#(what if I just didn’t today. maybe I’ll crash and that’ll fix everything)
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Plot 2 fix my sleep schedule: someone gets a giant cartoon mallet and hides ominously in my house until everyone else has gone to bed and then they come out of hiding and whack the shit out of me and then I pass out and get to sleep at a semi-normal time which would be a win for the Julia community so basically who wants to volunteer their aid in my foolproof scheme?
#anyways I really need to stop staying up past 8 in the morning but Big Anxiety (to be read like ‘Big Pharma’) has it out for me#also I’m always on that goddamn phone which doesn’t help either but whatever#but yeah anyways taking volunteers if you hate me step right up bc boy have I got a job for you!#(or if you like. want me to sleep or whatever)#(what if I just didn’t today. maybe I’ll crash and that’ll fix everything)#(I’m fully aware that’s the devil talking and yet. tempting.)#ANYWAYYYYYS I’m rambling tee hee sorry!
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The Owl House: A Blight on Gravesfield (Chapter Three)
Three
Everyone has a bit of a talk...
The Connecticut Witch Trials were the first large scale witch hunts to occur in the American Colonies. Eat your heart out, Salem.
Now it’s worth pointing out that they were much less intense than the Salem Witch Trials; more people were executed in Salem in fifteen months then were killed in Connecticut in fifteen years. Nevertheless, they certainly had an effect on the people of the young colony; and indeed, on the town of Gravesfield.
The panic started with the trial and execution of Alse Young in Hartford, in May 1647. The following year, also in Hartford, Mary Johnson confessed to ‘familiarity with the devil’ - because of a pregnancy while imprisoned, she wouldn’t be executed until 1650. The tendrils of suspicion seeped out across the land, and before long, an accusation was made in Gravesfield.
The year was 1651. Philip Wittlesbane was already a source of some contention in Gravesfield; he had written a pamphlet denouncing the execution of King Charles I, claiming it to be a ‘miscarriage of justice by a vengeful, prideful victor.’ He’d actually spent a day in the pillory for it, and probably would have suffered worse if he had not clarified that he certainly wasn’t a Royalist.
The Wittelsbanes had started off, like most people in Connecticut, as fairly staunch, if not particularly active, supporters of Parliament. John remained so throughout the Civil War period, but it seems Philip grew more and more concerned about the Roundheads as time went on. It was not the execution of Charles that really seems to have soured Philip, but the establishment of the ‘Rump Parliament’, which was basically a seizure of power by the supporters of Cromwell’s New Model Army.
That’s a gross oversimplification, but we’re not talking about Cromwell today.
By 1650, Philip had become a big supporter of the rights of men - not women, just men, this was the seventeenth century - and by men, we mean Englishmen. All Englishmen, regardless of wealth, status or faith. Well, as long as that faith was Christian, anyway.
This troubled John and the other city fathers, who had something of a stake in keeping power centered on a wealthy, Puritan elite. And as Philip started to get more and more in trouble with the authorities, John started to worry about his writings about witches coming out; because then, of course, the authorities would find out what John had been writing about them too.
On one hand, Philip was his brother. On the other hand, he might doom them both.
On a summers’ day in 1651, John and Philip went for a ‘private discussion’ out in the woods near Gravesfield. John’s friend, Thomas Goodfaith Masterson - fantastic name - waited at John’s house for them to return; ‘John hath told me most firmly that by sundown, the matter of Philip would be solved.’
John returned alone that afternoon. Philip never returned again.
--------
The tension in the air was so thick that you could cut it with a knife.
Luz, Amity and Vee sat on the couch; Luz’ eyes were fixed firmly on the floor as Camila paced in front of them. No-one knew quite how to start this conversation; there was that strange feeling in the air, the feeling when nobody is in trouble, but at the same time everybody is in trouble.
Perhaps it would be more correct to say that nobody was in trouble from Camila, but they were all in a lot of trouble from reality.
Camila inhaled through her nose.
“Okay,” she said. “I want you to start at the beginning. What happened before you got here?”
“Well,” Luz rubbed the back of her head. “It involves Emperor Belos. And, well, I don’t wanna upset Vee…”
Camila turned to Vee.
“Vee, if you need to leave the room at any time…”
“No.” Vee shook her head. “I’ll be okay, I think.”
Luz nodded.
“Okay,” she said, “It all started this morning, at the Owl House…”
-------
“Luz… hey, Luz… Luz. Luz. Hey, Luz.”
Slowly, Luz opened her eyes.
She had been lying face-first on the floor, scribbled notes surrounding her; the Echo Mouse snoozing quietly next to her. King was prodding her gently with a stick, and the rays of the sun were spilling through the window into the lounge room. When she had fallen asleep, she couldn't tell.
“Ugh.” She pushed herself up, turning onto her back. She could see Eda leaning on the door frame, arms crossed, a little smirk on her face.
“Fall asleep on the floor again?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Hey!” replied Luz. “It’s only been… one, two… wow, three nights in a row.”
“Yeah, and I can’t nap on the couch while you’re down there talking in your sleep!” exclaimed King. “What the heck’s a Vee, anyway?”
“It’s, uh, my favourite letter!” replied Luz, sitting up quickly. “Yeah, gotta love that letter V, am I right?!”
Eda and King stared.
“You don’t really think I’m that dumb, do you?” asked King.
“Something’s bugging me about you, Luz,” said Eda, walking over to her. “Is something on your mind?”
“You mean, apart from building the portal home?”
“You’ve been obsessed!” exclaimed Eda. “Normally you’d have been up two hours ago to go to school. I mean, if you wanna play hooky, go right ahead, but…”
“I’m missing school!” exclaimed Luz. “I can’t- I gotta-”
She ran a hand through her hair.
“I… no, I can’t go to Hexside, I’ve gotta focus on this!” she said, turning back to her notes. “I’m almost there, I’m sure of it…”
Eda and King exchanged glances.
“You, uh, you sure everything went okay with that portal?” asked King.
“If there’s a problem, you know you can tell us,” said Eda. “I mean, if you can’t trust family, who can you trust?”
Luz glanced from her notes to Eda and back again, exhaling through her nose.
“I… okay,” she replied. “It… it didn’t go that great.”
Eda sat down on the couch and patted the spot next to her. Luz gave her a small, grateful smile and took her seat.
“Mom… she really kinda freaked out,” she said, her fingers tightening on the edge of the couch. “And she was really upset, and I… I kinda promised when I got home…”
“...you’d stay with her,” said Eda.
Luz looked away, nodding.
“But you don’t want to?” asked King.
“I… I’d give the world to see Mom again!” replied Luz. “But I don’t want to give up you guys, or Amity, or Willow or Gus; heck, I don’t even wanna give up Hooty! I just… I’ve got so much more here in the Boiling Isles than I did in Connecticut.”
“Yeah, Connecticut stinks!” said King.
“You’ve never been,” said Eda.
“Yeah, but you can tell by the name,” replied King, crossing his arms. “It’s spelt Connect-I-Cut, but they drop the T! That doesn’t even make sense!”
Luz chuckled despite herself.
“It’s just… I don’t wanna go back to having no friends,” she said. “And I love mom, but it’s always just been me and her, and…”
“You don’t wanna be lonely.” Eda put a hand on Luz’ shoulder.
“Yeah,” replied Luz. “I don’t.”
“Hey,” Eda smiled. “We’ll sort something out, okay? If you want, I can come with you when you finish the portal, and we’ll talk to her about everything, okay? Maybe when she sees how good the Boiling Isles has been for you, she’ll let us… I dunno, timeshare or something? Is that the word?”
Luz looked up, into Eda’s eyes, and smiled.
“Yeah,” she replied. “Maybe that’ll-”
“SWEET TITAN, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO LULU!”
Hooty’s voice echoed through the house, and Eda shot to her feet.
“Lilith?” she exclaimed.
The three ran to the door, throwing it open.
Lilith was on her knees, about twenty five yards from the Owl House, bound by her arms and legs. Two guards stood on each side of her, pointing spears at her abdomen. Behind them were about a dozen more guards, and three hulking Abomatons - atop the middle of which stood a familiar, short figure.
“Kikimora!” exclaimed Luz.
Luz could just about see her cheeks raise - a sign that the little demon might have been smiling, or perhaps smirking was a better word.
“Sorry to barge in like this,” she said, in a tone that indicated she was not sorry at all, “But I’m afraid the Emperor has an outstanding warrant for Edalyn Clawthorne for disturbing his operations.”
“What?” demanded Eda. “You can’t prove I’ve done anything! ...recently.”
“Oh, really? I think you’ll find we can.”
Kikimora clapped her hands together. A limp sack, like a figure secured in a black spider’s web, hovered out from behind the Abomaton. Suddenly it dropped, as if an invisible string had been cut, and the black tendrils fell away. A limp, bespectacled figure crashed down into the dust, coughing and wheezing.
Eda’s eyes widened, her fists clenched and shaking.
“Raine!”
-------
“Raine?”
Luz shrugged as her mother asked about the name.
“I don’t really know them,” she said. “Eda mentioned them a couple of times, but…”
“Raine Whispers,” interrupted Amity. “Head of the Bard Coven. They disappeared a few weeks ago.”
Her fingers tightened on the edge of the couch.
“If Belos could turn on one of his own coven leaders…”
“I’m sorry, what exactly is a coven?” asked Camila.
“They’re like… I dunno, magic classes,” replied Luz. “Once you pick a coven, you’re stuck in it for life, and you can’t do any other magic. There are nine main covens, and then there’s a bunch of smaller covens under them, and… oh, yeah, and there’s the Emperor’s Coven, who can do any magic they want.”
Camila frowned.
“Pretty convenient that the Emperor’s Coven gets to do everything.”
“I don’t get it,” said Vee. “If Luz was with the Owl Lady, how did Amity get mixed up in all this?”
“I can explain that,” replied Amity. “You see…”
-------
Hexside before classes started was always a den of activity. Students bustled too and fro, rushing to get to their first period (or not rushing, in the case of more than a few students), and the corridors were jam-packed with people.
Unfortunately, not the person Amity was waiting for this morning.
“Hey, Amity!”
Amity finished grabbing her books from her locker and turned - Willow and Gus were approaching, both looking more than a little worried.
“Oh, hey Gus,” said Amity. “Hey Willow. Have you seen Luz?”
“We were kinda hoping you had,” replied Gus. “We haven’t heard anything all weekend.”
“We’re hoping she hasn’t spent the whole weekend studying Philip’s diary and forgotten to sleep again,” said Willow, “But…”
“That’s probably what happened,” said Gus bluntly.
“Well, she did keep sending me pictures of echo mouse projections, so…” said Amity.
“Okay,” said Gus, punching his palm. “We’re gonna need to stage an intervention.”
“Please don’t tell me it’s gonna involve cinnamon and formaldehyde again,” sighed Willow.
“It was one time, Willow! One time!”
Amity rubbed her arm.
“I don’t know,” she said. “Luz has been really… distracted since she went through that proto-portal. I think something happened there…”
“Something bad?” replied Willow.
“I don’t know.” Amity looked down at her feet. “I feel like something bad happened with her and her mom, but…”
“Ahem! Hello there, students!”
Amity turned. Principal Bump was leaning against the next locker, one hand on his hip.
“Uh… hello, Principal Bump,” replied Amity.
“So, how’s that, uh, Grudgby scene going?” asked Bump, trying and failing to act casual, “Down with Glandus, am I right? Huh, am I right?”
There was a long, awkward silence.
“Principal Bump,” said Gus, “you’re making me very uncomfortable.”
Bump cleared his throat.
“Yes, quite,” he said. “Anyway, I just wanted to randomly tell you that, say, if I was privy to any information that the Emperor’s Coven was going to act against the Owl House, I wouldn’t be at liberty to tell you.”
“What?” quizzed Willow.
“I’m saying that, if I had somehow been informed that the Emperor’s Coven may or may not be attacking the Owl House, I couldn’t tell you.”
“The Emperor’s Coven is attack-”
Willow covered Gus’ mouth.
Amity narrowed her eyes.
“And who… wouldn’t you be able to tell us gave you this information?” she asked.
“I absolutely couldn’t tell you if it was the Golden Guard,” replied Bump.
“So it must’ve been someone else!” exclaimed Gus.
Willow and Amity shot him meaningful looks.
“Okay,” nodded Willow, “thank you for… not telling us, Principal Bump.”
“You did hear it from me,” nodded Bump.
He blinked.
“Wait, that should have been you didn’t hear it from… well, anyway, I’ll be in my office.”
He walked very briskly away.
“We’ve gotta warn Luz!” exclaimed Gus.
“Come on!” shouted Willow, “We might be able to get there before them if…”
“Wait, they might already be there!” said Amity. “We have to come up with a…”
She trailed off as Willow and Gus darted off down the hall, headed for the exit.
“Okay, forget the plan,” she shrugged. “Wait up!”
-------
“And then what happened?” asked Vee.
Amity shrugged.
“Willow and Gus got there just a little before I did,” she replied. “But we were too late. The Emperor had gotten there first.”
Luz glanced at Amity, a slight frown on her face, but said nothing.
“And the Emperor hurt you?” she demanded, a dangerous ice underlining her voice.
“I… don’t actually remember.”
Luz rubbed her head.
“I remember Kikimora bringing Lilith and Raine to us,” she said. “Then it gets… blurry? I know the Emperor hurt me, but… not how?”
“Dissociative amnesia, maybe?” suggested Camila.
“Hmm?” Luz tilted her head.
“It’s when we block out memories associated with a traumatic event,” replied Camila. “But it could also be a result of head trauma.”
“What did you see, Amity?” asked Vee.
“I…” Amity gripped the couch harder. “I saw… I mean, I think… I remember…”
Her breathing became heavier and uneven, and she seemed to be sweating just a little bit. Gently, Luz put a hand on her shoulder.
“Hey, it’s okay,” she said softly. “You don’t have to say anything until you’re ready.”
Amity swallowed.
“I have to…”
“You don’t have to be anything, Amity.”
Camila sighed.
“I think we all need to get some rest,” she said.
“Yeah,” Luz nodded, “Sounds like a plan, Mami.”
“Vee, are you okay to help me set up the airbeds?” asked Camila.
“Oh, I can do it if…” said Luz.
“Not until I know for certain you’re okay, mija,” replied Camila. “You were unconscious a few hours ago! I don’t want you hurting yourself.”
“I can handle it, Luz,” said Vee, smiling.
Before Luz could say anything else, Camila and Vee had headed up the stairs, leaving Luz and Amity alone.
“So, how’s about tommorrow we start working on getting you home, huh?” said Luz, grinning weakly at her girlfriend.
Amity mumbled something in reply.
“Amity?” Luz tilted her head, concerned.
Amity looked up - her eyes were somewhat watery.
“I don’t know if I want to go back.”
#the owl house#luz noceda#amity blight#camila noceda#vee#a blight on gravesfield#writing#king owl house#eda clawthorne#willow park#gus porter#principal bump
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The Meaning of Home, Chapter 1
The Meaning of Home
Chapter 1
Tags for all Welcome to PHU novels will be available at the PHU tag list on Pillowfort. This list is under construction as of Sept. 5, 2021.
[ First | Next ]
Even knowing that he’ll see him at the end of the trip, it’s strange for Pawel to be driving to his childhood home without Conor in the car. Usually his son would be requesting music changes, playing videos so loud that Pawel could hear them even with Conor’s headphones in place, or generally talking up a storm. Even after cranking the radio up to fill the silence, Pawel feels alone in a way he hasn’t felt in a long, long time.
He can’t blame it entirely on Conor. Yes, as a single father he hasn’t had much, if any, time to himself in the last nine years. But this past academic year has been chaos to the point where it seems strange not to have one of his students in the car as they head off to save the world.
Students, yes, but he’s not that much older than most of them. Some of them are friends as well.
Rest. Take the summer and rest.
The voice in his mind sounds suspiciously like Mac, and he hears Carolyn’s soft, aggravated huff not long after as she adds, Get normal amounts of sleep. Take a shower. Eat real food.
Spend time with your kid, imaginary Mac adds.
Great. He’s back to being that only child who used to have conversations with invisible friends, except now, as an adult, it’s advice about self-care from real people who aren’t even here.
The thing is, they’re not wrong. He knows he has a tendency to focus intently on the one most important thing at hand and tune out everything else. Since fall semester—for the first time in nine years—that wasn’t Conor, and he still feels guilty about that. He feels the kind of guilty that means there are two brand new games for Conor’s handheld system in a bag on the back seat, along with a cooler holding freshly butchered grass-fed bison steaks as a thank you for his father for helping him out.
Pawel exhales.
Maybe he’s having a little trouble letting go of the chaos. In a way, it felt good to be busy. To fix things.
They saved the world.
Nobody knows it, but it happened. And Pawel knows, so he should be satisfied with a job well-done.
The question is: what can he do now?
Rest.
For all that they’re imaginary, the voices of his students are right, and he knows this. It’s just hard to let it all go, to accept that the chaos has ended and he can do that. But he’s clean-shaven, and his hair is neatly trimmed, even if he didn’t go back to his buzz cut. He looks older in the mirror than he remembers being when the school year began. He might even look his age, which would go a long way to gaining respect from incoming freshmen in the fall.
He just needs something to do with himself while on vacation over the summer.
Maybe his old dojang would let him step into a taekwondo class or two while he’s visiting Dad. It’d be nice to be the student rather than the instructor for once.
You couldn’t let go of control that much.
“Shut up.” He says it as if imaginary Mac would even listen.
One song ends, and for a second, the silence in the car echoes before the next song begins.
This isn’t working.
He reaches out to touch the button on his radio dash for the phone, then presses Mac’s number from his contact list.
“Aren’t you with your family?” She starts speaking without bothering to greet him.
He adjusts the volume so that her voice isn’t quite so loud. “Hello to you, too. I’m almost there now. It’s quiet in the car. No Conor. Not even any grouchy almost adults grumbling about saving the world, or muttering about sparring.”
Mac snorts softly. “I’m only a few years younger than you, Pawel. And out of us all, Rory’s probably got the oldest soul. I take it you’re bored?”
“A little,” he admits. “Pels’s family moved into the house on Friday, then left for Burlington. As far as I know, everything’s gone well up there; they weren’t back before I left the house today. Anita’s got my number in case she needs anything for the house while they’re renting it out this summer. Traffic’s been decent, so I’m maybe fifteen minutes from my Dad’s house now, and the silence is killing me. How’s your summer break going?”
There’s a delay before Mac replies, and her voice sounds determinedly cheerful when she does. “It’s a break. I’m thinking about my research, and the fact that my advisor is in Italy until the end of June and told me I can’t work without him there. Which means Mom thought I should come home for a while, and right now things are… awkward… with me and Dad. So. There’s that.”
When Mac says it, Dad means Senator Delwin Palmer. Pawel knows what that meant to Mac as a part of a secret government training program for Talented children, before she came to PHU. He knows that everything they learned about the government involvement in the creation of the soul-destroying Shadows has only made her relationship with her stepfather more difficult.
He makes a small noise. “Are you going back to PHU soon?”
“Mid June, so I’ll be here about three weeks. I’m going to take my brother to the festival when Rory and Thorne are in DC in a couple of weeks, and I’m spending most of my time in the museums and libraries in DC until then.” She exhales. “I’ve thought about going to see my father, but I think that’ll be the weekend that I drive back up to PHU. I’ll just stop in to visit him in the city while he’s got some time off work.” Mac hesitates, her words more forceful when she asks, “How long are you planning on staying with your dad?”
Fine, Pawel will accept the change of topic, changing conversational directions at the same time as he takes the exit into town that will lead to his childhood home.
Sort of. It’s not the same house he grew up in, but it’s close to the same neighborhood.
“I don’t know,” he admits. “I’m on leave for the summer. It’s not a sabbatical—they don’t do that for less than a year, and right now they won’t let me go for a whole year until the department has more experienced faculty. But it’s a paid leave and I’m supposedly researching my next book. The thing is, Dad doesn’t have a lot of space since he moved into the retirement community. I’m going to be crashing on his couch. Conor’s got the bed in the guest room.”
“Sounds great for your back.” Mac laughs. “You’ll probably still sleep better than you did for most of the spring.”
“Probably,” Pawel agrees. “I think—” He stops abruptly, because that makes it sound like he has a plan in place. “I’m going to play it by ear. Conor’s made friends there, although he’s clearly missing Alan and home, too. Everyone keeps telling me that I need to just stop trying to fix things and take a break. Including a voice in my head that sounds suspiciously like you.”
“Good to know my voice has infected your brain, like the way I hear yours saying ‘commit to the kick’ whenever I’m sparring and going for that head kick against a much taller opponent,” Mac says dryly.
“They’re all taller than you.” Pawel takes a series of turns, remembering to turn left instead of right at the critical intersection. He slows down; there’s no one else on the road behind him to annoy, and he’s not quite ready to arrive yet.
Mac sputters. “Rude.”
“True.”
“Fine. True,” she agrees. “Taekwondo is a sport for tall people. I’m just a good jumper, and before you say it, no, I’m not teleporting to get there. Most of the time.”
He rolls down the road towards a four-way stop. There’s a sign across the way proclaiming the entrance to Hart Acres. If he turned left, he could make his way to the police station where his dad works, and right would loop him back behind his old neighborhood.
Straight takes him into his dad’s new life in a retirement village where half the people who live there aren’t actually retired. His dad’s been living there for a year, and Pawel’s not sure when he’ll finally step down as Police Chief. He likes his work far too much to give it up.
Dad says it’s easier to keep working when he doesn’t have to worry about the little things like mowing the lawn. Hart Acres takes care of that for him.
Pawel’s pretty sure Dad’s going to work until he has both feet in the grave, and then he might just keep going.
“Hey.” Mac’s voice is low. “Did I lose you?”
Right. He was having a conversation.
“I’m just about there,” Pawel admits. “There’s an old lady walking her fluffy dog down the street. I guess I should hang up. Focus on finding the place and not hitting the two people that are in the middle of the road having a conversation.”
No exaggeration. Now that he’s pulled into Hart Acres and is following the first traffic circle he encounters around to the second exit, there are small knots of people gathered everywhere. Including two smack dab in the middle of one of the side streets.
They see him looking and lift their hands in cheerful synchronized waves.
“I am really not ready to see my dad as the kind of guy who needs to be surrounded by old people looking for a social life,” Pawel mutters. He makes a disgruntled noise when Mac snickers.
He’s in front of the house before he can say anything else.
“Go,” Mac says. “Hug Conor for me, and tell him to work hard. He’s still in school, right?”
“Another three weeks, yeah,” Pawel says. “I might take him out for a day on Friday to head up to Buffalo for Rory and Thorne’s tour, though. It’s a holiday weekend, so maybe the school has the day off—they do weird things with snow days sometimes. Although the weather was strange this winter and they might not have the extra days.”
“Nikki would apologize if you need her to,” Mac says. She’s quiet for a moment. “Hey. You really should take the time to rest. Let your dad be the parent for a little while. Enjoy being home, and with your family. You don’t have anything you need to save right now. The world isn’t ending. Just have fun for the summer.”
“Only if you promise me that you’ll rest, too,” he responds. He wants to say that he understands that it’s not that easy. He understands that talking to Delwin Palmer is going to be complicated, and that putting herself back in that environment only brings the PTSD out in full force. “You can always call me if you need someone to talk to.”
“I’ll let you know when I’m back in the area,” she says. “Maybe we can get together and spar. I’m taking a break from organized classes while I’m home.”
Her old dojang isn’t full of happy memories like Pawel’s is.
“Sure, we can do that.” He catches movement out of the corner of his eye; the door to his father’s unit nudges open. “Conor’s coming out. I need to go.”
“Bye, Pawel. Rest.”
“I will,” he promises.
The music blares for a moment after she hangs up; he turns the key and silences it. He manages to get out of the car as Conor races around it and slams into him, hugging him hard. Pawel wraps his arms around him, and exhales as he feels the familiar crackle of Conor’s magic around him.
“I missed you,” Pawel murmurs. His hand is between Conor’s shoulder-blades, and it feels higher than it used to rest in this same position. “Did you grow in the last two months?”
“An inch since he arrived.” Dad stands on the lawn next to a girl about Conor’s age that Pawel doesn’t recognize. Her mouth is pinched and her brows furrowed. She has her arms crossed tight across her chest as she leans forward, a myriad of braids falling forward across her shoulders and down her back. Dad puts a hand on her shoulder, and she straightens up, shoulders relaxing. “I started a growth door for him here. We’ll need to get a mark on it for you so he can see what he’s aiming for.”
There was a piece of trim in Pawel’s childhood house that had marks for every few months of his age, from toddlerhood to adulthood. He wonders if the new owners painted over the careful notes made in his mother’s hand, and the messier ones his father wrote after she passed away.
“I had Dziadziu put Emma on the door, too.” Conor slips from Pawel’s hold and grabs his hand, dragging him towards Dad and the girl who still watches warily. “This is Emma. She’s in my class, and she’s a Weather Witch, and she’s my friend. We’re both new here. She’s talked to Alan with me.”
“I know they’re married,” Emma says with a heavy sigh and an eyeroll. “Conor’s not my boyfriend. I don’t want a boyfriend.”
“You say that like people have been trying to tell you that you can’t be friends because you’re a boy and a girl.” Pawel stops in front of her and holds out his hand solemnly. “Hello, Emma. I’m Pawel. And don’t worry, I understand that most people are full of shit. Right now my best friend is a girl and I can assure you I have no romantic intentions towards her whatsoever. And if I did, she might kick me in the balls.”
Dad makes a strangled sound.
Emma tilts her head, brow still furrowed. “I’m pretty sure you shouldn’t say that people are full of shit.” She takes his hand and looks at their joined hands in some confusion, then drops it again. “But you’re right. They are. Come on, Conor.”
“I think you’d like Mac,” Conor says as he walks by Emma’s side and they disappear into the house. “She’s small but fierce. She used to be a gymnast and now she kicks ass.”
Pawel should say something, but he did just tell them that people are full of shit, so maybe he can cut him some slack for language this time.
“I did say that someday you’d be lucky enough to have a kid just like you,” Dad observes. “That said, Conor’s been a good kid while he’s been here. Getting good grades, getting his work done. He and Emma bonded straight off—her parents disappeared not long before you did, so they had something in common. Except, of course, you’re back and they’re not. She’s living with a foster family here.”
There are a dozen potential things wrong with everything Dad’s just said. Pawel rolls the thoughts around in his mind as he heads back to his car, opening the doors so that he and Dad can both take several things into the house. “Do they know she’s Talented?” he asks.
“You know where the guest room is.” Dad points through the living room and kitchenette to the small hall beyond. “Right at the end there. Just take Conor’s stuff down. We’ll put your things to the side in the living room for now.”
Conor pops his head out of his room just as Pawel arrives. “What do you mean for now? Aren’t we staying all summer? I thought we’d stay here all summer, Dad. Dziadziu said we could.”
There are times when Pawel wonders what their family looks like from the outside: three generations having three separate conversations in tangled instances, answering questions in random order. He can see where Emma sits on the bed, Conor’s tablet in her hands. She doesn’t seem concerned.
“I’m sleeping on the couch, Conor. We’ll stay in town, but we might need to get a hotel room. I’m going to need a bed eventually,” Pawel points out.
“I’ll move in with Emma. Her dads wouldn’t mind.”
“I don’t think they’d even notice,” Emma says dryly. “I like Conor better than Matt.”
“She has four foster siblings,” Conor stage whispers.
Emma looks up, gaze pinning him. “They aren’t my siblings. I’m an only child. We’re all just fosters in the same house, except Nevaeh and Jennie. I think they’re almost as good as adopted. Jennie doesn’t even remember her parents.”
For once, Pawel is the one getting whiplash from the swift turns in conversation.
“Is everyone Talented?” It’s the same question, asked a different way, and this time he throws it out there for anyone to answer. He drops the bag of Conor’s summer clothes on the bed, next to where Emma sits.
“Her dads are both Talented!” Conor bounces up onto the bed, almost knocking the suitcase off. “One’s Clan and one’s—”
“They aren’t my dads,” Emma snaps. She drops Conor’s tablet on the bed and stands up, her body shivering so hard that her braids shake. “My mom and dad are coming back. They aren’t my dads at all. I’m just staying there until—”
“My dad can find them.”
Emma’s mouth is slightly open, her voice a small squeak. “What?”
“My dad is really good at everything about Talented people. He’s an expert.” Conor nods quickly. “He’s so much an expert that he teaches people not to be stupid—uninformed,” he corrects himself, “about what it means to be Talented. He knows everything.”
“Not everything,” Pawel tries to stay, but Conor steamrolls over him.
“He just saved the world, and he’s friends with Clan and with Mages, and we know this entire commune of Mages up in Burlington and if anyone can find your parents, he can,” Conor says firmly. “You’ll do it, Dad, right?”
“I think I’d need a little more information before I can promise that,” Pawel says slowly.
“Your father is supposed to be resting.” Dad stands behind him, and Pawel doesn’t need to turn to know the look Dad gives Conor. He was on the receiving end of that look himself many times as a child. Dad continues, “The last time your father got involved in something, he disappeared and you came here.”
Conor’s mouth snaps shut, lips pressed and his cheeks flushed. “He came back,” he mutters. “He always comes back.”
Emma pats the bed and when Conor sits, she puts her arms around him and holds on. “Maybe mine will come back, just like yours did. Then your dad won’t have to go find them.” Her whisper is too loud to be entirely secret. “I don’t want your dad to disappear again.”
“Me neither,” Conor admits.
“Emma.”
“Dziadziu!” Conor interrupts him. “Did you ask Emma’s dads—”
“They’re not my dads.”
“—if she can stay over tonight?” The sadness is gone from Conor’s expression as he bounces on the bed. “She’s got stuff in a drawer from the last time she stayed. She can get on the bus with me in the morning, and we can play games with Alan online later.” His gaze skates to Pawel. “If you say it’s okay, of course.”
It’s only been a couple of months, and Conor has somehow built himself a routine here. Pawel isn’t entirely sure how he fits into it.
It’s strange thinking about Conor growing up and growing apart from Pawel when his son is only nine years old.
“I talked to them,” Dad assures them. “But that means sleep tonight. It’s a school night, and I’ll be checking. No magic after dark. No surprise storms. No more rain indoors.”
“That was once!” Conor protests.
“Lights out by half past eight, and I want you asleep by nine,” Dad says in a tone that brooks no argument. “You’ve got plenty of time before then; we haven’t even had dinner yet. You might even be sick of each other by then.”
“Never!” Conor and Emma chorus.
Pawel has to wait for Dad to move before they can both slip out of the room, leaving the door cracked. “I’m glad he’s made friends here,” Pawel says quietly. “He and Alan are—well, I’d almost call them codependent sometimes. I was worried. But they both seem to be doing well.”
“Conor’s fallen on his feet, that’s for sure. He’s a lot like another child I once knew: just starts talking until he finds his spot to fit in. Might even have a bit of a savior complex.”
