, he hopes to at least spend a little time with the german.

Gilles stuffs his wallet and phone into his pocket, and opens the door, and heads toward the parking lot.

Upon arrival at the hotel, he’s surprised to see just how many operators were milling outside the ballroom, waiting to get in. He’s toward the back of the line and is still nearly half an hour early, but he isn’t alone for long.

“You’re early! And it looks like everyone else is to.” Elias says as he makes his way next to him in line, “You look amazing by the way!” he beams. Despite the low light Gilles swears the younger man is blushing.

“Thank you. You look nice as well.” he says, scanning his partner’s outfit. He’s cleaned up nicely, though his hair is a bit tousled, likely the work of Lera. His skin tone contrasts perfectly with his wine red dress shirt and black pants. The two wait in line patiently, which can’t be said for some of the others. A tug at Montagne’s sleeve gets his attention. He looks down to see Blitz discreetly pointing at someone further up the line, follows his direction and spots the person in question.

“Dominic?” Montagne whispers.

“He’s alone, you think Ash is going to let him in?”

Montagne shrugs, “We’ll have to wait and see.”

The booming voice of Clash from the front silenced all the chatter. She announces the beginning of festivities and the door opens, allowing the guests to file in one couple at a time. Slowly but surely the two make their way to the front, watching in awe as Ash and Clash let Dominic go in sans date.

They were about to enter the crowded ballroom when Blitz stopped him.

“I have to ask,” he says, addressing Morowa, “why’d you let Dom in?”

Clash snorts, “About time someone asked me about that. I owed him a huge favor--he fixed my shield during a firefight and probably saved my life. When I asked him what I could do to return the favor, he said he just wanted to get in here every year.”

Elias quirks an eyebrow, “Seriously?”

“Seriously, now off you go, have some fun.” she ushers the two in, who slow down to take in the sights and sounds. Outside of rumors, Montagne didn’t actually know what the Valentine’s party actually looked like. The ballroom was extremely long, ending with an empty stage except for a small table and something under a cloth. Scattered around the room were large round tables fit with white lace table skirts. The dim lights, in addition with the added pink and red lights casting small bubbles of light, shower everything in a soft glow. To the left of the entrance, a row of long tables, nearly stretching to the end of the ballroom, house seemingly every dessert and cocktail in existence. Montagne is sure if he ate one of everything from there, he wouldn’t survive the night.

His hand is still in Elias’s as the younger man guides him away from the entrance toward the center of the room. Montagne takes a moment to appreciate just how warm he is, his hand heating Gilles’s forever cold ones. Through the sea of people he manages to spot Emmanuelle and Gustave. He must have slowed down a bit to see them clearly, as Elias turns around, before he too manages to spot the pair.

“Why don’t you go over and chat, want anything to drink?” he asks.

“Just a bit of champagne, thank you.”

“You got it.” Elias replies, and soon he is lost amidst the waves of couples. The mountain of a man manages to squeeze his way over to Emmanuelle, who’s arm in arm with Caveira, chatting with Gustave. The two women are in wildly different dresses--Emmanuelle in a short strapless navy blue dress that fringes as it goes down, while Taina confidently sports a bit longer obsidian color dress, the long sleeves and low cut accentuating her long jet black hair. Twitch perks up upon seeing Gilles, waving him over.

“You made it! I knew you’d find someone.” she says with a grin, which soon turns devious, “so, who’s your date?”

Montagne scans the room, pointing out Elias at the opposite end holding two drinks and engaging in small chatter with Dominic, the other german’s hands holding as many desserts as humanly possible. It takes a few attempts for Emma to see, until Taina helps guide her vision.

“Oh, Elias! Good choice.” she says playfully. Both her and Taina giggle, striding off to mingle elsewhere.

“I’m glad you could make it Gilles.” Doc says, looking comfortable in a barely blue dress shirt, hands stuffed in the pockets of his dark grey slacks.

“Glad to be here, though I do have to ask-”

Doc tilts his head.

“-who in the world did you bring as a date? I never found out.”

The medic barks with laughter, shaking his head, “You were really concerned about that? I brought Mister Baker,” he points to a gaggle of men nearby consisting of mostly SAS with the exception of Adriano and Aria. Lo and behold Thatcher was among them, waving his hand at a comment Seamus made.

“Ah. I didn’t realize you two were together.” he states bluntly.

“It’s only been a few months, we wanted to keep it relatively low.” he states, “So, how long have you been with Elias?”

Montagne rubs the back of his neck, “In all honesty, he just wanted to see how Dominic got in.”

Doc hums in acknowledgement, “I see. Well, you two enjoy the party, try not to drink too much.” he says, splitting off to join his partner. Thatcher takes to him casually, looping an arm around his back and resting his hand on the doctor’s hip. The little gaggle are surprised at first, that is until Smoke undoubtedly says something raunchy, which earns him the stink eye of both men. Montagne can’t help but chuckle at the site of it all.

“Gustave and Mike huh, can’t say I saw that one coming,” Elias says. Montagne turns to find he’s returned, drinks masterfully held in one arm while the other teeters two plates of dessert foods. Gilles quickly grabs his drink and food, relieving the other man of his juggling duties, which he thanks him for.

“You could have asked for help.” Montagne jokes, taking a sip of the sparkling champagne. It’s a lot sweeter than normal, but he has no doubt everything at that table is more sugary than it should be.

“It’s ok, didn’t want to interrupt your conversation.” he replies softly. There’s an unplaceable look in his eyes as he stares at the liquid in his glass, before taking a chug. Montagne still swears there’s a blush to his cheeks, but the lighting still obscures the colors of his face.

The two chat, occasionally accompanied by another couple, but mostly they talk amongst themselves. Montagne learns a lot in their chatter--like how Elias is pretty good at a lot of sports, but can’t shoot a hoop to save his life. Or that he was in a choir when he was younger, but never pursued music because he’d choke up on stage, though he can’t help but sing while doing the dishes. In turn, Gilles tells him tidbits about himself. Tells him his love of old country guitars, tells him he hates the winter because he gets so cold, tells him he of the times he and his brothers would sneak into their sisters’ room and hide their dolls in odd places around the house. The last one getting a good laugh out of the younger man.

After what seemed like hours of talking, Ash walked up on stage and addressed them all.

“I hope everyone’s been having fun! Now it’s the moment you’ve been waiting for!” she announces, lifting the cloth off both the table and large obelisk on stage. They reveal a turntable and huge speaker accordingly. The lights somehow dim even further, leaving most of the ballroom in shadow. A large portion of the dance hall lights up under a disco ball, its tiny mirrors casting orbs of light that twirl on the floor. Anyone who was sitting down immediately jumps to their feet, grabbing their partners and guiding, or in some cases dragging, them to the dance floor.

Montagne watches wistfully as the operators sway slowly with the beat of the music. Castle picked a good song, an old one he recognizes from the many times it’s played while someone’s cooking or cleaning on base. There’s a pressure on his shoulder. When he looks it turns out to be Elias’s hand.

“Do you...want to dance?” he asks, and this time Montagne is certain the man’s face has gone red. He smiles, takes his hand and the two of them go to the outskirts of the dance area.

“Sorry if I step on your shoes, I have two left feet.” the german chuckles.

They waltz and step to the music, making small movements so as to not step on each other, but soon they get into a rhythm. Elias has rested his head on Gilles’s shoulder, while the older man feels like he’s having a revelation. Everything felt just so right. Like god has molded Elias to fit perfectly in his arms, and that Gilles was sculpted to perfectly hold Elias. It felt so good, Montagne never wanted to let go.

They danced. And danced and danced, until the music stopped. Gilles wasn’t even aware that most of the operators left, save for a few stragglers trying to get their drunk dates to a hotel room for some sleep and water. Elias still had his head buried in the space between Gilles’s neck and shoulder.

“What time is it?” he heard him mumble.

Montagne reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone.

“It’s almost one in the morning.” he said as Elias pulled away. The older man felt himself missing the contact, the cool air of the ballroom almost immediately replacing the younger man’s warmth.

“Can’t believe you made me dance past midnight.” he joked, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with a forefinger and thumb.

“Someone mentioned free hotel rooms…” Gilles murmured.

“At this point, I don’t mind paying. I don’t want to drive home.” Elias yawned.

——————————————————————-

Everyone he had talked to about the party seemingly forgot to leave out that the hotel booked one room per two guests. One room with one bed. How cliche. But at this point Montagne didn’t really care, snagging to key from the receptionist. He met up with Elias, who was sitting on a chair nearby, looking ready to pass out.

“We get a room?”

“Yes, I hope you don’t mind sharing the bed.” Gilles replied.

Elias just shook his head, stretching his arms above his head with a yawn. The two made their way out of the brightly lit lobby to a nearby hallway. Thankfully they didn’t need to go far--their room was on the first floor.

“Oh hey,” Elias perked up, stopping Gilles, “do you mind if I get a water real fast?” the younger man pointed to a closed door, the sign tacked on it read ‘Ice and Vending Machines’. Gilles let him go, waiting only a few seconds before Elias popped back out, face a lot redder than before.

“Is everything...alright?” Gilles asked, eyebrows furrowed.

Elias cleared his throat, “Ah yep! Just uh, well. Now I know just how intimate Taina and Emma are.” he stuttered.

Montagne couldn’t help but chuckle.

The room appeared before them after a minute of walking. Gilles swiped the card, clicking open the door and flicking on the nearest light. The room itself was cozy, the walls a warm tan color against a navy blue carpet. Though small, it still had a countertop with a coffee machine and mini fridge stuffed underneath. Popping it open, Gilles took out two water bottles, handing one to Elias. With a small thanks the younger man chugged it down, sighing when finished.

The two stood in the room. The tension in the air was tangible, like a static buildup. But Montagne let the feeling pass over him, and didn't want to impose on the younger man. Elias took a step forward.

“I, uh, had a really fun time tonight.” finally meeting Gilles’s eyes.

“I’m glad.” he hummed back. Elias took another step forward.

“If you wanted to do this next year, I wouldn’t be opposed to it.” he said gently, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. They were close now, barely inches away. Gilles leaned down a bit, taking in everything he could. From the wrinkles shirt, to his reddening ears and messy hair.

“And I…” he begins, but cuts himself off. Their faces are inches away, perfect for kissing.

And so they do.

It’s a step beyond incredible. Montagne hasn’t felt this elated in years. Elias’s lips are surprisingly soft and as warm as the rest of him. He tastes like champagne and chocolate, fitting for someone as sweet as him. They stay there a moment, simply enjoying the touch as they continue to kiss, Montagne winding his arms around him. After what seems like hours, they eventually part, breaths still close enough to intermingle.

Elias laughs, embracing Gilles back, “So now that we got that out of the way, can we sleep now?” he jokes tiredly.

Montagne pecks the top of his head, “Of course mon amour.”

It takes an enormous amount of effort to get to bed, neither of them wanting to move, to let go. Gilles makes the first move, taking a hand and guiding Blitz to the bed. They kick off their shoes and climb into the bed, which was thankfully big enough for the two of them. Not like it mattered--as soon as both were in bed they huddled close, Montagne wrapping an arm around Blitz’s waist, and Blitz slipping his feet between Montagne calves. They sit in silence for a moment. Gilles can feel the younger man sigh against his neck as he rubs circles in his shoulders.

“Goodnight Elias, I love you.” Montagne hums. He’s not sure if Elias hears him at first, the shorter man’s head is stuffed under his chin, until he hears him squeak a reply.

“I love you too.”

Montagne grins, letting the warmth of the other man overtake him, helping him drift to sleep.

#r6s blitz #r6s montagne #montagne/blitz #monblitz #proofread once by me and never again lol

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bettycooperoutfitwatch · 3 years

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4x15 Chapter Seventy-Two: To Die For

Jughead died as he lived:

The world’s most dramatic bitch.

But that’s okay, because his plan hinges on everyone else in Riverdale being just as messy—and it works!

We finally reach the flash forward we witnessed in 410: the cropped red trousers, the stripe-y Juliet puff shoulders.

I’m not even gonna get into the waste of public resources (search parties, forensics, all of this costs money), I’m just gonna wave my hands and shrug, it’s Riverdale, etc.

One, this shot is really well set-up (the mirror fracture? Nice), and two, appears to have been filmed on a potato.

Two potatoes.

Three if you include Kevin, whose exposition-delivery work in this episode is especially thankless.

One of Betty’s two most-utilized purses this season, which are actually the same purse with slightly different stylings. This one is the simpler of the two.

The peacoat we’ve also seen a few times.

Cousin Cheryl puts Cousin Betty on suicide watch. It’s a lot.

So much of the core four’s plan hinges on other people. This is pure Scooby Doo logic. Let’s not dwell.

I repeat, for like the 89th time, this show hasn’t taken set dec photos since season one.

The raccoon eyes!

We’ve literally seen all of this before, so I won’t repeat myself.

Well, spoke too soon.

This sweater-of-much-debate first popped up in a flash forward at the end of 405 and then once more in 408. We’re really getting to the end of these flash forwards now, it would seem.

...

Do you think Betty and Jug got into some felon role-play after all this was over?

You know what, never mind, never mind.

🙃

This shirt looks a lot like one Betty wore in 105. Maybe they’re the same, maybe they’re not. There’s a lot of season one touches in this ep.

Well.

Initiate phase 2 of the plan, I guess: let’s plan a funeral.

Stripe-y ribbed turtleneck and a suede mini. This outfit will come up again, we’ll talk about it then.

Throughout this episode, we see a lot of different characters wear touches of tartan. It’s not the first time we’ve seen most of these people wear tartan or some kind of check print detail (yes, even Hiram)—but here it sort of reads as their tribute to Jughead.

Veronica’s collar.

Hiram’s shirt.

Archie’s tie.

FP goes for a glen plaid suit and a windowpane tie, the extra is clearly genetic.

Betty’s funeral attire is very classically Betty—sheer, swiss-dot puff sleeves, and A-line cut to the dress. Her hair is notably down, like the first time we saw her at a funeral.

A lot of people argue that Betty wears what looks like a J+B necklace in Jug’s dream opening to 222. I always thought that was her B pendant necklace, but idk anymore—I could be convinced given its showing here.

(Jellybean’s tights.)

Peep Betty’s pointy-toe kitten heels, with the little metallic embellishments.

Does Riverdale have a very active amateur theatrical society? Everyone’s really bringing their A game here.

Betty reads an excerpt from Arthur Conan Doyle’s story “The Final Problem,” which...girl.

To keep it brief (ha), Conan Doyle intended “The Final Problem” to be the last Sherlock Holmes story—which he tried to ensure by killing off his hero.

But then fans got mad at him and after a while of that, his hero rose from the dead in “The Adventure of the Empty House.”

What a way to telegraph, Elizabeth.

(Jellybean’s jellybean necklace!!)

(There’s nothing so enjoyable as hearing Ms. Reinhart call someone a bitch in that Midwestern twang. Truly, a delight.)

Anyway. People still have doubts about Jug’s life-status.

Initiate phase 3: the nuclear option.

I really can’t tell if this ribbed long-sleeve turtleneck is a pale pink or an oatmeal, and that frustrates me. If it’s pink, well then Betty’s wearing pink and a rusty red-ish color—meaning the next phase of this master plan is underway, and it involves Cheryl being Riverdale’s other resident chief messy bitch:

Pink and red—as we’ve discussed several times before—are Betty’s Archie colors.

They’re not always a symbol of a romantic connection, but that’s defo the weight costuming is trying to impart here.

At this point, we (technically) don’t know that Jughead isn’t dead. Using this motif in this moment is just another way of trying to convince the audience that the act everyone is putting on here is real—both the internal audience within the show (RHS, the town-at-large, but more specifically the Stonewall group), and the external one (us).

Visually there’s also almost too much going on with this shirt. Contrasting patterns, contrast v-neck, Juliet puffs on the sleeves. It’s a lot, it’s visually confusing in a way that mirrors the actual plot machinations of the story. Her mental state is stressed.

I include it for the boots and the skinny jeans, which are very season one-esque. Don’t @ me.

A moment for Veronica’s knit.

Betty wore this very shirt, in another coloring, in 318! I like to think of this as another little costuming easter egg, that it suggests B & V are secretly on the same team here—and after all, they are.

Same purse from earlier in the ep, and a jacket that first debuted in season 3.

That’s the face of a girl on a mission.

Listen.

We know.

Boyfriend’s S shirt.

...consider how tame that fake kiss above is in light of this message.

Anyway:

Pour one out for the sex bunker of death!!

What favor did Betty do for Archie such that she is owed a milkshake? Give me friendship shit!!!

Visually, this is an intentional throwback to episode 102, in which Archie tries to apologetically text Betty after telling her he’ll never love her, only to be shut down.

The yellow shirt, the ballet bun, the shorts, the same gd teal phone case. It’s all intentional.

415:

102:

We haven’t seen Betty and Archie interact much this season between the time Fred died and...basically this plot. So these itty bitty crumbs are what’s supposed to make us believe all the shit that goes down several eps from now, but we’ll cross that (very dumb) bridge when we get to it.

The cable-knit is kind of season one throwback, too.

On the right her earring looks like a heart with an arrow through it, but idk idk.

Her kicks are the same she wore in 403.

I could say I’m including this here because she’s wearing plaid, it’s in honor of Jug, blah blah—but honestly it’s just cause she looks gorg here. That’s all.

Summary: T e n outfits, ten. That includes two we’ve seen previously in flash forwards, two sets of pajamas, and one instance of boyfriend-wear.

Is Betty a River Vixen??: ...only in Jug’s Stonewall spank bank. Also, isn’t the season over? Football ended. It’s fake murder season now.

Backpack 2.0?: Mhm.

The floggingink Memorial Peter Pan Collar Count: with all the season 1 shit being thrown at us, you’d expect it, wouldn’t you? But no.

Best outfit: I’m into the funeral look I think!

#4x15 #s4 #riverdale #betty cooper #betty cooper outfit watch #i cannot convey to you how infuriating it was to make this post #tumblr is broken

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written-inthe-clouds · 4 years

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Twilight rewrite Part 2

I am starting a new post for the rest of the rewrite because the other was getting WAY too long! Hope you guys like this! I debated if I wanted to include Edward’s POV, but I think it added a lot to it. Obviously I don’t know how Smeyer plans on writing for him, but I think the voice I gave him felt pretty true to character.

Chapter 2 Part 2

Bella’s POV

I was gently woken from my coma like sleep by the smell of bacon and pancakes. I rolled over, only to be struck by the realization that there was someone next to be last night, but now her spot was vacant. I pushed myself out of bed, making my way to the smell, finding Alice standing in the kitchen, setting a plate on the table for me.

“Morning! I figured you’d want food before we left, and I’ve been up so I thought, why not cook.” her voice was much too cheery for the morning in my opinion, but she made food, so the good outweighed the bad. I slumped into my chair, slathered my food in syrup, and began to eat. I couldn’t remember the last time someone made me pancakes. Alice wore a satisfied smile across her face and she sat down to join me.

It didn’t take either of us long to get ready to head to school. I generally wore jeans and whatever t shirt was closest to me in my closet since a rain jacket hid it anyway. I loaned Alice a shirt so she wouldn’t have to wear the exact outfit she had worn the day before. She offered to drive us both to school, and I didnt see a reason to protest. The ride was fairly silent, but a comfortable silence. Paramore softly played in the background as we made our way through the light rain. She mentioned that the rain was going to pick up today and had thought my truck might not be up for the slick roads. I was still shocked at the amount she seemed to care for me, but I got the feeling she was just a very nice person in general.

When we pulled into the parking lot, it was fairly full. She pulled into an empty spot next to a silver volvo, where I saw who I know understood were her siblings. Rosalie turned to face us, with a forced smile on her face. The rest of them seemed unbothered by my presents, until I got out of the car.

Alice went down the line and introduced me to each of the boys. The one she was with, Jasper, looked as if he had just bitten his lip. His brows were pulled together and I could have sworn he was holding his breath. He had sandy blonde hair and had tanned skin and muscles that seemed like what you might get from working outside a lot. The biggest of the boys, Emmett smiled widely and offered a wave. He towered over the others and had dark brown hair. He was tanned like Jasper, but not quite as much, and his muscles definitely seemed like the kind he spent hours working on. The last one, Edward, wore an odd expression. It seemed like he was trying to figure out where he knew me from, or maybe he was just incredibly annoyed with Alice for bringing me into their group. I couldn’t quite tell. His hair was a reddish brown that sat in a mess of loose curls on his head. He was much more pale than his brothers, but he also had a muscular build. He was a little taller than Jasper, but seemed so much younger in the face. There was a softness to him, even with his less than happy expression. I tried not to stare too hard, but as I looked them all over, I realized that their eyes were all varying shades of golden brown. Edwards were the darkest, but they all seemed to be just a few shades off from one another, which stuck out to me simply because only two of them were related by blood.

“I better head to class. Thanks for the ride, Alice.” I took the pause after the introductions as my way out. I wasn’t offended that none of them seemed to have anything to say to me, because honestly I wasn’t sure what to say to any of them either. Alice had been nice, coming to hangout with me, but I didn’t want to just insert myself into their group, especially since everyone was paired off but Edward. I was fine being alone, and I was ready to go back to that.

Edwards POV

Alice had asked us to all wait for her in the parking lot. I wasn’t sure why she was doing all of this. She insisted on helping Isabella Swan, and I understood it to an extent, but what I didn’t understand was why we all had to suddenly be involved. She had called me last night, telling me she thought Bella needed a better group of friends, but I informed her that we shouldn’t be that group. Rose was right. We couldn’t risk our family’s safety by taking in a human. I respected Alice for wanting to help her, but there was a line.

I had seen Bella around school before, just in passing. She always wore muted colors and had her head in a book or looked at her feet as she walked. Alice talked often about her visions of Bella becoming more and more depressed, and had even shared them with me. I felt for her situation, but I left the helping to Alice. I wasn’t about to stick my nose in human business, especially when the human didn’t really seem to want help.

When Alice’s car pulled up next to us, we all braced ourselves in our own way. Jasper immediately held his breath, being the newest to our lifestyle. Rosalie tried her best to seem happy, and Emmett - Well Emmett just smiled. He didn’t mine Alice’s mission, and even said he had felt bad for Bella. It wasn’t that any of the rest of us lacked compassion, but Emmett was the most childlike of us all. He wore his feelings on his sleeve, unlike me. Who tried to forget the human emotions that plagued me.

Bella got out of the car, and I immediately listened for her thoughts. I wanted to know what she thought of us. Thought of Alice. I hoped that Alice had been discrete, but I wasn’t sure what Bella might have picked up on. I waited, trying to find her voice, but there was nothing. I tried to tune the others out, thinking that their thoughts were simply too loud, but there was nothing.

My visions changed, but I’m worried it will change back. We both know that one night isn’t going to save her. Play nice. Alice’s voice practically screamed in my head. I nodded in her direction, but immediately turned my attention to Bella. Her long, brown hair was tucked behind one ear, the other side framed the side of her slim, slightly rounded face. She must have not spent much time outside in Phoenix because she was about as pale as I was. There wasn’t anything that particularly stood out about her features, but I couldn’t deny the natural beauty she held.

I tried not to stare too intensely at the poor girl. She seemed incredibly uncomfortable, and quickly excused herself. The whole time she was walking away, I tried to catch something. Maybe her voice was quiet. Maybe I wasn’t listening hard enough, distracted by my own thoughts or Alice’s. Nonetheless, I couldn’t hear anything.

“Wow. Way to play nice. None of you said anything! Thanks for the help you guys.” Alice’s voice dripped with sarcasm. She shot me a menacing glance. What’s your problem?

“I couldn’t hear her thoughts.” I said flatly. Still confused by what had just happened. You didn’t hear anything? Like nothing at all? Are you sure? Alice paused, wondering if I was joking.

“Maybe she wasn’t thinking about anything.” Emmett said out loud, causing all eyes to turn on him. Idiot. Rosalie thought to herself. I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face. Is he serious? Alice asked me. Dear lord Jasper moaned.

“Emmett. That’s not how that works. You can’t just not think. You’re always thinking about something, even if you aren’t actively trying to.” I tried my best to not let the implied idiot slip through my explanation. No one but Alice could truly begin to understand how my gift worked, so I understood his confusion. It was still amusing.

I now had a mission, not too much different from Alice’s. I needed to figure out what was going on with Bella. I had to know why I couldn’t read her mind, so I decided I’d try to, from a distance, listen to those around her and see if I could pick up on something. Some people’s voices were soft and didn’t break through the louder ones. I also didn’t know her well, so that would also make it hard to hear. No matter the reason, I wanted to figure it out. I wanted to know more about her.

Bella’s POV

The day passed like every other, until lunch. As I was in line getting food, Alice practically materialized next to me. I was lucky I didn’t jump out of my skin.

“Sit with us?” she asked, though she was practically pulling me towards her family’s table. I supposed sitting in silence at a different table couldn’t really hurt. When I walked past my usual group, I could feel their eyes following me to the Cullen’s table. Alice sat next to Jasper and gestured for me to sit in the open seat next to Edward. The only seat left. As I took my seat, I saw Edward shift slightly away from me out of the corner of my eye. I took a quick scan of all of their faces, trying to see if I had imagined their eyes all being so similar. I hadn’t.

“How’s everyone's day going?” Alice started up the conversation. A low chuckle left Edward’s lips, though I wasn’t sure what he was laughing at. Alice shot a glare in his direction that caused him to sit up slightly in his seat.

“Pretty good.” I decided to speak up first, not wanting to seem rude. “Just normal stuff I guess. Trying to remember if I have my old paper on Chaucer from last year so I don’t have to write a new one.”

“How are you settling in? Are you liking Forks?” Edward’s voice was low, so low it seemed as if he were whispering. I sat there for a moment before I realized he was waiting for my response. His voice caught me off guard. It was deep and melodic, but there was something about how he looked at me when he spoke, like he wasn’t sure if I would hear him. His jaw was clenched, and his face held a puzzled look. I couldn’t deny how handsome he was, but tried to focus on his words and nothing more.

“I like it fine, I guess. It’s basically the same as it was when I was a kid. Just weird to be back here. Weird to be in the rain all of the time.”

“You don’t like the rain.” he wasn’t asking. He reiterated my statement back to me as if to verify it. I nodded back, not sure what else to say. Edward shifted in his seat, and looked to his siblings, waiting for someone else to speak I supposed. “Forks isn’t all bad. There isn’t a ton to do around here, but it's kind of a make your own adventure. Lots of places to hike and play ball.” Emmett’s voice was gruff but kind. Rosalie smiled when he spoke and placed her hand on his. I had thought the whole dating foster siblings thing would be weird, but they seemed to really care for one another. It was clear even in such a small action.

“You guys play sports a lot?” I asked Emmett. I should have guessed that hiking and general outside activities would be his type of thing.

“Oh yeah. Especially baseball. Like I said, not much to do, but there's a whole lot of woods to explore.”

“Aren’t there like, bears and stuff in the woods? I’d be too scared to spend much time out there.” apparently my comment was amusing because each of them broke into quiet laughter. I obviously missed the joke. “What? Are bears not scary here or something?”

“It’s just a very city thing to say.” Edward was still chuckling to himself. “How much time did you spend here as a child?”

“Some Christmases when I was little. Every summer until I was a teenager and got tired of it. I didn’t like going back and forth and then my mom got sick and died so.” Edward immediately looked down at his hands. I realized I had come across a little harshly considering he had only been joking around before about the bears. Maybe I was more city than I realized, but I was embarrassed to have the whole table laugh at me.

“I’m sorry. I heard about your mother. That must have been very hard for you.” Edward’s eyes were locked on mine. I felt my breath hitch in my throat. His voice was soft and kind. He seemed genuinely concerned that he had struck a nerve.

“It’s fine. Sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude. I’m just a blunt person.” I let out a small laugh, remembering how much my mom used to tell being blunt was just a nicer way of saying I was being rude. She wasn’t wrong.

“Blunt is good. Just means you’re honest.” Edward smiled a crooked smile at me and I couldn’t help but smile back. I felt a wash of comfort as I looked into his face. He didn’t seem to mind my little snap, and neither did the rest of them. I remember that they had all lost their parents somehow, so maybe they were just the people to say that kind of thing to.

The bell sounded, signaling the end of lunch. I wrapped up my untouched sandwich so I could sneak it into my next class and got up from the table. I looked over to see Jessica’s eyes locked on me, undoubtedly waiting to hear every detail. I turned to say goodbye to the Cullens, and Edward was looking at Jessica, trying hard to hide a smile. Maybe he liked Jessica, and was wanting to talk to me to get to her. I couldn’t think of a better reason for him to have taken an interest in me. Other than to be nice to Alice.

“I’ll meet you outside your last class, okay.” Alice rested her small hand on my shoulder and flashed a sweet smile. I couldn’t help but feel we were already close friends despite the fact that I didn’t generally make friends quickly. But I already felt a sense of comfort around her, especially now. I nodded in agreement and headed off to class.

The minute I walked into Biology, Jessica was waiting to pounce. She wasn’t even in the class with me, but I guess she couldn’t wait to hear about my lunch with the Cullens.

“So what is up?” her voice was eager.

“What do you mean?” I wasn’t sure what part she was most interested in, the fact that I sat with the family or the fact that, from an outside perspective, it looked like I was there to be with Edward.

“The Cullens? You sat with them! How did that happen?” she sounded annoyed that I didn’t just start from the beginning like she would have.

“Oh uh, Alice came over last night to work on homework and it got late so she slept over and then she invited me to eat lunch with them. Nothing crazy.”

“She came to your house? And spent the night? I don’t think I’ve ever seen the Cullens talk to anyone else since they moved here. I mean, they just all seem so shy, I didn’t think they’d ever ask someone to sit with them.” Jessica was breathless as she worked through the mystery of the Cullens in her mind.

“She’s really nice.” I defended, not liking Jessica’s implication that the Cullens were too rude to talk to anyone. Someone like Jessica didn’t realize how hard it was to lose a parents, and they had each lost both of theirs. It changes you. It certainly changed me.

“Oh I mean, yeah. I didn’t think she was mean or anything. Just odd.” Jessica backed off a little. This was the most we had ever spoken, and I think she understood I was equally as weirded out by Alice’s sudden interest in me. “One more question though, were my eyes deceiving me or was Edward Cullen like, making eyes at you the whole time?”

“I can wholeheartedly tell you you’re wrong there.” I couldn’t help but laugh at the thought, “He asked me how I liked Forks and that was pretty much it.” I decided to leave out the dead mom talk of it all.

“Are you sure because he hardly took his eyes off of you. God, isn’t he beautiful?” Jessica leaned in and whispered as Mr. Banner walked in. “I highly doubt that, Jessica.” I began to take my seat, hoping she’d take that as a signal that the conversation had run its course.

“You do think he’s cute! You’re totally blushing.” she gushed louder than I would have liked her to, causing my cheeks to flush more.

“I’m not blind, okay. Yeah he’s pretty, but he was just being nice. I can promise you.” I whispered, hoping it was quiet enough that even Jessica might have trouble hearing me. Mr. Banner directed her to head to class, and she giggled as she ran from the room, leaving me behind red faced and a little annoyed.

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retroateez · 4 years

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Prophecy - Chapter Nine

hello!! updating this quicker than I expected but i’m excited for this again so here we go,,, i’m gonna try scheduling this one too so that’s fun. hope u enjoy xx

wc;3282 Prophecy Masterlist

Needless to say, passing your alchemy exam proved a far more difficult task than you had initially anticipated.

No wonder why Yeosang had failed it five times.

You're sat in Yeosang's garden, perched on one of the benches placed against the wall of the house. The winding path through the woods is around a hundred metres ahead of you, and you often find yourself staring amoungst the tree trunks, wondering what could be lurking there.

You knew nothing could attack you on Yeosang's land; he had cast a protective charm over the entire area, so even if he wasn't here, you remained safe.

Although, grumbling at the exam paper in your lap, you half wished a griffin would come barrelling through the forest and tear you into shreds with it's deadly claws.

You're convinced it would be less painful than the questions on this exam.

What is the purpose of bloodmoss? you read Yeosang's scruffy print, having been forced to get accustomed with his unintelligable handwriting.

"Oh, this is easy," you murmur to yourself, picking up your quill and scribbling your answer down quickly.

'Bloodmoss is used to create Vitriol.' you scrawl. 'Vitriol is used to dissolve certain substances.' You nod to yourself, proud that you seem to be doing fairly well, despite how challenging Yeosang made your test. You're convinced he did it on purpose.

With a sigh, you turn the page and gratefully, you lay your eyes on the final question. That is, until you read it.

It doesn't even seem to be a question, nor is it written in Yeosang's usual hand. In fact, it appears to be from a book, the ink faded at the edge of the pages from people thumbing through the whole volume.

But why was there a single page mixed in with your alchemy exam?

'Beserkers' is written at the top of the page in a large, bold print.

'Originating from the North, Beserkers are believed to have roots in powerful bear cults. Members of these cults are typically warriors, of whom are thought to manifest the strength of the bears themselves and enter a fit of frenzy. These frenzies are wild in nature, often leaving the individual considerabley weaker once the effect has worn off. It is debated whether or not these Beserkers metamorphose into bea-'

"Have you finished your exam yet, Iris?" Yeosang voice plummets you back down to earth, causing you to jump in your seat and almost send your papers flying out of your grip.

"Yeah!" you gasp, holding them out to him and he takes them with a smile.

As he goes back inside to mark your test, you decide not to ask him about the loose page hiding in your exam. It clearly wasn't supposed to be there, so you come to the conclusion that Yeosang doesn't want you knowing about it. Truth be told, whatever those things were, they seemed dangerous anyway.

Yeosang finds you at the end of the garden a short while later, plucking daisies from the grass and knotting their stems together. He stands behind you, observing your creation of what he assumes will be a crown. You haven't noticed him yet, and he takes the moment to think.

He couldn't explain why he took you under his wing and trusted you immediately. There was just something about the way your two lonely souls happened to find one another that tugged at Yeosang's heart strings. He always was a sucker for sappy things like that.

He was glad to have a human friend, for a change. Somebody that he could talk to, and they would offer him actual conversation back. He enjoyed his role as your teacher too; they had told him being an advisor of the arts was a position he was destined for, they just hadn't factored in the fact he despised them and everything they stood for. Besides, he knew your knowledge of magic was minimal, if not almost non-existent. Meaning there were little to no dangers here, and he refused to have a repeat of last time.

"Hey, you." Yeosang calls out, cautious not to make you jump again. "Want your exam results?"

You spin around on the grass instantaneously, probably staining the seat of your (Yeosang's) borrowed breeches in the process. You leap up, jumping towards him.

"I did awfully, didn't I?" you chew on your bottom lip nervously, playing with the ends of the sleeves on your (Yeosang's) shirt.

"Congrats, my tiny student," he smiles. "On being the only person I know to have passed their alchemy exam on their very first try."

He hands you the papers and you gawk at the mark score that reads fifty out of fifty points at the top. You stand there, frozen, staring at the numbers.

"Well?" Yeosang asks. "Aren't you going to thank me for being the best alchemy teacher ever?"

You look up at him to see the fond expression he seems to have gotten comfortable wearing.

Deciding to play along, and maybe embarrass him a little, you sweep down into a full bow.

"Thank you!" you cry. "O' great master of alchemy! How ever would I have gained such knowledge without your guidance? May the gods bless your so-"

"Okay, okay! That's overkill." Yeosang laughs at your exaggerated performance, then he notices your daisy crown, abandoned on the ground where you were sitting.

He paces over to it and leans down to pick it up, and you watch him silently.

He crumples the flowers up into his palm, and closes his eyes.

A couple of seconds pass, and Yeosang's eyes flutter open, his irises burning a dandelion yellow. He turns to you, then opens his palms, leaving you in awe.

The daises you had picked, were tiny and snowy white, wrinkled and bearing few petals. But the daises Yeosang was presenting were gorgeous; each flower had grown to the size of roses, blooming proudly in the mage's hands.

Yeosang places the daisy crown on your head, and steps back to admire his work.

"Well done," he smiles softly. "I'm proud of you."

You can only give him back a wide grin, loving the sunshine yellow glow Yeosang's flowers leave against your hair.

-----

"So, where does this astrolomer guy live?" you ask Yeosang a few days later during lunch.

"Astrologer." he corrects you, handing you a sandwich and a bowl of sliced apples.

"Yeah, that one."

Now that you had officially earned a beginner's alchemy qualification, Yeosang was content on making progress with the messy situation you had gotten him into.

"He lives just outside of Yirelia," he answers. "It'll take us a day or two to get there, so we'll have to rest at a village inn or something."

You nod and chew your food slowly, nerves already beginning to set in. You'd never travelled anywhere before, and you knew that with Yeosang by your side, you would be safe; he'd never let anything happen to you. But still, you couldn't help but feel a little nauseous.

"So, how come this astrolomer owes you a favour?" you ask, ignoring Yeosang rolling his eyes at you getting the stranger's profession wrong once again.

"Astrologer," he corrects you one more time, and you don't know why he bothers. "And I saved his life once. Us outcasts stick together."