Pawel gives his father a dark look. “I do not have a savior complex. If I did, I’d have followed you into law enforcement, rather than going into academia.”
Dad smiles. “You’re still saving people. You just go about it in a different way on a daily basis. But it seems to me like you didn’t even hesitate when you found out your students needed your help. You can’t resist a puzzle.”
“Apple didn’t fall far from the tree, I get it,” Pawel mutters. “Fine, fine. We’re all peas in a pod, and a hundred other trite descriptive phrases. The Szczek men have similar traits.”
“Mm.” Dad leads the way outside, so they can retrieve the last few things from Pawel’s car. “Some of us have learned how to ask for help,” he says quietly. “Conor’s made himself at home in Emma’s foster house. He’s spent more than a few nights there, and yes, before you ask, I trust her foster fathers completely. One of them works with me. But that’s something you might want to think about this summer, Pawel.”
Pawel shoulders the backpack with his computer in it, and closes the door to his car. “What’s that, Dad?”
“You don’t have to do everything on your own,” Dad reminds him. “For the summer, you’ve got me. Think about what to do when you get home. The fate of the world doesn’t need to rest on your shoulders alone.”
It seems like everyone’s got something to say about his bad habits. The thing is, Pawel’s got help at home. He’s a single father; he knows he needs assistance sometimes. He’s got Alan’s family next door. Emily’s always willing to help out with Conor. But he’s also got… a lot of responsibility. He’s a professor, and a dean, and he leads Coven and the taekwondo team.
Who the hell else is he going to rely on? Pawel does the things no one else is available to do.
“Don’t worry, Dad,” he says, because he knows it’s what Dad needs to hear. “I’m not going to overwork myself again. I’ll make sure I’ve got help.”
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hey!! i was lucky enough to stumble across your blog, & i'm enjoying your writing!! could i request something for a first date w/ sian? maybe something more casual, like a cafe!
(I’m glad you like it! Hopefully this is what you had in mind with your request! I went for a “friends to lovers” vibe in a modern setting if that’s okay. Please enjoy and thank you for such a fun request!)
Courtesy Coffee (Sian)
You met under unpleasant circumstances. Sian was in a rush to get to his destination, and you were staring down at your phone with a cup of iced coffee in your other hand. Like that banal trope in shoujo manga, the two of you crashed into one another, and your drink spilled all over his outfit. As complete strangers, it was obvious that the one who was drenched would be incredibly frustrated. That was an exact observation, only Sian didn’t feel the need to use a filter that day.
“Are you kidding me? Watch where you’re going!” he had yelled, gripping his soaked shirt and glaring daggers at you. “How am I supposed to show up to work looking like this?!”
Anyone would feel frightened with his exasperated tone of voice and the intimidating aura that surrounded him, but you weren’t one to surrender immediately.
Straightening your shoulders, you met his heated stare. “I’m sorry. At least it wasn’t hot, right?” Hoping to dispel his anger, you smiled a little. “I can buy you a clean shirt if it’ll make you feel better.”
He puffed his cheeks out, suddenly bashful as he avoided your gaze. “It’s the least you could do! Seriously, this is the worst. I smell just like your stupid coffee.”
“Hey, don’t diss my iced coffee. It’s delicious and you know it.”
“If it’s so good, why is it all over me?” he snapped, crossing his arms. “This’ll stain, you know!”
“I offered to get you another shirt.”
“It’s not just on my shirt, you moron! I can’t face my colleagues like this. You have no idea what they’ll say.”
“Suck it up then!”
“No!”
You sighed heavily, gripping your empty coffee cup. “There’s no need to be difficult. Just let me get you a clean polo and slacks. Unless you’d rather parade around in wet, coffee-smelling attire. You’re making a scene with all of your yelling.”
“You were just yelling, too. Fine, whatever. I guess you can do that.”
Even as you spied his blush, you couldn’t ignore your thoughts. Is he seriously embarrassed by the fact that I’m getting him clothes? Anyone would do this to repay the damage.
“That’s all I needed to hear. Oh, and for the record you’re the one who should watch where you’re going.”
He didn’t take those words too well. Regardless, that was how you met the guy with a loud mouth and an even louder personality. You ran into him twice after that incident, and each time he seemed to stumble over himself. He tried to thank you for the clothes, but all he could manage was a huff and an angry comment about how the fabric was uncomfortable. Weeks later, that same boy just so happened to feel bad about starting a few shouting matches with you during those three times you interacted. He saw you in a café by chance and secretly covered your drink fee, making the barista promise not to reveal his identity. It was a sweet gesture, despite being anonymous and a bit of a shock on your end. You’d never experienced the magic that was receiving your drink for free, but it was great nonetheless.
You enter work that morning with a cheery disposition, passing by coworkers and even engaging in kind banter with those who aren’t the friendliest. You clock in and make your way towards the elevator while scrolling through an online article. Hearing a familiar ping, you glance up, urging whoever’s inside to hold the door. There are four other people crammed within the area, all of whom are silently waiting for the elevator to rise. You push the button for your floor and relax. Momentarily, you glance around the enclosed space to see if you can recognize anyone from your department. Your eyes sweep from one person to the next, and you spot polite Nine at the very back.
You’re compelled to greet him, but someone stands in your way. Someone who bears an uncanny resemblance to the guy who was showered in iced coffee two weeks ago. You gasp and turn away, hoping he won’t notice you.
No way! We work for the same company? What’re the odds? This must be a bad omen! I don’t want to start another fight with him, you think, having done your best to erase those memories.
The elevator pings, and you’re completely distracted. Though you don’t miss the hand that taps your shoulder. Your gaze follows his arm. It’s that guy again.
“Hey. This is your floor, isn’t it?”
The number doesn’t lie, but Sian’s memory might as he struggles to recall your familiar features. It clicks just as you bolt out of the elevator, the doors slipping shut and obscuring your backside for good. Sian blinks rapidly as his face heats up. That was...
Coffee idiot! he thinks. There’s no mistaking that stupid look on their face. He’s thrown into a bad mood at once, internally grumbling as he remembers that day. Even if he changed into new clothes, he still smelled of coffee. It was embarrassing, and his bothersome colleagues wouldn’t leave him alone. And now we work in the same building. Maybe I should just quit so I don’t have to face them.
"Can you believe it, Youssef?” you ask your deskmate, having ranted to him while typing up the progress of this week’s publication. At least that’s a monetary positive for the company. You can’t say the same for your mentality, though. “I do something nice in return and he yells at me. And then we meet again—twice—and he’s still rude.”
Youssef tilts his head, a childish gesture for someone his age. “Are you sure you’re not incorrectly reading his actions?”
“I’m positive. When have I ever been wrong?” You frown as your fingers slow their pace on the keyboard. “I just found out today that we work in the same building. This is totally unfair. Why do I have to bear the burden of knowing this information?”
“I’m sure he means well. What does he look like? I might know him.” You describe him to your helpful colleague, who nods and taps his chin in thought. His expression lights up with recognition. “If I remember correctly, his name is Sian, and he’s in the marketing department. We’ve only talked briefly, but I can assure you he’s quite diligent with his work.”
“Well, everyone’s got their own personality outside of their jobs.”
“I suppose, but it’s not polite to label someone based off of such little knowledge,” he advises lightly, turning his attention back to his computer screen. “Rather than using all of your energy painting a bad image of him, you should spend that time getting to know him. It’ll fix any negative impressions you may have.”
“Something tells me he wouldn’t like that...”
Since then, you haven’t run into Sian once. At first you made it your mission to keep an eye out for him, but now that you’ve been busy with this new project you can’t be bothered to let his image clutter your mind. So you brush him aside like a cobweb, certain you won’t bump into him again. Your floors are far enough apart, so it’s unlikely that that’ll happen. But you’re not always the luckiest, and fate tends to tease those who aren’t on good terms with one another.
You’re close to running late on a rainy day, having missed the train, so now you’re doing everything you can to catch a taxi. Cars speed by on the road, and you fail to flag down a vehicle. Dejected and soaked to the bone, you drag your feet along the slick sidewalk, wishing for your next paycheck so that you can put it towards a used car. Speaking of cars, one slides past you as it makes an effort to park along the walkway. In doing so, the tires kick up a huge puddle, effectively soaking your lower half. As if the day couldn’t have gotten any worse. The car almost moves out of the spot before it halts, and the window steadily rolls down to reveal the face of your greatest enemy.
Well, he’s not technically your greatest enemy, but it really feels like it in that moment.
“Do you need a ride?” As if correcting himself, he quickly adds, “I’m not doing this because it’s you! I’m just sympathizing.”
Does it matter? you wonder, bitter and cold and wet. Karma is so brutal.
“You’re Sian, right?” You approach his car, peering in at the flustered man. “From marketing.”
“Y-Yeah. So what?”
“I’m in publishing.” Awkwardly, you look up at the cloudy sky. “It’s really coming down. The forecast didn’t call for this much rain.”
“Are you getting in or not?”
“But you’re a stranger,” you jest, fixing him with a pout. “I don’t want scary Sian to kidnap me.”
He glowers at your joke. “I’m leaving now. I don’t have time for this.”
You hold back a chuckle, tearing open the door before he can drive off. “Wait! Sorry, I’ll get in. I can’t stand another minute in this rain.”
The window slides up, and he sets the car in motion after you’ve buckled up, easing back into the flow of traffic smoothly. Now that you’re sitting there with the AC blowing cool air at your face, you shudder. Oh, how wonderful it must feel to be in clothes that are warm and untouched by the rain. In his peripheral, Sian catches your shivering form, and he switches the AC from cold air to hot. You might not dry as quick as one would hope, but at least it’s something.
The silence is utterly tense. You almost expect him to bicker with you like he did in the past. Instead, he’s focused on the winding road ahead. Though you don’t miss the pink hue that tints his cheeks and gradually rises to his ears.
“So,” you say, if only to get a conversation going. “How’s work?”
“Fine, I guess. How did you know who I was?”
“My friend Youssef.”
“Oh.”
“You probably don’t know me. I’m (Name).”
“I already know.”
“Really? Stalker.”
“I’m not a stalker!” he exclaims, glaring hard at the windshield. “You’re kind of hard to miss.”
“What does that mean?”
“You’re always so loud at our company parties. How can anyone ignore that?” Sian then proceeds to bless your ears with a story from this year’s holiday party. A few departments got together and went out for drinks and karaoke. Naturally, you had a drinking contest with your colleagues, which led to a tipsy night of bad singing and stumbling from one bar to the next. You were surprised Sian remembered that, mainly because you couldn’t recall seeing him there. And it’s been months since that rowdy night. “Do you see my point?”
“Don’t remind me. That hangover hurt my soul.”
He quirks a smile at that. “It’s not flattering when you sing high notes in the wrong key.”
“Like you could do any better.”
“I can because I was sober.”
“Yeah, yeah.” You roll your eyes, gazing out at the scenery that passes by in a blur of dull colors. Without meaning to, you eye Sian’s reflection in the window, taking note of his side profile. He’s actually quite handsome when he’s calm and not acting so stubborn. “I guess we’re even now.”
“Even?”
“I spilled coffee on you, and you splashed me when your tires hit that puddle.”
“Am I supposed to buy you clothes now?”
“If you’re offering...”
“I wasn’t offering!”
“Don’t worry. I’ve got a spare uniform in my locker.”
I wasn’t worried to begin with, you coffee idiot, Sian thinks, gripping the steering wheel. He keeps track of your occasional trembling, and he can’t help but feel troubled. You’ll catch a cold if you don’t dry off soon. Suddenly, he regrets pulling up beside you and accidentally sending water flying in your direction. This time it was definitely his fault, wasn’t it? Sian wants to make it up to you, but it’s impossible. He’ll die of embarrassment before he succeeds in performing a good deed in front of you.
Truthfully, he’s always noticed you. The very first instance was last year at the company’s drinking party. You were glued to Youssef’s side, engaging in idle chatter with him and another guy he wasn’t too familiar with. At the time, Sian thought your behavior was obnoxious. No one wants their younger coworker clinging to them. It just made you look like an attention-seeking puppy. Although you were definitely upbeat at that party. He had watched you chug an entire pint of beer like it was nothing and then join in on a pointless game of Ten Fingers with enough energy to put a child to shame.
He thought you were annoying at first, and yet there was something captivating about your personality. He’d never had the guts to approach you outright, so when he ran into you that day all of his frustrations just spilled over. He was angry at himself for not having the courage to talk to you at every company party, and now that he had a chance he couldn’t think of what to say. He hadn’t mentally prepared anything! So he said the first thing that came to his mind, which passed through his unfiltered lips in a very abrupt manner.
But you didn’t show any fear. You hardly flinched. Instead you met his words with a few of your own, and that’s what ruffled Sian’s feathers. You were so good at communication, and he was very much unskilled, usually relying on phrases he prepared in his head. It’s not like he couldn’t talk. He could when he was interested in a certain subject or whenever he was reading from a page, but in front of someone he admired... Sian knew he’d make a fool of himself.
Now that you’re sitting in the passenger seat of his car, he has every opportunity to say what he wants. Yet the words scramble in his brain, and he can’t calm his racing heart. Before he can think of anything witty, the building comes into view, and the parking garage has never seemed so dismal. Sian’s kicking himself as he parks, disappointed with how he handled that situation.
“Thanks for this. I’ll go on ahead.” You unbuckle, holding your briefcase and squeezing water from your blazer. “I’m sorry if I got your seat wet.”
“It’s...fine.”
You’re going to walk away and then he’ll become the coffee idiot. He opens his mouth to say something that’ll stop you, but you turn around at the right moment.
“Let’s get coffee sometime in the future. You deserve it after all the trouble I gave you,” you propose, smiling earnestly. And I feel guilty for my initial judgement. Youssef was right.
Sian’s eyes widen, and he struggles to remain stoic. “Oh, uh...”
“That’s okay with you, right?”
“I guess. Whatever works for you.” He shrugs.
“Great!” You retrieve a pen from your case and close the distance between the two of you. Humming, you snatch his hand, spreading his fingers so that his palm is wide open. And then you scribble something on it, grinning in satisfaction. Sian stares at you the entire time, his face blank and head filled with static. “Text me the days you’re available. See you later!” You tuck the pen away, hastily dashing in the direction of the elevator.
Sian stands there for a moment, slack-jawed. He forces himself to look down at his hand. Your number is written on his skin in smudged ink. His face erupts in a flurry of red. That coffee idiot...
------
“It’s not a date,” Sian mutters as he walks to the café. “It’s not. Stop thinking that way.”
But maybe it is a date, the voice in the back of his mind whispers, goading him into believing so. He dressed as casually as possible, but he still hopes it’ll impress you. There are plenty of fears that flood his head, and he almost turns around as soon as he gets to the entrance. But he’s come this far, and he’d regret it forever if he left now. This might be his only chance; he can’t afford to pass it up. So he pushes open the door in search of you. It doesn’t take long to locate your form amongst the few who are inside. Sian’s pulse rushes into overdrive, and he clenches his jaw.
It’s not a date. Act natural.
You look up from your phone just as he slides into the seat across from you. A warm smile blossoms across your face, and you tuck your mobile away. “Sian, you made it! I was worried you wouldn’t come.”
“It’d be rude if I didn’t show up after you made all those plans.”
“Yeah, that’s true. Well, thank you. Now I won’t have to feel bad about Monday morning.”
You had felt bad? Sian’s cheeks must be burning intensely bright now, but there’s nothing he can do. “It’s your fault for being an idiot.”
You chuckle. “That makes two of us. One idiot ignored the forecast, and the other wasn’t watching where he was going.”
“Whatever. Just so we’re clear, I’m not as stupid as you.” He crosses his arms and huffs. “And you don’t have any taste. I mean, iced coffee? Really?”
“It’s good!” you insist. “You’re missing out. Everyone knows iced coffee is better than hot coffee.”
“Is it now? I don’t agree with that statistic.”
“You’re allowed to have your own opinion, Mr. Sian,” you tease. “Give me your drink order. I’ll go get it.”
“What? No way. I’ll pay.”
“As if! I’m treating you.”
“You already bought me clothes.”
“And now I’m going to buy you coffee. It’s to say thanks for picking me up during that storm.”
“I would’ve left you on that sidewalk if I knew you were going to make it a hassle now!”
“Just accept my kindness!”
Sian shuts his mouth, giving into your demand. He grumbles his order, and you’re very happy as you make your way towards the register to get the two of you drinks and pastries. He watches as you pay, releasing a soft sigh. It’s hard to say no to someone you’ve admired for so long. Sian’s not sure when he started to like you, but he’s certain these recent interactions have only added fuel to the burning fire residing in his heart. It’s embarrassing to think he’s even on a romantic outing with you, but it’s not like the two of you are close friends. So then what does that make this?
When you return to the window table, setting down the drinks and a plate with two strawberry bread puddings, he’s shaken from his daydreams. This is actually happening. It’s not just another fantasy he’s imagined while witnessing you drink your sanity away at parties.
“I’m not sure if you like strawberries, but I—“
“I guess it’s okay,” he interrupts, trying to hide the fact that he actually likes it very much.
“Good!” You ease into your chair. “You’re not as bad as I thought you were.”
He raises an eyebrow as he takes a sip from his latte. “Huh.”
“You seemed really upset when I spilled my coffee on you. But anyone would be, so it’s completely understandable. I thought you hated me because of that. When we saw each other again, you were pretty sensitive.”
“I’m not sensitive!” he snaps, proving your point. “That was a white shirt you ruined.”
“Will you feel better if you dump coffee on me?”
“What? Why would I do that? I’m not going to do something as petty as that!”
“Aw, so you do care.”
“I don’t. Get lost.”
You break out into a laughing fit, genuinely amused at his coldness. Even if he doesn’t want to show it, he’s quite nice, and you’re relieved that he didn’t turn out to be a bully seeking revenge. Then again, it’s been weeks since that incident.
“It’s not funny!”
“Sorry, sorry. You’re just so expressive. It’s hard not to laugh.”
A furious red darkens his face, and he decides to fumble with his fork in order to give his hands something to do. The bread pudding is surprisingly delicious. He fumes in his embarrassment while he eats.
Eventually, the two of you converse about work and that project your department took on. Sian listens to your rambling as you go on and on about how irksome it is when last-minute changes are made to a finalized draft. He enjoys every story you tell him, and by the time the plate is empty he feels as if he’s grown closer with you. Could this be the beginning of a friendship? He’s hit with a sudden wave of inspiration for lyrics that will never be sung. At least they can fester on a page in his notebook, where he’ll return on countless occasions to proofread and debate over the meaning of each line. Oh, how he’d love to share his music with you. It’ll take a while before he does something as bold as that, though.
“I just got an idea! There’s this awesome bar thirty minutes from work. I usually go with my friends because they’ve got a bunch of games you can play. Board games, card games—you name it. We should go one of these days.”
“R-Really?”
“Yeah! You seem like a fun guy to hang out with. Card games might sound boring, but they’re actually really fun when you’re playing for money. And when you’ve got a few drinks in your system.”
Sian struggles to hide the giddy smile that threatens to split his lips. “No... It sounds perfect. I’m actually really good at Slapjack, so be prepared to lose miserably!”
“Is that a challenge? What should we wager?”
"How about a meal? Loser has to pay for the winner’s lunch.”
“All right. It’s a deal. I’ll keep you updated on my schedule so that we can choose a weekend to meet up.”
“Sure!” Sian’s face won’t stop heating up and he can’t slow his erratic heartbeat. “I mean, I’ll only do it so I can get a free lunch. It’s not like I’m agreeing for your sake.”
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever floats your boat.”
His chest feels airy and light, almost as if he’s in a dream. Your words weigh on his conflicted heart. How can anyone make plans so easily? If the roles were reversed, he’d be an absolute mess. It’d be so embarrassing; Sian would probably want to curl up and disappear if he ever tried to ask you out on his own volition. You probably don’t even feel the same way. After all, this is merely two coworkers having a normal conversation. But he can’t get stuck in the friend zone. That’d be the worst outcome to all of this. So in the meantime he’ll do his best to act cordial. He can hide his shy demeanor and fluffy feelings behind a blunt attitude.
“All of this planning makes it seem like we’re a couple,” you muse with flirtatious intent. Leaning back in your chair, you gauge Sian’s reaction. Just as you figured, he’s turning crimson. It’s honestly endearing to see him get so flustered. “What do you think, Sian?”
“I... I don’t know. Don’t say stupid things! It’s really annoying.”
No matter how sharp his words are, you know he doesn’t mean it. After all, his expression clearly refutes those claims.
“Sian and (Name), sitting in a tree—“
“Shut up!”
If this isn’t a date, then what’s with all the flirting?
Sian’s going to have to take a cold shower when he gets home to lower his body temperature. And to scrub away the embarrassment that’s washed over him like rain.
It’s not a date. It’s just coffee with an acquaintance. Yeah. Just courtesy coffee.
He couldn’t be any further from the truth.
#after l!fe#afterl!fe#afterl!fe sian#afterl!fe x reader#afterl!fe the sacred kaleidoscope#afterl!fe sian x reader#sian x reader#oneshot
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Shatter Me Chapter 3: Shatter Me
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Summary: Patton finds a painful memory and Janus has a vision. Will it be enough to thwart the outcomes that await?
Notes: Redundant, no? Not gonna lie, fam, it's about to get to the darkest point. Trigger warnings for character death.
“Patton, are you sure you aren’t a hoarder?” Virgil asked, pushing aside a mountain of plushies where he had been unfortunate enough to land. This was the first time the anxious side had been in Patton’s room since he moved to their part of the Mindscape (also the first time he had ever been to Patton’s room) and Patton was beside himself to have him here.
“Absolutely! I just like to keep a few sentimental things around to look at when I’m feeling down,” Patton replied. “But I guess it uh, wouldn’t hurt to clean up a little. Gotta make room for more memories, right? I actually have the energy to do it now!”
Virgil looked at Patton with a lopsided grin. “Wait, what? You, not having the energy to do something? How’d that happen?”
“Ah right, you weren’t here for uh … all of that. Let’s just say I was recovering from an injury I got several months ago,” Patton said, instantly noting the worried change in Virgil’s expression. “Hold on, it’s alright, I’m alright now, see?” He lifted his shirt to showcase the few tiny cracks that remained. “I’m almost completely healed. Logan even gave me his seal of approval!” He pulled out a little medallion with Logan’s bespectacled brain signet on it. “See?”
Virgil breathed out a visible sigh of relief. He shook a finger at Patton. “Awesome,” he said, his voice cracking a little at the end.
“Alright, so you said you were looking for …” Patton started.
“… this one angsty poem Thomas wrote in high school. I thought I’d uh, spice the ruminating up a little when Thomas heads to bed tonight,” Virgil replied. “No better way to fall asleep than thinking about everything that’s gone wrong or that will go wrong, am I right?”
Patton smiled. “Sure, kiddo, as long as they’re balanced with happier thoughts during the daytime! Let’s see, I think what you’re looking for is over here.” He ran toward his version of the staircase that was piled high with boxes and other larger memorabilia that wouldn’t fit on the bookshelf. He glanced through a few of them, perking up a little when he came to the box on the fourth stair. “I think this is it!” He grabbed the box and ran back to Virgil.
“Keep them as long as you need them,” Patton said with a smile. He handed it over to Virgil, who nearly doubled over from the weight of the things inside. Virgil choked out a thanks and quickly sank out.
“Well, that’s one box temporarily dealt with. Now, about the rest of this marvelous mountain of memories …” Patton, though he would never outrightly admit it, didn’t like moving things around very much. It filled him with dread just thinking about moving something somewhere he would inevitably forget about it. Maybe it would be better to start smaller? He looked around for somewhere less cluttered to start. Finally, his eyes landed on the overflowing box labeled New Memories. “That’ll do for now.” He took the box carefully upstairs to his bedroom and got to work sorting its contents.
In around half an hour, everything was categorized into neat little piles that could be easily transferred to other more fitting storage spaces. Patton began collecting everything from the Friends and Coworkers pile and carried them to his dresser. The top drawer was for everything related to Joan. Admittedly, this one was getting a little bloated from all the fun stuff they and Thomas had ever done together. Still, Patton managed to find space for the newer memories in the crevices that remained. The rest made their way into their respective drawers, packed in tightly with all the rest of them.
Patton closed the drawers, smiled, and put his hands on his hips. “Perfect!” he said. Now all that was left was to take the box back to his version of the living room. He picked the box up and startled when it hissed at him. Something was still in there. He peeked into the box at the thing that had just slid toward him, an upside-down picture frame from the looks of it. Steadying the box with one hand, he reached in and flipped it over.
The last memory he had of Thomas’s now ex-boyfriend stared up at him from the bottom of the box.
His hands trembled a little as he stared at this frighteningly still image. “Nope nope nope, not today,” he said, closing the box and walking as quickly as he could to put it back where it belonged. Despite ridding himself of the visual, this memory was still going to make itself heard in the only way it knew how. Patton clutched at his chest hard and the box crashed to the living room floor. “N-not again …”
He sat down on the stairs a moment to regain control of his breathing. Searing lines thrummed in time with his heartbeat, dulled but not forgotten. This was another reason why he never bothered to clean up: too much of a chance to reopen old wounds. Patton rose with a wince to get that recording of the Rainforest Rap. That song always helped cheer him up. He kept the song on repeat until he felt some semblance of normalcy again.
For the rest of the week, Patton lay awake during the nights, praying that the darkness would somehow take away the memories that hurt him so. It, as many spectral entities do, provided no such reprieve. Certainly not enough to quell the ache settling further into his core as the days passed. Taking liberties in his duties here and there made things far more manageable. Just yesterday, Patton suggested Thomas indulge in a half a pack of Oreos and he listened. The day before, he had come thiiiiiis close to getting an actual bouncy castle! And today, Patton had one little plan he thought everyone would jump for (but not in a bouncy castle).
If everything went according to Patton’s plan, they would spend the next 48 hours rewatching The Office in a blanket fort with Thomas’s closest friends. They could all use a break right about now, what with Roman steamrolling through coming up with new concepts, Logan pulling all-nighters researching for new videos, and Virgil making sure everyone was staying on time with Logan’s schedule. He couldn’t wait to see how everyone else liked this idea! He was already out the door and nearly to the stairs when he heard muffled shouting coming from the living room below.
“—not seriously thinking of going along with this latest plan, are you? I have far too much to plan if we’re to keep this project at its utmost quality!”
Patton stopped dead in his tracks at the top of the stairs.
“I know, Roman, I’m concerned about this, too. We’re woefully behind schedule as it is,” Logan added. “If we don’t do something about this, my carefully constructed calendar will collapse under the weight of his impulse decisions.”
“But how are we even supposed to bring that up to him? He’s been acting weird all week, I know,” Virgil bit, “but you know how Pat takes these things, L.” Patton bit his lip to keep from making noise as the cracks grew once more.
“The best way to do that is to do like you said earlier Virgil, rip it off like a metaphorical Bandaid. This isn’t the first time we’ve had to do this.”
So. Patton had gone overboard these past few days with his contributions.
How many other times had he put the other sides in this exact same situation? They were all supposed to be in this together. Weren’t they …?
There was only one way to fix this. Fixing his cardigan and his expression, Patton plodded heavily down the stairs to announce his arrival. “Hey kiddos! Oh, good, you’re all here together, that’ll save me a few trips back upstairs,” he said cheerily.
“Don’t tell us, Padre, you have another idea?” Roman asked. His smile looked so forced.
“Kinda! So I was just thinking that since we are so behind schedule, a 2 day binge-fest might not be the greatest idea I’ve come up with. So instead of that, how about we work on this next concept together tonight?”
Jaws all around the room dropped. “Wait, what? I thought …” said Virgil, looking to the others.
Roman picked up where Virgil left off, “Patton, I believe that’s the best idea you’ve had all week!” He stepped closer. “How shall we go about it? At the dumb boring regular table here, or at the Round Table in the Imagination to help stimulate all the best thoughts?”
“Hmm, that’s intriguing, Roman. It would certainly be easier than trying to keep track of all our thoughts on paper,” Logan added.
“Hey Logan, I guess you say it’s a …” Patton started.
Logan’s eyes widened. “No.”
“Oh, this’ll be good,” Virgil snickered.
“… well-Round-ed idea,” said Patton.
Virgil and Roman couldn’t help smiling watching this play out. Logan groaned. “I will ignore that this one time because you made a worthwhile effort to get us back on schedule, but I do hope that you’ll spend a little more time thinking about what words you want to arrange in a sentence. And make them less … pun-filled.”
“I’ll try not to have too much pun, but I can’t make any promises!” Patton said.
Logan said nothing further, opting instead to vacate the premises as quickly as possible. “I’ll uh, go with him and we’ll get everything set up in the Imagination,” said Roman, running after him.
“Well, I guess that just leaves you and me, kiddo! Whaddaya say we make some snacks for everyone? We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us today!”
Virgil nodded. “As long as I can spit on something meant for Roman,” he said.
“I’ll let you have the cookie batter bowl,” Patton replied.
“Deal.”
Between the two of them, Patton and Virgil were able to make somewhat quick work of a heaping plate of hot cookies and several plates of sandwiches for everyone to enjoy. Sure, they may have gotten more flour and other assorted foodstuffs on them than into the finished products on the counter, but it was the fun they had doing it that mattered. Both of them decided that it would be best to change out of their dirty clothes before carrying everything into the Imagination.
Patton sunk into his version of the kitchen, which was considerably more cluttered than the common area kitchen. He stepped over a few stray memories before making it into the clearer living room. That was when he noticed Deceit sitting on his couch worrying his gloved hands. Softly, Patton called out, “Dee?”
Deceit startled and turned quickly to see Patton. “Um,” he said, clearing his throat and brushing down the front of his cloak, “you certainly didn’t sneak up on me.”
“What brings you back to my neck of the ‘burbs?” asked Patton.
Deceit stood from the couch. “We’re just getting so well acquainted that I thought I’d stop by for tea— and to give a warning. I know they’ve been growing again.”
Patton smiled sadly. “I guess I can’t really hide this from you. But you should know, this time—”
“It’s not their fault, I’m well aware. But doesn’t this make it the best time to tell them? The pressure is off. You don’t even have to tell them in a direct way!” Deceit said, taking Patton’s hands in his own. His eyes were alight with worry. “You just need to tell them.”
“I know I need to, but … it’s so hard to do. I’d be hurting them, I know I would.”
Deceit looked down and sighed. He brought his gaze quickly back up to Patton’s, staring with an intensity that Patton had never seen from him before. “You need to tell them,” he whispered slowly. “I saw something on the horizon. Something bad. As much as it pains me to say it, I don’t want that vision to be about you.”
That was a bit startling. Patton knew it wouldn’t get that far, but … could it? “Okay,” he said. “I’ll tell them.” That earned him a split-second smile from Deceit.