"Outcast? Is he a mage too?"

"Not quite." Yeosang doesn't elaborate, so you take it as an unspoken hint to stop asking questions, and eat.

The blonde mage bustles about the house for the rest of the day, gathering ingredients and bundling them into pouches, collecting bottles of brewed potions and lining them inside his satchel and packing clothes and food into a smaller, leather bag for you to carry.

"Do we really need all this?" you question him, surveying the small vial of yet another restoration potion he was clutching in his palm.

"Probably not," he tells you honestly. "But you never know when one of these little beauties could come in handy!"

You just nod, deciding to go along with his plan. You do that a lot with Yeosang, you noticed; just taking his words and concluding that he knows best in every situation. Perhaps for your own character it would be better to question him at times, but deep down you knew that without Yeosang's guidance you'd probably be buried six feet under in the Ateez graveyard.

No, they wouldn't have even buried you, they probably would have just thrown your body into the sea. Yeosang's ideas were (probably) better than that, so you opt to keep your mouth shut and assist him with the packing.

The next morning, you set off, you clad in a seaweed green shirt and tight, black breeches. Yeosang had once again altered some of his old clothing for you to wear. If his mage work fell through, you think he'd make a spectacular tailor.

Yeosang looks great (as usual), dressed in his typical white shirt and brown trousers, paired with a sweeping, wine red coat which has sleeves hiding most of his hands.

"That coat makes you look like a pirate." you muse aloud to him. You see a hint of offense strike his face, but he recovers quickly, grabbing his satchel and slinging it over his shoulder.

"Maybe I want to look like a pirate." he sniffs and turns away from you, marching off and starting your journey.

You hurry to catch up with him, having to increase your pace to keep in time with his brisk pacing.

"So... we're just walking?" you question.

"Yes." Yeosang replies shortly.

"Right."

You wrinkle your nose; you'd hoped that he'd be a little more talkative but it seemed that when the mage had a goal, he was very determined to get it done. Or perhaps he had finally concluded he was in fact pissed off with you for getting him into a situation that required him to walk for two days straight?

"Do you wanna play a game?" you suddenly blurt.

-----

"I spy with my little eye, something beginning with... T!"

"Tree?" you guess Yeosang's attempt at playing your game immediately.

"How are you so good at this?" Yeosang pouts; you've deciphered his hint on every single one of his turns so far, and you can't even tell how long it's been since you started. Time is an illusion when you're walking.

"Because there's nothing around us except for trees!" you yell. "What else could 'T' possibly be?!"

Yeosang falls silent at your outburst and carries on walking.

A while passes with the two of you in silence, and the guilt begins to creep in. You shouldn't have gotten mad at Yeosang, but he'd spied trees at least six times already and it really was getting frustrating.

After deliberating for a few moments, to plan your apology to Yeosang. The game was your suggestion, after all, and it wasn't fair for you to snap at him.

"I'm sor-"

"There's a small town nearby," Yeosang cuts you off. "We can rest there for a bit and get something to eat."

The moment for you to apologise passes, and you can tell by how Yeosang refuses to meet your eye that you've upset him. You mutter a quiet agreement and you both carry on your way.

You silently pray that the town wasn't too far away, the tense atmosphere becoming too much for you to handle and the guilt weighs heavy on your shoulders. Yeosang was good to you. more than good, in fact. He had literally saved your life, fixed you up and tapped into your hidden potential to be more than just some common thief, of course, he wasn't aware of your past, or indeed anything about your life from before you washed up just outside his back garden. But he still hadn't asked for any information regarding your former identity. Maybe it simply wasn't important to him? After all, the past was the past and what was most important was the present. Yeosang didn't seem the type to dwell on the 'before', instead focusing on the 'now'. In a way, you were grateful for it; you didn't want to think about his reaction if he discovered you were in fact a minor criminal.

Luckily, Yeosang brings you to the doors of what you assume to be a tavern, the hanging sign outside the door reading 'The Golden Treasure' in bold, professional lettering. However, the small crowd of drunks hanging around the entrance suggested this was a far from professional establishment.

You look up at Yeosang questioningly, and he responds with a shrug of his shoulders and a quick signal for you to stick close to him.

As usual, you cling to the mage's side like a lost child, gripping the side of his red coat so tightly you're concerned your knuckles will rip through your skin.

The two of you keep your sights fixed on the doors, avoiding all possible eye-contact with the drunks whose intoxicated yelling was quickly escalating into a fist fight.

Yeosang rapidly whisks you up the steps and towards the door of the tavern to get you as far away from the men as quickly as he can.

"Jongho!" one of the men slurs. "Leave it man! It's not worth wasting your time on!" you witness a stocky, well-built young man with an oddly round, grizzly brown haircut be hauled back by another man much smaller than himself. It's a wonder how he can even tug the obviously stronger man away from his rival, but something tells you this isn't the first time he's had to do it.

Already through the threshold of the inn, you aren't able to watch the angry young man's response, but a shrill yelp of pain and the sound of a body colliding harshly with the ground tells you all you need to know.

Yeosang steers you by the shoulders up to the barkeeper to inquire about rooms, and you take the chance to study the inn.

You'd never been inside a tavern before, the swarms of drunk folk loitering outside the building at night a clear reason for you to stay clear, but on the interior, you found it to be strangely comfortable.

It was a large, dim room with minimal light coming from the roaring fire situated opposite the door. Sturdy tables and less sturdy benches fill up the center of the room, empty goblets and playing cards strewn across the tabletops in an untidy fashion; perhaps the ruckus outside was the result of a card game gone awry.

On the far right was a staircase leading up, to where you presumed the rooms for travellers and the like were.

The whole room was highlighted by the familiar warm glow from the hearth, and your worries started to settle again, laying themselves to sleep like the exhausted people meters above your head. You feel the comfortable heat from the warm seep through your body, beginning at your fingertips and sliding underneath your skin. Even surrounded by dangerous strangers, you've oddly never felt more at home. There was something about being around Yeosang that just made you feel like you belonged. Like you and him were two pieces of a puzzle you'd spent years trying to figure out how to piece together. But now that you'd finally managed to get them to fit, you realised there was something missing. There were other pieces to the puzzle, but they were scattered around the box, and they were all painted pitch black; you had no idea which piece was which, or which piece you needed next.

Still, you were content being at Yeosang's side. You were learning quickly, but he had noticed your appetite for knowledge growing rapidly, and truthfully, he feared it. He could sense an untapped potential in you, he'd seen similar before and it had never ended well.

He was adamant that he wouldn't let the same happen to you, even if it killed him.

"Come on Iris," Yeosang snaps you out of your thoughts, motioning to the stairs. "up you go."

Fatigue suddenly setting in, you gladly shuffle yourself up the stairs and collapse onto the bed face first.

"Move over, you lump." Yeosang whines, pushing you to the end of the bed, to which you respond with a pained groan.

"You're so cruel!" you cry, sitting up and frowning at him. "You could've hurt me doing that!"

"If I wanted to hurt you," he raises an eyebrow at you. "you'd know about it."

You ignore his threat and turn your head around the room, surveying the simple, wooden decor; a tattered book shelf, a plain desk and accompanying chair, a few, worn and rusty storage chests and the bed Yeosang was currently lounging on

."Yeosang," you pipe up, only just realising. "There's only one bed."

He pulls himself up, peering up at you through sleepy eyes

."I don't care." he murmurs, flinging himself back down with a thump.

"Well, I do!" He brings himself back up slowly, like a vampire rising from his coffin after being awaken from a century long sleep. His eyes are half-closed and you think he might actually be asleep already.

"Then sleep on the floor."

"Why do you get the bed? That's not fair!"

"I'm older, I have more joint pain than you." he deadpans. "Also, I saved your life."

"You can't keep using that against me..." you grumble, but collect a few blankets from the bed and snatch them up, creating a make-shift bed on the floor. The wooden floor isn't exactly the height of comfort, but with a roof over your head and a crackling fire just downstairs, you can't really complain.

Cuccooning yourself in the blankets, you try and fall asleep. But you find yourself staring at the ceiling, thinking of everything and nothing to the soundtrack of Yeosang's snoring. Your mind wanders to the stranger who owes Yeosang a favour, you wonder what his name is, what they look like. Yeosang had called them an 'outcast', like him, but also said he wasn't exactly a mage either. So you didn't know what to expect. Life kept throwing these things at you, probably to keep you on your toes. It was overwhelming, if you were being honest; having spent all of your life up until this point mainly fending for yourself and never venturing outside of the city you grew up in, to suddenly travelling across the country with a random, magic man who's beach you almost died on.

Your eyes grow heavier as you lose yourself in your thoughts, and you're almost grasped by the clutches of sleep, until an abrupt growling from outside whips your eyes open, and you bolt upright.

"Did you hear that?" you whisper to Yeosang.

"It's just a bear." He mumbles in response, making you jump slightly because you thought he was still asleep

."A bear?" you hiss."I know," he says sarcastically. "Un-bear-lieveable."

You retrieve one of your pillows and launch it at his figure, smirking triumphantly when he grunts in surprise.

"That was a terrible joke." you complain and bury yourself back into your improvised bed.

"Whatever," Yeosang yawns. "just go to sleep, we'll be meeting the astrologer tomorrow so you need to rest."

Finally deciding to listen to the mage, you squeeze your eyes shut tightly in hopes you'll fall asleep quickly. Luckily, you do just that, sleeping peacefully and dreaming about the bear in the forest outside. He's wounded, bleeding heavily from a nasty gash on his neck and panting in pain. You reach out to help him, but of course it's just a dream; he'll be okay. You hope.

Chapter Ten

(as always, if u enjoyed pls leave some love! it rlly helps me out)

#ateez au #medieval!ateez #ateez #yeosang #hongjoong #seonghwa #jongho #wooyoung #san #mingi #yunho #ateez fluff #ateez angst

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mysweetestcreature · 5 years

Text

Tomorrow Never Knows (President!Harry) Chapter 9: The Fool

(Banner by the wonderful noblewomankat!)

***

Masterlist

***

Friday, November 14, 2008

“Will you go to the winter formal with me?”

Her mouth remains agape, eyes staring intensely ahead. At her sides, her fingers pinch roughly at the hem of her apron, so much that the skin between her fingers turns an angry shade of red. She doesn’t think she has the brain power to comprehend the events as they’ve unfolded before her. It rings through her ears, and yet it’s like she can’t hear it, almost like she refuses to. If someone had told her that she’d be in this position earlier this morning, she would’ve argued the ridiculousness of such a thing.

“Y/n?” Jasper chuckles nervously, he shifts his weight from one leg to the other. Scanning the room, the rest of the students, much like himself, are awaiting her response. “Uh...” he stutters, inching just a little closer for a bit privacy. “Are you...are you okay? Do you need to sit down or...”

“No!” the voice within her shouts to its very limits. “Formal?” she finally chokes out. This is wrong, so very and woefully wrong. She could vomit just about now, the contents of her stomach threatening to claw their way up into her mouth. The burn of acidity is already prevalent on the back of her tongue and leaves a bitter taste in its wake.

Jasper offers a dubious nod, the stem of the rose see-sawing in his grasp. The usual sweet smell of its petals only makes her feel more nauseous. He pokes the inside of his cheek “What do you say?”

A part of her wishes Cici had never told her about Harry, at least she wouldn’t feel as sick as she does now. She knows that she shouldn’t feel this way, but it’s just one of those things that test her anxieties like no other. “I,” she starts, she becomes aware of the ridiculing eyes that surround them. Being the center of attention, at least in this way, has never been something she’s ever wanted for herself. It’s like she’s an attraction at a fair, and all they want is for her to pull some sort of trick or do something spectacular. Oh god. She can feel it rising up her esophagus. Her chest feels restricted as air bubbles begin to collect at the back of her throat. It escapes from her lips before she’s had time to think it over. “I need to pee.”

“You–” but Jasper thankfully chooses not to repeat the statement. “Oh, um...” he pulls his beanie further down his ears. “I’ll just wait for you here then.”

“Yeah. Alright.” Y/n squeaks. At first, she slowly backs away as she unties the back of her apron. It’s only until she’s successfully placed it on the counter that she breaks for the door.

***

All the worry that had consumed him earlier has now faded away, and in its place rests the jitters of excitement that boil in his blood and bounce in his leg. They had won the debate, and the high of their success has only driven his confidence further. Actually, he hadn’t even been there to receive news of their triumph firsthand. He’d momentarily escaped the auditorium to run across the street to a flower shop he’d immediately spotted when they’d arrived. Although he knows Y/n isn’t one to expect gifts, he didn’t want to turn up empty handed. He’s been waiting so long for this, and he’d be damned if he didn’t properly prepare.

As he holds the bouquet gently in his lap, he doesn’t try to hide the corny smile that dances across his lips. The person who had sold him the flowers had been this kind elderly lady whose eyes glimmered fondly as she spoke to her plants as though they could understand the world.

“They can read people, you know,” she says, cradling a New England aster at the sepal. “The best listeners, too. Won’t talk back to you but will give you any answer you need.”

Harry looks over his shoulder for anyone else but finds himself to be the only person within close proximity. She must be talking to him. “What kind of answers?” he dares to ask.

The elderly woman smirks to herself as she wanders through her store like a stranger without a destination. She runs the tips of her fingers through the aisles, brushing over the leaves and petals of various arrangements. “Ah,” she delights, stopping in her tracks and extending an ear out to listen. A moment of silence passes them, and slowly do the apples of her cheeks round. He watches her carefully, thinking she could potentially fade into mist if he were to look away. What kind of flower shop is this?

“This,” she says sternly. “This is the one you’re looking for.”

Of course, he’s completely perplexed but astounded all at once. He walks over, his mouth falling ajar as the pinkish-purple petals come into view.

“She’s a lucky girl,” she tells him, looking him directly in the eyes for the first time. “Love is such a beautiful thing, wouldn’t you say?”

Harry bites down on his tongue, hands slipping into the pockets of his cardigan. The topic has always brought out the shyness in him. “I mean, I’ve only just...” but he finds himself pausing to reflect. They haven’t known each other for long, but she’s already forged a solid position in his life, as dreadfully cheesy as it sounds, he’ll admit. Her image pops into his head, and just that makes him blush. “It is.”

“Purple lilacs,” she hums out like a melody. Plucking one from its pot and handing it to him. “Symbolize early love, young love, if you will.” He studies its character, twirling it between his pointer and thumb. “They’re beautiful. Really, they are...but I was thinking something along the lines of a ro–”

“No, no.” she shakes her head, already starting to gather a bunch together. “This is the one for her.”

“Honestly, it’s about time,” Maxxie huffs, slouching in his seat as their van merges onto the highway. “Not to be dramatic, but I feel like I’ve waited my whole life for this to happen.”

“I’ve only known you for two months,” Harry raises an eyebrow, but can’t help but laugh.

“Your point?” the blonde counters, running his hands through his long bangs and pushing them to the side. “Two months? Fifteen years? Time is but a number, my friend. And besides,” he gives Harry a knowing look, “there’s no way she’s going to be able to turn you down.”

Dimples dress his cheeks as he looks back down into his lap. “You really think so?”

***

“I’m freaking out!” Y/n screams in a harsh whisper into her phone. It’s been at least ten minutes since she’d sprinted out of the kitchen. She’d passed three restrooms until settling on one on the third floor of the building.

“Well, what did you say to him?” Cici presses from the other end. Currently, she’s sitting in in her history class, Mr. Bartolome (Harry’s unmotivated homeroom teacher) watching over the class while Mr. Noone is out sick (although, everyone knows he’s at his timeshare in Vegas).

Y/n bangs the back of her head against the stall door, hand covering her eyes as to shield herself from this unforgiving reality. “I didn’t say anything! I made up some excuse and ran out.”

“Hmm,” her friend tuts, “he probably thinks you have explosive diarrhea, but that’s probably for the best in this case. Hopefully he’ll think you’re contagious!”

“You’re a riot,” Y/n sighs. Pushing her sleeve up from her wrist, she squints at the time on her watch. Class ends in three minutes, which only means she has that much longer to figure everything out.

If she were to have it her way, she would go with Harry in a heartbeat. It’s all she’s been able to think about all day, and all she wants when the day comes. No questions asked. But the problem is that he hasn’t asked her yet, and now Jasper has. She hasn’t even seen him since last night! Had he changed his mind? The thought alone makes her queasy, especially considering how troubled she feels over everything. “What am I going to do?”

***

As soon as their van parks right outside the main doors, Harry all but darts out. While the trip had only been about half an hour, it felt far too long with how eager he is. Maxxie calls from behind him, wishing all the best of luck because finally actions are about to be taken.

The first thing he does is check the Home Economics room since he knows she can get wrapped up in whatever project she’s set her heart on. He loves that about her, how she pours so much passion into her baking and comes up with the innovative combinations of flavors and designs. Just last week he’d seen the designs for this Winter Wonderland-themed cake that she has planned for the holidays (which he thinks would bring Duff Goldman’s work to shame, but he’s quite bias when it comes to her).

When he peeks his head in the window on the door, he finds the entire room empty with only dirty cupcake pans left abandoned in the sink. He backs away, thinking to himself where he might be able to find her.

Before he can make another move, he’s hit square in the back with the door. “Oh my goodness! I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there!”

As he rubs the base of his spine, he looks up to see a young woman with black hair pulled tightly in a bun, probably no more than thirty. He recognizes her from the all the times he’s spent watching Y/n bake. What’s her name again? “Miss Ginevra?” he tests out the name.

She smiles and nods back. “That’s me! Now what on earth are you doing standing here? Are you trying to crack a skull? I can’t imagine your coach being too pleased with that.”

“I was actually coming to look for Y/n,” he admits sheepishly, and he slightly raises the lilacs in his right hand for her to see. He doesn’t notice the way the corners of Miss Ginevra’s lips slightly tug down. “Do you have any idea where I can find her?”

***

“There you are!” he says slightly out of breath, but elation still evident in his tone. He fixes himself, adjusting his tie and pushing his hair away from his eyes. The bouquet remains hidden behind him, but he’s just itching to finally give it to her. She flickers him a gaze for just a moment before shuffling books from her backpack to her locker and vice versa. He pushes down the apprehension before it can bother him, coolly leaning on the locker beside hers as he waits to steal her attention. “I was just on my way to the cafeteria to look for you.”

“Well, you found me,” she says weakly.

“I’m so glad I did.”

She doesn’t look up, and now he starts to worry. Usually a line like that would earn him at least a giggle or a roll of the eyes, but it’s like she’s trying her best not to look at him. Had he done something? Nothing in the last day, surely! Last night things had gone so well (minus another interruption, complements of Jeremy), and he hadn’t seen her at all today until right now.

“Hey,” he says, placing a hand on the small of her back. “Everything alright?” And just like that she isn’t able to remain aloof any longer. “Harry, I–” but she cuts herself off when she sees the bottom of the stems sticking out from behind him. “Are those...are those for me?”

“Huh? Oh!” He holds the bouquet between them, encouraging her to take them. “They’re purple lilacs.”

“I know,” she smiles sadly as she accepts them, even though she feels like she shouldn’t. “They’re my favorite flower.”

He smiles widely. “That’s a relief,” Harry breathes out, rubbing the back of his neck. “They came highly recommended by the florist. Glad I listened her.” (Someone needs to remind him to visit that shop to say, ‘thank you’.) A light laugh sounds from his mouth, and it only makes Y/n feel worse because she wishes she could allow the butterflies in her stomach to flutter free. Instead, they’re caged up, and the key is being withheld.

“Y/n, I need to ask you–”

“Harry, there’s something you should–”

Both take a brief pause.

Just as Y/n is about try again and speak up, Harry beats her to it. “Wait! Me first, yeah? I’m scared if I don’t, I never will,” he asks of her. “I was going to do this last night, but then your dad came in and then I’m sure Mason did something at some point...but anyway,” he shakes his head, but continues to grin. “Y/n, will you be my date to the–”

“Jasper asked me this morning,” she blurts out. She watches with heartache as his expression falters. His eyes have always been so expressive, and now more than ever do they radiate such melancholy. “And I said yes.”

“Oh,” he breathes out, averting his eyes. The rest of his back hits the cool metal surface and he stuffs both hands in his pockets. He stares ahead without focus or intent. If he’d been feeling confident earlier, now it’s like he’s fallen hard from grace.

She chews on her bottom lip as he maintains a silence so deafening that she feels she could scream.

“Say something,” she pleads.

But there’s nothing he can say. Not without sounding like a complete arse, at least. He wants to act like a toddler and throw a tantrum because he’s just had enough of all this. The one time he’s able to follow through, it’s already too late. He’s angry at Jasper for being such a dick for existing.

He’s upset with her because they’re constantly out of step with one another. Most of all, he’s just frustrated with himself for not having done something sooner.

With much convincing from his brain, he faces her. He looks her in the eyes, smiles and nods. “I hope you like the flowers.” And with that, he turns and walks the other way.

***

Sometimes Y/n wishes things could be different.

There have been so many instances in the last few months where she would have liked to have been bolder. Or maybe she wishes she didn’t feel so deeply for someone that fate refuses to let her have. Because she’s almost certain that this has to be some sort of sign. How many times are they going to have to live this narrative before they get it right?

“These are so pretty! Are they yours?” She looks up to see her Liv standing at her bedroom door, the purple lilacs in her hands. When she’d arrived home from school, she had left them on the kitchen counter, not wanting to look at them and remember the way he had just turned his back on her. The sight of it causes a burn behind her eyes, but she’s already so tired from having been here before. He didn’t even allow her a chance to explain, and that’s probably what hurts the most.

“They’re from Harry,” she replies lifelessly, falling back into her pillows. She hugs one closely to her chest. “He asked me to formal.”

Suddenly, she feels a weight bounce onto her bed that lifts her body from the mattress for a split second. “Did he really?” her mother exclaims, shaking her by the hip. “Honey, that’s great! Does this mean we’re going to go dress shopping? You know, I was at Bloomingdales the other day, and I saw this beautiful white gown that I know would look perfect on you!”

“That’s great, Mom,” Y/n says. “I’ll let Jasper know to coordinate.”

“Jasper? I thought you said Harry asked you?”

She breathes out heavily. “I really don’t want to talk about it, if it’s all the same to you.”

Liv moves and lays down next to her. Sliding her Blackberry out of her pocket, she holds it above her face. “When you’re ready, I’ll be right here. I’ve over a dozen emails that need responding, so take your time.”

Hearing the tapping of the keys as Liv types away only makes Y/n feel more anxious about everything.

Click.

Click. Click.

It’s like she’s ticking timebomb, and all that’s left is for something to trigger her to blow her top.

“Alright, fine. I’ll tell you.”

***

Monday, November 17, 2008

It feels a lot like the first day of school where he had sat in his mum’s SUV and watched as the students swarmed into the building like running water. He remembers it clearly, that warm September breeze had hit him just right as he had stepped out of the car. And of course, almost immediately after had this girl with a pink and grey scrunchie knocked into him, then ran up the stairs before he could even blink. Then first class of the year, who’s sat next to him? Yes, things had seemed much simpler that day. Harry more than wishes he could go back and do things differently every day after.

“Try not to think about it too much, yeah?” Anne tells him as she rubs his arm. “Don’t let this ruin your friendship.”

“Yeah,” he says curtly. He leans over and kisses her on the cheek. “I’ll see you later.” He leaves it at that, not wanting to say anything more in fear that he’ll relive that heartbreak he’d felt that entire rest of the day. Because after he’d left her at their lockers, he’d gone about every motion with such numbness that he can’t even remember how he’d gotten home. He’d woken up Saturday morning feeling as unmotivated as Mr. Bartolome, and as a consequence had stayed up until the early hours of this morning trying to complete all of his assignments.

When his feet land on the concrete, a triad of honks sounds from behind him. He turns around to see Jeremy’s car pull up behind Anne’s.

“Harry!” the older man greets as he waves his hand out the window. Beside him, Y/n sits with her eyes lowered, not wanting to look up.

“Uh...hey, Mr. Y/l/n. How’re you doing?” he tries his best to make conversation.

Jeremy steps out of the car and goes to shake his hand. “Great, great!” he says happily. “I’m so glad I caught you,” he continues, then looks over Harry’s shoulder. “Is that your mom?” Not even waiting for a confirmation he strides past him.

It leaves Harry and Y/n with the misfortune of having to avoid the other’s gaze, only a windshield protecting them from further hurting the other.

***

#president!harry #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #one direction #one direction fanfiction #one direction preferences #writing

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dragonrajafanfiction · 4 years

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Dragon Dancer Chapter 13: Matriarch

I was moving. Voices came from on either side of me, talking, reading out my blood pressure. The feel of the rumble under me was enough to clue me in that I was being rolled, sitting up in a wheelchair. I lifted my head and tried to rub my face, but my arms were fastened to the armrests. My head was heavy. My vision swam.

We entered an elevator.

A woman in a tight fitting short white skirt and heels pulled her tag off her jacket and scanned it against a reader. The doors closed and we started rising, quickly and silently.

When the doors opened again, the wall on my left was completely glass, overlooking the city of Chicago at night. A ferris wheel glowed from the park in the distance. I saw the blinking lights of planes navigating to the airport. The headlights of cars were like Christmas lights, many stories below.

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I felt exhausted and disoriented. I tried to speak but my voice came out a whisper. “Who… who are you…?”

No one answered me.

Ahead, a double mahogany door was guarded by two men wearing guns at their hips. One knocked twice. The other opened it and I was wheeled inside, off the hardwood and onto a patterned carpet. A fireplace cast flickering red light into the room as the only illumination. The dark city skyline provided a glittering backdrop to the room. The two women turned and left. The door shut.

One man to my left. I recognized him as the bald guy from the warehouse. He sat, one leg over the other, leaning back in a leather chair. A large golden ring glinted on his finger. He didn’t look at me, staring idly in the distance.

A small white dog rose from the warmth of the fireside, stretched, its tongue curling back into a yawn, and trotted over to me, sniffing my feet in the wheelchair. It rose up on its hindlegs, leaning its front paws on my knees, pleading to be pet.

A woman behind a heavy wood desk stared at several monitors. Her silvery hair is tied back into a neat braid running down her fine embroidered blue housecoat. Her face was illuminated in blue light, her dark eyes flicking as she read, her hands moving the mouse.

She swiveled her chair to face me, leaning on her elbows and clasping her hands in front of her. Her eyes crinkled in a smile that deepens the lines on her face. “Why do you want to save Isaac?”

The question wasn’t what I was expecting. She waited patiently while I put the words together in a mind still addled by medication. “Because… what’s going to happen is partly my fault. If I never took what he gave me, none of this would have happened... “

She tilted her head, her eyebrows raising.

Then she leaned back, looking at the screen. Her smile was gone. She spoke quietly, but her voice carried in the paneled room, audible over the loud ticking of a grandfather clock. “I’m going to try to keep things simple for you. I believe your story, because of what you know. What you told us about your experience with Isaac.” She picked up a pen and twirled it between her fingers. “The area he showed you is a secret. The serum he gave you is a secret.”

“What day is it?” I objected. “Maybe he hasn’t shown me yet. He won’t show me until the day after I get to Cassell… There might still be time!”

Chafing at my words, a soft impatient sigh escaped the man next to me. He gazed at the fireplace, frowning.

The woman continued. “How much of the past can be changed is something that will always be up to debate. Because if the change occurs, how could we ever know?” She gave a shrug of her shoulders. “The only people who try to change the past are the ones who feel guilty… feel responsible somehow.” She turned back to me. “I can tell you, honestly, you’re not responsible.”

Her words brought tears spilling out of my eyes down to the white dress I was wearing. “But… I can’t stop thinking about it. I didn’t want to do it. I don’t want to do it.”

She nodded to the man who stood up and unstrapped my arms from the chair so I could catch my tears in my sleeve. She continued to speak, looking at a framed picture on her desk.

“No, in fact, I should be the one to apologize. He’s my grandson. It was my son who convinced me to marry the girl he loved, despite my better judgement. That girl that... convinced me that Isaac’s genetic deviancy wouldn’t be an issue. Against my better judgement. And…” She shook her head, speaking slowly, softly. “Their pleas about chances and potential… carried me all the way to this moment.”

The bald man helped me stand up and moved me to the chair where he’d been sitting. He then got a cup of water from a dispenser. The little white dog followed him around, wagging its tail.

“And I invested in him, my first grandbaby. His gene therapy, his schooling. His career within the company.” She put the picture down. “I sent him to Cassell. This was all a mistake and, worst of all, I knew it. Deep down, I always did.”

The man returned with a cup of water and a few napkins to wipe my face. I drank it down quickly, the cool water soothing the cottony feeling in my mouth.

“But sometimes we do things we know are wrong. Convincing ourselves that...maybe generations of progress in the field of alchemy and genetic engineering may be able to counteract what our nature has etched into law. That those with unstable bloodlines inevitably will turn into servitors and perish.”

She lowered her eyes. “Sitting here now. After receiving your message. I am astonished that I could have made that mistake.”

“I promise you…” She said, watching me wipe my eyes and regain my composure. “I will not make the same mistake again. And I will do everything I can, to make it up to you. You shouldn’t have been the one to kill him. My family is my responsibility.”

I crumpled the tissue in my hands. “You’re not going to save him?”

“Sweetheart… I’ve been trying to save him for eighteen years. I should have ended his life the day he was born… Maybe even before that.”

“But… he’s your grandson…” My shoulders fell, not quite understanding what I’m hearing.

The woman called her dog over with a soft whistle. It leaped into her lap, licking at her fingers as she tried to pet it. “You see this little one here? She’s a Maltese. Now…” She chuckled as her dog refused to settle, panting and wagging her tail and trying to lick her face. “... her breeder has worked very hard to make sure she has good skin, a clean white coat, no defects. But … what about the ones that have defects? What then? Did she breed those too? Of course not… that is not his goal and that would not be kind to the dogs.”

She picked up the dog and it licked her cheek before she set it down.

"People aren't dogs!"

“My daughter-in-law told me the same thing. It’s what a human would say.” She gave me a pointed look. “We’re not human.”

“We’re something else. Something new. And if we’re going to be fit enough to survive in the future, we have to think more biologically than humans do. That’s what our ancestors understood and what too many of us have forgotten. My daughter-in-law… And Principal Anjou.” Her eyes fell and she sighed.

“The kind thing… for Isaac, for his children… and for all of the Hybrids is to stop artificially ensuring that genetic weakness spreads. That weakness that now causes me, the Matriarch of the Comemnus family, to be in debt to a nameless orphan.” She snorted, chagrined.

I was stunned. “In debt?”

Her eyebrows went up again. “Yes… Thank you.”

“....no… No, no… not thank you! You can’t thank me for that!”

“Isaac would have just brought you down, ruined your sterling genetic heritage.”

At my confused silence, she sighed and stood up walking up to me. “It hurts me. That a purebred like you is so naive and uneducated. So, I’ll make you a deal. Instead of going back to Cassell and their regrettably low standards of admission, you’ll learn the truth here from me.”

She leaned close to where I was sitting. “I’m not going to hide the ugly truth from you, the same way you didn’t hide the truth from me. And if by the end of your studies, you still think I’m wrong for my decision, you’re free to go. But I don’t think you will.”

“You are wrong.” I glared into her eyes. “I know the truth. People who are unstable turn into servitors if they use their powers. I know that. But I was given the ability to heal their instability. I can save Isaac.”

“Hm?” Her gaze shifted from confusion, to shock. “Can you say that one more time?”

“I … I can cure people with unstable bloodlines. I can fix it.”

The woman glared at me. "You will need to prove your statement. No one has been able to do that."

"Yes, I know…" I said willing her to believe me. "But I was unstable. And now I'm not."

She straightened. “You have a lot to learn. I’m going to educate you.” When she spoke again, they weren’t the words in our common language, but the words of a dragon. Her eyes flashed yellow.

“Speaking Spirit - Sight.”

A bright rune blazed over the windows and the sparkling panoramic view of Chicago was obscured in shadowy gloom before both dissipated. “If you try to leave, I’ll know it. I can’t have you skipping school before classes are done.”

She put the glass down onto the desk. “Take her to the Phoenix Suite. Make sure she’s well rested and fed. I’m going to make a few phone calls. Tell the family the good news.”

The bald man helped me stand and led me to the wheelchair. The woman ignored my furious glare, as she reached over to put the phone on speaker. "Get my son on the line."

I was wheeled back out of the room to the elevator, burning with rage and disbelief. The bald man pressed a button. The doors closed. “Did you know him? Isaac.” I asked.

He didn’t reply. In the reflection of the shiny metal doors, he looked away.

“Don’t … don’t ignore me! You should do something if you care for him at all!”

The elevator stopped. I leaped up and pressed the close elevator button before the doors could open. As burly and frightening as he appeared, he didn’t respond with force, pressing the open door button again. “What the boss says goes.” He said in a gruff baritone, glaring at me out of his peripheral vision.

“You’re terrible. You’re bad people!” I grumbled bitterly, my lip shaking.

“If you can walk…” He held his elbow out to me.

I backed away from him.

“Don’t try to escape. We know where you live. It would be terrible if something happened to your family.” He said, unmoved. “Come on.”

I hung my head and accepted his arm.

As if the dorms at Cassell weren’t opulent enough, this room was trimmed in gold accents, containing yet another fireplace and embroidered tapestries depicting humans battling dragons. In the corner was a large imposing grandfather clock with a heavy golden pendulum.

“There’s nothing she wouldn’t sacrifice for her family’s future. You’ll understand.” He said. “I’ll come get you for breakfast in the morning.”

He pointed over to the bookshelf. “Read those. They’ll help you see things her way.”

He watched me cross my arms over my chest.

“Hybrid breeding used to be a lot worse than what she’s doing. A lot worse.” He rubbed the back of his neck, his steely eyes looking away. He turned to leave.

I let him go and he walked away, shutting the door behind him.

That old woman would know the moment I left, but it wouldn’t matter. I was teleporting back to Cassell. I would go there to warn my friends. Then I could teleport to my family’s house. It was the only way.

I visualized the basketball court, the lights from the baseball diamond. I took a step forward. But instead of that strange cold of teleportation, something seized my throat, wrapping like a belt. I was still in the room, suspended from the ceiling. Red glowing eyes blinked down at me from a black haze that rolled above me like smoke. It dropped me.

I land hard, crying out in fear. I scrambled away from the monster. It didn’t follow but watched, formless, stretching, lowering from the ceiling to regard me, it’s faceless eyes blinking.

The sound of me hitting the floor must have alerted someone because the bald guy was back and lifting me back to my feet. “You really are stubborn.”

“What is that?” The haze moved across the ceiling, toward the window.

“It’s a servitor. It sensed you using your abilities and stopped you.”

I paused. “Oh. It’s… it was human.” It seeped through the window, spreading its smoky form against the glass.

“Hybrid.” He corrected me. “At some point, yes, it was.”

“If I was your daughter, and if you knew that I was kidnapped and held against my will, what would you say?”

“Eat, sleep, read. You’ll be a lot less upset if you learn.” He seemed to be about to leave again.

“Wait!” I reached out and grabbed his wrist. “Just tell me.” I watched him sigh. Pain flashed across his features. “You do care about Isaac but you’re still not going to help. Why not? Just tell me!”

“You think we're evil people. Today, we have genetic testing, advanced genetic matching systems, DNA databases, interactive predictive family trees that can project genetic deviations over generations. Back in the day? They had nothing but superstition, anecdotes, and ink and parchment.”

He looked at me, sadness in his eyes. “It didn’t matter how rich your family was or how much influence you had. If you were born with the wrong genes? You were dead. And if someone had the right genes? They were bred. Forcibly.”

“You want to talk about evil? Do you want to know who the bad people really are?” He pointed to the bookshelf. “You read those books. And then you come back and talk to me about evil.”

I chewed my lip as he lowered his voice. “You may have these ideals of helping Isaac. One person. But you’re capable of way more than that. You’re more important than he is. We’re not going to endanger you by trying to change what happened to him. Do you understand now?”

When I nodded, he stood up, and left the room once again, slamming the door behind him, leaving me shaking and alone.

Ielia appeared, sitting next to me. She put her hand over mine. Even though I couldn’t feel her touch any more, I remembered what it felt like. “What am I going to do now? Go back to Cassell? And then what? Something might happen to my family? And if I stay here...”

Ielia shrugged and shook her head.

“Hey… are they right? About letting Isaac die. Do you have this problem in your world?”

She nodded once.

“What do you do?” I whispered.

She folded her hands and hung her head.

“You kill them too?”

She shook her head.

“Right. In your world, you have our father to help you.”

She pointed to the bookcase so I stood up and made my way over. The tomes were elaborately bound in leather and embossed. I picked up the one she pointed to. It was called “History of the Blood.”

I opened it up, looking through the table of contents. “Early Hybrid civilization…” I read.

I flipped through the pages to that chapter.

In the early days, women volunteered or were forced to be mothers to hybrid children. Through alchemy, their unborn children received dragonblood. These were human women, so the pregnancies ruined their bodies, drastically shortening or ending their lives.