“That’ll do, Patton. That’ll do. What in the world is on my gloves?” Deceit said, sinking out.
“Cookie dough!” Patton called after him. “And probably some mayo. Oh, he probably didn’t hear me. Now what was I doing again? Oh yeah, clothes, brainstorming, Imagination!” He quickly ran upstairs to the bathroom to get changed and emerged from his room less than a minute later and grabbed what food Virgil hadn’t. Maybe if he busied himself enough, he would be able to forget Deceit’s visit. He wouldn’t think about the panic behind his crumbling facade, or the thinly veiled pleas he made.
But that would all be a lie. Something had him deeply troubled, and when Deceit was the one giving out a warning in earnest, it bode better to listen. But how to go about it? Patton sighed. “Alright, Patton, let’s just focus on getting to the others right now,” he said to himself. He closed his eyes and thought about the others, and about castles, knights, and everything that made Roman happy.
When he opened them again, he was in the Imagination.
Or rather, he was in a field in the Imagination, right in front of Roman’s towering castle. It was a perfect amalgamation of Gothic architecture and pure Disney magic that made Patton’s nostalgia meter burst through the roof. He ran through the front gates with appropriate gusto and was thrilled to see the others there around the table already, quietly chatting amongst themselves. “Ah, Patton, we were starting to think you forgot how to get here again. Come, let us formally begin this brainstorming bash!” Roman said cheerily.
“That’s the spirit!” Patton squealed, trying to sound as normal as possible. He set down the cookie platter and took a seat in the high-backed chair with his new symbol on it.
“First things first, let’s make sure we’re all on the same page before we begin,” Logan said, summoning papers for all of them. “In order to maximize our output, Roman, Virgil, and I have decided to remove some of the thought filters from the castle for this session. This means that any particular thought, if it’s focused enough, will manifest in here for all of us to review. According to my own independent research, this should boost our productivity by 42% with a .03% margin of error.”
Patton’s eyes widened a little. He really didn’t want to interrupt their work, but this new system would definitely cause problems if he didn’t come clean now. So, Patton gathered every last bit of gumption that he had and shouted, “I have a confession to make!”
The others backed up a little, startled that Patton could be so loud, but quickly recomposed themselves. “Go ahead, Patton,” said Logan, straightening his tie.
Patton thanked him, doing his best to not squirm in his seat. He knew they wouldn’t react well, but maybe saying it now would keep thoughts about it from popping up later. “I uh, wanted to get this out of the way before we get down to business. But um … I think I might be breaking again.”
“Come again?” Virgil asked.
Patton slid the collar of his shirt down enough to reveal several deep fissures. “These things. They’re growing again,” he said. “Started earlier this week. I just didn’t want that popping up without warning and ruining our work. Anyways, um, what ideas are we working with here, Roman?”
“Wait, breaking? Like, breaking breaking? Oh God, Patton, are you dying? You’re dying, aren’t you? Oh God, no! What stops death?! Logan?!” Virgil cried frantically.
Patton quickly said, “Virgil, Virgil, breathe, I’m not dying. In for four seconds, there you go, hold it for seven seconds. You’re doing great. Just listen to the sound of my voice. Out for eight. Good job, keep it up.”
Logan got out a pen and notepad. “Again? And you say they started earlier this week? Do you remember which day it was?” he asked.
“The day I started cleaning up my room. Uh, what day was that again?” Patton said, still doing his best to softly coach Virgil back down to a calmer state.
“Padre … I thought there weren’t going to be any more secrets about this,” said Roman. The hurt look he gave to Patton about killed him where he sat.
“It wasn’t so much a secret as it was an ‘I-got-a-little-busy-and-kept-forgetting’ kind of thing. I never meant to keep it from you, any of you,” Patton replied. A tiny, glowing orb dripped from Patton’s chest. A thought. He pushed it down between his hand and the seat to trap it, knowing that it would unveil his lie. For good measure, he slung a leg over his hand.
“You were cleaning that day…” Logan mused. “I may have some theories that explain this phenomenon, though it is currently up to speculation. Allow me to elaborate. Patton, it seems that stressing yourself beyond your limits could potentially be the cause of this. You have certainly been going out of your way with your work this week. I believe we all recall the … bouncy castle idea. This could be leading to a lack of self-care needed to perform adequately.”
Patton nodded slowly with as real a smile as he could muster. “Yyyyyeah, that could be it,” he said, shoving down another treacherous thought as it popped out. It brought up memories of all the passing comments Logan made about his character.
“Uh, Pops? Whatcha … doin’ over there?” Virgil asked.
Patton stiffened. “Nothing, just, uh … Practicing a new kind of exercise?” Another one flitted out, pointing to being too overbearing with Virgil. “Hey, is that a dragon coming up to the castle?”
Everyone turned to look while Patton conjured a slingshot, flung that icky thought out the other window. and recaptured the one that had come out from beneath his leg.
“No, that’s a tapestry, Padre. It literally couldn’t hurt you if it wanted to,” Roman said. “Not that I would ever let it!”
Patton smiled. “You’re my hero, Roman,” he said.
Roman blushed a little to that. “Aw, Pat,” he gushed.
Another thought came up, a memory of a time Roman had taken him on one of his adventures. He had wanted to tend to a little wounded animal they came across and nearly got them killed because of it. Patton clapped his hand painfully over his heart to keep that one from surfacing. With a whimper and a slight grimace, he replied, “I mean it, Ro.”
Virgil was getting extremely antsy where he sat. “Okay, um … This is weird, right? Like, this just feels wrong.”
“Virgil has a point, you are behaving rather strangely, Patton,” said Logan. “Do you have something you’d like to add?”
With the focus being on what started this, another memory surfaced. The one that had started it again. Patton tried to bite that one as it meandered past. Curse these full hands! He missed by a mile, leaving it to float effortlessly to the center of the table.
“A thought?” Logan said. “Unconventional, but it’s an intriguing choice.”
It began to play. Patton was in his room, sorting through the new memories box. The last few were being tucked away. It skipped to him looking back in the box to see what was left. It showed him, holding the picture. Him, clutching his chest. Him, stumbling to the floor. As if on cue, the cracks thrummed in recognition. Thank goodness he already had a hand over them because it almost took his breath away. The memory evaporated, leaving the others to simply look with jaws slightly agape.
Patton could only look down at the table. These old wounds were reopening in the worst of ways, and now his closest friends would find out the truth. Logan finally broke the silence. “So, that’s how it happened.”
Patton nodded wordlessly.
“This was months ago,” Logan said.
“It was a busy time for me,” Virgil added. “Switching from everything Thomas did wrong to worrying that Thomas will never find love again got to be so exhausting.”
“I admit even I became a bit disheveled by his absence,” Logan said, looking down.
“I nearly ducked out over this. I can’t imagine what that must’ve been like for you, Patton,” said Roman.
Patton still couldn’t bring himself to look up. He knew there were pent up tears threatening to fall if he did. “It … it was hard … and seeing a reminder of it …” he whispered.
Logan sighed. “I believe your best course of action is clear,” he said. “You simply need to let the past be the past.”
“But … what about all of the good times we had with him? I don’t want to leave them behind,” Patton said softly.
“Patton, these memories are physically hurting you. I can’t understand why you would rather suffer endlessly instead of just letting one person go.”
You’re too sentimental to save yourself from dying.
Patton’s face contorted and a small whine escaped his throat. Those insidious cracks lengthened once more, each one feeling like a knife tracing its way through his skin.
Roman stood abruptly. “Now look what you’ve done, Quantum of Soulless!” Roman cried, motioning to Patton. Logan rose from his seat, trying to get a better look from across the table.
“Roman …” Patton lightly scolded. “Pl-please be nice.”
Roman huffed. “Sorry. What I mean is this situation needs a bit more delicacy than Logan’s robotic demeanor could ever hope to provide.” Roman walked over to Patton and put a hand gently on his arm. Logan was making his way over, too, notepad in hand. “Now Padre, you know how much I came to you when this was all fresh. We did our best to hold each other up, but even now, I still feel lost. I can’t tell you how much I yearn to have our beloved return, or how much I want to call him after all this time.”
Patton sniffled a little, putting his hand over Roman’s and leaning his head against his arm. “I know, I want him back too,” he said.
“I think we all do. But I think it might also be time to start boxing up some of those old memories. We can even help you start!” Roman said. Virgil shook his head. Logan rolled his eyes. “Okay, I can help you start.”
“But I don’t want to forget … I wouldn’t even know where, or how, to start. We had so many good memories together that I don’t want to lose,” Patton blubbered.
“I know it’s difficult, but we aren’t children anymore, Padre. I know the relationship ending was for the best and I’ve been striving every day to remain strong. I also know that you wouldn’t be leaving everything behind if you do the adult thing and let the ghosts of the past go.”
You’re too naive to understand what needs to be done.
Patton doubled over, groaning as the cracks split further down his limbs and up his neck. Bile burned at the back of his throat, and he could taste the coppery twang of essence. He felt another wary hand on him. “P-Pops?” came Virgil’s wavering voice. “I… Thomas was being too overbearing. That wasn’t your fault!”
YOU were being too overbearing. YOU were what drove him away.
Patton cried out in agony as his skin split down to his fingertips and over his face to the top of his head. Small chips of skin were beginning to fall away with tiny tinks as they hit the floor, displaying the bright blue beneath. He could feel the front of his shirt begin to dampen.
“I don’t get it! We’re trying to help, why isn’t this working?” Virgil cried. “Why are they getting worse?!”
Logan came up to Patton, attempting to lean him back with utmost care. “Perhaps just talking about the subject of his pain is what’s causing them to worsen,” he said. As soon as he looked at the frail fatherly side, his demeanor changed. “Virgil, get a first aid kit. Roman, help me lay him on the table. Now!”
The others, at first too stunned to move, burst into action as quickly as they could. Patton screamed as they repositioned him on the table, hyperventilating from the pain. “Hang in there, Padre, please hang in there!” came Roman’s muffled voice. Logan was reaching for the hem of his shirt. He mouthed something to him. Patton felt something glide across his skin from his navel to his neck. Wait, when did Logan get scissors? And where was his shirt? And why did the others look so horrified? Those questions seemed inconsequential to the truth staring down at Patton, demanding he tell it.
“It w-was my fault,” Patton croaked.
Logan started threading a needle. Virgil was carding his fingers through Patton’s hair anxiously. Roman looked at him with incredulous eyes. “What are you talking about?” asked Roman.
“Th-the breakup,” Patton replied. Warmth was trickling down over his ribcage and soaking his back. “A-and everything e-else.” Logan tried his best to stick the needle through solid skin, but it just chipped further. Patton coughed, a bit of blue making its way past his lips.
“Everything else? Patton, you’re not making sense,” Logan said, trying the same thing again with the same result.
Patton whimpered, “I-I know that I’m always … messing th-things up. I forget s-so much … I kn-know that you think I’m t-too sentimental t-to do my job. Th-that I’m too … naive t-to see the truth right in … front of me. That I’m s-so over … o-overbearing that I drove him away. If it w-weren’t for … all of you t-to rein me in … I-I’d make Thomas into a… w-worthless mass of a man.”
You are worthless.
“C-Compression. Let’s try compression,” Logan said.
“Pat … is this … is this what caused all of this?” Roman asked. His eyes shimmered.
“You can’t seriously think that,” Virgil said, his hands becoming shaky.
Patton cried as Logan pressed firmly in the center of his chest. More fragments broke free and with them, Logan’s hands went straight through into Patton’s chest. Patton nearly passed out. Logan quickly withdrew his hands.
“Ohhhh my God, oh my God, Logan, what did you do?!” shouted Virgil. “What do we do now?!”
Patton coughed violently, essence spluttering from his lips in a steady stream.
Logan could only stand there, frozen in horror, staring at his blue hands.
“Logan?!” Roman cried.
“I … I don’t know …” came Logan’s voice, barely above a whisper. Silent tears streamed down his cheeks.
“You can’t die on us, Patton, please, we need you!” Virgil sobbed.
Roman grasped Patton’s hand delicately. It began to shatter like porcelain barely held together. Despite the jagged edges, Roman still lifted it to his cheek, holding on like it was the only anchor in a violent sea. “Y-you’ll … all be … alright … without me … Just … p-promise me … y-you won’t … blame yourselves …” Patton gasped.
He couldn’t hold it together when bigger pieces of him began breaking away from the rest of his body. He couldn’t scream. He couldn’t hear.
He couldn’t see. But still, his mouth made the words.
“I… l-love… you.”
With a final shuddering breath, he was gone.
---
Janus knew that meddling with what his foresight told him never aided the outcome.
He knew this, but he tried anyway.
It wasn’t that he particularly liked Patton. He found him to be overly saccharine and ridiculously optimistic in the face of surefire doom, not to mention he stood by socks and sandals as a fashion choice. However, things always seemed to run smoother in the Mindscape with the fatherly side around. Someone had to be there to tend to the others and moderate their senseless bickering, he supposed. How would anyone get any sleep otherwise? And Patton wasn’t one to pass judgement when he was caught alone. Perhaps his near-blind acceptance was what endeared Janus to him in the first place.
Whatever the case, he didn’t want whatever was going to happen to go through like it wanted to. He could never determine much from these visions. Just … feelings. Notions. The occasional coherent thought. This most recent one should’ve been par for the course. Nothing could’ve prepared him for what came. He couldn’t breathe. He felt like he was being ripped apart. And there was nothing else around but the pain, searing a fiery blue, and those three intrepid words.
I love you.
A swan song if there ever was one. And now, standing here amongst the shadows outside Roman’s castle, he knew the swan had sung.
Taglist: @celeste-tyrrell @taxicabinmemphis @angeldiaries @somehow-i-got-an-account
#atlas writes#patton angst#sanders sides angst#shatter me#patton sanders#character death tw#are y'all ready to stone me to death yet?#shatter me story
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Baby (Part Two)
Baby (Part Two)
(MC x Jake McKenzie)- Endless Summer
Plot:
MC chose Rourke's ending and tried to fix everything.
OKAYYY SO THERE'S A STEAMY PART HERE, BEWARE!
MC's PoV
"What are you doing in my backyard?"
I stared at him on awe. Tears started to well in my eyes and I instinctively put both of my hands on my mouth as if trying to drown out the sobs that threatened to escape my lips.
He's really here...
I slowly walked in his direction but stopped on my tracks. God! He doesn't remember me! He has no idea of what's going on. Only that there's a stranger on his backyard, and crying her eyes out. He looked at me with a poker face, weighing out his options. Thinking if I'm going to snitch or not. I never prepared for this moment and that's very stupid of me. I rushed off to a foreign country, in hopes of finding my love but never thought about what to say to him. To be honest, I didn't have that much hope that I'll be seeing him soon. I thought it'll probably take more days, months, maybe.
"I said, what are you doing in my backyard? I swear to God if you're Lundgren's men, I'll-"
He was interrupted with Rebecca's presence. "How the hell did this girl get in here?! Do you know anything about this, Rebecca?!" His sister looked down and murmured a sorry. Jake threw his hands in his short hair out of frustration. At last, I found my voice.
"I-It's not her fault, Top gun." I said, casting my stare on the sand and suddenly looked at him when I realized what I just said. Goddamnit! I must be forgetting that the man before me doesn't know who I am! I'm so stupid! He looked at me, wide eyed, after he heard what I just called him. There's a glimmer of hope inside of my heart that he remembered me, even just a tiny, little bit.
He regained his composure and crossed his arms.
"Get the fuck inside." He walked passed me, and my breath hitched the moment we were close even if it's only a few seconds. I stood there for a few seconds, shocked about all the feelings welling up inside me and thinking of my next move. Rebecca beckoned me inside. I nodded and went after her. We went inside the cozy living room.
Jake was seated on the couch, his eyes glaring at me as I sit down in front of him. I tried to relax. There's no need to worry right? You should be happy! You're finally reunited! Everything will be fine!
"Who are you?" He looked at me. I remember this expression of his. It was annoyance. Of course I remember every little thing about him. His mannerisms, his habits, his expressions, and the way he thinks. I was married to this man and I have loved him for more that a thousand lifetimes. In every lifetime that I've lived, We always found our way to each other. It was a mistake to trust Rourke after all the effort The Endless have made. I need to make up for everything that I've done.
"I'm MC. I came here to see you." I said calmly. I'll explain everything to him, hoping that he'll listen. Listen to me, and his heart. "The fuck you mean by that?!" He said, shouting at me. His walls are all up. And it's all my fault. We could've been happy together. Before, I thought that was impossible. How could he happy when we may be together but the whole world isn't? We're being selfish. And If I did saved the whole world... I wouldn't be with him. It's one way or another.
Rebecca sat on the arm rest of the chair I was sitting at and crossed her arms to her brother, glaring at him.
"Hear her out, Jake." She said, with a threatening voice. I breathed slowly, trying to calm my nerves. Yes girl, this is it. Don't fuck it up.
"I-I know everything. And I intend to fix it. I-It's my fault everyone is suffering..." Tears welled up in my eyes again but this time, I didn't dared try to stop it. I want to be vulnerable, just like I've always been whenever I was with him.
I continued. "Don't worry... I won't snitch to you and Mike. I couldn't do that to the people that I love the most." I weakly smiled at him. His eyes are showing confusion and uncertainty but he's curious.
Curious enough to hear me out.
3rd Person's Point of View
Jake's a wreck. He spent all his time trying to stay out of the grid and suddenly a girl showed up in his place, not knowing if she's a threat or not. How could she not be? The whole world is practically eating out of Rourke's hand. He never really knew why he hated Rourke's gut even when it's Rex Lundgren who framed him and Mike. Now, he's sitting in front of the girl whose name was supposed to be MC.
He listened to her, still with doubts but curious if there's anything that she says that'll solve even the slightest bit of his problems. She caught his attention ever since she called him 'Top Gun'. Somehow, the name rang a bell but he can't put his finger into it yet.
"I know about Rex Lundgren. He sold weapons to the people you were supposed to be fighting. You and Mike found out and planned to snitch. But Lundgren knew about your plan and sent you to a reckon mission, an ambush." MC paused. The last lifetime that she lived, Mike wasn't able to eject on time. MC thought that even with all the chaos around and 'His Eminences' supporters, one good thing came out of this new lifetime. Mike survived, he wasn't brainwashed and broken. She gulped and continued. (A/N: I checked again the Rourke ending and Craig mentioned Jake and Mike on the coffee shop so it made sense that he's alive. If he wasn't, then he would be brain washed and the whole squad thing on ES would've happened. With Mike being Mouse, and sacrificing his self.)
"The two of you ejected. MP’s awaited the both of you and you're now on the run." She finished. The only thing that's on Jake's mind right now is how the hell did she knew? And why is she on their side? He gathered his courage to ask. He wanted to be gentle but he thought she's not being completely truthful.
"How the hell did you knew? Who told you? Are you one of the Military Police? Why aren't you on their side? Wh-" He was interrupted by the girl. And he didn't expected this to be her answer.
"Because you told me." Jake got out of his surprise and looked intently on the girl. Told her how? He never met this girl on his life, or at least that's what he thought. He knew he's right but there's still a feeling that they're acquainted.
He glared at her again. But this time, it's just out of curiosity. Jake went on the risk of trusting her. "I was your wife." Jake looked to Rebecca, trying to find some sort of reaction but she stayed quiet.
"You knew about this stupid story? She's a crackhead!" He harshly said, not caring that the woman was inside the same room as them.
"Did you at least hear her out?" She asked her brother. "I did! That's why I'm saying that she's lying!" He retorted. His mind's now filled with confusion. He felt like his head was going to explode with all the information he got in the span of a few minutes.
"Did you, truly? Open your mind..." Rebecca walked over to her brother and put her hand on his chest. "-and your heart. I know for the fact that she's telling the truth. I feel it, Jake. You just gotta try." She pulled her hand away from his heart and walked out of the scene.
Rebecca wanted the two of them to have their privacy. Even if MC wasn't saying the whole truth, the fact that she knows about Jake and Mike's situation is enough for her to trust the girl. The moment that MC told her the story back on the park, she thought about the dreams Jake has been getting ever since he went on the run.
Rebecca's Point of View:
(A few months ago...)
My boss changed my shift from the normal time to this shit. I thought it'll be easy to adapt to it but it's been a week and my body clock is so messed up. Because of this, I lacked on sleep and I was sent home today from work. My new schedule is from midnight to morning. My apartment is farther than Jake's cabin so maybe I'll just crash there tonight. I'm sure Mike won't mind.
I used my key to get inside the cabin. Mike's still up, reading a book on the living room. He smiled at me and continued on his novel. I went to the kitchen, opened the fridge and took a jug of water. I was pouring it when a shout came from Jake's room, startling me, causing me to spill water on the kitchen floor.
I disregarded it and made my way to Jake's room. He's sitting on his bed, sweaty and panting.
"Jake, are you alright?" He looked at me as if he's expecting someone else to be there for him.
He stared at the air and then suddenly pulled on his long hair out of frustration. He brushed his palms on his face and groaned.
"What a fucked up dream."
"Why? What happened?" I finally found my voice and asked him. "I... Don't remember. All I know is I hate it. I hate this feeling as if I lost someone."
I stared at him. I really don't know how to ease his feelings. I've never felt something like this. I squeezed his shoulder and head out.
"Another dream?" Mike asked and took a sip from his tea cup. I took a seat next to him.
"Huh? This has been happening?" I asked and glanced again at my brother who now lied in bed and stared at the ceiling, his eyebrows furrowed.
"Yeah. It happened a bunch of times already that's why I'm not too shocked anymore."
I looked at the table in front of me, speechless.
"I really don't know how to comfort Jake. I have strange dreams too." I looked at him only to see him wistful and his eyes distant.
"In my dreams, I was brainwashed and became Jake's enemy. But there's this girl that he's with, along with a few more people. They never gave up on trying to get me to their side." I listened intently on what he's saying. Why is it that Mike remembers his dreams but Jake doesn't?
"That girl and Jake though. They look perfect for each other. They're all over each other and I can feel the love through my dreams. I almost thought she's real when I woke up." And he chuckled.
Now, I'm very curious. Never in my life did I see my brother love anyone. Flings? Sure. But my brother isn't like what Mike describes him to be on his dreams as he continued on explaining.
When he finished, I finally asked him a question.
"Does Jake know any of this?" I said and I gripped the hem of my clothes a little bit tighter than I anticipated.
"Hmm? Hell no. I don't want to confuse him more than he already is." Mike is a really great friend. My brother is very lucky to have someone like him.
"Do you remember the girl's face?"
"Yeah. She's very hard to forget. Not that I'm interested okay! She just looks very unique. And I would never forget the woman Jake's with. He's very sappy and sweet with that girl, you know. That's a rare sight."
Mike and I talked through the night as I asked about what he knew about the dream girl that my brother is with.
3rd Person's Point of View
Jake tried. He really tried. But he's afraid that he will be wrong. And he will eventually fuck everything up. If he's the only one going to get caught, it'll be alright for him. But the fact that everyone that he's acquainted with will be dragged with him, it really breaks his heart at the very thought.
This woman in front of him though... She's able to stir feelings inside of him that he didn't even know existed. He may be glaring at the girl but deep inside, his heart is leaping every glance that he took from her.
It's like he missed her after a long, long time when actually he only met her a few minutes ago.
"Anyway... I don't even know why I tried to find you, knowing that you know absolutely nothing of what's happening." She grinned sheepishly at him. His eyebrow shot up as he studied her face, noticing the streaks of dried tears on her cheeks.
"Enlighten me." He coldly said, not trying to let her in. She brightens for a moment after his response but retorted to her anxious manner.
"A thousand lifetimes ago... You and I met." He suddenly felt anger rise up from his body. What is this crappy story? Is this some kind of a prank or a lame ass fairy tale joke?
But just like Rebecca said, try. So he tried and continued to listen.
"You were our pilot. We didn't even know by that time that you were on the run already. You're flying your precious Delilah. You took us to an island called-"
"La Huerta." He finished. The girl looked at him in awe. A memory shot up on his brain and he groaned because of the pain. It's a memory, he's sitting on the cockpit and a blurry faced girl approached him, asking if they should be landing anytime soon. He was annoyed so he gave her a nickname.
"Princess." He called. The girl clasped her mouth with her hand and a tear rolled on her cheek once again. He felt like he wanted to dry those tears away with his own hand but he made no move. He was hurting deep inside but his fear is still there.
The silence is growing too loud for the both of them. The girl tried to break it, even with the feeling, no, a glimpse of hope inside her that he finally remembered her. She's happy. More than happy than she's ever been in all those months.
She continued. "We were stranded in the island, got into fights, but you and I had each other's backs with every problem that we faced. We got married on the Vaanti's village and we promised a year and a day together..." She spoke in between sobs.
'Vaanti'... He tried to find the meaning of that word. And he stood up from his seat, hit with another surge of memory. He remembered those Vaanti shown on the news that Rourke captured who tried to reach out for a man named Diego... and MC.
He remembered being on a huge tree house full of blue skinned people. He's getting married to a girl, she's walking on the aisle with a glowing flower attached on her hair. As she walked closer to him, he finally got a glimpse of her face.
It was the same as the girl who's sitting just in front of him. He knew something that finally made sense. He's overwhelmed by the feeling and was frozen stood on the ground, not knowing what to do. The girl kept on sobbing in front of him with a smile on her face.
In the midst of everything, the door opened and a man came through.
"Man, that line on the grocery is too long for this morning-" Mike strode inside the room, completely unaware of the situation. He heard no response and so, he looked at what's in front of him. Out of shock, he let go of the paper bag that he was holding
"Y-You're that g-girl... You're real...?" He stuttered as he spoke, not caring about the goods that just fell out of his grasp.
"Mike! What the hell are you talking about?" Jake replied, finally snapping out of his daze, and disbelief shown on his face. Why the hell didn't Mike said anything? He looked like he know something and Jake definitely has the right to know if it involves him too.
Mike slowly walked into the girl's direction and he stopped when he's finally in front of her. He put his hands on the girl's cheeks, checking if she's real. Somehow, Jake felt something stir inside of him. Jealousy? Who knows?
Mike pulled his hands away when he realized what he has done. The girl looked shocked to as how Mike is handling the situation. Does he remember me? Jake's reaction is way different than Mike's. What's the difference?
Mike glanced at Jake and sat on the empty seat beside him. Mike was silent but Jake stared at him until he snapped out of his little bubble once more.
"I said, do you know anything? Who's this girl?" Jake insisted. He really wanted to know everything. The situation's giving him a headache.
Mike looked at Jake and replied. "She's... In my dreams." Jake looked at him expectantly and he continued on his story. He sat down on his seat again. "The both of you saved me from myself. The both of you... Are inseparable. She's fought along you when things got tough but, I don't really know her."
A huge pang of pain shot through his head, a lot worse than he's had earlier. He gripped his head and the girl stood up from her seat and went in front of him, worried.
"Jake? Are you okay?" She said. Jake couldn't hear her properly because of the ringing on his ears.
And he passed out.
-
Memories worth a thousand lifetimes flashed through Jake's mind. He haven't realized that he was unconscious. But he's seeing everything, everything that he had done. It was enough proof for him to trust the girl.
He woke up in a haze. All the dreams of his past lives now gone. But he does remember one. His previous lifetime, the one and only successful lifetime that the Endless have created. The one where MC made the choice.
His eyelids fluttered open slowly. He's on his room, lying on his bed and a woman on his right, holding his hand as she slept on a chair beside his bed.
He remembers now.
Oh, how he misses her.
He used his other free hand to smooth out her hair. She looked tired, and skinnier that he remembered her to be. Was she okay on their time apart?
He realized how she felt. The guilt has been weighing in on her ever since she made that choice.
A tear rolled down his cheek. Is it because of sadness or happiness? Maybe both. She stirred and she groggily lift her head up. She looked at Jake and her blue eyes widened when she realized she's been holding his hand. She let go but was shocked when the pilot took her hand back into his.
"J-Jake?" She said, tears welling up on her eyes again. He brought his left hand into her face, drying her tears away with his rough fingers.
"Don't you dare cry now, Princess." He said, his husky voice ringing inside the small bedroom.
"Jake? Do you...?" She questioned and he nodded as he smiled at her. She sighed out of relief and put her cheek onto Jake's palm. She closed her eyes and smiled as she cried tears of joy.
She kissed his hand and looked at him lovingly. "I'm sorry I forgot, Princess. I'm sorry for being rough on you earlier." He said and sat up.
"No! No! I totally get it. You don't remember. I won't fault you for that, Top Gun." She said as she straightened on her seat.
"I missed you so damn much." He said and brought his hands into both of her cheeks. Finally, their lips met. Fireworks burst inside the both of them. They kissed passionately as they both cried their hearts out. They didn't dare stop, thinking if this is just a dream. If this really is just a dream, they would want to make the most of it.
Breathlessly, they pulled away.
"I can't believe you remember me now..." MC said. Jake smiled at her and kissed her forehead.
Their lips connected once more. Jake lifted the girl out of her seat, using his muscles into work. He rested her on his lap and she straddled him as they kiss. He bit her lower lip, asking for consent. She parted her lips and his tongue met hers. They didn't fight for dominance, for she let him take control of her.
The kiss heat up and it was becoming sexual. She rested her hands on his chest while his hands caressed her ass.
They pulled away to look at each other.
"You're so beautiful..." He said and moved the back of his hand into her cheek. She smirked at him. "I know that. And a beautiful woman needs a handsome husband." She wrapped her arms into his neck and they kissed again.
Suddenly, MC pulled away.
"What's wrong?" Jake asked her, worry featured on his handsome face.
"What if someone walks in? Rebecca and Mike is still here, you know." She said.
"Psh. I don't care if they hear. But I don't want to stop either. Just lock it and we'll be fine." He said. He rolled his eyes out of annoyance.
MC climbed down and locked the door. She looked at Jake, who's sitting on his bed and resting his back on the headboard.
"What?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Nothing..." She seductively said. She started unbuttoning her white blouse slowly. He raised an eyebrow again, but this time, he's smirking. "Teasing me, aren't ya?" He said and lifted his hands into the back of his neck. He's definitely enjoying the sight.
Her blouse dropped to the floor and her bra is now exposed. Next, she zipped down her jeans and slowly took it off.
"Come on, that's torture!" He complained, and stood up from his position. He approached her and went to her back. He wrapped his arms on her waist and kissed her back and shoulders.
"Hurry up, Princess. I can't wait any longer." He whispered on her ear. He resumed on kissing her back, and gently bit the side of her neck.
Goosebumps appeared on her skin and she obliged. Her jeans finally joined her blouse, that's lying still on the floor. She felt something hard, rubbing on her ass.
"Feel that? I told you I can't wait." He moved his hand from her waist into her front. If he's turned on, she definitely is too. Actually, more than he is, maybe.
His hand travelled down into her wet core and rubbed it gently. Pleasure coursed through her body and her knees buckled. Her back collided into his chest and she used him as support.