The children were raised by wet nurses who watched them carefully. Those who had affinity with dragons but maintained their humanity were set aside to further the bloodlines. Those who were determined to be unstable and likely to be servitors were thrown in cages and stabbed to death with spears.

Thus, at the cost of countless lives, the bloodlines began to stabilize over time.

I stared at the pages, my eyes running over them again and again. The images of children and infants being brutally murdered in cages etched itself in my mind.

I closed the book, trying not to think about it any more. But the words of Isaac's grandmother echoed. She’d been trying to save him for years but in the end, it was the same.

He was dead. And I had killed him with a spear.

The next morning, I woke up groggy, surrounded by scattered books and used kleenex, under surveillance by the creepy pair of roving eyes of the servitor in the window. When I fell asleep, the nightmares of the war, conflict, and inhumanity I had read about in the books assaulted me. I couldn’t find a way to fit together the paradise of love and affection I’d grown up in as a child with the reality I found myself in now. Outside the borders of my memories was a wasteland of cruelty.

Royal families, mafiosos, oligarchs and aristocrats all hybrids and all jockeying for positions against each other for power and control and with a constant eye on the possibility of a third coming of dragons. They owned vast swaths of property, controlled the flow of wealth and resources, and some ran entire countries, all thanks to the gifts of their dragon heritage.

The way Isaac was so pushy and overbearing was completely in step with how he was used to acting. It was exactly as his grandmother was acting, and even the people at Cassell, and in Japan. Constant fighting, strategy, and intrigue. They did whatever they reasoned was necessary to maintain their power.

Now here I was, a prize in their eyes, someone with royal pure dragon blood. Caesar hadn’t been teasing me when he told me I was a secret princess, but this was no fairy tale.

Just as with Cassell, I was denied access to the outside. I was confined to the floor of this highrise building in the middle of Chicago. My meals were brought to me, my clothes were handed to me. I was constantly having my blood tested, my pressure checked, my temperature taken.

It was only because a nurse let it slip that tomorrow was New Years Eve, that I figured out what day it was.

I was getting ready for breakfast twisting my unruly locks into a high bun. I went over the timeline in my mind. Today my past self would meet Caesar, Nono, and Isaac for the first time. Tonight, my past self would meet Johann.

By tomorrow night, Isaac would be dead.

At the usual time, I was met by the bald man to escort me. His name was Anthony and he became my constant companion. He escorted me everywhere I went. Today, there were more people around, walking down the hall, on the phone, carrying boxes.

He escorted me to a room that was sealed by key code. It was a storage area full of filing cabinets and boxes shoved aside to make space for people in lab coats poring over tablet computers. Together they looked at me as I walked in.

The matriarch was there, her arms crossed over her chest. “I hope you slept well. It’s time to put your claims to the test. To see if your Speaking Spirit can really restore corrupt genetics.”

A dropcloth was pulled down where it had been draped over a large metal cage. Inside the cage was something resembling a young boy.

He looked to be about ten or eleven. The twisting of his body into this half human half dragon creature shot a painful sympathetic ache through my bones. I recognized the scaled over skin, the eyes that were golden and near reptilian. This boy wasn’t a complete servitor but he was almost there. He sat in the corner, in a fetal position, rocking back and forth, trembling, teeth chattering.

“He has hours to live. If you can cure him, you can cure anyone.” The grandmother said.

I hadn’t used any abilities since I’d killed Isaac. I wasn’t sure how to do it but just being in the presence of this person was painful in a way that I had not felt before. It was like hearing the screech of feedback from a loudspeaker. I wanted his pain to stop and I wanted it to stop immediately.

The words that sprang to mind were given to me by my father. “Speaking Spirit - Release!”

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#dragon raja #writing #fanfiction #Anjou

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jaxl-road · 5 years

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Shiver//Shake

My attempt at a short and fluffy fic turned into 6000 words of hurt/comfort which honestly is very on brand for me.

Summary: “I’d give you my blanket, but I only have one…” Tommy’s face scrunched in thought, before lighting up, “Hey! We should just shack up for the night!” Nikki both heard and felt a record scratch in his brain. “…Pardon?”

(Nikki is struggling to sleep in the winter weather. Tommy tries to help.)

Pairing: Nikki Sixx/Tommy Lee

Warnings: None I think, but if I missed something let me know!

Tagging @saint-of-los-angeles since she’s had to listen to me ramble and rant about this lol.

~~~~~

Nothing made Nikki feel weaker than winter in California.

Like, Jesus Christ, he had lived in all sorts of places colder than California. Hell, he had spent time sleeping outside when he first got to LA, yet here he was, inside his apartment on the Sunset Strip freezing his ass off.

Fucking pathetic.

Nikki paced back and forth in the dark living room, arms wrapped around himself and smoking a cigarette in the hopes of maybe keeping his lungs warm at least. That’s how that worked, right? Whatever. He vaguely felt a little ridiculous, fully dressed including his leather jacket inside at something like two in the morning and still shivering.

It’s not like it was entirely his fault- it was early December, and their apartment had no heating and poor insulation, the walls doing next to nothing to keep the chill out. Not to mention the fact that all available money went to rent or booze, leaving him with a single ratty, piece of shit blanket on his piece of shit mattress.

Just as he was debating the merits of lighting his jacket on fire in a desperate bid for warmth, the lights flicked on, making the bassist jump. Spinning around, he was brought face to face with a drowsy, confused looking Tommy.

The drummer looked a bit like the little kid they always teased him for being. His sweatpants were too short, cutting off at his calf, and a beat up long sleeve shirt barely reached his wrists, and when he reached up to rub at his eyes, the hem lifted to reveal a patch of his slender stomach. It was a little ridiculous- Nikki didn’t know anyone else who could look so absurd in theory and so good in reality. It almost made him angry.

“Dude? What are you doing?” Tommy looked Nikki up and down, “Are you… going somewhere?”

“Uh, no, I just…” He waved his hand vaguely, as if hoping a reasonable excuse would just appear before him. But when all he got was an increasingly confused expression from the drummer, Nikki sighed heavily, too tired to try to seem hardcore or whatever, “I’m fucking cold, T-Bone.”

There was a slight pause, the only evidence that Tommy was surprised by the answer, before the drummer snorted, “That makes sense actually. You’re so fucking skinny, dude.”

“Excuse me?” Nikki gave a look of exaggerated offense, “You’re skinny, too!”

“Yeah, but I’m supposed to be skinny,” he argued.

“How do you know I’m not supposed to be skinny?”

Tommy shrugged, “I can just tell.”

“Fuck off,” Nikki muttered, rolling his eyes. Turning around and dropping onto the couch, he took another long drag in an attempt to suppress a shiver. He had expected Tommy to just return to bed, so he was surprised when Tommy sat down next to him.

“Is that why you’ve been so tired lately? You haven’t been sleeping cause of the cold?”

The drummer’s question only added to Nikki’s surprise. He had thought he’d done a good job of covering up his exhaustion. Not that he expected anyone to notice.

Tommy frowned when Nikki only shrugged, “That sucks, dude.”

“Whatever. I’ll be fine,” Nikki tried to wave him off, but Tommy wasn’t having it.

“Dude, you can’t just not sleep all winter. And besides, if you’re cold, you’re cold! What if you get sick or something? You can’t play bass with pneumonia!”

“Is that a challenge?”

Shoving his shoulder playfully, Tommy shook his head, “No! Come on man, I’m sure there’s a solution here.”

“I already raided Vince’s room and he’s got jack shit,” Nikki grumbled. It wasn’t exactly surprising. When Vince had ditched them to stay with his current girlfriend for the week, Nikki had searched his room almost immediately. But all the singer had was a single thin sheet on his bed- which made sense given that the man was a fucking furnace. Anytime he slung an arm around Nikki it was like hugging an oven.

“Figures,” Tommy sighed, “I’d give you my blanket, but I only have one…” Tommy’s face scrunched in thought, before lighting up, “Hey! We should just shack up for the night!”

Nikki both heard and felt a record scratch in his brain.

“…Pardon?”

“Yeah, it’ll be perfect!” Tommy grinned, “We could combine our blankets AND our body heat!

There were a million reasons Nikki did not want to do that, but he didn’t have the words for any of them. Well, okay, maybe he would if he actually tried. But for the past several weeks he had been very consciously not naming the feelings that caught in his stomach when Tommy was around and filled his chest when the younger boy gave him his attention. As far as he was concerned, he was just allergic to the damn kid.

But he could only imagine how suspicious any of that would sound if he said it out loud. After all, they were the terror twins- they had next to no boundaries with each other, and Tommy was right, it did make sense to just share a bed for a bit to get warm. Nothing weird there. It was only weird if Nikki made it weird, and he decided right then and there that if he was going to fuck up this relationship like he did everything else in his life, it was not going to be over something as dumb as sleeping in the same bed together.

So Nikki forced a grin, “I think you mean your body heat,” he reached out to press his icy fingers against the drummer’s neck.

Tommy shrieked, laughing as he pulled away, “Fuck, dude! What do you have frostbite already?” Standing, he motioned Nikki to follow him, “The situation is more dire than I thought, let’s go before you lose your goddamn fingers.”

Chuckling, the bassist followed after him, stopping by his room to grab the blanket off his bed. When he entered Tommy’s room, he was rifling through his dresser, “I think…. Got it!” He tossed a pair of grey sweatpants at him, “Those are a little short on me, so they should fit you fine.”

“How do you know I don’t have my own sweatpants?”

“Nikki, I love you, but you have like three outfits. I doubt you have pajamas hiding somewhere.”

Huffing at the accuracy of that statement, he switched out his jeans for the sweats as fast as he could. Part of it was because of how much it sucked to expose his skin to the cold air, but also partially because of Tommy. Not that they hadn’t changed in front of each other before, usually drunkenly after a party or something, but…

Sometimes Nikki felt like his confidence rose and fell with the sun. It was harder to act nonchalant in the dark. And right now Nikki was too sober, and too tired, and if he took too long he felt like his ribs might collapse. He wasn’t sure why. He refused to think about why.

Tommy spread Nikki’s blanket over his own, sliding under the covers and patting the space beside him, “Ditch the jacket and hop on in, dude!”

Sighing, he shed the leather jacket, tossing it aside and flipping the lights off before swiftly crawling onto the mattress, pulling the blankets up to his chin almost immediately. Tommy giggled, shaking his head, “Oh my God, you’re like a kitten.”

“I will fucking key your drum set,” Nikki glared.

Gasping dramatically, Tommy clutched his chest, “Hit me where it hurts, why don’tcha!”

Nikki only grumbled, and the drummer chuckled again, settling himself under the covers. Yawning widely, he rolled onto his side and let out a cheery “Night, dude!”. Minutes later, he was snoring lightly.

Staring at the back of Tommy’s head, Nikki can’t help but be a little jealous- he can’t remember a time when he had slept so easily. Taking a deep breath, Nikki rolled over and tried his best to relax, to clear his head, to sleep.

For a little while, it seems like it might actually work. The extra blanket is a warm comfort, and Tommy’s quiet, even breathing is a soothing backdrop to the night. He feels himself start to drift off, the edges of consciousness starting to fade away.

Suddenly, he feels a sharp jolt of pain in his leg, and before he can even begin to process it, he is shoved forward, falling roughly onto the floor and hitting the ground with a hard ‘thud’. The impact jerks him awake before his brain can catch up, and for a moment he feels himself gasping, body tensing, ready to defend himself against… something.

But then awareness cuts through the haze, and he remembers everything at once (-he left, he called his father, he changed his name, London, Tommy, Motley Crue, Tommy, Tommy, Tommy-) and the brief panic turns into confusion. He glances around, taking in the room that he realizes is not his room and the floor that he realizes he is laying on and-

Tommy snorts and shifts wildly on the bed above him.

Ah.

That explains it, Nikki thinks, sitting up to get a better view of the bed. Looking over, he sees Tommy sprawled out, his limbs spread like a starfish where Nikki had been previously, his indent still a shadow beneath the drummer’s arm.

And for a moment, Nikki feels a fire in his chest, an instinctual rage because he’s never handled being kicked out of anywhere very well. His hands clenched into fists against the dirty carpet and he debates the merits of dragging Tommy out of bed to crash to the floor like he had.

But the rage leaves him in an exhale. His hands release, and he finds himself laying back down onto the floor, staring at the ceiling with a sigh. What good would it do to make Tommy join him in his misery? The kid had only been trying to help, after all.

He’s still cold. Colder, in fact, for the hard ground and the blanket left behind on the bed above him. But he finds himself closing his eyes, rolling over and sticking his hands under his arms to try to warm his fingers, and focuses on the deep, even breaths of his best friend. Something about Tommy’s peace bleeds into him, and even though he doesn’t fall asleep, Nikki still finds it… restful.

After about half an hour, Nikki wandered into his room to grab his notebook and a pen before returning to the drummer’s room. He glanced at the bed for about three seconds before laying back down on the ground. Fuck it, he once slept behind a dumpster, he could handle some charred carpeting. Suck it up, Sixx.

He spent the next couple hours scribbling away in the dark, squinting at the pages to edit older songs, or jot down potential new ones. Sometimes he would just put down a line he liked in case he found a place for it later. Eventually he was interrupted by the sound of Tommy groaning sleepily.

Above him, Tommy pushed himself up onto his elbows, rubbing at his eyes. Looking around the still dark room, it took a moment for his brain to catch up that there was someone missing on the mattress. His brow furrowed as he glanced left and right.

“…Nikki?”

There was a grunt of acknowledgement from below him, and Tommy frowned in confusion as he leaned over to look over the side of the bed. When he did, he was brought face to face with Nikki fucking Sixx laying on his back on the floor with his notebook on his chest, his hair a dark, wild halo around his head.

Tommy blinked slowly, “What are you doing down there, dude?”

The bassist glared, “Apparently your mattress isn’t big enough for you, me, and your limbs,” he huffed.

Gasping, Tommy looked down at his own arms with a look of utter betrayal, “I pushed you off?!”

“Kicked me, actually. Did you used to play soccer or something because Jesus-”

Looking at Tommy’s wide eyes you’d think Nikki had told him he kicked a puppy, not some hot mess bass player. He had expected the drummer to just laugh it off, not radiate guilt and regret. What the fuck.

“Dude, why didn’t you wake me up?"

Why indeed, Nikki wondered. "I tried, man,” he lied through his teeth, “but you sleep like the dead. I actually checked your pulse at one point.”

It was a believable lie, at least. Tommy could sleep through the weirdest shit. But Nikki couldn’t say for sure why he lied. He thinks it probably has something to do with those nameless feelings he’s ignoring, but he’d have to stop ignoring them to be sure, and like Hell is that happening right now.

“Fuck,” Tommy groaned, running a hand over his face, “I’m sorry, dude.”

Nikki shrugged, “Whatever, man. It’s fine. Oh, I’ve got some cool ideas for a new song to work on though-”

“Ah, ah, ah!” Tommy’s hand shot out, pushing down the notebook Nikki had just raised to emphasize his point, “Dude, I love your shit, you know I do, but it’s like, five in the morning.”

“…Did you wanna grab breakfast or something?”

“No!” sighing in something between exasperation and fondness, Tommy reached down to tug at Nikki’s arm, “I want you to get back up here and at least try to get a couple hours of sleep.”

“Fine, fine!” Nikki put his notebook on Tommy’s nightstand before allowing himself to be pulled back under the blankets. He had to admit, the warmth was blissful, the space having been kept warm by Tommy’s body. That thought brought him a little extra warmth, and he found himself hurrying to turn and face away from the drummer. After one last apology from Tommy, they said their good nights again, and before long, both drifted off to sleep.

An hour later, Nikki landed on the floor face-first.

Above him, Tommy’s arm flopped over the side of the bed as the drummer snorted lightly. Nikki didn’t even bother moving. He just stayed on the floor with his face pressed into the filthy carpet and sighed.

On the one hand, the three Jolt sodas mixed with vodka Nikki had downed before the Crue showed up had kept him very lively. He was practically jumping off the walls, talking a mile a minute, and gesturing wildly to communicate every idea. Awake as awake could get.

On the other hand, he’s pretty sure he’s gonna hurl.

“You want Tommy to hold your hair back for you?” Vince teased. Mick and Vince were having a few after-practice drinks before they inevitably split off, which meant they got to witness when Nikki stood up and abruptly had to brace himself against the wall, one hand clutched over his mouth.

Tommy actually moved toward him, concern in his eyes and hands ready to reach for the bassist’s hair, which was… sweet? No, ridiculous, that’s what Nikki meant. Utterly ridiculous.

He batted the drummer’s hands away half-heartedly, “Oh fuck off, I’m fine.” Straightening up, he went to the kitchen to get a glass of water, “I’m pretty sure my organs are just being eaten through, no big deal,” he said sarcastically before downing the water in several quick gulps.

“All the fucking drugs you do and you’re going to die from a fucking soda?” Mick raised an eyebrow.

Nikki flipped him off as he drank more water.

The group hung out a while longer before Mick and Vince took their leave; Vince itching to get some loving from his girlfriend and Mick itching for some peace and quiet. Nikki blinked in surprise when Tommy threw his jacket on as well.

“I’m just running to the corner store, you want anything?” he explained.

“Summer weather and some chloroform,” Nikki deadpanned.

Tommy barked out a laugh, “I’ll see what I can do.”

Grunting in response, Nikki stretched out on the couch, shivering slightly. Night had fallen, and his bandmates leaving the apartment had let in gusts of the cold winter air, lowering the temperature of the apartment even faster. Nikki swore that once Motley Crue made it big, and they would, he was going to have the most high tech heater available and five blankets. And a heated blanket in the winter. Yup, that was the plan.

Nikki almost growled when the door opened again, letting in even more cold air. Tommy grinned sheepishly in understanding, “Sorry, sorry. But hey! I got you something for your stomach!”

That had Nikki looking over in confusion. He had assumed Tommy was going to grab cigarettes or something. But instead, he was holding out a package of saltine crackers.

There was a fluttering in his stomach that had nothing to do with the energy drinks. He swallowed thickly, his smile shaky even as he tried to keep his words steady, “You are a lifesaver, T-Bone.”

Tommy’s grin was almost blinding as Nikki tore into the package, “Anytime, dude! I figure that shit only fucked you up cause you drank ‘em on an empty stomach.”

“Fuck that, eating is supposed to be optional if you drink enough!”

“That’s… not even remotely true.”

“Food can also be substituted with drugs.”

“Also no,” Tommy laughed, “Stop it, Sixx, I hate being the voice of reason! It feels so unnatural!”

“This is why Mick is the pillar of our group,” Nikki grinned, already feeling better now that the water and saltines were settling his stomach.

“So true,” shaking his head fondly, Tommy stretched his arms over his head, “You feeling better?”

“Yeah, thanks again man.”

“No worries. You ready to crash then?”

Nikki turned to him in surprise, raising an eyebrow questioningly, “Uh, I kinda figured after last night-”

“No, no, no!” Tommy waved his arms frantically, “I know, last night didn’t go well, but I have a plan this time!”

“This whole thing was your plan.”

“I have fine tuned the plan!”

Laughing, Nikki shook his head, “Alright, let’s try this again I guess.”

Tommy beamed, and led the way back into his room. They both kicked off their shoes, and Nikki found himself staring at a corner while they changed. Not for any reason though. Of course not. Just because.

“Okay, so this time, you take the side against the wall,” Tommy instructed. Doing as he was told, Nikki slid under the covers until he was pressed up to the wall as Tommy got in beside him. “And I’ll stay waaaaaay over here,” the stretch of the word was comical when faced with the narrow space the twin bed provided, but Nikki got the message, “This way I can’t kick you off! And, you know, hopefully I won’t hit you or anything at all,” he added sheepishly.

Grinning, Nikki nodded, “Cool, works for me.” They both settled down, Nikki feeling a little more at ease with the space between them, each of them facing away from each other. And he was so tired, worn out from the lack of sleep and crashing now that the energy drinks had worn off, that he actually felt himself drift off fairly quickly. Tommy still fell asleep first, but after a few soft snores from the drummer and a few long blinks from the bassist, Nikki was out like a light.

For a few hours, at least.

When Nikki woke up, his teeth were chattering. It took him a moment to gather his bearings and take in his surroundings, and once he did, he was filled with frustration. How was he still cold? Turning around on the mattress, the answer became immediately apparent.

Beside him, Tommy was covered up in both their blankets- the sheets wrapped around him like a burrito. Nikki sat up, tugging on one end to try to free some of the warmth for himself, but they wouldn’t budge. Tommy grumbled quietly in his sleep, turning over to wrap himself up even tighter.

Nikki let out a long groan of annoyance. Part of him wanted to shake Tommy awake and demand the blankets be shared equally. Or Hell, even just rip his own blanket back and retreat back to his own room. But when he looked down at Tommy’s peaceful face, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. When was the last time Nikki slept that soundly, even when he was warm? It didn’t feel fair to deprive Tommy of his rest when Nikki was a lost cause to begin with.

Sighing, the bassist carefully crawled over the drummer before stealthily making his way into the living room. On his way, he stepped into the kitchen to grab a half empty bottle of whiskey. Alcohol warms you up, right? If nothing else, he figured maybe he could pass out and sleep through the chill.

Looking out the dirty living room window, Nikki could just see the edges of the sky start to lighten. Sighing in frustration, he leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He was curled up in the corner of the couch, strumming mindlessly at his bass with the empty whiskey bottle on the floor next to him. He felt barely buzzed, and still chilly but distracted enough to not be thinking about it at least. At least once the sun rose it would get a little warmer. He was debating the merits of going to the diner down the street to try to sweet talk Dottie into some free coffee when Tommy woke up.

“FUCK!”

Crash!

Nikki jumped at the noise, the sounds slightly muffled by distance but still very clearly Tommy. There was a thump, followed by the slam of a door opening, and a rapid thud thud THUD of approaching footsteps.

On cue, Tommy slid into the living room, hair even more disheveled than usual, eyes wide and Nikki swore he looked near tears- like someone just told him his goldfish died or something. When he spoke, Tommy’s voice held the same air of tragedy.

“Dude, I am so sorry!”

There was a beat of silence. And then, he couldn’t have held it back if he wanted to. Nikki burst out laughing.

His arms clutched his bass to his stomach, doubling over as he laughed at the sheer ridiculousness of the whole situation- at the absurdity of Tommy being so distressed over Nikki’s discomfort.

Tommy visibly huffed at Nikki’s laughter, so he did his best to pull himself together, gasping for breath as he waved his hand dismissively. “Dude- dude, it’s fine, really. It’s no big deal.”

“It is a big deal!” Tommy argued, “I was supposed to keep you warm, and I did the exact opposite! Again!”

The drummer seemed so genuinely distressed that Nikki felt his laughter die out. For whatever reason, this mattered to Tommy. Which meant it mattered to Nikki. “Hey, dude, no,” he tried his best to sound soothing, “it’s fine, really. I don’t mind-”

“Well I do,” he insisted, “We are going to figure this out, I promise!”

“I- I mean…” Nikki was unprepared for the determination in Tommy’s voice, “I could just go back to my room.”

And he was even more unprepared for the way Tommy’s face fell at his words, “Oh. Well, yeah, I mean, you could do that.” He scuffed his foot against the carpet dejectedly, “I mean, I guess my plan hasn’t exactly been working out…”

God fucking dammit fucking feelings stupid boys stupid FEELINGS-

“Oh, so now you’re a quitter?” Nikki raised an eyebrow.

Tommy’s head snapped up, “Wha-” he waved his arms in dismay, “you’re the one who suggested it!”

“That doesn’t sound like me.”

“You literally suggested giving up like five seconds ago!” Tommy tried to look annoyed, but he couldn’t help but laugh a little through his words.

“Hmmm, nope. Don’t recall. I mean, if you want to give up, that’s fine, but don’t try to blame it on innocent little me.”

“You’ve never been innocent in your life.”

“Damn right I haven’t, and you should show some respect.”

At that point the drummer couldn’t hold back his giggles, “Alright, alright. No quitting. We’re gonna get you warm if it kills us!”

“I can already see the headlines.”

The next night, after a day of band practice and crashing shows at the Whiskey (“Gotta keep an eye on the competition, T-Bone!”), the terror twins once again stumbled into Tommy’s room.

“Okay, okay, hear me out, cause I think I have the perfect plan this time!” Tommy’s face was a kaleidoscope of mischief and anxiety and hopefulness that Nikki had no idea how to deal with. So, raising an eyebrow, he simply motioned to the drummer to go on.

Honestly, when Nikki looks back on this moment later, he realizes he shouldn’t have been so surprised. After all, this was Tommy he was dealing with. But at the time, when the drummer’s face split into a wide grin and he grabbed Nikki’s hand to pull him onto the bed, his brain short-circuited a little. Then it short-circuited a lot when Tommy wrapped his arms around him and swiftly twisted them around on the mattress until they were both wrapped snug in the blankets, much as Tommy had been the night before.

Only this time, Nikki was pressed up against him, his face against his chest, and his arms stiff and awkward at his sides, and his heart about to beat out of his chest.

“….What… the Hell?” Nikki is proud of himself for even getting those three words out.

Tommy laughs, and there’s a tinge of nervousness to it, and then he’s hugging Nikki a little tighter and yup, Nikki is pretty sure this is how he’s going to die because the beats his heart is skipping combined with the way his stomach is doing flips cannot be healthy.

“It’s perfect, dude!” Tommy exclaims, his breath warm against the top of Nikki’s head and Nikki was definitely dying, “This way I can’t kick you or steal the blankets! Plus, it’s the best for keeping us extra warm!”

Nikki certainly felt like his face was on fire, so point made. It takes maybe a moment too long for it to come across as completely natural, but Nikki takes a breath and violently pushes all the confusing, completely unhelpful feelings he’s having deep down and tries his best to respond how he thinks he’s supposed to.

So he huffs out a laugh and tries to release some of the tension in his body- tries to act like this is just another crazy stunt of the terror twins, “You’re a genius, T-Bone. A fucking weirdo, absolutely, but also a genius.” His voice maybe shakes a little, but they both laugh. They spend a few minutes shifting to get comfortable, Tommy ending up with his chin resting on the top of Nikki’s head, and the bassist eventually hesitantly bringing his arms up to return the hug Tommy had him wrapped in. The drummer sounds almost shy when he finally mumbles a goodnight, but Nikki figures it’s probably his fault for being so fucking awkward.

As Tommy settles in and closes his eyes, Nikki can’t help but curse at himself. What the fuck was wrong with him? It wasn’t like he wasn’t used to Tommy being physically affectionate. The two of them hugged all the time, threw their arms around each other, had even planted drunken kisses on each others’ cheeks a couple times. So why was it taking so much effort not to tremble in Tommy’s arms now?

He takes a deep breath through his nose and closes his eyes. He thinks maybe it’s the lack of motion. The terror twins were a tornado, always running and rushing and throwing themselves into everything they did. When they hugged it was a tackle, a leap, a falling together. Their touches were always accompanied by staggering and waving their arms and moving, moving, moving.

Nikki doesn’t know how to handle being held still.

Like this he can feel Tommy’s heartbeat, causing a spike of anxiety at the prospect of Tommy feeling the frantic beating of his own. He can feel the gentle rise and fall of the drummers chest, and smell the remnants of whiskey and cherry soda on his breath, and the tips of his fingers can just touch the ends of tangled curls. It’s overwhelming, and those unnamed feelings are crashing over him like a tidal wave, and keeping them unnamed does nothing to quell what they are which is want. Nikki wants, wants, wants this. He wants to lay in Tommy’s arms forever, wants to run his fingers through his hair and catch on every knot, wants to brush his lips across his skin, wants to taste his breath and feel safe like this forever.

Nikki has never felt so much want towards a person, and this is his best friend, and it is a pipe dream, it’s hopeless, because nobody wants Nikki, he’s lucky enough to have found people who seem to sort of like him, maybe, or tolerate him, maybe, or something, maybe, maybe, but nobody wants Nikki, and he hates this because it’s too much and he is trapped here, and he wants, and he’s unwanted, and he can’t run away.

And that’s about when the shaking starts.

It starts in his hands, and he tried to gently pull his arms away from Tommy, curling them into his own chest, fists clenched in an attempt to still them. But then he feels his shoulders hitching, and tremors run down his back, and his knees knock together, and his breaths shake with every inhale and exhale. It feels like an earthquake in his bones, and there is no shelter for him.