The whole time after this lifetime was created, she never dated anyone. Never even kissed anyone or had a one night stand. She knew it into her heart that her body only belongs to him, to her husband, to her pilot.
The love of her life.
"F-Faster..." She moaned. She felt him smirk on her skin. He took off his hand all of a sudden and she was so disappointed. She looked at him with annoyance.
He chuckled. "Let's get into somewhere more comfortable. I don't want to fuck you on the floor." He said. He brought his fingers into his mouth and licked her juices off.
She saw this and immediately blushed. She smacked his chest and arms multiple times and mind you, HARD.
"Ow! What was that for?!" He shouted as he rubbed his arm because of the sting.
"W-Why did you... T-That was so embarrassing!" She said and and covered her face. He just laughed at her reaction and took her hands off of her face so he could look at her.
"Hey... Don't cover your pretty face. What are you embarrassed for? We're married, baby. And it's not like it's a first!" He teased.
“I know! But why do you gotta- Ugh! I hate it when I need to explain things to you!” She shouted and took his hands off her face. She crossed her arms, covering her breasts so he wouldn’t dare look at them. She knows how much of a pervert Jake is.
He chuckled and amusement shown in his orbs. He’s happy, very damn happy. They’re finally back together and no one will ever separate them again.
As she was pouting and looking away, he used this chance to take the girl on his arms and carry her onto the bed.
“Hey! Let go of me, perverted husband!” She protested as she kicked her legs, trying to make Jake let go of her.
“No! I ain’t letting you go! You know you love me too much to not let this happen!” He replied and gave out a laugh. He haven’t laughed like this in years. His wife really is a miracle.
He let go of her, and she landed on the bed with a soft thud.
He smirked at her as he looked at her appreciatively and she immediately felt her cheeks burn hot. Here he go again, making fun of me. Can’t say she doesn’t miss it though. They’ve been separated for too long.
You could say that they had a very wonderful time inside that room, wink wink.
They didn’t mind about anyone else and what those people might say. We all know they probably woke up all the sleeping neighbors from miles away. But that didn’t matter to them.
Because finally, they’re together once more. Forever.
OKAY! I’M FINALLY DONE! I’M SORRY FOR THE LONG WAIT! I GOT THIS MESSAGE FROM ‘WEB NOVEL’ IF I COULD WRITE STORIES IN THEIR APP AND POSSIBLY MONETIZE MY WORK SO Y’ALL COULD SAY I’VE BEEN BUSY. DO YOU GUYS WANT A THIRD PART? I’M THINKING OF MAKING ONE, WHERE JAKE CAN MEET THE GANG AND MAKE THEM REMEMBER TOO. IF I DID MADE IT, I’M THINKING FOR A FOURTH AND LAST PART WHERE THEY’LL BE RESCUING THE VAANTI AND OF COURSE, DIEGO’S LOVELY BOYFRIEND, VARYYN!
#choices#choices stories you play#jake#Jake McKenzie#jake x michael#endless summer#virtual books#mckenzie#rebecca mckenzie#mike#diego#varys the spider#rourke ending#rourke#jacob#lucas#jacob lucas mckenzie#baby#baby part two#fan fiction#endless summer book 1#endless summer book 2#endless summer book 3#michelle nguyen
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Queen’s Clan { 1 }
Summary: y/n is plagued by nightmares. She realizes that the more she runs away, the less frequently they haunt her. However, in running away, she’s also running straight into her ultimate demise. Will she be saved in time by those who would lay down their lives for her, even if they don’t know of each other’s existence?
Monsta X/Reader, Human/Vampire(s), Reverse Harem, future smut?, violence, language
Word count: 2.35k
***
My queen.
Your highness.
Blood of my blood.
Trick.
Bébé.
My liege.
Lover.
With a startling gasp, you’re brought out of your reverie. They’re back again. Closer.
“Earth to Y/N! You’ve got customers!” Your manager shrieked at you.
You quickly shake your head and put away the rag you’ve been using to clean the same spot for the past few minutes and try to focus on the ever growing line in front of you. It would be a long morning of people demanding soy this and nonfat that. You took a deep breath to prepare for the oncoming onslaught that was coming your way and put on your best fake smile to welcome the next guest.
Hours later, you’re finally off of your feet and chilling out in the back room for your fifteen minute break. Your mind is wandering back to the voices you heard this morning. All very different and saying different things, but the meaning all the same.
How long have you been here? Surely, it hasn’t been long, right? It’s August now, and you settled down in this area around May. Was it already time to leave again?
You had grown accustomed to your frequent nomadic lifestyle, sure. However, picking up everything and moving on was starting to get frustrating since you just started at this new job to keep yourself afloat. But you couldn’t help it. Once the voices came, it was like a warning of what was to come and you shuddered at the thought of trying to pull the same stunt you did in Denver.
Fighting back only made it worse. You’d be left comatose again and that wasn’t an option.
You’ve gotta keep moving. Perhaps after work you could—
“Y/N! I need you out here!” Her voice was really starting to annoy you but at least you could distract your mind for a few hours more.
Grumbling to yourself, you leaned back to give yourself the leverage of hauling yourself out of the not-so comfortable but welcoming chair and walked on your pulsating feet back to your register to smile at the next guest. Another long line of complicated orders. Just another few hours to go.
As you’re making a specialty item for a group of teenagers on their lunch break, you hear the door hit against the bell. Another customer needing their caffeine fix. In a way, you were like a drug dealer, enabling these people to get the highest they’ll ever be today and smirked to yourself.
The girls waiting around the counter all gasped and whispered in hushed voices, giggling.
Now, you know for a fact these kiddos weren’t laughing at you making their drinks, right? As you’re about to give them a piece of your mind you hear him.
“I’ll have a coffee, black.” He said with a bored tone. Your attention snaps from the girls to a man with blonde hair swept to one side. He’s wearing a gray shirt that accentuates the lines of his body and has a necklace dangling in front. He’s carelessly typing on his phone, not giving you any sort of regard. It wouldn’t have bothered you, had you not already been on edge. You rolled your eyes at him and started getting ingredients ready to make a new batch of coffee.
Once you poured it into a to-go cup, with the new state-of-the-art lid that promoted a cut back on plastic straws, you slid it over to him.
“That’ll be $2.60.” You totaled out for him, and fixed your attention on the register, hand out for his payment.
What you didn’t see was his eyes widening. His head slowly picking itself up to stare at you and your hand. His phone completely forgotten and clutched at his side.
Growing impatient, you looked back to him and gasped. He was staring deep into you but that’s not what scared you. His eyes tinged red for the slightest of seconds and he quickly threw a twenty dollar bill into your hand, grabbing his coffee and just about sprinting out of the cafe.
The girls whined at the absence of his presence impetuously but you paid them no mind. Your earlier negative attitude almost completely diminished. Immediately, your mind tried to come up with a logical explanation. Was he wearing contacts? No, contacts don’t change color, right? Trick of the light? Perhaps, if the lights inside weren’t already dim. Why do you care?
Why do you care?
Your vision blurred slightly before returning back to normal.
Already? In public?
You looked at the clock in panic and saw your shift was just about over. Surely, your boss wouldn’t mind if you left a few minutes earlier? Even if she did, you’d be leaving town soon and starting over anew. Who needed this place as a reference, anyways?
You huffed and made your way into the back room once more, seeing your boss in her low of the day. She’d been taking espresso shot after espresso shot this morning to keep up with the lines only to meet a hard crash in the afternoon. As you’re about to wake sleeping beauty, your co-worker comes in, ready for a shift change and you sent him a relieved smile.
Tossing your apron onto a nearby table, you made your way to your locker. You grabbed your over the shoulder bag and checked your phone for any messages, though you know the chances of seeing any sort of notifications were slim to none. Still, it brought you peace of mind and you shuffled out of the small building into the unforgiving, blistering heat.
How long has it been since you’ve lived like this? Maybe a little over a couple years? After high school had ended, you had these episodes. You had assumed it was your body trying to adapt to a new lifestyle of college and all the new adult things you had to do, but for some reason, it felt like there was something more. Your parents had sent you to countless psychiatrists, therapists, and psychologists to get opinion on top of opinion on what you could possibly have. All gave varying answers to diagnosis with prescriptions filled to the brim of medications that would pretty much put you into a vegetative state.
You had discovered soon after that these episodes would dampen each time you saw a new area. Each hospital you went to for treatment had a completely new environment that you welcomed. Not the hospitals themselves, but the areas around. Simply sitting outside in a new place seemed to calm you down.
That’s when you knew you had to keep moving.
Starting over was hard, but staying in once place brought the attacks.
As you made your way to your car, your mind once again wandered to the voices from earlier today. They only came when things were about to south. A forewarning of sorts. Then, you would start zoning out more frequently. Shadows would blind your vision and chills would overtake you. You’d only tried to fight it off once after being so tired of dealing with it. That was a mistake.
A mistake you learned from.
You quickly started your car and sped to the motel you were staying at. When you parked, you made a beeline for your door on the second floor. You quickly slide your card in and waited for the beep to let you in before chucking the door open and slamming it behind you.
Made it. You smiled softly and almost pat yourself on the back when you noticed the picture next to the messy bed. You sighed and sat down, throwing your keys and bag to the side while looking at the smiling faces. The picture was of you and your parents on a vacation. Times were tough and they couldn’t exactly pay for the most extravagant trip, but you were all excited to stay at a 4-star hotel by the beach nonetheless. It was a much simpler time and you missed your parents if you think too long about them. They were truly supportive of anything you did and wanted to be there with you every step of the way.
But you couldn’t let them. You didn’t know why, or how, but you knew staying near them wouldn’t be good for either party. Your sanity was slowly deteriorating and that was too much for everyone involved. Once you figured out a way to help yourself, you had had a long conversation with them about what you were going to do and how you were going to do it. They were a bit reluctant to let you go so hastily, but they understood this was something you had to do for yourself. They couldn’t send a lot of money, but when they did, it was usually when you were scraping the bottom of the barrel. It’s like they knew in some weird, helicopter parent way.
Thankfully, you had saved a few hundred from tips and whatever you made, so this next trip should be easy. You started packing when you heard an incessant knocking on your door that made you stand up straight.
It’s not the maid, right? Surely, they only came when rooms were vacant. The owner? But you paid for the room a day in advance.
You wearily made your way to the door and chanced a look through the peephole. You scanned around the area in front of your door only to see it empty. You sighed and leaned against the door, bumping your head against it in agitation. You’re losing it again? So soon? Your eyes closed, body sagging to the floor from pure exhaustion. Your feet ached, your legs were slightly numb, and your back and neck felt like you were a senior citizen who desperately needed a chiropractor.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Your eyes popped open as you felt the vibration of the door being pounded once more and pulled yourself up with the swagger of a cripple. Once again, no one was outside. You frowned and slowly stepped back, going through your options like some sort of video game story.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
You could do a few things here. Open the door like the dumb, first person who dies first in a horror flick does, or you could try and find a way out. You weren’t a criminal by any means and the worst thing you did was steal a toothbrush on a field trip to the grocery store with your class which had made you feel horrible. So this couldn’t be the police waiting on the sides of your archway, wanting to pummel in the door and arrest you. You didn’t know anyone here, not really, so it’s definitely not someone you know. It could be your boss trying to give you a hard time, but even then, you hadn’t put the motel address on the work application. Just your parents’ location.
Could it be your parents? They wouldn’t scare you like this.
You slid the lock onto the chain and slowly opened to door, letting the warm breeze into your cool room. Door ajar, but locked provided a small sense of security. You were sure someone could easily just kick the door in and break the chain lock, but that was neither here nor there.
With a sigh, you braced yourself and looked through the small crack.
Nothing.
No one.
Shit, you were losing it. You rolled your eyes at yourself before trying to close the door, only to get it stuck on something. Shocked, you tried putting weight against it, only to have it knock back at you. The edges of your vision darkened and you nearly whimpered at the familiarity of the situation.
You’re hallucinating and you needed to go. Now.
Leaving the door slightly cracked, you packed the remained of your stuff in your duffel bag. Your grabbed your family picture and held it tightly to yourself in one last embrace before packing it gingerly with your clothes and made your way back to your door.
It was closed now.
You breathed shakily as you grasped the doorknob, trying to build up the confidence to throw it open and run.
The moment you did so, you regretted it.
As soon as you threw caution to the wind and ran like hell, you were yanked down by your hair with a cry. Your vision weaving in and out relentlessly, breath coming out in panicked gasps.
Once you were sure it was just your imagination, you slowly made your way down the rickety stairs and towards your car before being thrown to the side by an invisible force.
You looked around in panic to see nothing out of the ordinary which made you that much more terrified. Just as you were about to get back up, you felt a blunt force hit you in your stomach, knocking you back down, face flat against the asphalt.
“SHIT!” You screamed in frustration and pain. Were you drugged? Was your imagination this wild? What the f—
Your slammed back up and then back down with a force harsh enough to bruise. You rolled into your back, trying to alleviate the force, only to get knocked again on your side and then dragged against the rough terrain.
“Please, no.” You begged. You waited once more for this to die out, only to feel a warm drag on your arm. A glance at it and you nearly screamed. Your entire arm was cut from elbow to wrist in one fell swoop.
You need to go. Now.
You huffed. Enough was enough. You slowly tried to pull yourself in an army-like crawl, only to get dragged back.
You were going to die. In a damned motel parking lot like some washed up prostitute. Great.
Just as you were willing to accept defeat, a growl resounded around you. You could hear a blunt object hitting another again and again. You didn’t care, though. You were just thankful it stopped it’s attack on you.
Before you lose all consciousness, you heard the voice. His voice.
“My Queen.”
Please do NOT repost. All rights reserved.
#monsta x x you#monsta x x reader#ot7 x reader#ot7 x you#kpop#kpop fanfic#monsta x#monsta x fanfic#vampire au#monsta x fic#kpop fic
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Shifting Sands
Who: Joss Rose & Lena Luthor (@chaoticscribblings) ft. Kara & Alex Danvers
What: The day after a night out, Joss visits Lena to get the results of the MRI she ran on them. Shortly after receiving the results, Kara arrives after seeing a news article about Lena “dating Supergirl” angry about her keeping Joss from here. A fight breaks out between Joss and Kara, only escalated by Alex’s arrival. Eventually, after everything has settled, Lena takes Joss home to take care of them.
Notes: This was written on discord on a whim and not all of it is entirely formatted like a proper para. This is also long as fuck.
cos all I'm imagining is these idiots having a good time and someone realizing that Joss looks like Supergirl and just full on jumping to "Lena Luthor is dating Supergirl"
and also the drama cos cue Kara Danvers bursting in and being like "Why didn't you tell me there was someone that looks exactly like me?"
but also Lena's immediate reply being "how long did you keep your identity as Supergirl from me?"
yep, that's exactly how it will go down
or worse, Kara accuses Lena of making a clone
Now I'm just imagining Joss showing up at the WRONG time, or like already having been there for something but had gone to the bathroom
"I heard shouting, everything- Oh, so YOURE Kara."
Oh god, can you imagine it being after the MRI and Joss being there to talk to Lena about what she found?
Like, the first night out people report about Lena being seen on a date with someone. From there, they do the MRI, go out after cos they both need it, which is when someone realizes that Joss looks like Supergirl, cue the next day when Joss goes to see Lena to talk about it and BAM! Kara
Poor Joss still trying to wrap their head around finding out there is something IN their head, and coming back from a freak out in the bathroom to Lena and Kara yelling at each other.
Lena being told "You really are a Luthor"
Joss jumping straight into fight mode
that's just a bad idea all over lol
Kara aka Supergirl Vs. Joss with inhibitors
Lena yelling "Turn them off! Turn them off!"
"If a bitch can't win a fight without using her powers then she's nothing worth anything to me."
Lena's just there cringing and using her phone to try and figure out the fastest way to scramble the signal on the inhibitors
next thing any of them known Alex is showing up, for similar reasons and Kara, because let's be real she wouldn't be too far behind
oh God, Alex shows up Lena will be shouting "Turning the fucking things off! Shoot first. Remember?!"
The argument that ensues when the fighting eventually stops about them wanting to take Joss to the DEO. Lena - "Over my dead body"
"I feel like we shouldn't put that past them."
"You're not taking them so you treat them like your science lab project and dissect them and torture them with tests! No matter what you think of me, Joss is a living being, who until you showed up and started throwing accusations around, wouldn't start a fight with anyone. So, if you want to take them to the DEO, you better put a bullet in my brain because like hell am I going let you."
Joss just staring at Lena for a bit and then wrapping their arms around her. "And if you think I'll go easy if you shoot her, I can promise you now, I won't. Because I will turn off the inhibitors and I will fight as hard as I can, and I won't really care who gets hurt. Because I have worked too fucking long and too fucking hard in this life to just be another person. I'm not going into some fucking cage to be used as a lab rat or whatever else, without a fight."
Mind you I kinda imagine they've got a busted lip at minimum and are still refusing to turn the damn things off to heal
Joss at some point while everyone is arguing over what to do just being like "And I thought finding out I had space junk stuck in my head was going to be the worst part of today." in the most defeated fucking voice ever
I just imagine everyone in the room turning to look at them because "What did they just say?"
Lena just ignoring everyone else and being like, "We will fix it, I promise."
but also now I'm imagining Alex looking at Joss, probably curled in on themself, just looking fucking terrified and not being able to unsee every time she's seen Kara look like that
which is what softens Alex about the situation a little
"If you're gonna keep arguing about what to do with me, can I at least call my roommate and tell him I might not be home tonight? He worries if I don't let him know."
"No one is doing anything with you. Whatever happens, is entirely down to you," shoots pointed glare at Kara and Alex, "but if you want to call Isaac, then do. You're more than welcome to stay with me tonight."
Joss just nodding and going out to the balcony, with their back to the windows, so no one but probably Kara hears them breakdown, even if it's written all over their posture.
Lena totally staring at Alex and Kara like she's going to throttle them before basically telling them to get out before she calls security.
yep and before they even get the chance to protest she goes out to be with Joss
Lena eventually reprimanding Joss for being an idiot tho
"Were you trying to get yourself killed?!"
"No, but if I'd used my powers, there would have been a bigger risk of destruction, a higher probability of you getting hurt. I wasn't going to take that chance. Not after you obviously risked so much to keep my secret safe. And I'm sorry, but she doesn't seem like such a good friend, because friends don't say shit like that, they don't go accusing people of being evil with zero basis."
"I'm a Luthor, that's basis enough for most." Inspects Joss' busted lip, "Are you going to turn your inhibitors off to let that heal or shall I go get some ice?"
"Well they're wrong. Names are nothing but sounds. If they can't distinguish you from your family then I don't think they know you." They sigh and run a finger under the hem of their shirt. "Isaac says thanks, by the way. For watching out for me. He's always worried that one day I'll be found out and I won't come home. Because aliens in this city go missing sometimes, wrong place, wrong time and they're gone and he's scared that'll happen to me. Now I guess his worries have a solid foundation."
"My brother tried to kill Superman, my mother keeps trying to kill Supergirl, why should I be any different? That's how people see me." She reaches for Joss' hand and gives it a gentle but reassuring squeeze. "That's not going to happen to you, you understand me? I won't let it happen and if for whatever reason I fail you and it does happen, you need to understand that I will come looking for you and that I will not stop looking for you until I find you and when I do I will make those responsible pay."
"Because you're Lena fucking Luthor, and everything you have ever done proves you are not the monster this world wants to make you out to be." They lean against her and squeeze her hand back. "Thank you, Lena. And, if you want, if it'll appease them, you can send them the results of the tests you ran. I have nothing to hide, from them or you or anyone. I can email you what I know about where I crashed, what was later found there. You can pass that on. Maybe they'll be able to make something of it all. At least more than I can."
"Yet you seem to be the only one of this world to see that." She let out a sigh, finding herself also leaning into Joss. "You don't need to appease anyone, Joss. I will involve them as little as possible, preferably not at all but their database has a far more extensive range of information surrounding what the material might be. Whatever they come up with, do not go anywhere with them without me, please. I want to oversee anything they do to make sure they don't try and do something they shouldn't. No matter what happens in all of this, I swear to you, I will keep you safe."
"And that is a loss for the rest of the world." They close their eyes for a bit. "Why are you so protective of me, Lena? Not that I don't appreciate it, I do, more than anything, but why risk so much for me?"
"I care about what happens to you. The thought of them locking you up in a cell fuelled by kryptonite which would not only render you powerless but also cause you pain is something that I cannot stand. They view you as a threat, as a thing to be experimented on, just because you look very much like Kara, they don't care that the only things you have in common are that you look alike and are both kryptonian. It makes me sick to think of them punishing you for something when there has been no wrong doing. They don't care about who you are, your passions, your life, you. I do. I care and I will not let them take away your freedom, your life, or that there are people that care about you."
"How can the world not see it? How genuinely good you are?"
Lena is suddenly fascinated by her feet
"Hey, my eyes are up here."
Lena reluctantly looks up, unsure of what she's supposed to say in response to the questions Joss had asked. Was she genuinely good? Was the world that blind? She had no idea anymore. Too used to being told that she was just like her brother and mother, she was just 'another Luthor' despite her best efforts to be anything but.
Joss smiled at Lena as she looked up at them. "You, Lena, are what the Luthor name should be known for. You have done so much good and received nothing but doubt and hate for it, and that is so wrong. Supergirl might be the hero of National City, but you are mine."
Lena felt like Joss had just hurled a boulder into her throat, she was speechless. Her vision blurred with the threat of tears. Instead of being just 'another Luthor' Joss saw her as what the Luthor's should be known be for. She wasn't the inadequate Luthor that would turn out like her brother or mother, she was Lena Luthor and she was what the family name should be known for. She reached up and gently cupped Joss' cheek, her voice straining as she uttered, "Thank you."
They smiled at her leaning so their forehead was resting against hers. "No, thank you. For keeping my secret. For agreeing to help me. For listening to me rant and rave about fashion. For taking time to go out and drink with me, even when I'm sure you had more important things to do."
"You listened to me rant and rave," she pointed out with a weak chuckle before adding, "if you think there was something more important to me than getting to spend time with you, you're wrong."
"Because watching me get drunk and eat entirely too many soft pretzel bites and wings is somehow as important as your work?"
"Did you miss the part where getting to spend time with you is important to me?"
"No, but it's hard to believe that you thought so that first time. I mean, c'mon, I'm not that special. You barely even knew me."
“I knew enough to know that I wanted to know more about you. Also, Joss, you are that special, even if you don’t realise it.”
"I guess I'm just not used to people wanting to know more. Spent so long keeping to myself. Head down, work hard, live a normal life. And then you and your Cyclone decided to pull me in."
“Lets be honest, it had nothing to do with me, it was all the Cyclone,” Lena smirked.
"No. It was you. The Cyclone was just bonus."
“Do you mean that?”
"You could have handed me any dress in need of repair and I'd have still asked you out."
Lena studied Joss’ face for a moment, searching for any indication that they were lying. A smile crossed her lips when she found no trace of deceit and closed the distance between them to press her lips softly to Joss’.
Joss was a little surprised by the feeling of Lena's lips on theirs, all too aware that their inhibitors were off and the ability to hurt her, even from something as simple as kissing back too hard. But they did it anyway, a little wary, and beyond gentle, arms wrapping fully around her to pull her just a little closer.
Lena smiled against Joss’ lips as she was pulled that little bit closer. She knew the inhibitors were off, which was why she wasn’t deepening the kiss, she knew Joss was wary of their strength. Yet, for someone who possessed unimaginable strength, they were so gentle. Her hand stayed against Joss’ cheek as she reluctantly pulled back, “So, about that ice for your lip...”
Joss licked their lip at the mention of it, the place where the split had once been completely healed. "All better, but if you're still worried, I hear kissing it better does wonders." They smirked but sighed. "Though I really want to get out of here. I'm really tired, L."
“Who knew I had a super power of my own?” Lena chuckled. Reaching up, she gently ran her fingers through Joss’ hair, “Let’s head home so you can get some rest. You’re not used to using your powers, I imagine it must be very draining.”
"Me." They smirk. "I'm not really used to getting the shit kicked out of me by a bar of steel with arms and legs, either. And that doesn't even cover the emotional shit today."
“Its been a day, that’s for certain.” She pressed another delicate kiss to Joss’ lips. “Let’s get you out here and into bed.”
"Mmhmm." They kissed back a little and sighed. "Just a warning, I might not stay there. It's rare but I can float in my sleep."
“That’s ok, I’ll make sure you don’t float away,” Lena promised, “I just care that you get some rest.”
"Thanks, L."
SJ09/13/2020
Lena smiled at her newly acquired monicker, “Come on, let’s get you to bed. I’ll cook us some dinner after you’ve had some rest, ok? But for now, let’s get out of here.”
"Lead the way."
time jump to Lean’s home
Lena led Joss through to her bedroom, “I’ll get you something that you can get changed into so you’ll be more comfortable,” she spoke as she moved around her room, retrieving shorts and a loose fitting shirt, “you get changed and I’ll go make us some tea, ok?”
"Thanks," they took the clothes offered to them. While they could have changed in an instant, they elected not to. If only because it gave them time to think, to process everything.
Lena left the room and set about her task, returning a few moments later with two mugs, to find Joss still in their clothes. “Hey,” she placed the mugs on the bedside table, moving over to Joss, “you ok in there?” she asked softly, her hand moving to tuck some fallen hair behind Joss’ ear.
Joss had managed to kick out of their shoes before the weight of everything had come crashing down on top of them. They hadn't even realized they'd zoned out until Lena had returned. "Everything is so loud," they mumbled.
“Ok,” Lena hushed, her mind working at a fast pace as she sought to relieve some of Joss’ discomfort. She moved to her bedside table and quickly retrieved some earplugs from the drawer. “They’re new,” she promised, “I keep them for flying. Put them in and come lay down with me. I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep.”
They watched Lena for a few moments. They nodded with a quiet thanks as they took the earplugs and put them in before using their superspeed to change, figuring they might as well get it over with before they had time to zone out again. They then climbed into bed, still trying to focus their attention on one solid sound instead of the thousands that still reached them even with the earplugs in.
Once Joss was in bed, Lena kicked off her shoes and got in beside them and gently pulled them into her arms, she dare not say anything, afraid of added more noise. No, her purpose was to just be there and remain as silent as physically possible.
Joss curled against Lena, head against her chest, deciding the best sound they could focus on was the one below them. The sound of Lena's heart. Then Joss started humming. It was something they did almost nightly, an added way to block out the noise and soothe themself to sleep.
Lena smiled at the way Joss curled into her and pressed a barely their kiss to the top of their head. She listened as they hummed and held them tightly, thinking to herself of how she would deal with Kara the next time she saw her.
In time Joss would fall asleep, curling further into themself and away from Lena in the process, nothing about them was relaxed. Whimpering and moaning like they were injured or scared.
Lena couldn’t switch off. Her mind preoccupied with the dangers and challenges that Joss would face now that Kara and the DEO knew of their existence. It wasn’t until she was faced with the sudden lack of warmth from Joss curling away that she broke out of her thoughts. The moans and whimpers were heartbreaking and Lena could imagine what Joss was dreaming off, she was still uncertain of what exactly the fragments in Joss’ brain would impact besides their memory. “Joss,” she was careful in her movements, not wanting to startle Joss into consciousness. Reaching out Lena gently stroked the others cheek, “come back to me.”
Joss seemed to settle, if only a little, at the sound of Lena's voice, not quite coming back to consciousness but still shifting back towards her. Their body uncurled slightly at the hand to their cheek, long legs finding one of Lena's and tangling with it.
Lena noticed the way Joss seemed to settle at her voice, the way they had tangled their legs around one of her own as if grounding themselves despite still being asleep. "That's it," she uttered softly as she gently caressed their cheek, "use my as your anchor. You're safe. I'll keep you safe."
The more Lena soothed, the more Joss settled. Their body relaxed fully in time and when it did, Joss slowly started to hover. It wasn't much just enough to keep them off the bed, one of their feet still tucked securely securely under Lena's at the ankle, as if actually using her to keep them tethered.
Lena was in awe as Joss levitated from the bed and moved to bring her other leg around to secure the foot beneath her ankle further. She continued to speak softly, for whatever reason it was obviously soothing the kryptonian. "You weren't kidding about floating in your sleep, but that's ok. You keep floating. I'm here. You can float like a kite and I'll be string, I'll make sure you don't float away."
And that's what Joss did. They floated and slept, occasionally thrashing and whimpering but always settling when their foot caught on Lena's ankles.
Eventually, they dropped back to the bed as they started to stir. A sleepy smile crossed their face as they looked over at Lena, flexing the foot still caught in her ankles.
Every time Joss would show any sign of disturbed sleep, Lena would reach up and stroke their cheek, quietly uttering words of unimportant things.
"Hi floaty," Lena greeted softly, as Joss returned to earth, "I suppose you'd like your foot back?" she chuckled. "You feeling any better now that you've had some rest?"
Joss chuckled a little, burying their face in the pillow for a few moments. "Y'can keep it, if ya want," They mumbled, voice a little rough. "Yeah, things aren't as loud." Joss did get used to their powers the more they left the inhibitors off, able to tune things out, focus easier, but they so rarely let it happen and especially not while away from their own home.
Lena grinned, "Good, because I wasn't planning on letting you have it back yet." She moved her foot along Joss' ankle to prove her point. "That's good," she was genuinely glad that things had quietened for Joss, she couldn't imagine what it must be like to be able to hear everything at fully volume all the time, it sounded like something that could drive an individual to insanity. "What were you dreaming about?" she asked softly, "There were moments where it seemed like you were trapped in a nightmare."
They laughed a little as Lena spoke and the way she moved their ankle. At the question about what they were dreaming of, they shrugged. "I never remember much. Sometimes if my inhibitors are on I'll remember pain, darkness, fire. I think it's the crash. Feeling like I can't breath, like I have to get out, but I can't. But, normally, I don't know. I don't remember. Sometimes, though, I'll remember a song, a lullaby. It's engrained in my memory but I don't know the words, I can't understand them. With it comes the shadow of a woman in a cloak. Always watching, leaving things, but I never know where I am or what's actually happening." They sighed. "And sometimes I just feel anger, hatred, towards people I don't know. Names, especially, bring it to the surface. Or things I see. The first time I saw that crest the Supers wear. I wanted to burn it, like it'd done me wrong. But I'm not that kind of person. Hell, even today with Kara... I don't know if it was just what she'd said or who she was. All I knew was that I was angry and I hated what she said I wanted her to hurt for that, for treating you that way. For thinking she's so much better."
Lena listened intently, it certainly sounded like Joss got the briefest glimpse of memories during their dreams but they were so brief that they couldn't process the scenario in order to be able to understand it and the feelings attached to it. "I'm going to do everything I can to help you get your memories back," she promised as she placed a hand on Joss' chest, "I will help you find the reasons behind these things that you can't understand because you don't have access to all of the information. As for the things that Kara said..." a defeated sigh left her lips, "she is better than me and she's not the only one to think that I'm going to to follow in my families footsteps. You can't fight everyone that thinks those things about me."