“…Nikki?”

A choked noise escapes as the breath catches in Nikki’s lungs because fuck he thought Tommy was asleep, why wasn’t he asleep?

“S-s-s-sorry,” His teeth are fucking chattering and Tommy’s arms tighten around him but it only makes the shaking worse, “Did I- did I wake you up?” he speaks breathlessly.

The drummer ignores the question, shifting slightly to try to look down at Nikki, but his face was hidden under his wild hair, “Are you okay? Are… are you still cold?” It’s so blatant in his voice that Tommy knows Nikki isn’t cold.

Shaking his head vigorously, Nikki abruptly starts pushing away from him, “I-… I need to…. I can’t-”

“Woah, hey, calm down, you’re oka-”

In his desperation to get away, Nikki can’t focus long enough to try to escape the nest of blankets they’re in. Pushing and pulling away, all he manages to do is tangle the two of them up even more, which is a problem for a lot of reasons, but mostly because when Nikki falls over the edge of the bed, Tommy is dragged right over with him.

“Oof!”

“Ack!”

Both of them yelp in pain and surprise when the drummer lands on top of him. Tommy recovers first, quickly disentangling himself from the blankets and Nikki. He pushed himself up, bracing his hands on either side of Nikki’s head and straddling his hips. His long curls fell like a curtain around his face and his eyes were wide with concern.

Nikki was still breathing in harsh gasps, the tremors still racing up and down his body. He looked into Tommy’s eyes for about half a second before clenching his eyes shut, turning his head to the side as if that would help him hide from the situation.

A tentative hand brushed the hair away from his face, stroking down the back of his head gently, “Hey, just breathe, dude. You’re cool, you’re fine, just breathe, yeah?”

Tommy keeps petting his hair, whispering comforting nonsense as Nikki works to pull himself back together underneath him. It takes five or ten minutes, maybe more, maybe less, Nikki has no sense of time like this, but eventually he feels each slow, even breath finally reach his lungs, and the shaking lessens until it is almost imperceptible. He doesn’t want to, but he forces himself to open his eyes, though he can’t bring himself to turn his head just yet, instead just starting at Tommy’s hand next to him.

“I’m okay,” he whispered, swallowing back the shame that threatened to overwhelm him, “I’m okay now.”

“Good, cool, cool, awesome” Tommy rambled a bit, his hand hovering awkwardly above Nikki’s hair. After a moment’s hesitation, he continued stroking his hair, “Are you- I mean, you said you’re okay but are you okay? What… what happened? Did I do something?” He asks the last question softly, his voice tinged with horror at the prospect that he could have caused it.

And okay, he sort of did but not the way he thinks, so Nikki sighs and shakes his head, “No, no way dude, you’re fine, I just…” groaning, he brought his hands up to cover his face roughly, “Fuck. I’m so fucking fucked up.”

“Dude?” Tommy’s face scrunched up with worry, “Seriously, you’re kind of freaking me out.”

Nikki let his hands drop, and finally turned to look at Tommy head on, whispering sadly, “I’m going to fuck everything up.”

Motley Crue had barely started and Nikki was about to destroy them. Because he couldn’t run away, and he had no lie to offer, and he had no words to explain. All he could do was reach up, rest his hands on Tommy’s neck, and pull him into a kiss.

Tommy let out a soft noise of surprise, and Nikki has his eyes pressed shut again, and he feels himself start shaking again, and he feels like he might start crying.

But before he can completely shatter under the drummer, he feels Tommy sigh. And then he starts kissing back. It’s soft, and gentle, and it’s Nikki’s turn to gasp in surprise. Tommy smiles against his lips, and then he reaches up to cover Nikki’s trembling hands with his own. He pulls them away from his neck so he can hold them properly before breaking the kiss. He doesn’t move away though, resting their foreheads together and smiling warmly at the bassist’s shocked face.

He rubbed his thumbs gently over Nikki’s hands, smirking down at him, “Fuck your hands are cold,” he whispered.

A startled laugh escapes the older boy, blinking rapidly, and before he can think of some sort of response (how the Hell is he supposed to respond to this? He didn’t know this was even a possibility), Tommy leans down to kiss him again.

It’s a little firmer this time, pressing their bodies together and bringing one hand up to card through Nikki’s dark hair, but he can still feel the drummer smiling through the kiss and Nikki can’t help but smile too. He feels a flicker of his daytime confidence, and he wraps his arms around Tommy to try to pull him even closer, soaking in the contact he had been so afraid of- absorbing the touch he’d tried so desperately to run from.

Eventually, Tommy pulled away more fully, but only for a moment, leaning back and tugging at Nikki to sit up with him before pressing their foreheads together again. His grin was so wide and bright, Nikki thought it might blind him, but he didn’t look away. It’d be worth it.

“While I’m loving this development,” Tommy teased, “This floor is like, super gross. And there is a bed, like, right there.”

Nikki laughed, and his chest felt lighter than it had in… he didn’t even know how long. “You make a valid point, T-Bone.” They both stood, Tommy keeping hold of one of Nikki’s hands.

Before sitting back on the bed, Tommy brushed a hand across his cheek, “Are you… okay? With sharing again, I mean? You don’t have to.”

God, Nikki loved this boy. Shaking his head, the bassist chuckled nervously, ducking his head and blushing slightly in embarrassment, “Nah, it’s fine. I was just losing my shit ‘cause of…” He gestured vaguely.

Tommy understood though, and Nikki barely caught a glance of an affection filled smile before the drummer was tilting his chin up to kiss him again, “Fuck,” Tommy mumbled against his lips “I’ve been wanting to do this for fucking ever.”

Eventually they make it back into bed. Tommy drapes the blankets over them more loosely this time, giving Nikki a little more room to breath. But that doesn’t stop either of them from pressing right up against each other, arms and legs tangled together, laughing softly and exchanging sleepy kisses, keeping each other warm, warm, warm.

Nikki shivered. But it was a good shiver.

#Motley Crue #motley crue fanfiction #Nikki Sixx #Tommy Lee #tommy lee x nikki sixx #fictionalized real people #more like 'The Dirt' characters than the real folks lol #The Dirt #my writing #YEET

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whatcouldgowrong-ohthat · 5 years

Text

Hurts to be Human Chapter Four

Hey guys! I have 10 days left on my contract, then I’ll have stable wifi where I can update more! Ah!! Can’t wait!!

Warnings for this: Um...I don’t think there are any? I mean, it isn’t edited because really, my wifi sucks.

Chapter Four — Hustle

“You sure you got this?” Sam’s concern was evident. He watched Y/N eye the flashing lights just past the curtain and knew this was a big step for her. She used to have this sort of thing handled, no problem. But that was then and then was quite a long time ago.

Bucky didn’t say anything, simply watching her, studying her body language. She was fiddling with her sleeves, crossing her legs and rubbing her calf with her heel.

She wanted to run.

“Of course I do,” she told Sam, giving him that oh-so-dazzling smile. Bucky didn’t believe it. Neither did Sam. Even so, they knew better than to question her about this sort of thing. “Just…don’t go tackling any of them, okay? It would really kill the image I’m trying to build.” Tugging at her sleeves once more, she gave them a thumbs up and walked on stage.

Now came the harder part — trying to convince the press that they were wrong.

“A question, Miss L/N!”

“Miss L/N, we’d like a statement. It would only take a moment of your time.”

“A photo for our article, Miss Y/N?”

“Miss L/N, over here!”

“Miss L/N, did you leaving instigate the reckless behavior that we’ve seen from the Winter Soldier and Sam Wilson?”

Bucky stepped forward, wanting to punch whoever had just asked that. However, Sam caught his arm and pulled him back. He shook his head, keeping silent just in case. Bucky tensed, but took a step back. He was out of his element here. Still, watching Y/N, he wasn’t so sure that she was in her element.

“Miss L/N!”

“Over here, Miss L/N!”

“Miss L/N!”

“Enough.” The one word found its way from the microphone, echoing through the speakers. It held an authority that could only be learned from the late Tony Stark. Squaring her shoulders, Y/N took a slow breath and allowed her back to finally relax. Her closed eyes finally opened and she shifted her gaze, trying to find a face. She was blinded by the darkened room, the bright lights from flashing cameras, and her ears were practically ringing with the sound of her own name. It was too much.

No wonder the boys hated doing these things.

Smoothing out her blazer, Y/N then tucked a stray strand of hair back into place. She looked put together, like someone that had worked alongside Pepper Potts for years. Her resume, her experience, was starting to show. She glanced off stage, at the pair that waited for her. It was debated whether they should have initially joined her and now she was just glad she had stuck to her initial guns. Bucky would have been slaughtered. Sam would have reacted. No good would have come from something neither man was ready for.

Turning to look back at her audience, Y/N offered one of those picture perfect smiles that Tony called “The Stark”. Honestly, it was just a version of the “Blue Steel” that worked for the press. Nothing too special.

“All of you have questions and I understand that. I will hopefully get the opportunity to answer each of them in a way I see fit, but I mean, a girl’s got to eat and sleep. We aren’t going to spend all day here.” A few chuckles were heard and Y/N knew she could work with this audience. Thank God. Nothing was worse for her than having to crack through the idiocy that was the press. “I’ve already heard one of your questions, so why don’t we start there?” Murmurs, but no arguments.

Good.

Something Tony had taught her a long time ago — working with the press was like a dance.

If you didn’t want to be led off the dance floor, you had to have the balls to lead.

“There are two parts to my answer regarding Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson. One…” A deep breath and a glance at a concerned Bucky had Y/N feeling like she had to speak up, she had to voice the complete truth. “Bucky and I were friends before we dated. I know more about him than anyone else in this room. I know his weaknesses, his strengths…I’ve seen what makes him angry, happy, and sad. I’ve seen him at his weakest moments and he has seen me in mine. That being said, my leaving was because of personal reasons. James Buchanan Barnes, or Bucky as he insists on being called, is human. He is a man who has worked through his own trauma and fought to make up for past mistakes. This isn’t a man who would allow any woman to influence his behavior. He’s too careful.”

Another deep breath and it gave her a moment to hear the scribbling of her words, the snapping of a few cameras, the murmurs of people who agreed or disagreed. Which opinion? She wasn’t sure yet. “As for their behavior — these men have dedicated their lives, their time, to protecting us. Protecting and saving people isn’t an easy job. Look at the military, the police, or even doctors. Look at any field that involves this sort of lifestyle. There is damage involved. Lives are often lost. The only reason Mr. Barnes and Mr. Wilson are being so heavily judged is because they have taken up the role of “superheroes”.”

There was silence. A hand rose, followed by a tall woman. She was slim in face and body, blonde hair pulled into a neat bun. Y/N recognized her as the woman who had called out Tony all those years ago. What could she possibly want? “Yes?”

“Miss L/N, there is proof in the media that these men have cost lives, jobs — families have been torn apart.”

“I still haven’t heard your question.”

The blonde huffed, not appreciating the hint of snark biting just behind the words. “Why don’t we leave these ‘missions’ to the actual professionals? These officers, doctors, military men that you previously mentioned?”

Y/N smirked, raising an eyebrow. “How much do you know about either of these men?” Silence. She looked out at the crowd, seriously curious as to just what these people knew. “What do any of you know about the two men that are today’s topic? Please, enlighten me.” Comments regarding the Winter Soldier were brought up. Others spoke up about Sam trying to replace Steve. Y/N laughed softly, shaking her head. A light flashed from another camera as she tried to find the right words.

“You know, I wasn’t even supposed to be here. Sharon Carter was, but she was called away. Something that was a little higher on the priority list, you know?” A couple chuckles. Not as many as before. Clearing her throat, Y/N said, “I think I’m starting to understand why they decided I was the next option. See, both of these men have a military background. Barnes was part of the Howling Commandos, fighting alongside Captain America before it had been believed that he’d lost his life on a mission. The truth was that he became the longest known prisoner of war. It took twenty years for HYDRA to gain any sort of traction in creating the ‘Winter Soldier’ that all of you have come to know him as. In fact, if a few of you walked into a museum or library instead of relying on the internet, you might learn a little more of the older information that is connected to Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. He carries more guilt for his past than any person I’ve ever met. He was tortured by an elite terrorist organization and I constantly find myself in awe that the emotional torment he puts himself through seems to one-up everything they tried to do to him.”

“As for Sam Wilson…” Y/N glanced back at her friend and he nodded, silently allowing her to speak about anything involving him. This was her playing field and he was a chess piece. He needed to cooperate. Looking back at the audience, Y/N said, “Sam was part of an elite group of military men that allowed him to have the wings that had given him the moniker ‘Falcon’. He lost his partner in the field, worked with the VA to help veterans work through their trauma, befriended Captain America, and worked alongside him in taking down HYDRA and finding Barnes. A direct quote from the man is, “I do everything Steve does, just slower.” And as someone who has lived with the Avengers, I can assure you that this statement is very much true. With that being said, Sam still sees himself as the Falcon. He was passed on the shield, nothing more.”

There was silence, a level of tension in the room that made it clear that opinions were divided. She had swayed some successfully while others remained rooted in their judgement. Y/N wanted to say more. She wanted to pour her heart and soul out and defend the men that stood just to the side. They were good men, good people that just wanted to help. But she knew if she kept pushing, insisting that she knew best, she’d turn them completely against her. Instead, she finished her answer with the simplest statement that she could muster. “There are no better professionals to trust in situations like these. Does that answer your question?”

Bucky and Sam watched in awe. There were no words to express their gratitude because neither of them had ever expected to hear her say such things. She painted them as heroes. For the first time since Thanos, they felt as if they were stepping out of Steve’s shadow. She had painted them in a light similar to that of Tony…Natasha…Steve…

And she meant every word.

“Bucky,” Sam murmured, clearing his voice to hide the fact that he was trying not to tear up.

“What, Birdbrain?” Blue eyes shimmered with unshed tears as Bucky kept his gaze focused intently on her. She was talking, answering another question it looked like. Why did Sam have to talk when he could be listening to her?

“If you don’t break through that thick skull of hers and win her back, I’ll swoop in and date her myself.”

———

The rest of the conference passed by with little problems. A few attempted to pull Y/N into an argument, needing the drama to paint the picture in their light. They had stories to try and sell and were attempting to get any piece of juicy drama they could. But Y/N had been trained well and it seemed, even after all this time, she still had a knack for dealing with the press.

That being said, Sharon Carter owed her big time.

Y/N fell onto her bed, landing on her back and kicking her heels off. She heard the resounding thud of them landing across the room and considered that those monstrous contraptions were better off far away from her. She didn’t understand how Pepper or Natasha had done it. Wearing heels 24/7 was a punishment.

Maybe they were into that sort of thing?

Y/N snorted and sat up, slipping off her blazer and tossing it onto her desk chair before laying down. She could hang it up later. Right now, her body wanted the bed. People were more exhausting than any mission— at least in her opinion. Her legs hung off the edge of the bed, the balls of her feet rubbing against the fluffy carpet and her toes curling in satisfaction. Stark definitely spent good money on this place.

“Meow.”

Y/N giggled as the familiar feel of fur and a tail ran along her calf. H.D. was not happy that she had been gone all day. The feline pounced, landing on the bed before making her way up to Y/N’s cheek. She curled up in the crook of her neck, soft purrs eventually erupting and making her owner giggle. “Someone’s being cuddly today,” she muttered, earning a “meow” as if telling her to shut up. Shaking her head, she started unbuttoning her blouse to reveal a simple white tank top underneath. What would be absolutely perfect right now was lazy clothes, a book, a hot cup of tea, and H.D. curled up on her shoulder. That was the goal. “Give me a sec, twerp.”

Sitting up, Y/N unzipped her pencil skirt and let it fall to her feet before stepping out of it. She stifled a yawn and walked to her dresser. Ruffling through her pajama drawer, she successfully found her Wolverine sweats and slipped them on. She stretched and twisted her body, a loud yawn echoing in the silent room.

“That’s different.”

Y/N jumped, spinning around to see Sam Wilson standing in her doorway. His arms were crossed, same smirk as always, and an amused glint in his eye.

“Yawning? Pretty sure that’s a normal body function, Wilson,” she teased, smirking as she closed the dresser drawer.

“I meant the tattoo on your thigh. Pretty sure you didn’t have that a few years ago.”

Y/N’s eyes grew and her jaw slacked as she spun to face him again. “How long were you standing there like some sort of creep?”

Sam laughed, leaning against the doorframe as she placed her hands on her hips. Y/N always tried to be intimidating, but in Wolverine sweatpants and after her little “tired child” performance, he couldn’t take it seriously. “Long enough and believe me, I plan on using every second to piss Barnes off.”

“Please don’t. I’m supposed to be keeping you two in line, remember? Why not make my job easy for a change?”

“‘Cause then you’d be bored and you’d hate it.” His answer was simple and, sadly, the truth. Y/N couldn’t stand being bored. Not here at least, not home.

Wait, home?

No. This place couldn’t be home to her. She’d finish her mission and be back in her small town before too long. That was supposed to be her home. That was where she had been living, surviving, making friends.

It was where she healed, where she found herself again.

“Hello, earth to Y/N.”

Shaking her head, Y/N pulled herself from her thoughts and frowned when she saw Sam was grinning. “What, thinking about a jealous Bucky?”

Y/N rolled her eyes and walked to her closet, grabbing one of her jackets. It was grey, frayed at the edges with holes in the sleeves for her thumbs. Slipping it on, she zipped it up a bit and pulled her hair out of the bun it had been in. She ran her fingers through it, needing to free the strands from the stiff and sticky feeling of hairspray. “I don’t look at Bucky like that anymore, Sam. We’re trying the friends thing, remember?”

“And how’s that going?”

Y/N paused, her mind drifting to the past couple weeks. When she’d made the initial agreement with Bucky, she had forgotten how sweet he could be. She’d forgotten how easy it was to laugh with him and how his fascination with the little things made her heart beat so fast. It didn’t help that every freaking morning he came back from his morning workouts wearing nothing, but loose sweats and one of those thin tank-tops. He’d gotten more confident in his arm, something she hadn’t seen before.

“Mhm, there’s no hiding that smile from me.”

She jerked, the small smile vanishing as a faint blush tinted her cheeks. “Sam, drop it.”

“I’m not pushing, Y/N. Actually, I…I wasn’t so sure you coming back was a good idea.”

“Yeah.” She chuckled. “You and me both.”

Sam smiled. “I always thought you were a badass and good at your job, but seeing what happened with you and Bucky…it was a lot. And seeing him after you left?” Y/N frowned, shoving her hands in her jacket pockets as she let Sam speak. “There was a while when he hit a real low before we ever saw him get better. I think he was under the impression that you’d still be around even if you two broke up. And when you weren’t…”

“Why are you telling me this, Sam? I’m really not the kind of person that keeps looking to the past.”

“Neither am I,” Sam reminded her. “I just think that you and Bucky…there’s something there. And if you two are going to try this friends thing, you need to be realistic about it.”

Y/N took a slow breath. This was heavy. It was information she wasn’t sure she wanted to know. She at least knew she wasn’t ready for it. “What, don’t think we can handle being friends?” It was a joke, an opportunity to lighten the mood. All she wanted was for him to joke back, to move forward.

“No, I don’t.”

“Thanks, Sam. Appreciate the honesty,” she muttered bitterly.

“When we first met, you asked me to always give it to you straight. Actually, you ordered me to. So that’s what I’m doing.”

“Funny, I don’t recall asking your opinion on this particular topic, Sam.”

“No, but you need to hear it before you get in way over your head.” Sam stepped forward, glancing back to make sure Bucky wasn’t down the hall eavesdropping. Closing the door, he turned to face her fully. “What you said at the press conference meant a lot to both of us. We never expected you to stick your neck out. We would never ask you to defend us like that.” She opened her mouth to argue, like she always did, but Sam held up a hand. “But you did. And that means something to me. It means something to Bucky too.”

“I was doing my job.”

“You were speaking from the heart.”

“Are you trying to play matchmaker or telling me to give Bucky distance? Because I’m getting some serious mixed signals.”

“I’m telling you to be as honest with yourself as you were with the press today.”

“I am.”

“Bullshit.”

Y/N glared at him, fists clenching in her pockets. “What the hell, Sam? You haven’t talked to me in years. Who are you to say you know what I’m going through with my emotions?”

The intercom beeped, but neither pulled their gaze from the other. Friday’s voice greeted them with a simple, “Agent Y/L/N, Mr. Wilson —“

“Not now, Friday,” Sam said, eyes never leaving Y/N.

“Normally I would agree,” Friday admitted. “But Agent Carter is calling for an emergency meeting in the conference room.”

Y/N groaned, pulling her hair into a ponytail to hide the rat’s nest she currently had. Walking around Sam, she opened the door and gestured for him to walk first. “Ladies first, please,” she snapped, earning a roll of the eyes and annoyed grunt. However, he led the way and she quickly shut the door behind her.

It took no time for either of them to come across the conference room. Inside, Bucky was standing near the window, watching the screen facing away from them. Sitting down, Sharon Carter watched them through the glass. The two rounded the corner and came inside, eyes landing on the screen as the blonde Y/N had recognized said, “‘I’ve seen him at his weakest moments and he has seen me in mine. This isn’t a man who would allow just any woman to influence his behavior.’” Y/N clenched her jaw as the reporter put influence on the word “just”, making her statement sound like the exact opposite she had intended. “It seems Miss Y/L/N knew the influence she had on the Winter Soldier and left anyway.” The screen cut to images of Bucky years ago, when Y/N had first left. The paparazzi had gotten photos and videos of him with the long hair, cold demeanor, and the way he fought…It was definitely not a good light to paint him in. “Her selfish actions have led to the Winter Soldier’s lack of emotional empathy and a complete disregard for the wellbeing of those we are told he’s attempting to protect. Is this the sort of man we want to call an “Avenger”? Is this someone we can trust with our lives? Our loved ones? How much trust can we put in a man who is so easily influenced? Miss Y/L/N goes on to say that she ‘is in awe of him’. Is there still an emotional tie there? Could Miss Y/L/N influence the Winter Soldier even further and leave us left with the outcome from an immature, toxic romance? More information coming to you tonight at six.”

Bucky glanced at Y/N, his weak smile the only way he could try to reassure her. He didn’t blame her. The media? The press? They wanted their story. They were willing to do whatever they could as a means to get it. Even if it meant adding one word. He could tell by the way her hands were clenched, her jaw set, that she wanted nothing more than to give the reporter a piece of her mind. She was livid.

“Congrats, Y/N. It seems you got all of New York thinking there’s still something between you and Barnes,” Sam teased.

Sharon turned off the tv and rose, glancing from one to the other around the room. It seemed no one knew what to say. Sharon had been the one that was supposed to speak, but she had to leave. That meant Y/N had to step up. And she did, but it seemed her speaking abilities and ways of handling the press were more than a bit rusty. “Want to tell me what happened?” Sharon asked, raising an eyebrow.

“The reporter influenced what Y/N said, Sharon. She never made it sound like —“

“I know, Bucky. I know.” Sharon glanced at him as he shifted his gaze to the ground. “I’m not blaming you in this particular situation.”

Y/N crossed her arms. “No, I know exactly who to blame. That reporter is vile. She’s the same one who called Stark a merchant of death.”

“Yes, but that was back when he kinda was,” Sharon reminded her.

“But Bucky isn’t influenced by me. Hell, he was doing his job just like Sam! The only reason they’re attempting to target him is because he’s the Winter Soldier.”

“Exactly. Bucky’s information, what we choose to tell, has to be taken with extreme precautions. We can’t go spouting out our opinions and expect everyone to believe them, Y/L/N.”

“You think I don’t know that?”

“I think you might’ve forgotten it.”

Y/N clenched her jaw, fingers flexing. “That reporter hustled me, Sharon. That’s what they do. She’s picking and choosing what she wants to tell.”

“It’s their job.”

“So this is my fault?”

“You’re out of practice, Y/L/N. It was my fault to ask you to go.”

“She did a good job,” Sam argued with Sharon, earning her attention. “Honestly, if it hadn’t been for that particular woman, this would have been a success.”

“Perhaps, but she was there. This isn’t really a grey sort of situation, Sam. I wish it was.”

The glass door shut, earning everyones attention as Y/N left the room. Sharon huffed, leaning against the table. She hadn’t expected Y/N to storm out of here. In the past, she never would have. She would have kept her emotions bottled up. She would’ve been professional. “I’ve never seen her leave like that.”

“She knows she didn’t do anything wrong,” Bucky told her. “Y/N spoke with conviction and honesty. She made us look like actual heroes and it didn’t take any lying. Sharon, that reporter took two sentences Y/N said from two different answers.”

“ And neither answer was short,” Sam agreed, nodding to Bucky.

“Y/N used to take whatever crap Steve and Tony gave her because it was part of the job. Listening and taking orders, it’s what agents are supposed to do. But she’s been out of the field, living for herself for a while. If she knows she’s in the right, I don’t see her sticking around until she believes she’s in the wrong.”

Sharon sighed softly, running a hand through her hair. She was silent for a moment before asking, “Go check on her?”

Bucky nodded, making his way to the door only to be caught by Sam. He raised an eyebrow, curious what the guy could want. “Gonna let go?”

“Ask about her tattoo. It’ll make her laugh.”

Bucky frowned. Tattoo? Since when did Y/N have one of those? “Uh…okay?”

“It’s on her thigh. Really simple. Tasteful too,” Sam said as he started pushing Bucky to the door. His bewilderment and confusion lasted only for a few more moments before he realized what Sam was implying.

“Wilson!” Bucky spun around as the glass slammed and Sam locked the door. “Open the door, birdbrain!”

Sam looked confused, gesturing to the door then his ear. “Can’t hear you,” came his muffled response.

Bucky glared at him. “You’re so full of shit.” Glancing at Sharon, he took a step closer to the door and told Sam, “Can’t hide with her forever.”

Sam grinned. “Watch me. Now go on, old man. Not every day you get a chance to see that kind of artwork.”

Bucky hit the glass with his flesh fist, still earning a jump from his partner. The reaction made him smile before he made his way back to Y/N’s room. Time to check in on his friend…and see what exactly Sam was talking about when it came to this tattoo.

#bucky fanfic #bucky #bucky barnes #bucky x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky x you #fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky fluff #james buchanan barnes #marvel #marvel au #fanfic #avengers #sam wilson #sharon carter

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kerlakierloin · 5 years

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Days of Pondering. Ch 2 (Snufkin x Moomin Illustrated fic)

Kay-Ray-Kú-Kú-Kó-Kex read part 1 here

"Why does it have no name? This rush of putrid joy."

song link: Múm- Kay-Ray-Kú-Kú-Kó-Kex

AN: Moomin is like 15 and Snufkin 16 in this fic. Also I'm gonna freestyle the hell out of this work :( I've been in my new job for a year now and I just haven't had time to join a fandom properly. With that I mean i haven't had time to read the books. Job and side projects. That's all I've done.

AO3 LINK HERE

Eyes wide and body tense. Was that a- oh god that is a tongue touching his. Snufkin stayed frozen, not knowing what to do. He had dreamt about this moment, but this was against his will! And now it was becoming reality… But against his will!! Snufkin felt his heart swell up and the small moment felt like minutes, even days…

But as soon as it happened, it was gone. The lone wanderer lying on his back left to recollect his scrambled thoughts. He slowly got up to pick up his hat and stared into the distance watching his best friend who had just… kissed him run off. Yes, what he felt were Moomin’s soft lips on him.

He felt his face heat up suddenly. He didn’t recall The Snorkmaiden and Moomin ever displaying such level of affection. So why him? What made him special? Snufkin’s mind and heart were racing high speeds by the second. He was left alone on the beach and confused for some time.

After managing to return his heartbeat to normal somehow Snufkin felt his body move in autopilot. He fixed his hat on his head, grabbed his backpack and started walking. Getting farther from Moominvalley, and farther from his best friend, dear Moomin.

He had just crossed the bridge where they would meet again in the spring when a gust of wind passed by harshly and small flakes of snow started to pepper the ground. Snufkin held on to his hat so it didn’t fly away. Slowly but surely continuing his walk. He could feel winter’s cold breath against his back. He tried to focus as much as he could on walking. He did not feel like thinking right now. He focused on his steps, he counted them for a good part of the walk. He focused on the different materials and textures he came across. Anything no matter how minor to keep him from thinking about what had happened.

Sun rose yet the day remained mostly cloudy, and the wanderer kept on walking until he could no longer keep moving. He saw a nice rock to sit on, so he put his backpack on the floor, realizing he had reached the border of the snowfall. Where the snow ends and its pretty visible... you could say that the sight was also pretty. “This isn’t something you see every day.” He said to himself enjoying the view. Seeing clearly the division of where he was where no snow fell and the lone distance where his back was facing.

“Such a beautiful sight and it's only the first day, I can’t wait to tell Moomin when I go ba-.” He stopped. He warned himself that he was about to enter territory he didn’t want to deal with. He closed his mouth and eyed his backpack. He sighed and finished his small break, getting up and walking to it, beginning to set up camp. After that he started his fire and walked to the small river on his side of the area.

He was glad to see it hadn’t frozen over just yet, so he decided to fish a bit. Once the sun started setting he added more wood to his fire and prepared some soup, using some small veggies Moominmamma had given him the day before. Once he finished he went to wash his plates. He winced one his skin made contact with the water.

Oh yeah, you’re supposed to be careful around water in winter. He proceeded to wash them anyway trying to ignore the pain. His mind was of course still wired and thinking of a certain white cotton ball. Oh how he missed his warmth. But Snufkin was certain something had just changed between them and he was scared.

Once inside his tent Snufkin changed into his more comfortable sleepwear. He lied down and debated whether he should reroute and skip Moominvalley next spring or come back. He felt cruel just considering it. He knew it would break Moomin's heart. He brushed the thought away knowing that if he gave in to guilt he would not be able to sleep. He was just scratching the surface of his thoughts. But he was too tired to keep worrying about those things. So he decided to leave those decision to his future self.

And so Snufkin dreamt. He dreamt that he was on his way back to Moominvalley. To Moomin’s house. To him. His… home as well. He guessed he could call it that. In his dream he saw himself in third person. He was trailing behind himself, seeing the confidence in each step his dream-self took. He looked around, noticing how with each step dream Snufkin took, snow melted, and flowers bloomed under each step he took and after a brief moment he could hear it. His spring song. His dream self was making his presence known by playing the mouth organ. He knew that would get Moomin's attention once they got close enough.

It was as if he was bringing spring to his dear friend to wake him from his deep slumber. A gift for Moomin. They both walked until reaching the all too familiar house. He felt his heartbeat rise. Could it be? Maybe everything is back to normal. Snufkin thought. Although he realized something felt odd… He never went towards Moomin. Moomin always came out to greet him. He never felt the need to do that himself because it's just the way things were. So why?-

The door slammed open and there he was. Moomin stood in the entrance, his tail wagging excitedly behind him Snufkin noticed. He saw his dream-self and the troll hug in a warm embrace. Snufkin couldn’t help but smile at the sight. And then the troll started nuzzling Snufkin’s face gently with his snout. Snufkin felt as if he was encased in ice at the sight.He took a step back apprehensively. Honestly scared of the display of affection the two figures of his wandering imagination were having. Sure, he's held Moomin's hand before, even hugged the troll as well. But now, it almost seemed that there was a different meaning to those gestures. He didn’t want to look, in part because he felt it wasn’t his place to do so. But he was frozen.

Suddenly, he saw chains slither out form inside the house like snakes. Starting to wrap around his dream-figure. It was odd because he could feel the coldness of the chains even though they were not pressing directly against his own skin. The chains came out and kept wrapping themselves around the other Snufkin, meanwhile Moomin was looking at him adoringly and pleading him to stay. ‘Stay with me Snufkin. Forever and ever… Because I love y-‘

Overwhelmed, Snufkin woke up in a cold sweat, gasping for air. He Took a time to collect his surroundings. He gulped trying to keep the tears sprouting from his eyes from falling. Wiping his face with his pijama’s sleeve. Rubbing it all over trying to feel a sense in reality.

The dream had helped him realize. He wasn’t against loving his best friend. Except Moomin already had The Snorkmaiden so why him!? But he also realized that even though he was here, thousands of steps away. He was dreading getting to this conclusion but he realized… even though he was all the way out here, he had left his heart in Moominvalley.

Snufkin looked around inside the tent for his mug and got out as fast as he could, going to the small stream only to noticed it had already frozen up. He knocked on the cold surface with the bottom half of his mug and managed to break the solid but not thick film of ice that had covered the stream. He collected some water and put it near his fire, opting to start his campfire again, for the water was too cold to drink.

After warming it a bit and waiting for it to cool down again, he chugged the liquid down and wiped his mouth once more with his sleeve… He should probably stop doing that. He went back inside to into his normal clothes. He needed to keep walking since the snow would catch up to him in no time.

While he was getting dressed, Snufkin accidentally pulled on his coat a bit too harshly, making a button pop out. His buttons were special, the kind you couldn’t find in town stores anymore.Purchase aside, he was a being of little to no possession. To Snufkin the very clothes he wore helped him remember all the good times spent his friends. He believed the small button contained many happy memories of him in the valley. He didn’t want to carry it around and risk losing it. He stared at it for a while thinking oh how he wished he had asked Moominmamma for a spare roll of thread.

Snufkin packed his things, the button being stored neatly into a small metal case where he kept needles and other useful small things, and bid farewell to the temporary resting spot and started walking. Feeling at peace yet uneasy how he realized he wouldn’t mind kissing Moomin again. But it was his friend’s expectations and desires to stay what made him scared. But deep down he was happy, he knew he was.

Snufkin kept walking absentmindedly until reaching a small glen, devoid of its usual flowers because of the weather and looked up. The sun had been out when he woke up, but it was gray now. At least he didn’t have to worry getting sunburns in the winter he thought trying to justify walking in the now colder atmosphere. He looked out in the distance and could make out something. A small town. Maybe he could find a roll of thread there. As long as he didn’t feel overwhelmed by its residents, everything should be just fine.

Next Chapter: Beyond Moominvalley

#moomin #snufkin x moomin #moomin fanfic #snufkin #ooc #sorry guys

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bloodzonee · 5 years

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(This is my very first time writing anything on here and tbh i’m pretty nervous about it. But i’m hoping you guys enjoy what i’ve written. Please let me know any pointers you have for chapter two or anyway I can improve. 💕)

Chapter 1 – Blue Eyes.

As the sun dipped under the horizon my father and I went on a hunting trip, he was a rough man and he wanted me to be the same. Hunting was one of his biggest hobbies because he was good at it, it was always “Kill or be killed,” he used this as a method to keep me on my toes. About an hour in, the barrel of my Remington .270 pointed toward a young buck seconds away from pulling the trigger I noticed a pair of dark yellow eyes behind the deer, I trailed away using the scope I noticed a dozen pairs of yellow eyes. Instantly my father ripped the gun from my grasp cursing under his breath. I’ve never seen fear in my father’s eyes nor had I seen fear like this. It wasn’t until they began stalking forward that I fully understood what they were; Wolves. “Stand down!” my father called out in a demanding tone as if they were your typical house puppy. My heart pounded against my chest as they pawed roughly at the gravel, their breath making clouds in the dirt. “Dad…” I whispered my hand reaching out for the sleeve of his shirt but he wouldn’t budge. It was as if he was the owner of these wild animals, or was trying to be. Kneeling to my level my father gripped my shoulders roughly causing me to wince slightly. “Listen to me!” he demanded, his hands shaking. “I need you to run and keep running until you get home, do not look back. I’ll be behind you…” I knew that was a lie just by the shake in his voice. “Do not wait for me, Nadia..” Nothing made sense to me, tears streamed down my cheeks. “No matter what you hear do not look back or some back for me. Do you hear me?” he was now demanding me to listen. I nodded as reality set in, this was his goodbye. I rushed into my father’s arms hugging him tightly, he hugged me back before tearing me off him nudging me to get a move on. “I love you, never forget that.” He spoke roughly as he turned back toward the furry beasts.

I turned on my heels and took off running, my breath was cold and I shortly got lost. I didn’t know this area as much as my father did, I had no clue where home was. I didn’t look back, as instructed, I continued to run that was until my leg caught a branch like in every scary movie ever. In that moment I broke down, heaving as I heard howling in the background, the hunter in me knew that meant they were looking for their pray. Knowing I needed to get up I caught my breath for another second but it was a second too long, I felt a warm moist rush against my skin, causing the hair on the back of my neck to stand up and for a moment I was paralyzed. As I turned my head I was greeted with that familiar pair of yellow eyes. I thought for sure I was done for, I bowed my head and closed my eyes tight waiting for the impact. Instead, I heard soft whimper coming from the wolf as its snout trailed along my lap and down where I noticed I was bleeding. It’s eyes met mine once more and to my surprise they were not longer yellow they turned into beautiful oceanic hues, almost human-like. This wolf was smaller than the others, a juvenile. It began to nudge my arm as if telling me to get up and get going, I stood up slowly being very cautious with my surroundings not knowing if It was a trap. With a soft growl, it nudged me forward once again and I took off running, following the direction it nudged me toward. This time, I looked back. The young wolf was till watching me, the blue in its eyes slowly faded back into that dark eerie yellow, lifting its snout in the air and howling loudly as he darted off into the opposite direction. I made it home almost ten minutes later where I called the police telling them everything that happened and demanding they search the woods. They told me a squad would be out there in minutes. As I was hanging up the phone I peered outside my window instantly catching the gaze of those beautiful blue eyes, it lowered its muzzle and it almost looked releaved. I ran over to my closet to find my flashlight but once I made it back to the window, he was gone.

The next morning my mother and I were awoken with a knock at the door, it was the cops delivering the bad news. Officer Johnson told us they had no luck finding my father’s body but they did find mass amounts of blood. But he assured us that they would still be looking and that my father’s picture was sent out to every station in the area. We held a small funeral for my father for my family wasn’t well known or liked for that matter. My mother was the crazy city alcoholic and my father was the creepy quiet man that no one even desired talking to. Only about six people showed up there was my mother and I, my father’s looney friend Daryl, the priest and two men I’ve never seen before. One was an older gentleman and one looked to be around my age. My father kept to himself and the only friend I ever knew of him having was Daryl, but it wasn’t out of the ordinary for my father to go missing for days on end, although this peeked my curiosity. I needed to find out who these strangers were. As the priest spoke of my father, reciting the usual funeral spiel. But I couldn’t help but to feel as though I was being watched, once I looked up I confirmed my suspicion the young boy was in fact staring at me but shortly found that he was caught as his eyes darted toward the lowering empty coffin. “Do we know them?” I whispered to my mother as the priest was wrapping up. “Shut up Nadia, not now.” Alcohol seeped off her breath as her words slurred from her lips. Although this was the response I expected to get I still needed to know, I thought I knew everything about my father. When I got the chance, I weaved over toward the two to thank them for coming and showing their respect. As I reached out to tap on the young boys shoulder I found myself speechless; his eyes. Those were the same eyes that saved my life in those woods. “Beau come now.” His father demanded in the background and he scurried off quickly.

“You can’t honestly think that the wolf and tat boy are the same…species…human…thing…” Andrea spoke confused as she reached for her sparkly PINK backpack. “You sound crazy,” she exclaimed as she tossed the pack back behind her, hitting me in the back, she looked back with a sly grin “…was he cute?” I rolled my eyes knowing that question was bound to pop out of her mouth. “I mean yeah, but that isn’t the point Andrea. His eyes…they looked identical.” I never told the cops about the wolf that potentially saved my life knowing in fact they would just think I was crazy as they did my father. “Maybe it’s Jacob from Twilight!” Andrea joked, tossing a few of her new outfits on the bed next to me. Ever since we were little I was always at Andreas house; her family was the family I always wish I had. They were normal – the perfect family. So, being over so late wasn’t unusual, it was kind of expected especially since we were two days away from starting our second year of high school. Andrea being the tall beautiful blonde that everyone either wanted to be or wanted to be with, she had to try on and model all her new clothing. I didn’t mind, I normally just sat there. I on the other hand was the more muscular nerdy girl in school who just so happens to be best friends with the pretty popular girl just like every other crappy teen movie. I was always teased growing up, I have blonde hair like Andrea but mine has more of a silver tint to it which earned me the nickname ‘Grandma’ original, I know. I didn’t care all that much though, appearance wasn’t as important to me as it was to Andrea. After about another hour of watching her flaunt around in her new clothing the two of us went to bed. The following day we woke up bright and early for yet another shopping day, Andrea even talked me into buy a ‘girly’ outfit.

Monday morning my alarm buzzed under my pillow around 6 AM causing me to jump out of my nightmare, ever since my father’s passing I couldn’t stop reliving his last moments. Shaking the memories from my brain I forced myself out of bed and began getting ready. Throwing my hair up in its normal messy bun, I pulled on a pair of jeans and an old torn Nirvana Rock T-shirt which was my fathers. I looked into the mirror one last time before a small sigh escaping my ruby red lips, I started toward my bus stop.

“Really?” I heard a familiar voice trail out from behind me, Andrea was obviously unhappy about my outfit choice. She has always wanted me to be more preppy and PINK like herself, I was just raised a little tougher and well poorer than her. Grabbing the paper from my hand she examined my new schedule. “We have Chemistry and Debate together,” nudging my arm she smiled slyly at me “Try not to be the biggest nerd in the glass this year,” I rose a brow “Sounds a lot like you won’t be copying my homework this year…” I jabbed back at her as she squinted back at me and quickly took back what she had said.

As the day dragged on nothing exciting happened, no fights, no over the summer pregnancies…nothing. Although, it was now time for our hour break we got halfway through the day. Unlike half of my class who liked to go off campus and get high in their cars, I took the time to get caught up on homework. Sitting under the large willow tree out from of the school, listening to the same old rock music my father listened to. The hour was almost up when a shadow emerged making it hard to see the work in front of me. Tossing a headphone out of my ear I looked up angrily “Excuse m…” it was him. “Grandma huh?” he mocked. A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth as I struggled to hide my excitement. “That’s what they call me and you?” “Well, I go by Beau. I haven’t been lucky enough to get a nickname yet.” He stuck his thumbs through the straps of his back pack rocking back onto his heels. “New here?” I questioned. “Yup. My dad and I moved here temporarily. After my senior year is over it’s back to New Orleans.” He shook his shaggy brown hair from his eyes. “My father is from New Orleans,” I smiled up at him, now pushing myself off the grounds, wiping the grass from my jeans. His eyes lowering as I mentioned my father. “You were…at his funeral, right?” I took the chance to ask. Stumbling over his words a bit he finally spoke, “Our fathers were actually buddies awhile back.” At that moment, the bell run causing us both to jump. “I don’t think a year is long enough to develop a nickname.” I joked trying to ease the tension about my last question. His grin made my smile larger until I noticed I was blushing. Clearing my throat, I held up my book “Well it’s off to Chemistry.” I gathered my belongings, “Mrs. Green?” He replied and I nodded. “Looks like we’re headed to the same place, mind if I walk with you?” he smiled down at me as he was an entire foot taller than me and I nodded.

As we walked into the classroom my eyes caught sight of Andrea being flocked by the annoyance that is ‘the popular crew’. When she noticed me walking in with the new guy she couldn’t help but dart toward up, locking arms with me and pulling me into the desk next to hers. “Who is that and why haven’t I heard about him yet?” she demanded. “We just met chill…well maybe not just met...I think it’s…” we were interrupted as the teacher began the lesson. Minutes later I saw Andrea well-manicured hand slip a note onto my desk that read ‘explain’ I returned the note with ‘blue eyes’ on it which caused Andrea to gasp dramatically as she read it. “A note on the first day?” Mrs. Green chimed in as she walked down the aisle to retrieve the note. “Blue eyes?” She spoke to the whole class, not being able to hide my blushing I buried my head into my arms that were placed on my desk. “It looked like we’ll need seating arrangements. “Beau switch places with Andrea.” My head shot up, my heart fluttering against my ribcage. The rest of the period I kept my head held low not looking up once from my work.

As the bell rang I gathered my stuff and darted out of the class Andrea following shortly behind, once she caught up she was breathing heavy. “Will you slow down,” she grumbled. “Way to go.” I said clearly irritated. “I’m sorry…but do you really think it’s the same kid from your dads funeral?” she said in disbelief. “I know it is, we kind of talked about it.” She squinted at me, “This all happened between first period and now?” I nodded. “Well this year is going to be interesting.” She smirked as we both parted our ways.

That night I couldn’t sleep not only was I totally embarrassed about the note, I couldn’t stop thinking about that wolf. The image of those eyes were held hostage inside my brain. My mom wasn’t home tonight, probably out drinking herself into a coma or with the first rich man that would take her home. Walking downstairs, I made my way into the garage where my father’s old ’67 Chevrolet Impala sat. I always begged him to give it to me for my sixteenth birthday. Sliding into the front seat I took in that all too familiar scent of leather and my father cigars. I didn’t know how much I would miss this scent when it was gone. As I felt my eyes welting up with tears I remember what my father told me. Leaning over I searched through the glovebox, finding a letter with my name on it. “Why do I have to wait until my eighteenth birthday?” I whispered to myself and shrugged. Taking in a few more deep inhales I got out of the car noticing the small garbage that was full, picking up I brought it outside throwing it in the dumpster. As I turned around I looked toward the trees and there he was, sitting there. The same blue eyes I had been obsessing over were right there in front of me, in the distance. I waved in its direction and I felt crazy until he lowered his muzzle as if he was also saying hello. I sat on my porch swing and he laid in the grass. For some reason, I felt safe with him near, I knew he would protect me. After a few minutes, I began to doze off.

I woke up a few hours later no longer on my porch but back in my bedroom, tucked in and all. I searched the house to see if my mother was home although she would just leave me outside. I returned to the front door peeking outside, I noticed paw prints leading up to the porch swing. Rubbing my eyes I also noticed a pair of means bare footprints leading from the porch to the door. “Beau.” I whispered as I closed and locked the door behind me.

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