They smiled at Lena, covering her hand with their own. "Stop talking like that. She is not. Anyone who can say they're a friend and yet jump to such horrid conclusions without proof, are no better than the very conclusions they jump to. That bullshit she spouts about Hope, Help, and Compassion for all is just that, bullshit. Empty lies, because if you can't look at your so-called friend and see the good they have done, despite it all, you're nothing but a hypocrite." The huffed, moving to curl up against Lena again.
Lena wrapped her arms around Joss and pressed a kiss to the top of their head. "Hypocrite or not, you still can't fight her for the way she thinks about me. Especially when you have your inhibitors turned off." She moved to rest her head atop of Joss' as she moved her legs to entangle the others with her own. "You could've been seriously hurt..."
They sighed, burying their face in the crook of her neck. "What good is someone if the only battles they fight are with their powers? How can they say they know how to protect people?" Joss honestly didn't care about getting hurt, they knew, in time they'd heal. That they could turn the inhibitors off, but they also knew they were reckless with their powers and the idea of accidentally hurting Lena because they were trying to fight with their powers wasn't something they could handle the thought of.
"Kara will realise in time, she always does," Lena uttered, "she's just not as on the ball as you are when it comes to knowing whether I'd follow in my brothers footsteps or not." She brought a hand to the back of Joss' head and began to idly run her fingers through their hair. "Please don't fight her, Joss. With or without your powers. There are some things that you can't heal from and the DEO almost always has access to those things and they have very little issues with using them." She had seen what the DEO were capable of, she wasn't going to let them do anything to Joss. She cared too much about them to let anything like that happen to them. "I can't let them hurt you."
"And yet she's known you longer." Their words were almost bitter, the idea that someone could know Lena as long as Kara had and yet still looked at her like she'd snap and become her brother. That was the kind of thing that made lesser people do such things. "Fine, I won't, but that doesn't change that I would. If she ever..." Joss sighed, pressing a soft kiss to the side of Lena's neck.
"Kal-El is her cousin, my brother attacked him, numerous times," she sighed, "I'm not saying that excuses her, but her opinion of me has been tainted from the start. Yours never has been. Your opinion of me is entirely your own." Lena pulled away slightly after the kiss to her neck, "Look at me," she gently guided Joss to look up her, "Kara and so many others will always see me as nothing but another Luthor and I can't change that. The only person that I care what they think about me, is you."
Joss grumbled as Lena explained. It shouldn't matter. Lena wasn't Lex. It would be like saying Chris should want to go into costuming because Joss did. Or, given the apparent relation between Kara and Joss, that Joss should want to be a hero. Everyone has the capacity to be good, if given a chance it seemed the Supers and the rest of the world refused to give Lena that chance. They looked at her, still frowning as Lena spoke. Though they couldn't help but smile, leaning in to press a kiss to her lips. "And I think you are so much better than you think you are, because you're still listening to everyone who has said you aren't good enough. I'm gonna change that." And they meant it. They would get Lena to see just how good she was, how amazing, because she deserved that more than anything.
"Well, everyone has been saying it for a long time," Lena began, "it might mean that you have to stick around a while." She smiled, as her her eyes darted about Joss' face, it was obvious that Kara and Joss were identical twins, even a high school dropout could reach that conclusion but the more Lena looked at them, the more she could see just how very different they looked despite being identical. "You might have kryptonian powers, but I think your super power is the way you see people."
"Well, I already planned to stick around, so you'll just have to get used to me telling you how amazing you are." They pressed another kiss to Lena's lips. "Get it from my mama. To look at the big picture of a person. So someone like you, you've got a bad family, people who hate and despise everyone including you, but then you go out of your way to be different. You choose to put money and effort towards the good. To help people. To heal and repay a debt you don't owe on, but feel you do. You have every reason to just give up and be who everyone says you are, yet you don't. You keep fighting and you keep doing good. That is what makes you good. That is what makes you better than so many others."
Lena smiled against Joss’ lips, knowing that they planned on sticking around made her happy. “Your mama raised an incredible individual.” It was very rare that Lena found someone who could see her for who she was, and those she did have like that lived on another planet. She didn’t have words to reply to the kind words, so instead she pressed her lips firmly against the ones in front of her and let the kiss convey her feelings.
Joss kissed her back with a smile before pulling away. "M'sorry to cut this short, but you mentioned food earlier and uh... I kinda haven't eaten today... Was gonna do that after I saw you, and then well... shit hit the fan."
"You haven't eaten?!" Lena lightly slapped Joss' arm. "Naughty J," she she chuckled before pressing another kiss to Joss' lips, "ok," she pulled away, "I said I'd cook for you, so let's go see what I actually have in the kitchen that's worth cooking, hm?"
"I was nervous, okay. I wouldn't have kept it down." And it's true. They'd honestly been beyond worried about the results and it seemed they had every right to be. "Why do I have a feeling we're about to order take out?" They teased as they untangled themself from Lena, even if they really didn't want to, they needed food and letting Lena get up was required.
"Ok, I take it back," Lena smiled briefly before she feigned offence, "Are you saying that I can't cook?" She sat up reluctantly, "Perhaps I should just offer you a crust of bread and some water," she threatened playfully.
"No, I'm worried you spend so much time at the office you're not home long enough to have groceries, or at least enough to cook for a Kryptonian." They gently poked her side playfully.
"Nice save," Lena laugh as she moved to stand up. "Ok, you may have a point on that one. I usually only cook for myself and because I spend so much time at the office I don't keep anything fully stocked." The more she thought about, the more she realised that even if she did have food in the house, it wouldn't be enough to feed a kryptonian. "Ok, fine. Take out this time. Just no pot stickers, ok?"
"There was no saving! Who offers to cook for someone if they can't?" Joss sat up, watching Lena move. They smirked a bit when she conceded that they were right. Though their eyebrows momentarily scrunched when she said no potstickers. "What's your opinion on Indian? Cos I could go for some lamb curry right about now." They wanted warm and comforting and a little spicy and curry was the perfect thing.
"Hey, I can cook! I just forgot the part where you're kryptonian and could eat a whole horse." It was true, she knew that she had enough food to throw together a light meal or whatever but there's no way she could feed a kryptonian. "I think that sounds like an excellent idea. Do you know a place or should I grab my laptop so we can hunt one down?"
"Exactly." They smiled, nodding a bit when she asked if they knew of a place. "I have them on speed dial... Wherever my phone is." They couldn't even remember what article of clothing it'd been in, provided they'd even had it in a pocket at all. They'd been so drained, they weren't even sure they'd grabbed it off the table in Lena's office.
"Do you know the number or just have it on speed dial?" Lena asked as she reached for her phone, as her eyes scanned the pile of clothes on her floor for any indication of Joss' phone, "You can call from my phone?" she suggested.
"Uh, mostly just have it on speed dial. It takes A LOT for me to memorize stuff." Sure, once they had something memorized it was stuck but actually committing things to memory was hard. They worked exceptionally hard to memorize things but when they could do something like leave a number in their phone they did.
"Well, that's not particularly helpful," Lena chuckled as she put her phone back on the bedside table and bent over to retrieve the clothes off the floor. "I'd like to point out that I am in no way suggesting that you put these back on," she spoke as she turned to put the clothes on the bed, "but I don't know how comfortable you'd be with my rummaging through your pockets."
Joss just shrugged. They laughed a bit. "I mean all you'd find is my wallet, my keys, and hopefully my phone." Joss was pretty minimal when it came to what they carried on a regular basis. "Oh and a mini sewing kit." Even still, they grabbed their clothes and started rummaging through their pockets, thankful when the last thing they pulled out was their phone. "And it's nearly dead..." Because of course it was. "So, we'll still need to use your phone."
"I'm not worried about what I'd find in your pockets," Lena laughed as she climbed onto the bed and sat on her haunches as she watched Joss search for their phone, "I trust you. I just respect you enough to not go searching through your things without your permission." Of course there phone was almost dead, that was always the way, turning almost awkwardly, she reached behind herself and grabbed her phone from beside the bed and offered it to Joss, "Here.
They smiled when she explained herself. "That's nice to hear, honestly." While they definitely didn't have minded her doing so, it was nice she respected them enough to not do so. "Thanks." They took her phone and put in the number, taking the liberty to save it into her contacts, just in case. They then dialed the number.
"Hey, yeah, this is Joss. Yeah, I need my usual and, hold on," they looked at Lena, "What do you want?"
Lena’s eyebrow arched when it became apparent that Joss was on a first name basis with the takeaway but quickly scolded herself because she may as well own shares in the place her and Kara always order from.
“Double up on yours,” Lena replied, “and a naan bread please.” Indian was not Indian without naan bread. It had been a long time since she’d had Indian and she hadn’t ordered from this place before so she was putting her tastebuds in Joss’ hands.
Joss chuckled a bit as Lena gave her answer. "Another lamb curry and another thing of naan. Mmhmm, actually make that two more curries. Yeah. Uh, different address," They waited for Lena to give them the address and relayed it to the person on the other end of the line.
Once everything was confirmed they hung up and held the phone out to Lena. "Maybe half an hour. They're closer to you than they are to me, apparently. Or it's a slow night and they actually have enough made to fill the order without needing to make too much more. Probably both." There was a reason Joss was on a first name basis with the place, they spent a lot of money everytime and they also genuinely enjoyed the food.
Now that the food was ordered, Lena suddenly realised they had the problem of drinks. Not because she was in short supply, she actually had a pretty extensive collection of wines, whiskeys, and a few others she had been gifted over the years through business deals, it was just that she had absolutely nothing in the way of alien alcohol. "So I know human alcohol has no effect on whatsoever," she spoke as she accepted her phone back, "but would you like a glass of wine or anything like that with dinner?"
"I'll have whatever you're having. It's likely for the best I don't have anything that can effect me tonight, as is." They liked getting tipsy, they enjoyed being drunk to an extent, but with the way their head was, emotions still trying to process, being held at bay merely by distractions, the last thing they needed was alcohol. "Thanks again, for everything you've done. You didn't have to, but I'm grateful you did."
"I was going to have a glass of wine but I don't like the idea of me getting to take the edge off of today when you can't," Lena admitted. It had definitely been a day and had she been alone she'd probably be starting her second bottle by now, which granted, wasn't the healthiest coping mechanism in the world but it helped. At least that's what she would tell herself. "What on earth are you thanking me for?" Lena asked incredulously, moving so that she was closer to Joss and placed a hand on the others, "You were the one that defended me, it should be me thanking you."
"Me trying to take the edge off would probably need a run around the entire city. Even if you had something here that would effect me I know for a fact it wouldn't end well. You're allowed to take the edge off, even if I can't." They smiled at her as she moved over to them. "I'm thanking you for taking care of me. For trusting me enough to let me into your home, your private space. For watching over me. For being my anchor. You didn't have to do any of that. You could have sent me on my way home. You could have handed me off to the DEO. You chose to protect me. That is why I'm thanking you, along with a million other reasons from just today."
"You fought someone who has honed their powers, you used your powers despite the fact that it goes against the way you live your life," she spoke softly, "you did that to defend me and you didn't have to. You really think I'd hand you over to the DEO? Let them conduct their little experiments to prove what I was able to learn in our first meeting?" Lena shook her head, "Not in this lifetime. I took care of you because I wanted to, because I care about you and I don't see that changing so you had better get used to me watching over you when you need to recover, to keep you anchored so you can rest. I may not have kryptonian powers but I will do my very best to protect you and keep you safe."
Joss wrapped their arms around Lena pulled her closer. "And those are things worth being thanked for. Just because you're used to doing things without thanks doesn't mean you don't deserve that thanks. And I fully intend on thanking you for the things you do for me. Because it is the easiest thing and it is the least, I can do." They leaned in and placed a soft kiss to Lena's lips.
Lena wrapped her arms around Joss' neck, "I will tell you repeatedly not to thank me, you do realise this?" she chuckled. "But, if a kiss accompanies every thank you, I'm not going to complain it," she admitted as she pressed her lips to Joss'.
Joss smiled into the kiss. "So you're stubborn, there are fabrics harder to work with than you." They teased. "And even the hardest of fabrics will soften in time, and if kisses are what it takes with you, well..." Joss kissed her again with a grin. "That's easy."
Lena laughed, "You say that now, you've yet to encounter me in a bad mood." She smiled at the kiss and found herself wondering if this is what it felt like to be truly trusted, that being with another person could be easy and relaxed. "Thank you," her words were sincere, "not for today, although obviously I am grateful for that, but thank you for seeing me and not my family."
"I'm sure I can handle it, L." Everyone had a right to bad moods and in time they were sure they'd see Lena's. They might even be the reason, though they prayed not often. It was what one did when said bad moods arose that mattered and Joss was willing to find out what it took to handle those. As she thanked them they shook their head. "It pains me that, something as simple as seeing you as your own person is something you see the need to thank me for."
Lena moved a hand to Joss' cheek and studied their face, "Please don't feel pain for me, not over this." She had dealt with feelings of inadequacy since the moment she moved in with her father and his family, she had dealt with never ending judgement since then. It was what had built her, shaped her into who she was now, it was what made her strive to do better than her best, it was what pushed her to go further than her limits, it was what made her persevere whenever she encounter challenges, it was the reason she never gave up without a fight. It was also the reason for many nights of crying herself to sleep out of sheer loneliness and the inability to make a connection with another where they saw Lena and a Luthor.
"L, no one deserves to feel so invisible the idea of someone seeing them for themself is worth thanking them." They pulled her even closer so she was properly standing between their legs. "You are the most amazing woman I have met, except for my mama, and even then, you give her a run for her money."
Lena wasn't entirely sure how to respond so she rest her face against Joss' collarbone. No one had ever taken the time to see her like this, not truly. The closest she had come was Sam but with Sam living on Argo Lena found herself once again alone. Kara kept secrets and always second guessed her motives. It was Alex's job to question her motives given Lex's past with Superman. More often than not, Lena was a business woman or 'another Luthor' and nothing more. "Don't let your mama hear you say that," she joked, her voice strained with emotion.
One of their hands moved to Lena's head as her face fell against their collarbone, hooking a finger gently into the ponytail holder keeping her hair up in what had to be an unholy tight ponytail. Slowly they worked it out, letting long ebony hair fall free, slipping the band around their wrist. they then began to run their fingers through her hair. "I think my mama would be honored that someone who has struggled so much and done so much good is being compared to her."
At first Lena wasn't sure what Joss was doing but when her hair was set free she let out a sigh of relief as some of the tension was eased around her skull. As fingers began to run through her hair, she found herself pressing herself further against Joss and allowed herself a moment to let her guard down and bask in the feeling of safety. She wanted to argue that she hadn't struggled, that she was beyond privileged but she knew the moment she did she would break the calm she was currently revelling in, that she would revert to being on guard so she remained silent.
Joss hummed quietly as their fingers continued to run through her hair. It was nice, honestly, just being there, existing with her. As much as the day had stressed them out, they couldn't help but find themself relaxing as their fingers moved through her hair. There was just something so soothing about her presence.
Lena listened to Joss hum, content to stay exactly where she was and let Joss care for her. Joss allowed her to be herself, it was ok to be fragile because she trusted Joss not to break her. The longer she stayed as she was, the more she could feel herself letting go of the days tensions and actually beginning to relax. Which was both a good thing and a not so good thing, as she relaxed she became of just how tense she had been from the ache in her muscles. "So much better than wine," she murmured softly.
Joss chuckled a little as she said it was better than wine. "Better than wine and all they're doing is running through your hair. You should feel what else I can do with them." They weren't sure if they'd meant to say that, but they were definitely sure they hadn't meant for it to come off as inappropriate as it probably did. Even still, they just let their fingers keep moving through her hair, hoping if they didn't point out the innuendo it'd pass by, because they might be at kissing but they definitely were not at where their comment could lead.
Lena had to bite her bottom lip to stop herself from laughing at the obvious innuendo. Neither of them were ready to go there yet, at least she wasn't. "Is that your way of letting me know that you're a masseuse as well as a tailor?" she lightly teased before continuing, "I'm serious though. Given the choice between a glass of wine and being like this with you, this is what I would choose."
Joss let out a breath they'd been holding when she went the way Joss had definitely meant it. "I mean, not certified or anything, but I'm not bad. Or so Isaac tells me." They smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "I like being like this too." Lena's phone went off and Joss sighed. "I think that's the food, and unless you want to risk your neighbors seeing me barely dressed, I need to get up and put pants on.
“You’ll have to prove that to me one day,” she chuckled, content against Joss. When her phone disturbed their peace she was angry at it, until she realised it was that their food had arrived. “Or,” Lena pulled back, “you can stay all relaxed and comfy and I’ll go answer the door.” She was still dressed as it was, she didn’t see the need for Joss to have to get changed again unnecessarily. “Besides,” she chortled, “if my neighbours see you I might get accused of hiring Supergirl to be maid.” And as funny an accusation that would be, Lena really did not want to deal with Kara on her back over it.
"I can definitely do that." They chuckled a bit. "You gonna forge my signature, L?" They teased with a raise of their eyebrow and a tilt of their head. As much as it'd be easier if Lena did so, there was still the signature on the receipt to worry about. "I mean, the press already thinks you're dating her, isn't that how we got ourselves into this mess? I'm sure your neighbors can take their guesses off that.
"It wouldn't be the first time I've been accused of forgery," she laughed. Lena knew that Joss had a point and despite being accused of forgery, it wasn't something she did. She let out a scandalous gasp, "Supergirl in bed with the sister who's brother tried to kill her cousin!" Her face split into a grin, "Kara would LOVE that." She pressed a kiss to Joss' lips, "Fine, get dressed and go scandalise the neighbours and I'll go get things ready."
Joss rolled their eyes as she said she'd been accused of forgery, because of course she had been. They were starting to wonder what, besides being a genuinely good person, she hadn't been accused of. "I mean, weirder things have happened." They chuckled as they stood. "And she can't even prove them wrong without having giving answers about me she doesn't have." They kiss Lena back with a grin. "I'll only be slightly scandalizing them with pants on, so... could be worse?" And like that they were slipping back into their pants, not even really bothering to take off the shorts, since the shirt was long enough to cover anything left open, grabbing their wallet, and heading out to get the food, barley remembering to put their shoes on.
They returned moments later, both arms full of bags of food. "I come baring curry, lots and lots of curry."
While Joss went to retrieve their food, Lena left to go grab some plates and cutlery as well as two wine glasses, a bottle of wine and a couple bottles of water. Ordinarily she wasn't a fan of eating in her bedroom, but she was quite enjoying just hanging out there with Joss, it wasn't something she'd ever really done.
"Good lord," she exclaimed through laughter, "that is a LOT of curry." It was a good thing Joss was kyrptonian otherwise Lena had no idea how they would manage to consume so much curry between just the two of them. "Would you like to put a film on while we eat?" she asked.
Joss chuckled, setting the bags down with a grin. "I'm hungry, and more so than usual. That's what happens when you don't eat all day and you're an alien." They smiled. "So, most of this is lamb. There should be one box of chicken though, if you want some of that. As for a film, I don't really care either way. So, if there's something you want to watch we can."
"I'm almost certain that all kryptonians are genetically predisposed to a high metabolism that is the human equivalent of high doses of methamphetamines," Lena teased. "It all smells incredible but lamb is the best meat. I'm quite happy just to have dinner and enjoy your company."
"That wouldn't surprise me any." Joss grabbed one of the containers and handed it to her. "I mean, you know this and I know this, but heaven forbid Isaac accepts that." They set out one of the orders of naan as well before taking off their pants and settling onto the bed with a container for themself
"Oh no," Lena chuckled, slipping off her shoes, Lord only knows why she bothered to put them back on, before joining Joss on the bed, "do I even want to know what Isaac thinks is the best meat?" If the response was chicken she was going to make a point of taking Joss and Isaac out for dinner and introducing Isaac to the way that lamb is supposed to be cooked.
Joss chuckled. "For curry? Chicken. In general, he's a beef guy. Though, when we lived in Pittsburgh I introduced him to the glory of the bison burger, so that's something at least." Isaac was a really picky food person so when Joss could expose him to new food they did. He didn't usually like it, but he at least humored them, which they appreciated.
If she rolled her eyes any harder at the response it would've actually caused her physical pain. "That's just unacceptable," she stated as she reached for her naan, "that boy is in need of serious educating and I plan to do just that. Chicken the best meat for curry," she scoffed.
"I have been trying to do that since we moved in together at 18. He's got a lot of aversions to textures when it comes to food so he's really picky. He'll try stuff but he's not liable to like it." Joss chuckled a bit. "His parents were honestly always amazed at how willing to try new foods I was, especially how much I love veggies. Like, don't get me wrong I will gladly dip bacon in chocolate and deep fry it, but on any given day I will eat my weight in fruits and veggies. Hell, the day I told them I'd gotten him to even try bison and that he liked it, I thought they were going to faint.”
"He can be as picky as he likes, I'm still taking you both out to dinner," Lena countered. As she listened to Joss talk about their love of foods, she couldn't help but wonder if they ever dreamt of the foods from their home planet. "Do you have any memory of the foods from home?" she asked softly, "Do you ever dream of them?"
"You won't hear any arguments from me. But if we also end up at Taco Bell after, don't say I didn't warn you." They sighed at Lena's question, digging into their food for a while. "No. If it's not nightmares it's disjointed memories of people."
"If we end up at Taco Bell I've done a very poor job." Lena regretted asking the question as a wave of guilt washed over her, she knew that it was hard for Joss and yet she had asked anyway, the scientist within her not knowing when enough was enough. She reached out, lightly touching Joss' elbow as she apologised, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."
Joss smiled at Lena at her words. "It's fine, L. I don't know if I'd want to remember stuff like that anyway. This planet has been the only home I've ever known. What kind of tragedy might be brought down on my head."
"Do you want me to stop searching for ways to remove that fragment?" Lena asked in all seriousness, "I mean, providing that it's not going to cause you any future problems. If you'd rather continue your life with those years left blank then I will stop looking into it but I need you to tell me, Joss. At the end of all of this, all I really care about is that it's not causing you any harm."
"I don't know. This thing obviously healed into my brain somewhere that effects my memory, and if removing it could help with that, I can't say it wouldn't be worth it. My long term memory sucks." Their short term memory was excellent which meant they could usually remember something long enough to write it down but once it was written down, the likelihood of remembering it without extra effort was slim. Putting names to faces was probably the easiest thing to submit to long term memory.
"Ok," Lena nodded, internally feeling relief as she was genuinely concerned about the long term repercussions of having a foreign objected imbedded in the brain for such an extensive period of time, then there was the matter of the material itself. "Guess in the meantime now would be the best time to make all of mistakes so that you don't remember?" she lightly teased.
Joss chuckled, bouncing their shoulder gently off hers. "You'll make mistakes later. So will I. Nothing wrong with making mistakes, L." They rested against her a little as they ate. "Wouldn't want you perfect anyway. That'd be no fun."
"Perfection is scientifically impossible." Lena broke into a smile, she was used to be scolding for mistakes and here Joss was embracing them and celebrating them. "I genuinely hope I never get used to things you say," she admitted, "I don't want there to ever come a day where I take it for granted."
"To be fair, they said the same about turning lead to gold. It might be radioactive gold but they technically did it." Joss pointed out with a gentle laugh. They smiled at her when she said that she hoped to never get used to the way they spoke. "Even if you do, it will be just as genuine then as it is now."
"Which just goes to prove my point about perfection being impossible, they turned lead into gold but it was flawed. Although I do suppose that depends on ones definition of flawed. If the intention was to create radioactive gold then you could consider it a success and my point proven to be invalid but given that the market for radioactive gold these days isn't exactly thriving I would as so bold to make the assumption that it is indeed a defect and a flawed result." Lena smiled at Joss' words, "Promise?"
Joss chuckled, head on her shoulder. "Just means that in time it could be proven true. But I still think it'd be boring." They hummed a bit, holding up their pinkie. "I will even pinkie promise you on it."
"Let's hope that it is never proven true. We wouldn't want life to be boring," she chuckled softly. Lena's eyebrow quirked in curiosity when Joss extended their pinkie towards her, "Pinkie promise, hm?" she linked her pinkie with Joss' and gave it a shake, "And what happens if you break it?"
"That we would not." They smiled as she took their pinkie and gave it a shake. "The truest kind of promise and... if I ever break it, you are allowed to have someone toss me into the sun or kill me, or whatever kind of destruction of my person befits what I was disingenuous about. Or you can just punch me. I don't know, you don't seem the possibly murder a person type."
"Murder does seem a little extreme, " Lena chuckled, "if you ever reach the point of hurting me that much I'll just let Lex loose on you, that way I don't get my hands dirty," she finished laughing before pressing a kiss to Joss' lips.
They laughed, leaning into the kiss. "Am I allowed to give him absolute hell before I let him deal with me?" Their question was honest, because they would happily do so, after everything Lena's family had done to her.
“You’re asking my permission?” Lena asked in all amusement. She knew how Joss felt Lex, she knew Joss would gladly knock Lex into next week for what he had put Lena through. It was strange still to have someone that was genuinely protective of her and not because she was investment in something but because they saw her. “In all honesty I highly expect you’d kick his ass anyway.”
"Well, yeah. In this context I'll have done you wrong, by all means you'd owe me nothing but my own pain, not the satisfaction I'd receive from giving him just a fraction of what he truly deserves." They pressed a kiss to her lips. "I know I could take him, which is also why I'm asking."
Lena laughed and pressed a kiss to Joss’ lips. “It reallt bothers you, doesn’t it? The things that Lex has done over the years.”
"Yeah, it does." They sighed. "Your family treated you like you were nothing. You were a child and they neglected you and you can't tell me they didn't. Emotional neglect is still neglect. Treating you like you weren't as amazing as you are isn't how you raise a child. There is so much proof of that. And for fucks sake you lost your mother before getting tossed into all that like nothing had even happened to you... I fucking can't stand it."
Lena was a little taken back from the outburst, “It’s ok,” she soothed as she reached for Joss’ hand, “if they weren’t the way they were with me, I could’ve ended up like them and I am so grateful that I’m not like them. To be fuelled by greed and hatred? Can you imagine living such a life?” She kissed Joss sweetly, “I’m not condoning what they did or saying it never had an effect on me but if I hadn’t turned out the way I am now, do you really think you’d be in my house right now? That you would want the Lena Luthor they wanted me to be?”
Joss sighed as Lena spoke. "Had they the decency to treat a grieving child as a grieving child worth loving, I'd bet money the Luthor name might actually hold a better association." They pressed another kiss to Lena's lips. "It won't stop my anger about it, because all of that doesn't even cover the fact they've tried to kill you. But if I spend that anger showing you everything about you worth so much more than they have told you, then so be it. Self love can be the greatest act of rebellion, afterall." They tucked a strand of Lena's hair behind her ear with a smile. "And no one deserves love more than you.
Lena sat silently, dumbfounded by Joss' words. Her brain desperately trying to process the sincere kindness and true belief behind them. No motive. No buttering her up before asking for a large 'donation', no telling her she's wonderful to get her to cooperate to help save the world, just pure genuineness. To say it was a shock to her system was an understatement, despite the fact that Joss repeatedly said kind things about her. Lena had endured a lifetime of negativity and to have someone turn that on its head and actually mean the things they were saying. On top of that, Joss defended her, even if just in conversation about her family, Joss always came to her defence. She pressed a lingering kiss to the lips in fronts her and murmured against them, "Thank you."
Joss smiled softly at Lena, running their hand gently through her hair. "Of course, L." They pressed back in for another kiss. Joss knew the road to Lena seeing just how amazing she was, was bound to be a long one, but they didn't mind. She deserved to not only be told such things but to believe them herself and that's what Joss was out to do.
Lena found herself leaning into Joss' touch, something so simple as fingers moving through her hair meant more to her than she could explain. Probably because she felt sincerity in Joss' touch as well as their words. "You should eat before your food goes cold," she uttered quietly, "you need to regain your strength."
Joss sighed as Lena spoke about them needing to eat. They were definitely aware of this fact but it didn't really mean they wanted to pull themself away from her to do so. "I mean, you've got a microwave, and when you eat as much as I do a lot of food tends to go cold anyway. M'used to it." They shrugged, even as they turned their attention back to the box of food sitting in their lap, barely touched. Normally at least one, if not two, containers would already be gone, but Joss was so caught up in everything Lena, that despite being hungry they hadn't really touched their food.
"At least eat some of it before it goes cold," Lena encouraged, "please?" Pulling away from Joss wasn't something she wanted to do but she knew that they needed to it, she needed to it too, even if only a little. "We can get comfy and relax after," she promised, "and heat up what's left over later but we really should both have something, it's been quite a day."
"Yeah, I know." They chuckled a bit. "You're just far more interesting than food." Even still, they started to eat, doing their best not to just inhale it. If only because they were supposed to have more manners than that and it didn't really matter how hungry they were, rushing through it would definitely just end in them sick, which they didn't want.
"Yes, well," Lena cleared her throat, "my being interesting aside, eating me will not replenish your strength." It took a second for her to realise the sexual connotations within that sentence and she hurriedly added, "Besides, I'd only cause you indigestion."
Joss did their best not to choke on their food as Lena spoke, because as much as they were sure she hadn't meant it to come across so sexually, it definitely had. And the afterthought comment didn't really help anything either. They couldn't help but laugh a little, trying to decide if they really wanted to reply to that or just let it pass. "I highly doubt that, but it is not the time to figure that out."
Lena could feel just how red her cheeks were when she realised that Joss had caught the sexual connotations in her otherwise innocent comment. She found herself thankful that Joss had set free her hair from the confines of its pony as she used it to try and shield her flushed cheeks. "Not what I meant," she mumbled before forking some curry into her mouth.
Joss chuckled, bumping their shoulder gently against hers. "I know, but that's definitely the only kind of eating of another person I would ever do. I'm not Hannibal." They couldn't help but be amused at the way Lena tried to hide the blush that was tinting her cheeks. "You're cute when you blush."
"Maybe that's what you want me to think, right before you throw me on the barbeque," Lena retorted playfully as she tried to forget her embarrassment. "I am no such thing!"
"Unless you are secretly a steak or brisket, there will be no throwing of your person onto the barbecue." They grinned with a laugh. "You totally are!"
"I most certainly am not," Lena replied, her upbringing too ingrained for her to realise that being cute wasn't necessarily a bad thing. "Cute things are meek and helpless and I am absolutely not either of those."
"You ever seen a sun bear? They're cute as fuck and could definitely maul a person to death without remorse." Joss knew that Lena's view was probably just a result of her upbringing but they refused to let her get away with thinking that a person couldn't be cute and badass at the same time, because she definitely was.
"So in this situation, I'm a sun bear?" Lena mused. She pondered it over a moment or two. "I suppose in that case I can tolerate being called cute. Just so long as no one thinks I'm meek and helpless."
"Yes, you are, and if anyone ever thinks you're meek or helpless, I'd say I'd fight them but I reckon you can handle yourself." They grinned, taking a bite of their food, leaning back over to rest against Lena.
Lena chuckled, "There are a fair few that can attest to that statement of me being able to handle myself." A smile played over her face as Joss rest against her, "You'll get indigestion if you're not careful," she warned. It was no use, neither of them was really eating, "What do you say we clear this stuff away and we can heat it up later?"
"I'm sure there are." They hummed a bit, still just leaning against her. "I'm just tired." It was hard to eat when they were honestly still so tired. And as much as they knew food would probably help that, they were too tired to even really do that.
Lena pressed a kiss to the top of Joss' head, "I can only imagine." It would be so easy to just sit in comfortable silence but Joss was liable to fall asleep against her and it would do Joss no good to sleep sitting up, not when their body needed to recover still. "Ok," Lena adjusted her shoulders lightly, "you get into bed, I'm going to clear this away and get changed and then I'll join you."
Joss hummed as Lena spoke, nodding a bit. They felt kinda bad that Lena was having to do everything, but this was a kind of exhaustion they weren't familiar with. They'd not left their inhibitors off this long in a really long time and added to the fight earlier, they just didn't have that kind of energy. "M'kay."
Lena pressed one final kiss to Joss' head before gently moving away, "Get into bed," she repeated as she stood up and began to clear away the food cartons on her bed. "I'll be back in a second," she spoke as gathered the few bits and pieces on the bedside table, "I expect to see you warming up the bed for me."
Joss didn't say anything as Lena spoke and started to move around, just simply nodding. Once she'd left they did as she'd said, settling into Lena's bed. They hummed to themself, burying their face just under the covers.
Lena took the food through to the kitchen, placing in the fridge so it wouldn't go bad before returning to her room. A smile on her face when she entered to discover Joss was indeed in bed, their face partly concealed by the covers. Uncertain as to whether Joss was still conscious, Lena tiptoed around the room and got changed as quietly as she could. Hitting the light she headed to bed and slipped beneath the covers next to Joss and pressed a light kiss to the side of their head.
Joss watched Lena from their position under the covers, grinning a little as she tiptoed through the room as she changed. They were starting to drift, but not quite out. So, when Lena slid into bed and pressed the kiss to their head they smiled, moving to curl up, tangling their legs with hers, locking one of their ankles under hers, just in case.
When Joss slipped an ankle beneath one of her own, Lena brought her other leg to keep it secure. "I've got you," she promised quietly as she wrapped an arm around the blonde, "I'll be your kite string." She brought her head to rest lightly atop Joss' and allowed herself to relax a little more so than she had done earlier, this time she knew what to expect, how to calm Joss during a nightmare, to be their tether so they didn't float off.
They chuckled a bit as she spoke, already starting to really settle. They hummed to themself, that same old lullaby they didn't know the origin of nor the words to. It was just something that calmed them, drowned out the sounds around them. They weren't as fast to doze off this time, but they did eventually do so.
Lena did her best to stay awake until she knew that Joss was asleep but she struggled, the song being hummed softly was lulling her to sleep. Despite the day they had had, she found herself feeling at peace and feeling safe, something she hadn't felt in...she honestly couldn't remember, she imaged her birth mother had been alive the last time she felt truly safe. Letting out a contented sigh, she allowed herself to give into the tiredness and succumbed to much needed sleep.
#u: chaoticscribblings#m: joss#v: lost child of krypton joss#ship: to be our own heroes#o: lena (chaoticscribblings)
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The American Initiative
Part Fourteen
Summary: Grace Cleveland and Eleanor Baker both thought their lives were over, until they became part of something much bigger – the Avengers.
Pairing(s): Clint Barton x OFC, Steve Rogers x OFC
Word Count:
Blanket Warnings: Death, mentioned a couple of different ways, but not detailed; canon divergence; more based on Marvel movies. In the infamous word of Steve Rogers, “Language.”
Masterlist
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A prototype of the Liberty Force suit stared at Ellie from its place in Tony’s lab. If she did this, if she put on that suit and went to fight beside Tony -- beside Iron Man -- there may not be any going back to her family. She would always be Liberty Force, if she put on that suit.
That’s when she realized. “I already am Liberty Force.”
All this time, all the training she had done to get to where she was today … she did not become Liberty Force after that. Steve and Nick and the other members of the team had been shaping her to figure out who she was now, and that person was Liberty Force. Maybe there was still some going back, but in this moment, Ellie knew that she could only go forward.
Quickly stripping out of her nightgown, she directed Jarvis to let Tony know that help was on the way.
A blast from Tony did little to hinder Joel’s destruction of the house or his strikes against Iron Man.
“Hey, I’m curious,” Tony commented, dodging one of Joel’s meaty arms as it swung in his direction, “what’s all that juicing done to the family jewels? I mean if regular steroids -- oof!”
A fist landed to Tony’s gut, knocking the wind out of him and propelling him across the room. He crashed into a wall near the lab, and the screen inside his helmet showed static for a moment before righting itself.
“Sir, I’m not sure that we can hold him on our own. Assistance is coming, but perhaps it’s best if you were to bow out gracefully till then,” Jarvis suggested.
Tony groaned as he stood. “Yeah, thanks for the vote of confidence, Jarvis. How about you just power up the new prototype, would you?”
“No need, Jarvis, backup’s here.”
Tony looked up to see Ellie approach Joel. She was fully dressed in her Liberty Force suit, more confident than Tony had ever seen her. He got up to aid her, but she was already rushing for Joel.
“Ellie, I wouldn’t …”
“No, it’s okay. Mr. Rockley and I are just going to have a little chat.” She stood a few feet from Joel, hands on her hips. “Aren’t we?”
“A chat,” Joel scoffed. “About what? About how your enhanced DNA made me what I am today?”
Ellie smirked. “Yeah, you’re welcome for that. Here’s what’s going to happen, big boy. You’re going to turn yourself in to S.H.I.E.L.D, let them figure out what to do with you, and let the rest of us fry bigger fish.”
“And if I don’t?”
Ellie gripped the Torch even tighter and smiled at the prospect of using it for the first time. “If you don’t, then me and my friends will just have to kick your ass. Grace is important to me, to all of us. We won’t let you take her.”
Joel tilted his head to one side. “What makes you think that I’m here for Grace? She’s just a gateway. S.H.I.E.L.D gave me a gift, Ms. Baker, just like they gave you a gift. They brought you back to life. They gave me purpose again, something other than running from the law and trying to straighten out those who would never straighten themselves out. Grace couldn’t fix me, but S.H.I.E.L.D could. Then, they just took it all away.”
Another blast from the Iron Man suit sent Joel tumbling forward. Ellie stepped to the side, effortlessly missing being indirectly tackled by the big man. She went after him, using the Torch to her advantage as she struck out on the offensive, keeping Joel on the ground for as long as she could. Every time he got up, Tony was there to blast him back down.
By the time the others arrived, Joel was unconscious in the rubble of a good portion of Tony’s house.
“So much for arriving as backup,” Grace mumbled, standing over her ex and unable to resist the urge to kick his limp arm away from her. “Can we get him to the lab? I want to do some tests. Lock him down good.”
Thor and Tony together grunted as they moved Joel’s body to the lab. Grace trailed behind them, and Clint trailed behind her. Steve caught up to Ellie, checking her over for any sign of injury.
“I’m all right, Cap,” Ellie assured, gently pushing his arms away from her. “More than all right. This suit -- I could get used to it.”
Steve nodded, giving her his signature smirk. Together they headed up toward the lab where Tony and Thor were busy strapping Joel’s body down to a metal examination table. Clint was in a corner, bow at the ready, looking skeptical.
“He’s knocked out, Clint, take a knee,” Grace muttered, pulling a vial of some clear liquid into a syringe. She prepped the antecubital area of Joel’s left arm and administered the injection. “Sedative is on board. Mark it down for me, Jarvis.”
“I’ve recorded the injection, Gracie,” Jarvis replied.
She nodded. “All right. Let’s draw blood, CSF, run a full panel. I wanna know what all he’s hopped up on. I want to know what we can do to reverse the effects of the serum -- somebody get Bruce Banner here, ASAP.”
Tony and Clint exchanged a glance; Grace was on edge. She had reason to be upset. Emotions only compromised missions, but this wouldn’t be the first time any of the Avengers had invested emotions in a case. Clint opened his mouth to protest Grace’s involvement in this if it involved any proximity to Joel, but Tony spoke first.
“Yeah, I second that motion. Those motions. All of ‘em. Me and Gracie got this for the time being. The rest of you should go back to the compound and brief Fury and Coulson, see how we can put a stop to this.”
Clint set his jaw and stared Grace down. She stared back for a few seconds; he was silently telling her that this was a bad idea, that he didn’t like it, that he wanted her to go back to the compound with him.
Grace shook her head and approached Clint. He lowered his bow. “I know what you’re thinking, but this is my fight, Clint. I let this go wrong, I have to make it right. I at least have to try to make it right.”
He took in a deep breath. Grace expected him to argue, but instead he hooked an arm around her waist and pulled her in for a kiss. “Just don’t get yourself killed, all right?”
Grace set her forehead against his. “Yeah, I’ll do my best. You too, Hawkeye.”
Thor, Clint, Ellie, and Steve left the lab, heading for the garage to take one of Tony’s cars back to the compound. Grace excused herself to change out of the Osprey suit and into her street clothes.
In the bathroom of the guest room where she had stayed the night before, Grace leaned on the counter and looked in the mirror. She splashed cold water on her face and looked again. Eighteen months ago, she never would have imagined this would be her life now.
“But it is,” she told her reflection, “stand up or shut up, Cleveland. What’s it gonna be?”
As if she even had to ask.
At the compound, Natasha stood by, antsy for the others to return. She had stayed behind in an effort to protect the facility from whatever might come their way after the monster was done at Tony’s tower.
When the rest of them returned without Tony and Grace, Nat’s eyes grew. Clint immediately calmed her.
“You think Ellie would be this calm if something had happened to Grace?” he teased. “C’mon. We’re gonna brief Fury, that’ll tell you everything. They pull anything from the nurse?”
“What nurse?” Ellie asked.
“The reason Grace rushed back here this morning,” Steve replied. “She was working with Joel. We believe that the lab he showed Grace wasn’t his actual lab. She’s been sneaking DNA samples to him to extract serum from, from both of you. That’s how he’s been enhancing himself.”
Ellie stopped in her tracks. “I want a crack at that nurse then.”
“Coulson’s in with her now,” Thor cautioned. “Best to let him handle her. He’s got the experience.”
“But can he read her mind?” Ellie returned, turning on her heel and making way for the interrogation room.
In Tony’s lab, the tests were running on Joel’s samples -- not fast enough for Grace’s liking, though. She paced back and forth, not daring to take her eyes off the screen.
“Where’s Bruce?” she asked, refreshing the screen for the hundredth time. “Shouldn’t he be here by now?”
Tony sighed and took the screen from her; he held it up out of her reach. “You have got to chill out. You’re freaking me out and I don’t freak out.”
“Tony? Grace?”
Bruce’s voice resounded in the entryway of Tony’s house. Grace reached her hand out, waiting for Tony to hand the screen back to her.
“You’ve got company, Tony.”
“We have company,” he corrected. She batted her eyelashes and that was all it took. Tony handed the screen back to her, then headed out of the lab and up to greet Bruce.
In an act of gratitude toward Tony for not making her leave the lab, Grace slid the image on the screen to the larger ones hanging from the ceiling. She set the handheld on the counter, then went to stand next to Joel on the metal table. He was still strapped down, and the sedative was doing its job.
“What are you up to, Joel?” she asked out loud, shaking her head.
Grace stepped away from the table but only made it a step and a half before Joel’s hand closed tightly around her wrist.
Ellie barged into the interrogation room, not bothering to pay any attention to Phil Coulson’s passive aggressive protests against her presence. She leaned forward on the table and looked the nurse in the eye. Neither woman said anything.
After a full minute, Phil rolled his eyes. “Do you plan on asking her questions, or is staring our prisoner down a new tactic I’m not familiar with?”
Ellie continued staring for another thirty seconds, then stood back from the table and took a deep breath. “I don’t have to ask questions, Agent Coulson. Joel lied -- this isn’t about S.H.I.E.L.D. It is about Grace. He’s mad that she left, that she betrayed him. He thinks he’s made a serum to counteract entirely her enhancements, and then some. He isn’t just going to steal her enhancements, he wants to make her a shell of the person she is.”
Phil followed her out of the room, where she was already motioning the other three Avengers in the compound to follow her. “How is he going to get close enough to administer this ‘antiserum’?”
“He’s already close enough,” Ellie replied. “We’re going back to Tony’s.”
“We’ll take the jet,” Natasha piped up.
In unison, they all turned toward the hangar, ready for a fight.
Tags: @captain-s-rogers @the-murder-strut-murdered-me @xtina2191 @shynara51
#marvel#avengers#fanfiction#captain america#hawkeye#mcu#ofc#captain america x ofc#hawkeye x ofc#steve rogers#clint barton#steve x ofc#steve rogers x ofc#clint x ofc#clint barton x ofc#the american initiative#queue ... assemble
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Forget, Remember, Forgive (Gravity Falls One-Shot)
Summary: Stan expects to have a routine night working on the portal, but things feel just slightly off.
Word Count: ~2000
Warnings: self blame and low self esteem
(A Secret Santa fic for @usuallyherdragon, who requested some Stangst with a happy ending!)
Stan awoke slowly at first, bleary-eyed and slowly blinking himself back to consciousness — only to leap out of his chair with a jolt as full awareness returned to him.
How late was it? How had he let himself fall asleep here? He needed to be downstairs working on the portal, not napping the night away —
From the sad-eyed owl clock on the wall, there came a single soft and reassuring chime, the minute hand reaching the bottom of its arc. Stan sighed. It was only nine-thirty, which meant he hadn’t wasted much time at all, yet he felt exhausted like he’d just pulled an all-nighter. He was going to need to make a lot of coffee, wasn’t he…
“Grunkle Stan?” Mabel’s voice nearly made him jump. He’d been so focused thinking about the portal, and the time, and the coffee, that she might as well have materialized right in front of him — a practical ghost, if only ghosts wore toothpaste-stained nightgowns and clutched grappling hooks close to their heart.
“Are you… okay? Do you need to talk to one of us about something?”
Yikes, is it really so obvious how out of it I am?
“Nah, don’t worry about me. I’m just a little tired — when you’re my age, you’ll be fallin’ asleep before your bedtime too.” He ruffled her hair affectionately. “Speaking of which, you should be gettin’ to bed, you little gremlin.”
Mabel smiled and elbowed him gently in the gut, apparently reassured. “You can wake me up if you need anything, I don’t mind,” she told him. “I’m sure Dipper won’t either.”
Stan shook his head as Mabel headed upstairs. Since when were the kids trying to become his personal therapists?
It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate the sentiment, he mused as he headed to the darkened kitchen. (In fact, he’d never admit it, but the knowledge that they cared for him gave him a warm and fuzzy feeling inside.)
The problem was that the warmth in his chest that the kids had sparked was accompanied by a sinking black pit of guilt in his stomach, because he could never tell them all the things that were really weighing on him. Because he was lying to them, because they didn’t know about the portal and he couldn’t tell them, not now.
Shaking his head, he pulled a mug out of the cabinet, and then froze as he heard a faint noise from the other corner of the kitchen. It was a soft intake of breath, the type that would proceed a hesitantly spoken sentence.
Something about it seemed unbearably sad.
Stan turned around to see a gray-haired man sitting in the darkness, a mug of his own on the table in front of him as he gazed pensively at the battered wall of the Shack’s kitchen. Yet even in the dark, with only a side view of his face, Stan recognized him instantly.
His mug fell from his hand, shattering into a hundred pieces that scattered across the floor. But he barely heard the sound, as he gasped:
“Ford?!”
***
The second night after Weirdmageddon, Ford had almost said something to Stan at three different points.
First, it was going to be “I’m sorry about everything,” but Stan was showing no sign of remembering any incidents of friction between them, and Ford just couldn’t bring himself to force those memories back. It would be for the best if Stan regained those memories eventually, he knew, but a tiny, cowardly, part of him was holding onto hope that they might never return.
Next, it was going to be “do you want to watch this recording I found of us as kids?” but by the time he’d gotten the first few words out, he’d that realized Stan was asleep in his chair, expression peaceful for what Ford knew, deep down, was the first time in a long time. At this point, Ford theorized, rest would be just as good for Stanley as exposure to items from his past. Sleep should have helped the memories settle into their correct place, to form connections together again. So he left Stan asleep in his chair, snoring softly.
Finally, about an hour later, when Stan was awake again and had made his way into the kitchen, it was once again going to be “I’m sorry.” Best to get it over with — so Stan would know what to expect as his last few memories returned to him, so they could finally go back to being brothers, so Ford’s conscience could finally be at peace…
But it was a difficult conversation to start, and Ford found himself staying silent. He turned away from Stan and fixed his gaze upon the wall, counting the stripes on the wallpaper —
Then in the corner of his peripheral vision, a mug crashed to the ground, and he jumped at the sound of it shattering.
No longer was it an option to stay quiet. He sprung out of his chair and rushed to Stan’s side, putting both hands on Stan’s shoulders and searching Stan’s eyes for some spark of… of… of any emotion, of fear or sadness or recognition, that might explain what was wrong — because Stan was saying nothing, mouth agape and hands trembling in a panicked silence —
“Stanley?! Are you alright? It’s — it’s going to be fine, just tell me what’s wrong, okay? Everything’s going to be fine…”
“You really…” Stan finally stuttered, “you’re real? No, how are you — there’s no way you’re really here —”
“I am here, Stanley.” Ford wrapped his arms around Stan’s shoulders and pulled him close. “I’m here,” he repeated, gently patting Stan on the back. “I’m real, I promise. You don’t need to worry…”
From where Stan’s head rested on Ford’s shoulder, there came a noise somewhere between a sniff and a gasp — like a half-contained sob.
“But… how? How did you —” Stan sniffed again. “— get back here?”
Ford let out a long, sad sigh. “Stan, I’ll explain in a moment, I promise. But… could you please tell me one thing first?”
“Mm-hmm.” Stan’s head shook in what must have been a slight nod.
“Do you know today’s date?”
“It’s June… June twenty-something. I think.”
Maybe it was something about the silence Ford reacted with that tipped him off, or it was simply saying it out loud that made it clear, but just a moment later, Stan whispered: “It’s not really June anymore, is it?”
“No, it’s not. You brought me back, Stanley. You saved me.”
Stan was silent, and with a sad chuckle, Ford added: “You saved me three times, really. First from the portal…”
“I found your other two journals,” Stan said slowly, and then with more confidence continued: “Gideon had the second and Dipper had the third.”
“That’s right.” Gently, Ford guided Stan to a chair, and Stan sat down without really seeming to realize what he was doing, eyes staring off into space as if fixating on an image from some half-returned memory. “Do you remember the second time? Honestly, in hindsight… it probably the most preventable —”
“Was that when you and Dipper almost got your brains eaten by a nerd wizard? I remembered that earlier today but thought it was just a fever dream or some shit.”
Ford laughed. “No, that really happened. Though the more I think back on it, the more convinced I am that you cheated with that final roll of the die.”
Stan shrugged, a smug smile on his face. “Sorry, but I just don’t remember whether I rigged it or not. Guess it’ll remain a mystery.” He winked.
“Alright, now I’m sure you cheated,” Ford replied, and Stan snorted, but Ford noticed he wasn’t making eye contact.
“I don’t remember much of that third time,” Stan murmured, “and I dunno if I want to. I don’t think I do.”
He rested his head in his hands. “But I’m really sorry, Ford. I know I messed something up when you really needed my help, and I — I’m so sorry. I know I regretted it before I forgot everything, and I — I —”
“I forgive you, Stan. And — and I’m sorry too,” Ford whispered. “It was both our faults. Except… except you went and sacrificed everything for us, while I haven’t done a single thing to make up for what I did, except for standing around and feeling sorry for you —”
“Shut up, Ford,” Stan blurted out. “You would’ve erased your own memories instead if you could have — you said it yourself — and then I would be the one standing here feeling sorry for you. It’s not your fault that you couldn’t erase your whole goddamn mind in order to make up for correcting my grammar —”
“You remembered,” Ford whispered, but Stan went on, the words pouring out like some barrier had finally been broken:
“And you’re not just standing around being useless. You’re literally helping me get my memories back right now, but you say you haven’t done a single thing? Well, maybe I’m biased because they’re my memories, but I’d say that’s kinda something important! I’m tired of you acting like you’re worthless, Ford! Ever since I got my mind erased you’ve been acting like I’m the only twin worth anything, and yeah, the hero treatment might of been nice for a couple of hours, but — one, I was still kinda amnesiac and couldn’t really appreciate it, and two, you’re completely selling yourself short! I wouldn’t have been able to anything to Bill without you, so — so just—”
He coughed and wiped his nose. “So just stop being a stubborn ass and accept that maybe there’s a reason I missed having you as a brother, okay?”
Ford opened his mouth to reply, but no sound came out — and maybe for the best, since Stan whispered one last thing:
“And you did do something else to make up for your mistakes. You forgave mine.”
He got out of his chair to hug Ford again, and Ford embraced him back — it was the first time they’d shared a proper, returned hug in what must have been decades, Ford realized.
“I forgive you too, Sixer. I hope that’ll make you feel… less worthless. Because I know what that feels like, and I don’t want you to…”
“It sounds,” Ford murmured, “like we still have a lot to work through. But it feels like this conversation… helped.”
“Yes!” Mabel was standing in the doorway to the kitchen all of a sudden, beaming with relief. “I’m so glad you’re feeling better, Grunkle Ford! I knew hugging it out was gonna be for the best!”
“Sorry for eavesdropping,” Dipper told them as he emerged from the hallway behind Mabel. “We got worried when we heard Stan yelling, but then when we got down here… it just didn’t feel right to interrupt.”
“It’s alright, kiddo,” Stan replied, then frowned. “But you didn’t get worried when you heard me drop that mug?”
“We, uh,” Dipper started sheepishly, “we kind of assumed it was just Ford doing…”
“Fordsy-sciencey-things,” Mabel supplied. “No offense, Grunkle Ford, but you make a racket sometimes.”
That got a laugh out of Stan, which Ford really couldn’t fault him for. “I suppose that’s fair. Now, Stan, I was meaning to mention — I’m a little tired of talking about Weirdmageddon for the night and I imagine you are too, but would you be up for some memory therapy about happier times? I found some old recordings from Glass Shard Beach — there’s even some footage from a certain Jersey Devil hunt in there.”
Stan’s expression, which had started out confused, morphed into a wide smile at the words Jersey Devil hunt. “Oh, that sure rings a bell. Was… was that the summer we got grounded?”
“It sure was! I’ll take it you want to give it a watch?”
***
It was an hour later, while drifting off to sleep, that Ford realized his conscience finally felt at peace.
***
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things i wish i said #3
Number 3: “Are you sure she makes you happy?”
Summary: There are many things I wish I said, and sometimes – just sometimes – I’m glad that I didn’t.
Pairing: Taehyung x Reader
Word Count: 1,834
Genre: angst, fluff and light intended smut in the upcoming parts.
1 | 2 | 3 | ?
After spending most of your night at the library, you had decided to make a trip to the convenience store before heading back home. Jihyo had called you in the middle of your study session, asking if she could crash at your place for the night so that she wouldn’t be running late to her three hour lecture the next morning. While she had an extra spare key to your place, you had simply dismissed her question, telling her that isn’t that why I gave you my spare key?
Once you arrive at the convenience store, you make your way straight to the ramen aisle to pick up a few packs. You assume that Jihyo had arrived at your place on an empty stomach. As you reach the counter to pay for your things, you hear someone clear their throat while you’re digging in your bag for your wallet.
“I didn’t know you lived around here,” you glance up to see Jimin behind the counter, scanning your packs of ramen. A smile forms across your lips.
“Yeah, I do.” You reply softly. “And I had no idea that you work here.”
He shrugs his shoulders. “Only on weekend nights. That’ll be 15,000 won.”
You hand him the cash and he hands you your change. “Thanks. I guess I’ll see you around.”
He flashes you the brightest smile, and just when you’re about to head out, you hear him call out your name. You look at him over your shoulder with a questioning gaze.
“How are you?” He questions.
“Me?” You chuckle. “Well, aside from the stress I’ve been getting from school, I’ve been okay but I could be better.”
“I’m sure you know what I really meant.”
You fall silent. You bite your lip, shrugging your shoulders. “I just – I don’t want to get involved. She’s happy, therefore, I am happy. Why would I ruin it?”
“I guess you’re right,” he mumbles softly. “But how long will you be happy because of someone else’s happiness? When will you be happy for your happiness?”
A soft ping! is heard from your phone and it lights up with a new text message. Glancing down at the notification, you smile to yourself. Speaking of the devil. Looking back at Jimin, you shrug your shoulders.
“I guess we shall find out.”
It takes fifteen minutes to get to your place from the library, which makes it convenient when you decide to change your studying environment. As you exit the elevator, you walk down the hallway to hear a few muffled yells. You let out a soft groan, your next-door neighbours were probably arguing again. Sometimes you wish your walls weren’t as thin as paper.
But as you get closer and closer to your room, the yells seem to be coming from your own place itself. You furrow your eyebrows in confusion. Just as you were about to find out yourself, you stop in your tracks at the sound of your door opening. You’re halfway through finding your house keys in your purse, but you’re too distracted from the sight of a disheveled Taehyung standing a meter away from you. Your door is slammed shut and it takes Taehyung a couple of seconds to recollect himself and realize that you’re standing right in front of him.
“Oh,” he says softly, a bit alarmed of your presence. “Y/N. I didn’t see you there, sorry about that.”
“What are you doing in my apartment?” He furrows his eyebrows in confusion.
“You live here?” You nod your head.
“And… why do you look like that?” You ask hesitantly while pointing at his messy mop of brown hair and his distressed expression. “Did something happen while I was gone?”
Before he could answer, the door opens once again and Jihyo stops in her tracks when her eyes meet yours. She looks just as disheveled and stressed out, and you’re half-glad that she had clothes on. You weren’t quite sure as to what had happened before you had gotten home, but from what you were seeing right now, you could only predict two things:
1. They either had sex in your apartment, or
2. They had an argument in your apartment.
“Taehyung-ah,” Jihyo begins, trying to reach out to him but he retreats away from her.
“Before you talk to me,” he looks at her in dismay. “Fix the mess you made.”
Looking at the both of them, you gulp nervously and clear your throat. They both glance at you and you flash a small smile to ease off the tension.
“Sorry, it’s just – I haven’t really eaten dinner yet and I’m starving, so, I was hoping if the two of you could just take this argument or whatever this is, out in this hallway or in the lobby while I get settled in my apartment.”
Taehyung frustratingly runs a hand through his mop of hair and you wince, thinking that maybe you were a bit too harsh with your words. But still, this was your apartment and you have every right to kick people out.
“Sorry,” he apologizes. “We’ll take this outside.”
You nod your head, glancing at Jihyo. She has a huge frown on her face and it looks almost permanent. When she looks at you, she gives you an apologetic smile.
“Sorry for bothering you, Y/N.” She says softly.
As you walk into your room and close the door, you let out the biggest sigh. Looking through the peephole, you see the both of them staring at each other with anger before exchanging a few words. Suddenly, they’re both heading down the hallway to the elevator, and you’re hoping that maybe they could fix whatever mess they had earlier.
But you notice two things. Even though Taehyung had looked completely angry at her, he was still standing close to her as they headed to the elevator. She was completely isolated from him, and she was hugging herself. You also notice how Taehyung glances at her for a few seconds with a concerned look, which meant that he genuinely cared about her. However, it seemed like his actions were going past Jihyo’s vision, and it’s all left unnoticed.
You frown.
“Are you sure she makes you happy?”
The argument seemed to have vanished almost immediately. Jimin had told you a couple of days after, that Taehyung had only taken a split second to forgive Jihyo. The reason for their argument? It was still a mystery that you and Jimin had to find out.
“They probably think we’re dating.”
You snort. Jimin stares at you and wiggles his eyebrows before bursting out into laughter. The both of you had met up for coffee at your favourite café in town. Jimin had told you the night before that he had something important to tell you, and that you’re the first one to know.
“So, why did you want to meet up?”
He blushes. “I met this guy a few days ago…”
“You’re kidding,” you smile. He shakes his head. “I’m so proud of you! What’s his name?”
“Yoongi,” it seems like his blush seems to redden even more when he talks more about this guy you have yet to meet. “He’s a friend of Jungkook, you know Jungkook, from our economics class?”
“Oh!” You snap your fingers. “I remember Jungkook, yes.”
“So, he asks me if I wanted to come to this studio he’s been recording a few of his tracks at and I decided to join.” He explains. “Little did I know, the moment I stepped into that studio, I’d be meeting Min Yoongi, and now I want to marry him. Literally. The moment I saw him, I was sold.”
“That’s so sweet, I wish I could meet him.”
His eyes light up and he immediately nods his head. “You should! I’ll set a date for a meetup.”
“Yeah, definitely. I think a Friday would be ideal since I’m done classes at two–” You’re cut off mid-sentence when your phone rings. You flash Jimin an apologetic look. He waves it off and grabs his cup of coffee. Looking at the caller ID, you furrow your eyebrows in confusion. “I’ll be back, I’ll take this call.”
“Sure thing, love. I’ll be here, don’t worry.” He beams.
You head to the washroom and pick up the phone call. “Hi. Who’s this?”
“Y/N! It’s Jihyo!” You furrow your eyebrows in confusion.
“Did you get a new phone? What’s up?” You laugh.
“No, no. I left my phone at your place last night, and I was wondering if you could drop it off at my place sometime today.” She explains. You notice how she’s sort of dragging her words, as if she’s hiding something. You brush it off. “I’m expecting a phone call for a job interview, that’s all.”
“O-Oh, yeah, sure. I’ll see if I could drop by sometime in the afternoon to give you back your phone.”
“Great!” She exclaims. “Thanks, Y/N. I’m sorry for being such a pain in the ass.”
“Oh, don’t worry. I guess we all have our days, don’t we?”
She sighs. “We sure do.”
When the phone call ends, you head towards your booth to see Jimin waiting for you. He had already asked for a tray for your drinks.
“I’m so sorry,” you mumble.
“It’s okay. Besides, we still have a lot planned for today, right?” He smiles.
“Yeah, we do!” You exclaim. “But first, can we head to my place really quick? Jihyo forgot her phone at my place last night and I’m going to drop it off sometime this afternoon.”
“Yeah, sure. I’m guessing it’s urgent, huh?”
You laugh. “She said it was some phone call for a job interview that has her on the tips of her feet.”
As the both of you arrive at your place, you go into all your rooms in search of a familiar phone. When you spot a familiar grey phone case, you pick it up. However, before shoving it into your bag you feel it vibrate. Glancing at the phone, it lights up and reads an incoming text message:
Babe, when are you dropping by at my place?
You furrow your eyebrows. At the same time, your stomach was starting to feel sick. Looking at the phone number, you knew that it wasn’t Taehyung’s. The phone vibrates again and reads another incoming text message:
IT’S BEEN A LONG AND HARD WEEK AND I MISS BEING INSIDE YOU.
Cringing at the text, along with the eggplant emojis, you lock her phone and shove it into your bag. You know that whatever you were feeling right now was not good.
“Ready to hit the road?”
Looking up at Jimin, you gulp nervously. Nodding your head in reply, the both of you head out. Somehow, everything was all starting to make sense. From Jihyo’s fast ‘moving on’ stage to the argument, you weren’t sure if you liked the idea of a heartbroken Taehyung.
You frown.
“Are you sure she makes you happy?”
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Chapter 7
He woke up to the smell of beef stew and red wine, the comfort of his own bed alerting him to the fact that he was back at Jin and Joon’s place. He opened his eyes slowly, groggily, his gaze landing on Joon reading a book, sitting on a chair next to his bed.
“Oh, you’re awake.” Joon closed the book gently, leaning forwards, a concerned look on their face. “How’re you feeling?”
Hoseok swallowed with difficulty, tears forming in his eyes. Panic and guilt and too many conflicting emotions making him cover his face with his hands and start sobbing, curling in on himself and not seeing the panicked look on Joon’s face.
“Woah, hey, come on now. It’s all good, we’re not upset.” They placed the book on the bedside table and reached out to touch Hoseok’s shoulder, a cold stab of sadness running up their spine when he flinched away. “Aw fuck.”
Hoseok heard them stand up and leave the room, and he tried to stop crying but everything was far too much for him.
“Hoseok, love, I’ll just sit here and talk. Please don’t feel like this is your fault, because it’s not.” Jin’s voice was soft and rough, given how much he’d been crying since yesterday. “I met Joon about 4 or 5 years ago, when they still went by Namjoon. We met Jungkook about two years later, and we had been dating for almost a year.” He sighed, a soft, gentle sound. “We’d actually had a fight about Jungkook back then too. We almost broke up over it, actually.”
Hoseok managed to get his breathing back in order, and he sat up, wiping at his eyes. He didn’t say anything, but Jin continued talking.
“... It’s not as complicated as we’ve made it out to be, but it’s so easy to get into your head about being monogamous and only having one partner that we ended up distancing ourselves from him until this year, when he started working at the bar.” A dry chuckle escaped the elder. “I thought those feelings would disappear after almost two years of distance, but they just bubbled up like a clogged fountain and we handled it poorly once more.”
“Jungkook gets infatuated so very easily and we saw it happen while distancing ourselves from him. You know how close he was with Taehyung, but they were just friends, and then Jimin came into the picture and Jungkook fell head-over heels for him. There was some semblance of courtship for a while, but Tae and Jimin just clicked when they got to uni. Jungkook was so broken about it, he started distancing himself from us.” Joon had walked back in, a glass of water in one hand and a bowl of the delicious-smelling stew in the other.
“So… You guys like him back?” Hoseok finally piped up after like a minute of silence in which the stew and the water were placed on his bedside table.
“Yes.”
“Then why? Why would you do what you did?”
“We met him when he was 17. I was 20 and Jin was 22, I was already in my second year of uni and he was barely in his first year of Sixth Form.” Joon sighed heavily, running a hand through their loose hair, long purple tresses falling haphazardly. “He was riding the waves of a terrible breakup of a terrible relationship, and at first we just thought it was infatuation of the people he confided in. He’s still so young.”
“That doesn’t mean he doesn’t understand how relationships work, or how to fall in love. He’s a good kid, and he’s already been through so much, it seems. Give him a chance.” Hoseok’s voice turned into a whisper at the end, tears threatening to spill once more.
The other two shared a look, and a small, sad smile.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Summer was inching closer and closer and the weather was fucking unbearable. One day it was a nice cool 17ºC and the next it was a daunting 25ºC. Today was one of those days.
“Fucking kill me, Minnie.” Hoseok was dressed in black shorts and a burgundy tank top, with a black and red snapback holding back his hair. “I don’t want to go to Oxfam today.”
“We need supplies, Hobi. You wanted to learn how to make your own swing outfit, so you’re walking to Oxfam in 25º heat and getting the slacks and the dress you wanted.” Jimin was washing the dishes, the small flat where he and Taehyung lived homely and cool, because they had a good AC unit.
“Don’t let me melt, Minnie, please.”
Jimin shook his head. “It’s now or never, Hoseok. Now go out there and get your clothes!” He ushered the taller out of the flat. “Oh, and get me a pair of pink pumps. I have a new idea for an act and it requires a lot of pink.” The door slammed in Hoseok’s face and he groaned, clomping down the stairs and looking up at the sky.
Working weekends at the bar, Wednesdays and Fridays at the studio and now Monday to Thursday at L’Eto was finally bringing in a good amount of money. He could help Jin and Joon with their rent, and he could get his own clothes for shows, which was a good thing. He was indeed looking for a set of trousers and a dress to alter in an Oxfam, when he bumped, or more like crashed, into a certain short someone.
“Oh, fuck, sorry.” Hoseok hissed, squatting down to help the other guy stand. “Are you alright?”
Soft grey hair, oversized purple and grey hoodie over black ripped skinny jeans and purple canvas shoes, small, pretty hair clips on his bangs and shimmery pink lip gloss. The hair clips, upon closer inspection, were small, cartoon skulls and bats, drippy pastel purple eyes and bones. When the shorter guy looked up, it was as if time had slowed down to allow Hoseok to take in every detail. Smudged purple eyeshadow and delicately drawn eyeliner, making his dark eyes stand out on his pale skin. A matte black septum ring adorned a dainty button nose, a simple hoop in the middle of his lower lip (which Hoseok couldn’t help but notice were pouty and plush), a dripping pink heart sticker on his cheek, and the jewellery around his neck was witchy and pastel purple, small ouija planchettes hanging from silver chains, bats and ribcages, all a pretty shade of purple and black. He looked so goddamn soft.
But that didn’t last for long.
The other guy grunted as he stood up himself, swatting Hoseok’s hand away. “Yeah, I’m fine. Would’ve been be’er if you looked where you were goin’, buh, wha’ever.” The thick North London accent mixed with the raspy depth of his voice brought Hoseok out of the pastel fantasy he was wearing. He barreled past Hoseok, who tipped over to fall flat on his ass, having stayed crouching through the short introduction.
“What the…?” Hoseok stood up slowly, his brain still trying to tie the soft exterior with the voice. He shook his head and picked up the black lace dress and white slacks he’d grabbed before crashing into the other guy, every little detail burned into his mind.
Fuck, he was cute.
Hoseok made his way around the shop, sweat beading on his forehead as he scoured the shoe section for Jimin’s request. Finding bright pink pumps was harder than it seemed, but he finally found a pair and he made his way to the checkout, placing the items on the counter and fishing around in his shorts’ pockets for his wallet.
“Seriously?”
Hoseok looked up at the sound of the pastel boy’s voice, sunny smile breaking through. “Oh, hey! I’m really sorry I crashed into you, man. I should’ve been watching where I was going.”
“If y’hadn’t been textin’ while walkin’ ‘round a crowded shop, then we would’ve never crashed into each other.” He grumbled, a whispered addition soft enough that Hoseok almost missed it. "Fuckin' chav."
“Yoongi, be nice to the customers!” An old woman’s voice rang out from the room in the back, and the pastel boy, who now Hoseok knew was called Yoongi, rolled his eyes, a small, amused smile on his face. It certainly changed the aura around him, the smile, long gone was that exhausted frustration and now there was a fondness that Hoseok would love to see more of that smile. Maybe even a grin, just to see how much Yoongi would light up.
“That’ll be 67 pounds.”
Hoseok bit back a scowl, shaking his head slightly. He hated how expensive charity shops could be, but it was for a good cause so he relinquished his card with little resistance.
“Is this for like your mum or something?” Yoongi remarked, raising up the black lace dress to fold it neatly and put it into a bag.
“No, but it does look like something she’d wear.” Hoseok chuckled brightly, pulling his snapback off to fix his hair. Jimin and Tae had convinced him to dye his hair the same bright red as the wigs he wore for shows and around the bar, and to be honest it looked good on him. A sudden sharp intake of breath and the subsequent coughing fit made Hoseok look up to find Yoongi, cheeks bright red, coughing. “Are you alright, mate?”
Yoongi waved a hand dismissively, coughing fit residing and calming down so he could breathe properly. “Yeah, ‘m fine. Just choked on my own spi’, don’t worry abou’ it.” He cleared his throat and finished packing up the clothes and shoes, handing Hoseok his card and the bag with a serious face. “‘Ave a good day.”
“You too! Hope to see you around, Yoongi!” Hoseok waved his goodbye and walked out of the shop, snapback on his head once more. Suddenly the blazing sunlight and god-awful heat weren’t as bad as they were before.
Any criticisms or feedback are greatly appreciated, and it really does motivate me to continue. Also please let me know if you would like a series of one-shots about how Jin and Joon met, how they met Jungkook, how Jin and Joon's first date went, or any other anecdotes you'd like to hear.
#the arcane escape#bts fanfiction#namjin#namjinkook#vmin#yoonseok#pastel goth yoongi is a mood and I love he
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“Erik House” Chapter 10
Jones paced uncomfortably back and forth, "Are you sure this is a good idea? This feels like a bad idea."
Meanwhile Crawford was in the process of dethorning rose stems, having freshly picked them. Despite Cherik being the caretaker of rose garden he'd grown on the roof-with Erik's approval of course-many of the residents tended to pick a few flowers here and there. Mauer had been up on the roof a few days ago plucking some for Elizabeth.
"Yes, I'm quite sure." Crawford nodded
"But I'm not like you, I don't have such authority of the others or respect like they do for you." Jones shook his head.
Patting his friend on the shoulder, the older Merik chuckled.
"Nonsense, you'll do just fine. Besides I'll only be away for two nights, and if you must you know how to reach me."
Crawford didn't like the strange little contraption the others insisted he get, but they insisted his previous phone was quote 'A prehistoric relic'. He hadn't quite grasped the concept of half the 'apps' on this thing.
After the mishap in the pool a week ago, the older Merik felt it was high time for a break. He hated losing his temper, and concluded a dosage of too much stress was to blame.
Sarah was free when he'd contacted her and like that had an overnight bag and a bouquet of vibrant red roses.
As the Meriks exited the roof heading down to the main floor, Jones was a bundle of nerves. It was one weekend sure, but alot could happen in one weekend.
Adjusting his cloak and fedora, Crawford sighed.
"Please my friend, you'll do just fine while I'm away." He smiled at Jones, "I trust you."
Jones watched Crawford depart, heaving a heavy exhale. "I do hope you're right."
--
"How about this one?" Cherik asked, handing Karimloo another mask. Since his was broken, Cherik was more than happy to offer some help.
Karimloo tried another on, it felt a little tight around his face and nose-The West End man being unaccustomed to wearing a full mask. Aside from the the black lines drooping down from the eye piece, it was the best option.
Elsewhere on the second floor Panaro was working on a little project of his own.
He just hoped his craftsmanship wasn't too shoddy.
--
Gerik opened his door, creeping downstairs. All was silent on the second floor, almost deftly silent. In an attempt to avoid a fuss from the Meriks, Jones had taken the sea of porcelain masks to a new production of 'Magic Flute' being performed at the opera.
Not just the Meriks, a majority of the residents were absent.
Normally Gerik would see what Mr. Y was up to, but the older man was out today enjoying a visit with his son to a local fair that was in town.
Destler-and astonishingly-Winslow had left together earlier, the latter rarely leaving the house.
Cherik was still around but was tending to the rooftop garden. Between the roses and the assorted taxidermy creatures he'd placed up there it'd become a new dreamery of sorts.
Taking full advantage of the quiet and solidarity, Gerik made his way down to the parlour room on the main floor. He sighed happily getting the chance to play.
Though he didn't have very long to sing.
"No stop STOP," Gerik flinched realising he wasn't alone. But he was surprised to see Erik standing behind him. "Just what was THAT?"
"I was just doing a warm up," Gerik said.
Behind the black mask, Gerik could see Erik's piercing golden eyes widen in disbelief.
"A warm up? My God..." Erik shook his head. "You can't continue, not like that at least."
Gerik hung his head shamefully and got up to make his leave, only to be blocked by Erik's long, skeletal hand.
"And just where do you think you're going? I didn't say leave." Erik sighed.
Gerik blinked confused. "I just-?"
Suddenly he felt Erik grasp his wrist, tugging him along as he turned toward the basement.
"Wait! Where are we going?" The film adapted man asked.
"If you're going to wear the mask, you need a half decent voice, but I'll be damned if it's only half of it's potential."
Erik had forgotten just how delightful teaching was. And if he could turn Christine's screeching into that of a graceful songbird, he could certainly retune Gerik's poor tenor.
It was the start of a strange partnership.
--
So for Friday night came and went and they were into Saturday. Jones was feeling at ease, the opera went splendidly last night. Granted Carpenter and Cudia made him nervous staring up at the chandelier every so often. But the crystal light fixture went untouched and the Meriks thoroughly enthralled.
Maybe things would be ok after all.
Jones was reading the L'Epoque that morning when he heard the first warning sign of trouble.
"What's that you have there?" Kerik inquired, snatching the open box Panaro held.
"Hey!" The Merik scowled
The novelised man seemed to scrutinise whatever it was before tossing back the box. "Not bad. I mean not up to my level but not bad."
"What's that suppose to mean?" Panaro snapped, "I'll have you know I've been working hard on this!"
"Not enough it seems." Kerik chuckled before turning his back to him, only the just miss an object woosh past him.
Judging by the pattern and breadcrumbs the shattered remnants were Panaro's breakfast plate.
Kerik made an about turn.
"Did you just throw a plate at me?" He scowled yellow eyes at Panaro.
"Quite the unseen genius you are!" The Merik bit back.
Kerik held a glass in his hands and gave it a toss, also missing his target.
Jones folded up his paper. 'Uh oh'
"Now gentlemen. Let's wrap things up before things-"
A whoosh of fire came next.
"-Worse."
--
Crawford smiled listening to Sarah sing. She had been working on several new arias, and his reprieve from the others seemed like an ideal time to practice.
"Bravisimi my darling! That was wonderful," He praised.
"You really think so?" The brunette asked.
"My dear, I would not give you false hope. Our past lessons have quite clearly paid off."
Sarah smiled sweetly up at him with a light peck on the cheek of his mask.
They then heard a whistle from a separate room.
The curly haired brunette stood, "That'll be the tea."
As Sarah went off to check on the kettle, Crawford took a moment to check the phone. No messages since last night about the trip to the opera.
While the older Merik had much faith in Jones, he was concerned seeing no new update.
Punching in Jones number he hit dial.
"Hello?" Jones sounded a little tense. But then again, he usually sounded like that.
"Just checking in. So, how are things?" Crawford asked.
"O-Oh! Fine! Yes, everything is fine,"
The older Merik raised a brow hearing the sound of garbled French and Persian swearing in the background.
"You're sure?" He asked as Sarah came back with two steaming cups of tea.
"Oh yes yes! Hey now, stop that!"
And then the sound of shattered glass.
"What was that?" Crawford asked.
Jones sounded a little more uneasy, "Oh that! I was clumsy, dropped my glass in all the commotion! WELL I MEAN! Not commotion! I uh...."
"I'm feeling a little better now if you need me back."
"No no! Enjoy the rest! I have it all. UNDER. CON- WAIT, SEE HERE NOW! I'll call you later, got to go!"
The older Merik set the device down as the call ended.
"Is everything alright?" Sarah asked.
Crawford sighed, "At this point I'm honestly afraid to find out."
She pouted, "Do you have to go back?"
He shook his head, "It sounded a little...off putting what I heard but nothing Jones can't handle for a day. He's a decent man, if he were in imminent trouble he would tell me."
The brunette leaned back, resting her head on the Merik's shoulder, "Alright."
--
In the meantime however, Jones had thought he had everything under control once he took away Panaro staff and had some help keeping he and Kerik separated.
He knocked on Panaro's door.
"What?" He could practically feel the Broadway man's scowl as he opened the door.
Jones cleared his throat, holding out a box. "You left this on the couch."
Panaro's eyes wide immediately yanked the box from Jones outstretched hands.
"Do you, do you think it's good?" He asked.
Jones smiled kindly, "I'm sure he'll love it."
“What? How did you know-?"
The slightly older Merik chuckled, "He has a particular facial structure, what with the cheekbones he has. Don't let what Kerik said get the better of you."
Panaro sighed, "Fine. Thank you for returning this."
Jones left Panaro to his solitude and sighed.
Just one little setback and he fixed. He was doing just fine. And everything was just fi-
And that all came crashing down seeing Harley and Gerik tumble down the stairs toward the main floor-being kicked down by a rather rage induced party of six.
"Oh not again! Jones groaned. "What is all this about now?"
He tried to ask but the Meriks seemed too intuned to kicking the men whilst they were down.
"Sadly I know how this came about," Mr. Y said regretfully, going on to explain why the outcasted Phantoms were receiving such a swift beating.
It wasn't Gerik or Y's intent to join Harley's little scheme this week. Ever since what happened at the pool, the what could have been Merik was plotting out more plans against Crawford and any way to make a fool out of him.
None of these plans going anywhere. At least he thought one might work once he'd heard the older Merik would be away.
"I'm not doing it," Gerik said bluntly. "I'm not risking another throat punch now."
Harley scoffed, "Come now, I just need a lookout is all!"
"While you destroy the room of someone who stands at 5'10 and had ME in a chokehold?" Y asked flatly.
"I didn't say destroy it, just a little.....redecorating."
Gerik shook his head, "Forget it. I'm done with revenge schemes I don't even play a part in."
Harley smirked behind the metallic mask, pulling something out of his breast pocket. "Not even for these?"
Gerik glanced up at him and gasped.
In his gloved hand Harley held out for him photographs. More specifically snap shots of a certain Merik whom enjoyed lifting at the gym.
Gerik snatched up the Karimloo photos, from the angles he could clearly tell the Merik hadn't outright posed or known there was a camera nearby.
"How did you?" Gerik asked somewhat dumbfounded.
Harley shook his head, "Not important. So, you help me trash the old man's room and I let you keep the photos. Deal?"
Y shook his head, "You're going to get yourselves hurt."
Harley scowled, "Thanks dad, now come on Gerik it's a fair trade!"
Gerik sighed, feeling Y's disapproving glance, "Deal. But only a lookout! If I see one of those masked madmen coming I had nothing to do with this."
But neither man was successful with either plan.
Harley only had a solid two minutes and six seconds in Crawford's room after picking the lock before he and Gerik were jumped from behind yet again.
"I just followed them to make sure they wouldn't get into trouble." Y exclaimed trying to help Jones pull Mauer off Gerik.
"And it didn't occur to you to tell me of this plan?!"
"For all I knew you were as insane as the others!"
--
It took far too long to subdue them but at least Y helped Jones fend off the Meriks.
Jones tired and feeling his breath hitched and uneasy glanced at his pocketwatch.
It was just passed four. Still a whole night to go. Part of him desperately wanted to call Crawford back and plead for help. But he saw what sort of stress the older Merik went through each day, he deserved at least a short period of R&R.
But how was he to tame the others for one more night until morning? Jones was not a drunkard by any means but he would strangle a stagehand for a drink right about now.
Then the thought occurred to him.
He knew Destler had enough spirits in his room to intoxicate a tavern of sailors.
Jones had one idea, it could surely be either brilliant or backfire horribly.
But he decided to take that chance.
--
Gerik's assault wasn't anywhere near as bad as last time, he had escaped with a few bruises but nothing that wouldn't fade away by tomorrow.
He decided to play it safe and stay upstairs. Though when he started hearing music blare from the second floor, it peaked his interest.
More specifically because this music was not the monotone sad groans of a pipe organ or screeches of a violin. It was a bit more...eccentric.
Creaking the Meriks door open Gerik found the cause to be a small sound system rewired to work as a router for a karaoke machine-never mind who karaoke machine it was or where it came from.
Many of the Meriks were there out in the parlor hooting and hollering like young men out at the town.
Karimloo was laughing with them, holding his mic dominantly, an arm around Panaro holding another microphone.
Wilkinson blinked surveying the scene, turning to Jones
"You got them drunk?!"
Jones scratched the back of his head, "Well it's distracting them right?"
"And making a mess of the parlour," He retorted.
True, while the Meriks were highly inebriated they weren't causing too much trouble. While anyone else would be worried about a noise complaint the only one had was Lerik beating a broom handle on the ceiling as Panaro and Karimloo sang 'My Prerogative'.
"Another! Another!" Karrie jeered.
"Well?" Karimloo asked Panaro.
The Broadway man felt his face go warm, "Well I actually had something prepared."
Stepping forward to change the track-and accidentally spilling his glass while doing so-Panaro cleared his throat gazing back at Karimloo.
It only takes a moment
For your eyes to meet and then
Your heart knows in a moment
You will never be alone again
Perhaps it was the wine triggering his boldness stepping closer to the West End man.
I held you for an instant
But my arms felt sure and strong
It only takes a moment
To be loved a whole life long...
The whole room seemed to fall silent when Panaro pulled Karimloo by his loosened bowtie and felt his malformed lips against his own.
Pulling away Panaro's eyes widened, seeming to just now realise what he'd done. Before Karimloo-whom was just as dumbstruck-could say anything, the Broadway man took off.
"Why? Why did I go and do that?" Panaro mumbled woefully to himself, locked up in his room. "I'm such a fool..."
A short time later he heard a soft knock on his door.
"Go away!" Panaro grumbled.
"It's me," His head lifted up hearing Karimloo's velvety voice.
Slightly hesitant, Panaro opened the door revealing Karimloo at the door.
"About earlier," The Broadway man sighed, "You don't need to worry about it. It was a mistake, I've had alcohol and I just-"
But he was silenced when he felt Karimloo pull him to him by the shoulders, kissing him back. Panaro felt his eyes flutter closed unintentionally leaning in closer.
Both seemed frozen in place before Karimloo pulled away, "I hope you still don't think it was a mistake."
Holding something out for Panaro, the latter gently accepted the offered rose.
"I went up to the garden after you left, that's why it took me awhile."
“T-Thank you...” And then Panaro remembered, "Oh, I actually have something for you!"
Opening his nightstand drawer he pulled out a black box handing it to Karimloo.
He opened it and felt his lips curve in a smile. In his hands he held a new mask, he already knew it was handcrafted.
"I lined it as well, so it shouldn't scratch at your face as the other one did." He lifted a hand to the full mask on Karimloo's face, "May I?"
He nodded, shutting his eyes as the mask was pulled away.
Karimloo felt Panaro's digits roam along the ridges and twisted flesh of his deformed half. And then he felt the mask gently pressed in place like a perfectly aligned puzzle piece.
Karimloo's dark eyes opened and found himself smiling, "Thank you."
Pulling Panaro close once more they shared another kiss.
“Do I get to hear the rest of the song?” Karimloo mumbled against his lips.
“Of course...”
Taking Karimloo’s broad hands in his, Panaro cleared his throat.
I’ve heard it said, that love must grow
That to be sure, you must be slow
I saw you smile, and now I know
I’ll sing to just my heart
That smile made me trust my heart
Panaro’s eyes beamed, singing as Karimloo gazed back at him. Karimloo joined his companion, creating a duet.
For it only takes a moment,
For your eyes to meet, and then.
Your heart knows, in a moment.
You will never be alone again
I held you for an instant,
But my arms felt sure and strong
It only takes a moment,
To be loved a whole life long
Their arms went around the other, the Merik’s just inches away.
And that is all that love’s about
And we’ll recall when time runs out
That it only took a moment
To be loved a whole life long
Unbeknown to either of them, a nosy Gerik was peaking through the doorway, hearing and seeing everything as he could feel his heart shattering. The film adapted man knew from the way Panaro kept looking at the West End man that it was only a matter of time before they would be together.
Yet again Gerik found himself pining for someone already taken.
Heartbroken and slightly tipsy-the other Meriks were so intoxicated they barely registered his foreign forbidden presence on their floor-Gerik staggered away to make his leave. Only to be intercepted by Kerik's hooked arm.
"Tut tut, not a wise idea to see you here," The novelised man grinned like a Cheshire Cat. "But I shouldn't be surprised you'd be spying since seeing your face go red as a tomato at the pool party."
"Leave me be," Gerik mumbled woefully.
"Come now, no reason you can't stick around a little longer, have a bit more fun." Kerik said, a hand rubbing along Gerik's broad shoulder. The man couldn't sing his way out of a paper bag, but he was physically well developed. "Might take your mind off West End and bread boy down the hall. Just a night?"
Gerik barely registered they'd entered Kerik's room until the door shut behind them.
--
Crawford awoke early on Sunday to an annoying repetitive beep.
He sat up, noticing Sarah was blissfully sound asleep. He glanced around noticing the infernal black rectangle called a phone was flashing. Picking it up the older Merik was wide eyed to see several missed calls.
"Oh my..." He mumbled, noticing one message in particular.
ERIK: Home now, urgent.
Mismatch eyes wide, he stood dressing promptly and quietly gathering his belongings. Leaving a note of apology for Sarah, Crawford adorned his cloak and fedora, making his way back to the house.
When the Merik arrived he was surprised to see Erik sitting patiently in the main parlour, hands clasped together.
"Ah good, you're finally here," Though the Merik could hear a slight edge of annoyance. "While I understand your boys can be more than a handful I think it's best you not leave the House for so long."
"So long? What's happened? I was only gone two days!" Crawford was suffice to say surprised. Sure he expected a few hiccups, but how bad could it be?
"Why don't I show you?" Erik mumbled behind the black mask as they walked up the second floor.
"Sweet music's throne, what the bloody hell happened?" Crawford gaped.
Their parlour looked like a tornado had come through it. There was broken glass, some pieces of furniture flipped-though his heart calmed when he saw the organ was thankfully untouched-he could even see scorch marks on the wall. There were a few Meriks still present-passed out but present-a few clutching empty wine bottles to themselves.
Erik wanted to be angry (and when he discovered this he most certainly was), but seeing the shock and confusion on Crawford's face-well half of it-made him feel some pity. Some.
"Where's Jones?" The older Merik asked fearfully, to which Erik pointing a finger to the other side of the room, where it looked as though Jones was asleep. His suit a mess, and his wig untamed and wild.
"The poor fellow was close to going up the wall trying to tame this. Apparently there was a dispute between three of them wanting to sing the same song or some similar ridiculous notion."
Crawford sighed, "I can't carry him, help me with his legs?"
Erik and the older Merik lifted Jones up and carried him down the hall to his room, so as he was more comfortable than on the floor. Unfolding a nearby blanket, Crawford draped it over Jones, trying to slick the wig back so as it was more manageable. Plucking Jones earphones off the adjacent table he placed them in the unconscious Merik's ears before making his leave.
Closing Jones door behind them, Erik asked, "Just what do you plan to do about this?"
Crawford's mismatch eyes narrowed, "What I must."
In a loud booming tone that the entirety of their floor could hear, Crawford shouted.
"ALL OF YOU, IN THE PARLOUR. RIGHT NOW OR SO HELP ME I WILL DRAG YOU LOT OUT HERE."
All at once doors flew open, Meriks half asleep and still dressed in dishevelled suits came barrelling out hearing that familiar authoritative voice. Crawford's brow rose, noting Karimloo and Panaro exited together out of the latter's room.
Kerik calmly stepped out of his room yawning, "Could you be any louder?"
The novelised man walking passed Crawford so as to go downstairs, only to be yanked back by his wrinkled shirt collar.
"Not so fast." Crawford said.
"Oi, let go of me old man! I'm not even one of you guys!" Kerik grumbled, but the older Merik just dragged him with him to the parlor.
"No but I have a strong feeling you had something to do with this mess,"
As Crawford began giving the Meriks an ear ful no one seemed to notice Gerik, whom was half dressed and his wig discarded tip toe out of Kerik's room and up the stairwell towards his floor.
-In this story Mauer also gets his Christine, whom in this case was Elizabeth Southard whom in r/l he is currently happily married to as well.
-There is much Actor Allusion I’m using here. As Crawford’s Merik originated in the 1980′s I of course am making his Merik quite clueless by result of present 2010+ technology. So yes, the Meriks made him get a smartphone. And of course not knowing how to use it had it on silent mode!
-The mask Karimloo borrows is the sort of clown mask Cherik wears over his own mask at one point in his adaptation, I believe in part two of Cherik’s special.
-Yes Panaro was shooting fireballs at Kerik with the skull staff from the ‘Bravo Monsieur!’ scene in the ALW musical
-In the novel “Phantom of the Opera” Christine’s voice was rather screechy and flat before Erik started teaching her.
-I picked “It Only Takes a Moment” From Hello Dolly! as A) The Meriks in this story love musicals and B) Hugh Panaro has sung this song for the album “Tap Your Troubles Away! The Words and Music of Jerry Herman” look it up it’s quite lovely!
-I should hope everyone’s well aware of the “Hugh Panera Bread” joke by now hence bread boy XD
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Thoughts at 30am...
I have napped off and on almost all night long. In fact I crashed at 6pm because I could no longer keep my eyes open. It's rare for me to ever feel that tired/exhausted but I had to just do what my body needed.
TMI, the constant diarrhea saps my body of all strength at times.
I did accomplish a lot today though.
I fell asleep just after 6am but was woken up by my father being a dumbass at just before 8am. Look, waking me up because you are constipated because you ate food you weren't supposed to, is not going to get any sympathy from me. I got up, I said "ok, get dressed and I'll take you to the doctor." As exhausted as I was, I was still willing to help him by taking him across the valley in rush hour traffic, because why the hell else would he wake me up if it wasn't to go to the doctor???? But NOPE!! He literally said "I cant get dressed! I hurt too much!" So i said fine, i'll call for an ambulance.... NOPE! He didn't want to go at all! So... what? What does he want?? I said fine, I'll give you some prune juice and we'll see if that helps, and he threw a hissy fit that he didn't want any of that... so now what?!?!?! What the fuck does he want from me?? He's standing there cursing and insulting me and yelling that he's in pain, but doesn't want to do anything to fix it. If you hurt, go to the doctor, otherwise stfu, ya know?? I finally called him a fucking dumbass and told him if he didn't drink the prune juice I was just going to call 911 anyways and have them haul him off to the worst hospital we could think of and maybe keep him there for the weekend! That's when he shut up, drank the prune juice, and wow... like magic... it worked! Duh.
This is why all of the nurses and my sisters won't deal with him. Unlike other adults who take their meds, and take care of themselves, he literally self-sabotages himself and when you try and help him, or tell him how to help himself, he goes into full tantrum mode.
A few weeks ago he was complaining about the nerve pain in his legs to his doctor, and his cardiologist was right there next to him. Doc said he needs to walk more, exercise, stop the atrophy! The nerve pain is from laying in bed 20hrs a day and refusing to walk. He literally... straight face, full commitment, 0 hesitation, looked at the doc and said "I can't walk. I have a heart blockage, not enough blood flows to the bottom of my heart. I can't exercise!" The cardiologist, who did all 4 of dad's stents and other surgeries, turned and looked at dad like he was a god damn alien from another planet! He then proceeded to call dad on his bullshit, and told him to get up, get off his ass, and exercise! There is no blockage, and to stop lying.
When my mother first married him, he was 20 year old and he would tell people they needed to be nice to him and not stress him out, and that he couldn't exercise because he had a "heart condition." Totally made up, absolutely fabricated, but that's what he does. He would also come home, completely drunk, and pass out on the couch. He would yell and scream for someone to bring him a pillow, he'd refuse to even get up to eat dinner, because he was too sick and had to be fed in the living room. Always too sick (aka drunk.) All he ever wanted to do was be drunk or high and watch tv in bed.
He's lazy, and he's pathetic, and the only way to get him to care for himself is to not tolerate it or play his dumb ass games. He's 77 years old, I'm not his mother, and I'm not going to baby him. That's how he ended up a lousy drunk and drug addict, because others coddled him and wouldn't tell him no.
Now he's almost perfectly healthy, heart is strong, no more angina, full recovery from the stroke and cancer, and everything else. And it's simply because I will tell him no and not tolerate his bullshit. I can't make him exercise though, and that'll kill him. His choice.
Now that I'm done ranting about that. I did run to autozone today, because I've had 2 warning lights on my cars dash for months now and I finally got them taken care of. The first was the windshield washer fluid, damn thing drank the entire gallon I bought! I thought it was way too big, and even asked the guy if he had a smaller size but.. NOPE. It needed the whole thing. Sheesh. I also got an air compressor tire thing on amazon and finally got my right rear tire up to pressure. It's supposed to be at 33psi, but was running around 28. The others were at 31-29, but the right rear would always trip the TPMS, so I plugged it into the 12v socket, attached the hose and if it ain't the neatest thing... the car honks when it's at the right pressure! lol So I filled all 4 to the correct honk lol.
After that I went to the market, spent 500 bucks on food and got my 1000pts cause yay 2x weekend pts! That gives us just over 3000 points to use now, so I'll be able to use them for my arizona road trip :) Here in california we only get 20 cents off a gallon. In arizona, mom gets a dollar off! So since my car has a 20 gallon tank, that'll make things really nice. Right now gas there is 2.17 so that'll bring it down to 1.17! Where I am, gas is 3.39 :| Talk about a huge difference. $68 vs $24.
I did screw up at the store and bought too much for my freezer... I really jam packed it way too much and I feel super dumb about that. I rarely have that problem, but i've been trying a lot of new vegitarian foods, and I tend to misjudge how much space some of that stuff takes.
Other than that, I downloaded some new books, read a bunch, and have been following the G20 protests. I remember a lot of the black bloc/anarchist stuff in the 80s and 90s, especially the Seattle WTO riots. I know a bunch of you are young and you're all like "This is just about Trump! If it wasn't for Trump this wouldn't be happening," and I'm like... dude... no. Just... no. This happens every... fucking.. time... since forever ago. It's about anti-capitalism, anti-world bank, anti-IMF, Trump is just a tiny little wrinkle into the anarchist playbook. Hell, Bill Clinton was president during the Seattle WTO event!
I think that's the most shocking thing to me about "kids today." I never feel as old as I do when talking about things that were part of the tapestry of history when I was growing up, especially my teen years. I remember "The Troubles" in Northern Ireland and seeing photos of British Para's with the L1A1s kneeling down throughout Irish streets, with full war kit on and a red Para beret. I remember seeing the riots at various summits, and especially in England and France over things like Thatchers austerity measures and France's unemployment and wage stuff. I remember the german terror groups like the Red Brigade, and fears about the PLO and the Libyans. I think that's what struck me so much about the Ferguson and BLM protests, how many people were screaming about the militarization of our police in regards to protests and riots... not with the idea that it was bad because x,y,z but they all have this strange notion that other countries of the world do things differently. Like, they've never seen the giant european armored vehicles that are as long as semi's with huge water canons, and riot police dressed in all black with their menacing armor. You look at Hamburg today, and Venezuela, and all over the globe, and it's a perspective that is necessary. It's one thing to say what we do is wrong for the sake of it being wrong, it's another to say we're wrong because of false notions about "the rest of the world." It's amazing how isolated we are in our thinking and knowledge, almost to the point where the rest of the world is some rosey fictional utopian place. It's so strange, it's so ignorant, it's sad really.
It's one reason I encourage so many people to study abroad, or work for a humanitarian organization, or just get the fuck up and get the fuck out, because isolation and groupthink run hand in hand and lead to the worst kind of stupid ever imaginable.
I do think it was immensely fucking dumb for the G20 to have their summit in Hamburg though. The last few major ones have all been at isolated resorts/islands and shit for a god damn good reason. Why they changed that, I haven't the foggiest fucking clue. Dumbasses.
Also if you ever have a moment, and you're feeling "political" it's worth googling congressional corruption and lobbyist. It's important to note that they got rid of a major anti-corruption rule just recently, and while I have no idea who represent.us is, I do think it's important to read this article to understand just how perverted the left and the right are in America:
https://represent.us/action/5-facts-lobbyists/
It's sad, it's sickening, it's gross, it's why whenever I hear anyone blame one side or the other, it makes my skin crawl.. though it's really hard to believe just how fucked up the Right has become, especially with their healthcare bill that is less about healthcare and more about tax breaks for the rich. And why? Read that link!
"The average senator has to pull in more than $14,000 dollars every single day, just to stay in office"
Imagine if that kind of money was spent on mental health issues or affordable housing instead... fuck.
Oh well, these were my thoughts.
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dinners with dad (or, forced attempts in parenting) // a queen sugar fic, part 2
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about... Micah goes to eat with Davis again, but the subject of birthdays brings back memories of birthdays past. + read on ao3
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To Keke // June 14, 2016 (4:31pm)
Micah: he keeps asking me questions. what do I want for my birthday, what is the family doing, if we should have a celebration of our own
Micah: as if I want to spend my birthday with him
To Micah // June 14, 2016 (4:33 pm)
Keke: You could do it the day before? He just wants to give you your present and see you smile at him
To Keke // June 14, 2016 (4:34 pm)
Micah: If that’s all he wants, then we could do that rn. skip the bullshit and just swap
Micah: uggggh
Micah: what if you just crash Boogie’s car into the diner?
Micah: that’ll shut him up!
Micah: then he can’t talk about the divorce, or what my mom’s feeling about the divorce, and I don’t have to go full Hermione on him
To Micah // June 14, 2016 (4:34pm)
Keke: Full Hermione?
Keke: You gon punch your dad in the face?
To Keke // June 14, 2016 (4:36pm)
Micah: no punching, just screaming I’M NOT AN OWL
Micah: but seriously, save me
“Micah.”
To Keke // June 14, 2016 (4:37pm)
Micah: Drive the car into the diner, run me over in the process
Micah: pls
“Micah.” Davis sighs. "Come on, son, I’m talking to you."
That’s the problem. Micah stuffs that comment into the back of his mouth though. Glances up at his dad while he tucks his phone back into his pocket. “And I hear you.” But he’s not apologizing. There’s no point in saying he’s sorry when he’d much rather be working the farm with Ralph Angel than having this late lunch with his dad. But he’d already promised his aunt Vi he wouldn’t go off on Davis in public again. She’d claimed it was bad for business.
Davis crashes his jaw from one side to the other. “You don’t want to talk. That’s fine. We’ll just eat, and then I’ll drop you back at your aunt’s.”
“Thank you.” Micah’s phone jumps in his pocket, but he doesn’t pull it back out. Just grabs his fork and digs into his spaghetti. The second the sauce hits his lips, his lips quirk up. Vi always puts a little sugar in her spaghetti sauce, and as long as she keeps on undercutting the chefs in the kitchen, he’ll keep coming to the High Yellow. Or as long as his dad tries forcing these meals.
“Was that Keke? I saw her name on your phone in the car.” Davis smiles. “You two still talking then.”
They are, but, honestly, “I thought we didn’t have to talk anymore,” Micah says. Didn’t his dad just say that? “I’ve got a headache anyway.”
Davis sighs. “Fine. Fine, son.”
Micah glances back down to his food, but he can still see the way Davis twists the fork around and around without eating. The tension in his dad’s muscles along his arms. The throb of the veins in his dad’s neck that are just at the edge of Micah’s vision. But Micah doesn’t have to feel bad about that. He doesn’t have to tend to his dad’s feelings when his dad couldn’t be bothered to do the same thing for him and his mom. He doesn’t have to be the bigger person with a dude who is literally two feet taller than him. He doesn’t.
(Right?)
His phone buzzes again.
To Micah // June 14, 2016 (4:42 pm)
Keke: I’m just saying, give him a chance and then call me when you’re done
Keke: You can yell all about how awful he is
To Keke // June 14, 2016 (4:43 pm)
Micah: I’d much rather talk about what you and me are doing for my birthday
To Micah // June 14, 2016 (4:44 pm)
Keke: And what do you have in mind?
A nice lunch, just them and his mom so his mom gets to see Keke as a full person instead of just a different girl that Micah’s interested in. And the lunch ends long before the family thing so he borrows the keys to his mom’s Range and takes Keke on a ride through the city. They stop by Grandpa Ernest’s house and settle under the tree — no, they stop at Vi’s house and go by the garden where they first met. He can show her the flowers that have taken root and point out that they’re a lot like this garden. They might be budding into something new, but they’re already something pretty great to look at. Then she’ll get all happy since he’s so sweet, and they can maybe do a little something before he has to take her home.
“You’re smiling pretty wide over there,” Davis says. He keeps his eyes low on his plate — he got the alfredo since apparently he doesn’t want the house speciality. “We don’t have to talk. I just — I remember being that happy over messages. I used to read the ones from you and your mom before taking the court. This one time—“
“Before or after the affairs?” Fuck. Shit. Micah’s supposed to hold it in today. “I mean, if you’re smiling over Mom, then before, right?”
Davis gives his fork another twist. “During.” He shifts it from one hand to the other. “But, one day, you two were in the group chat, just trying to drag me into some fight about whether or not you should be able to have a party at the house or take a few friends to Aspen for your birthday. Your mom figured you’d make less of a mess if you were somewhere up in the mountains.”
Of course the house in L.A. — their house — is in the mountains too. Micah used to fall asleep staring at the skyline and all the lights. Every once in a while, a helicopter would fly above them, rattling his cracked window, and now it’s just… quiet. The land is quiet. People might get their starts early, but there’s so much space between houses that people don’t make that much noise. No sirens, no gates swinging open, no camera crews.
And that year Davis is talking about was two years ago. Micah wanted a chance to be a normal teenager. You know, throw a big party, snap at his friends who get into the liquor cabinet, tape off his parents’ room so no one went in there to do anything gross. But his mom didn’t like the idea of just anybody being in their house, especially since so much of the house was glass and expensive furnishings. (“Do your little friends have the money to fix it all back up, or were you expecting us to pay for it?”)
“Yeah, I joked that I didn’t need a present if I could throw the party. The expenses could be my present.” He drew up a budget and everything, but Charley wasn’t having it.
Davis nods. “So I left the group chat and talked to your mom separately. Full on begging her to come on the road for a few days and let Rocky keep an eye out. We could hide the really good stuff. Put a brand new, reinforced lock on our room. Even tell the neighborhood watch to be ready for a ‘teen party.’”
“Wait, what?” That doesn’t make any sense. His dad got sick a week before his birthday. And his mom flew out to help Davis so that he wouldn’t have to leave the road or ride the bench. And she went to meetings. It was Micah’s idea to push the party up and capitalize on the moment.
“Oh yeah, we planned all that. Why do you think we got the pool cleaned before we left?”
Because it was summer and people just did that. “How was I supposed to know you threw me a party?”
“Because we love you. And you really wanted to do it big for your first high school birthday. But, hey, what do I know about what you really want, right?” Davis switches his fork back to his right hand and picks up a bite of food. “Keke’s waiting.”
“Right.” Micah hits his home screen with a shaky thumb.
To Keke // June 14, 2016 (4:50 pm)
Micah: Lunch with me and my mom. That’s what I want.
Then Micah clicks over to another chat.
To Mom (Charley Bordelon-West) // June 14, 2016 (4:52 pm)
Micah: You and Dad knew about the party? 2yrs ago?
To Micah // June 14, 2016 (4:53 pm)
Mom: That’s what you two are talking about?
Mom: Why do you think we got the pool cleaned?
Damn. They really were good together. And now, they really won’t be together ever again.
Like, obviously his dad really fucked up. His dad deserves to be alone after what he did. Davis deserves to spend the rest of his life without anyone to come home to, and nobody should trust him after he left Goldie with all the guys from the team when that’s not something Goldie wanted to happen. Money doesn’t equal consent. Micah gets that. It’s just… they threw him a party. They raised him, together. They used to tag team parent him all the time. Like this one time when he was so mad that his dad couldn’t come to his game because of a press event, and his mom knew so she got his dad out of the event with a press release and an advanced Q&A thing, then when Micah ran out onto the court and looked over, he saw both of them cheering in the bleachers. His dad even still had his suit on.
Or when his dad helped him get ready for his first date. Micah couldn’t stop fidgeting and changing and staring down every single shirt in his closet to find one that wouldn’t make him look like the dorky kid from the back of the classroom. And his dad told him all about the first date that he and Charley had — how Davis was still trying to front and pretend he was this really smart, educated dude since he thought that Charley wanted someone like that. Thought Charley would respond better to somebody going places than somebody who mostly just had basketball going for him. But Charley’d caught Davis in his lie and told him that she didn’t have time for games, not if she was going to be taken seriously out there. She needed a partner, and if Davis couldn’t be an honest one, then there was no point in wasting their time. And she’d dropped a twenty on the table to pay for her food and walked out of the restaurant. Davis could barely drop more money on the table before he sprinted out after her. And Davis got this dopey smile on his face when he talked about his speech to win Charley back. But he’d given a speech about trying to be the kind of guy she deserved, and she’d eventually told him to just be himself. And then the real Davis — the Dad Davis who was helping Micah get ready — pulled out this plain green shirt that Micah spent most of the time lounging around in and told him to wear that. And Micah did. And he had a really great date.
“Dad?” Shit. He probably shouldn’t even say anything. He’s just caught up in nostalgia. It’s stupid. “Breakfast wouldn’t be so bad. You know, on my birthday.”
Davis’s whole body goes soft while his eyebrows lift up. Eyes brighten to the point where Micah needs to glance away. “I would really like that, son. Anywhere you want.”
What if he wants to go back to L.A.?
What if he wants to go back in time to before they knew about everything and everything changed? What if he just really wants his family back?
Micah clears his throat. “I’ll think about where. Let’s just finish this, okay?”
“Okay."
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[now there’s a fic tag + here’s part three]
#micah west#queen sugar#queen sugar fic#davis west#keke x micah#keke (queen sugar)#mine#davis x micah#charley bordelon#qs: s2#fic: dinners with dad#qs: fics#charley x davis x micah#bordelon wests#keke raymond
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The Question Falls - Chapter 2
Fandom: OUAT (inspired by Sex and the City)
Pairing: Rumbelle
Rating: T
Summary: Divorce attorney Gold knows better than to fall in love with a client. Really he does.
AO3
“When we were going to couples therapy Gaston told me I was a princess who deserved everything I wanted. Do you think that’ll sway things in my favor?”
“It’s a case of hearsay, unfortunately, dearie.” Gold drummed his fingers on his desk. “I’ve discovered a few more assets Mrs. Lefleur has been hiding. She really is determined to give you nothing, y’know.”
“I don’t want anything but the apartment,” Belle said sternly. “She could offer me millions and I wouldn’t accept it.”
She was the most stubborn woman he’d ever met. And the brightest. The sweetest. The most beautiful. He fought back a groan and ran a hand over his face before turning his attention back to his phone. “Why is his mother handling his divorce anyway?” he asked.
There was a long pause. “Divorces are messy and unpleasant. Gaston doesn’t do messy. He likes things to be neat and tidy. Sterile, even.”
Except, apparently, when she went down on him in movie theaters. God, Gold wished she hadn’t told him that.
“Except when messy suited him, of course.”
Shit, she’d read his mind.
He’d now spent enough time in his office and on the phone with Belle to know that she was the exact opposite of neat, tidy, and sterile. She was clumsy and impulsive, passionate and bold. His office safe now held a chipped teacup she’d broken during their second meeting, when she’d gestured a little too violently and sent the cup crashing to the floor. She’d been positively distraught, but he’d told her it was just a cup and swept the pieces up onto his desk to be fixed later. (He’d never repaired the cup.) Halfway through their third meeting the conversation had somehow derailed into a discussion of what was considered classic literature and the inherent prejudices present in the academic world that determined which books were worth reading. He honestly couldn’t remember how the topic had come up, but she’d been so passionate in her defense of authors he’d never heard of that he hadn’t cared to redirect her. He enjoyed watching her eyes flash and her chin jerk up while she challenged him.
He enjoyed talking to her just a little too much.
The question of what she and Gaston had ever seen in each other had been easily answered: opposites always attract, though the attraction might not be sustainable. Gold could easily imagine that stuffy, stolid Gaston would be intrigued by her fire while she could be drawn to his steadiness. In the end, though, the differences that stretched between them like a rubber band had been too extreme, and the rubber, rather than pulling them together, had snapped and flown away.
More and more he felt sorry for Gaston, even as he thought him an idiot. Part of him believed that if he’d been in Gaston’s place, with this woman in his arms and in his bed, insisting that she wanted no one but him, he would never let her go. Another part - perhaps not larger, but more insistent certainly - reminded him that such a circumstance would never occur naturally and therefore it would only be wise to be skeptical.
It must be a special kind of hell, to have loved and lost Belle because he couldn’t believe that she was truly his, to know that the only thing standing between them and wedded bliss was his own insecurities and fears.
The second meeting with Mrs. Lefleur was turning out to be almost unbearably entertaining. Belle sat in her chair with her arms folded and her gorgeous legs crossed, her face a picture of serene amusement as Mrs. Lefleur berated her for everything she could think of. Belle’s wardrobe, makeup, career choices, diet, and friends were all given their turn for Mrs. Lefleur’s vitriol. Whenever she appeared to run out of steam, Belle would smile. She would uncross her legs or arms (or both), lean forward, and deliver a riposte that would momentarily stun Mrs. Lefleur speechless. After a few seconds, though, the older woman would gather her wits and once more enter the fray.
Gold was vaguely aware that Spencer was trying to catch his eye and bring this completely unproductive meeting to an end, but he was having the time of his life and he didn’t care if he never left this room.
“Alright, ladies,” Spencer said finally, standing and leaning on the table. “I think we’d best leave it there for the day. As Mrs. Gaston seems unwilling to consider Mrs. Lefleur’s completely reasonable proposal,” and he gallantly ignored Belle’s indelicate snort, “we will continue this conversation at a later date.”
“I want this settled today, ” Mrs. Lefleur insisted.
“So do I,” Belle said pleasantly. “Are we agreed then? I get the apartment and you keep everything else?”
“You will never have that apartment,” Mrs. Lefleur snapped. “You are a heartless little guttersnipe and Gaston is well rid of you. You never deserved him, and you are quite welcome to go back to that whorish life you led before you ensnared my son.”
Belle’s face went pale. “What are you talking about?”
“You think I haven’t done my homework? You think I don’t know that you had dozens of lovers before taking up with my sweet, innocent boy?”
“My sexual history,” Belle clipped, her lips white, “is none of your business.”
“It is when it endangers my family.”
“Endangers...I never put anyone in danger!” Belle shot to her feet, her hands clenched into fists.
“How can we be sure of that?”
Belle was breathing very hard and Gold could tell she was close to losing her tenuous grip on her control. “That’s enough, Mrs. Lefleur,” he said coldly, standing and stepping just a little in front of his client. “Your feelings aside, my client’s personal life prior to her marriage has absolutely no bearing on the proceedings of this divorce.” He glared at Spencer, who was gaping at his own client in shock. “I recommend we end this meeting immediately.”
“Ah. Right. My secretary will call yours, Gold,” Spencer said hurriedly. He and Mrs. Lefleur were almost out the door when Belle caught her breath.
“If you think for one second,” she said in a very calm, quiet, deadly voice, “that Gaston’s numbers weren’t well into the thirties by the time he met me, you need a serious dose of reality. And even if he’d been pure as the snow, I am not now and will never be ashamed of living my life as I see fit, Beryl. It’s not my fault you can’t say the same.”
Without waiting for an answer, she turned and stormed out the other door, slamming it behind her. Mrs. Lefleur sniffed and hurried ahead of her lawyer. Gold reached out and caught Spencer’s arm. “Make no mistake, Albert,” he growled. “If your client pulls a stunt like that again, I will not hesitate to have her escorted bodily out of the building, old money or no.”
Spencer looked more subdued and less arrogant than Gold had ever seen him. “I’ll have a word with her. It won’t happen again.”
When Gold opened the door to his office, he was horrified to realize that Belle was doubled over in one of the chairs, crying. Not quiet little sniffles, either, but great gulping sobs that sounded as if they would choke her. He closed the door behind him very quietly, but she still heard the click of the latch and looked up.
“Sorry,” she gasped, her hands swiping ineffectively at her wet cheeks. “I just...I couldn’t…”
“Don’t apologize.” He crossed the room and, for lack of any other ideas, sat on the table in front of her and handed her the handkerchief he always carried in his pocket.
She took it and stared at it for a minute, her face inscrutable, and when she looked up gave him a watery little smile. “People still carry these?”
“I do. I’m a person like everyone else, aren’t I?” he grumbled.
“I wonder sometimes.” She wiped at her cheeks.
And just what the hell that was supposed to mean he had no idea.
“I try not to let her get to me,” Belle said after a moment, “but sometimes it’s just too much.”
“She has no right to speak to you the way she does. I have Spencer’s word she’ll behave at the next meeting.”
“Maybe there shouldn’t be one,” Belle sighed, and his heart clenched. “Maybe this...maybe this is as far as I go.”
She couldn’t give up. He was so close to having what he wanted from Gaston, and if she quit now, she would walk out that door and get ready to leave her apartment. Maybe even the city. The state? She obviously wasn’t from around here. What if she left the country altogether?
He’d never see her again.
He felt something rise in his chest that felt an awful lot like panic, and he shoved it down.
“The next meeting will be better, I promise,” he said, trying not to sound desperate. “I’ve...I’ve been in contact with Gaston. I’ve been keeping him updated on the proceedings - I had a feeling he was only hearing a fraction of the story from his mother - when he hears about this...well, I’m sure he’ll have something to say.”
She looked up at him. “You’ve contacted Gaston?”
“Yes.”
“And you think he’ll say something that will be in our favor?”
“I do.”
“Why?”
“I…” He didn’t really have an answer. He didn’t know the boy at all, but… “You said he loved you.”
“He did. Does.”
“Well, I...I can’t imagine that anyone who loved you would not want to give you everything in the world you desired.”
Her eyes widening, Belle stared at him and he felt his face growing hot. The hand that had been clutching the handkerchief reached out to touch his hand and she leaned a little closer to him, her eyes flickering over his face.
“Gold, Millie’s on the phone again and she’s breathing fire...oh. Uh, excuse me.” His back was to the door, but Gold could hear the smug little smile in Nolan’s voice. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“Generally, Nolan, when one knocks, one avoids such an unfortunate circumstance,” he snapped, standing and turning to glare at his partner.
“I should be going anyway,” Belle said softly. She held his handkerchief out to him.
“Keep it,” he said, waving it away.
“I’ll launder it and get it back you,” she said after folding it neatly and placing it in her purse.
He shrugged. “I have plenty. Won’t miss it.”
Belle smiled and, after what appeared to be a short internal struggle, stood up and pressed a kiss on his cheek. “Thanks, Roderick.”
She’d stolen all of his thoughts right out of his brain. He watched dumbly as she walked out the door, snapping back to full coherence only when Nolan turned to him with a grin that threatened to split his face in two.
“Don’t,” Gold barked, holding up a hand.
“The hot divorcee just kissed you and you think you’re getting out of talking about this? No way.”
Gold ground his teeth. “She is not ‘the hot divorcee.’”
Leaning against the door, David let out a low whistle. “Uh-oh.” His smile had dimmed.
“What?”
“I know that voice. I’ve heard it before. That’s the ‘I’m falling for the client’ voice.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“You’re touching your face.”
Gold’s hand jerked away from his cheek. Nolan regarded him with sympathy, and Gold sat at his desk, pointedly ignoring him in hopes that he would leave. He winced when the younger man’s footsteps advanced into the room.
“It’s never a good idea. You know that better than most.”
With a sigh Gold pinched the bridge of his nose. He did know.
“I’m not saying Mrs. Lefleur is gonna call the whole thing off and go back to him like Co - like she did. But this is one of the worst times of her life and you’re associated with that.”
Damn it, David had a point. Gold lowered his hands and met his partner’s eyes. David’s lips twitched up in a sad smile.
“Want me to take over from here? You can go away for a few weeks, we’ll make up a family emergency. How long has it been since you visited Neal, anyway?”
“No. Thank you,” he added sincerely, “but no. I can handle this. One more meeting, or two...three, tops, and it’ll all be over.”
“If you’re sure.”
“I am.”
David turned to leave but stopped to grin over his shoulder. “She is a beauty, isn’t she?”
“Get out.”
“Good afternoon.” Gold felt more cheerful today than he had in weeks. There was even a bit of a spring in his uneven gait and he bit back a grin as he hooked his cane over the back of his chair. Mrs. Lefleur and Spencer eyed him warily and Miss French looked bemused.
“It’s my hope,” Spencer said carefully, “that this issue will be settled once and for all today.”
“Oh, I’m sure it will be,” Gold agreed. Beside him, Belle looked at him curiously.
“Excellent,” Mrs. Lefleur sniped. “If I never set eyes on that little harpy again it will be too soon.”
Belle rolled her eyes, but Gold glared at Spencer, who paled and leaned over to whisper in his client’s ear. The older woman pursed her lips but nodded once, and Spencer sat back.
“Our final offer,” Spencer said, “is the collection of mint-condition coins guaranteed to Mrs. Gaston by the prenuptial agreement. She may keep or dispose of them as she wishes.”
“I don’t want the stupid coins,” Belle huffed. “Gaston promised me the apartment, and that’s what I want.”
“I am more than prepared to go to court,” Mrs. Lefleur snapped, “and if you think for one moment that the judge won’t find in favor of me you are…”
Gold’s phone rang from his pocket and interrupted her before she could finish her sentence and give him the pleasure of tossing her out of the building.
“Really, Gold, this is ridiculous,” Spencer protested as Gold pulled out his phone.
“I was expecting this call,” he said. A few swipes of his finger and Gaston Lefleur appeared on the screen. Belle smiled sadly and Mrs. Lefleur frowned. “Ah, Mr. Lefleur, I hoped we’d be hearing from you today.”
“Mr. Gold,” the younger man said solemnly. “Is everyone there?”
“Yes, and we’re all itching to hear what you think of this affair.”
“Gaston, darling, what are you doing?” Mrs. Lefleur demanded. “I told you I could take care of everything, you needn’t worry about a thing.”
“I guess we don’t agree on what ‘taking care of Belle’ means,” Gaston said sternly. “Mother, Belle was a wonderful wife. She did nothing wrong and she deserves everything she wants. Our divorce was no one’s fault - we simply weren’t meant to be together.”
“But she…”
“Seriously, Mother. Stop.”
Mrs. Lefleur’s mouth closed with a snap and Gaston looked away from her, meeting Belle’s eyes.
“Hey, there, Bluebell,” he said sadly. “Alright?”
“Yes, I’m fine.” She smiled though her eyes looked a little teary. “Thank you.”
“Anything for you, babe. Talk to you later.”
Gaston signed off, and silence reigned in the conference room. Spencer was the first to break it.
“The apartment. Mrs. Gaston relinquishes any claim to any other part of the Lefleur estate or Mr. Lefleur’s personal fortune.”
“Done,” Gold said. Belle nodded. “I’ll have the papers drawn up so that Mrs. Lefleur can transfer ownership.”
Nothing more was said by anyone, although Belle kept glancing at Beryl nervously. Once or twice she seemed on the verge of speaking, but the older woman left the room without even looking at her soon-to-be-ex daughter-in-law. Belle’s shoulders drooped a little when the others were gone.
“Congratulations, dearie,” Gold said, attempting to sound careless. “You got what you wanted.”
“What I wanted,” Belle sighed, leaning back in her chair and closing her eyes. “What I wanted was love and family and companionship. What I wanted was forever. What I got was an apartment.”
“It’s a bit late to change your mind.” His voice was a bit sharper than he’d intended, but dammit, he’d had this conversation before and he’d thought she was different.
“I’m not changing my mind. I wouldn’t even if I could. I love Gaston, but not the way I should...not the way I want to.”
“And what way is that?” He really shouldn’t be asking her this. It didn’t matter .
“He’s a good man, but he’s so... superficial. Love is...love is layered. It’s a mystery to be uncovered. And with Gaston...well, there’s no mystery. I never find myself wondering what he’s thinking or what he dreams of. He never surprises or challenges me. Love should be a meeting of the minds as well as of the hearts, don’t you think?”
He started. “I...I never really thought about it,” he lied.
“Weren’t you married once?”
Blinking, he turned to stare at her and noticed that her cheeks were turning an interesting shade of pink.
“After our first meeting I Googled you. David said you were the best and I just wanted some background. You were, weren’t you?”
“Yes. It didn’t end well.” Gold sighed. “Why does that matter?”
“There must have been a reason you separated. I’m not prying,” she said hastily, “I don’t want to know why. But you understand what I mean, don’t you?”
“Yes. I understand.” He met her eyes and she stared back, the color on her cheeks deepening.
Her phone rang, jolting them both out of whatever strange mood they’d created. She dropped it once before finally rising and, with an apologetic smile, walking out the door, talking to whomever had interrupted them. Gold took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, forcefully, wishing his heart would stop pounding.
All that was left was to have the papers drawn up and signed. It was almost over. He could do this.
#rumbelle#rumbelle fic#not 100% fluff#seriously smitten Gold#that's good right?#also known as the story that will probably pop my smut cherry
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