#I might’ve messed up my vision earlier than it would’ve been
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Hey everyone! So I guess this isn’t a specific story, but it’s one of my “stories”. *Note from midway through typing this: I’m sorry, there in fact are several specific stories I’ve decided to delve into.
This one is about mine and my sister’s eyesight. **Note from further into typing this: I’m soooo sorry! Hopefully I’ll get to my actual original intent…
Let’s start with the fact that I was the last person in my immediate family to need glasses (okay *big shocker*, I know, I’m the youngest, but that’s not what I meant. I meant I was older than my sister had been when she first needed reading glasses). I had perfect vision until 5th grade (and I do mean perfect). Then my eye doctor said something along the lines of “…well, you don’t really need these but you’re borderline” and asked me if I wanted reading glasses.
Guys. I’m a nerd. I’ve always been a nerd, and I loved being a nerd. I’d always wanted the full nerd aesthetic, with the braces and glasses because how else were people going to look at tiny cute blonde me and think “yes that’s a nerd”. I was already halfway there what with having braces starting in first grade. But…see the thing is I had my teeth straightened in 2 phases: 3 years on starting in 1st grade, then they took them off because before they could do more they needed my mouth to grow a lot and I had no clue how long that would be. It was another 3 years and then I had them back on for 3 years to finish the job (and then I lost my retainer, found it lost it again, and by the time I found it again it no longer fit…I’m fixing it again and have just a few months left).
Wow ok tangent. My point is I kinda jumped at the chance to have glasses. My whole family had glasses and all I had were fake ones from Claire’s my mom had gotten me to bribe me into finishing getting my second ear pierced because my cousin was with us and was planning to get her ears pierced within the next year and I needed to set an example or something. So yes I got reading glasses. For all that I read though honestly I don’t think I wore them too much. I didn’t need them. And it kinda bothered me to see the words so much bigger than I was used to. At my next eye appointment, the optometrist once again said “well…you can decide if you need these because you see fine but you’re borderline” this time about what I called “all-the-time glasses”. Well guys I decided yes because it’s help me see even better than I did right? And they did! I remember the first time I put them on. My sister had come to pick me up from school and must have gotten my glasses on her way because the first time I put my glasses on I was in my school parking lot and suddenly I saw all the tiny beautiful details of the trees blowing in the wind that was threatening to lift me up and take me far far away. It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
I had to wear both the regular glasses and the reading glasses for a few years, switching between them. I’d joke that I was both nearsighted and farsighted. I could never remember which definition was for which because I mean well there was really only maybe a 2-5foot area of space in the middle where I could see perfectly fine without assistance. Eventually though I became decidedly nearsighted. I’m not sure if it happened in middle school (where all my classes were on the computer) or high school (which, regardless, turned my eyesight to crap between the sleep deprivation and the screen time). But ya. If I know I’ll be looking at something up close for an extended period of time (as in more than a minute) I’ll take my glasses off. I had contacts for a while back in high school and during college and my prescription didn’t change at all during that time—or at least not enough that my contact prescription would change even if my glasses would slightly. Ps I had swapped eye doctors a little before I stopped needing reading glasses—because the first guy really shouldn’t have pulled that bullshit. Pretty much everyone is in agreement that he probably started the degradation of my eyesight. Granted, it would’ve happened in high school anyways, but it might not have been as bad to start off with. I changed optometrists again I think after graduating from college because the one before was not using my insurance correctly and was convincing me to get things added to my glasses that I didn’t really need and adding to the out of pocket expense which should have been zero. And apparently they’d been ignoring my slowly degrading vision changes and actually a couple times triggered it to get worse.
I got my first new prescription in maybe 3 years the first time I went to the new optometrist. Right around when I started substitute teaching. I opted to not get contacts this time, deciding it was time to give my eyes a break, especially since I was on the computer a lot, job hunting. Then I started working in the QA/QC lab I’m at now and I was wearing safety glasses over top of my regular glasses. This meant I couldn’t take my glasses off to look at screens and my eye sight then got significantly worse. Probably the hugest jump I’ve ever had. Spoke with my eye doctor about my problem and oh my goodness this is genuinely the best experience I’ve ever had. I got two pairs of glasses, one regular and the other prescription safety glasses upon which I got bifocals that essentially revert the lens to what it’d be like if I removed my glasses entirely. I can say with confidence it’s going much better and my only regret now that we fully vaccinated folks no longer have to wear masks at my work is that my safety glasses don’t have adjustable nose pads and thus slide down without a mask on (the embarrassing truth behind why I’ve been content to keep on wearing a mask everyday even when I only see one or two other people (also vaccinated) for the entirety of my 8-16 hour shift(s)—I still wear them literally everywhere anyways, habit y’know? It’s hard for me to break and even harder when I don’t feel like there’s a need to).
Okay!
For those hoping I’d finally get to my original point: I’m terribly sorry I went down a huge rabbit hole of a tangent. The real story is actually about when my sister and I go to the ocean.
You see my sister’s non-reading glasses prescription is technically 0.00, and the optometrists are always confused about why she needs to wear glasses. That is, until they test her depth perception. She has none. Absolutely no depth perception. I really can’t even imagine. She can see perfectly well, but can’t tell where anything is. (As such I think it’s actually recorded that she’s legally required to be wearing corrective lenses while driving—my sister and her driving is enough fodder for several other story times and I doubt this’ll be the last time it’s mentioned).
Me on the other hand… I can’t see a darn thing. All I see are blurry color blobs that occasionally blend into new colors altogether. But I still have depth perception. I couldn’t possibly tell what a thing is but I can certainly tell you how far away it is and where it is in relation to other blobs. I’m honestly legitimately terrified of the idea of things being two dimensional.
So when we go down to the water line to jump in the waves, we leave our glasses with the rest of the stuff so we don’t lose them to the surf. Which presents a problem for us both. So we both need to have someone with us as, essentially, a guide. But!! We’re perfectly capable of going together without any other person. I’m able to tell her how far we are from something or something is from something else and she’s able to tell me what it is. We make an amusing sight apparently.
#story time#mari’s life#life before mari#life after mari#optometrist#glasses#I might’ve messed up my vision earlier than it would’ve been#depth perception#my sister and I are on opposite ends of most spectrums
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omg now im jealous about all of the breaking up and making up stories!!! they're all so wonderful but is it okay to ask for a steve/tony one? i know you've made one inspired by ts (amazing) and this time, maybe they meet/bump in a coffee shop? idk angst potential but also hopeful/happy ending aahhh. your stories are amazing esp ivy!!! thank you! <3
thank you so much!! it ended up being more cute than angsty, but I hope you like it!
Steve's pencil drifts idly across the page of his sketchbook with no end vision in mind. He's killing time until Nat shows up, which could be anywhere between the next five minutes and the next two hours with her vague text that simply said running late. When he looks up to reach for his near empty coffee cup, he freezes with his hand in the middle of the air.
At first he thinks it might not even actually be him. Tony's hair was never quite this well styled before, always a tangled mop on his head that sometimes fell into his eyes. Steve used to spend hours sometimes running his fingers through those wild curls while Tony slept on his chest. It's been tamed since then, cut shorter and held into place by some type of product. The facial hair is new, too. He remembers a time when it would always come in patchy and uneven, and Tony would pout as he shaved away the latest attempt at looking older than he was. The eighteen year old boy in oversized hoodies and stained jeans he met years ago has been replaced by a man in a well-pressed, expensive looking suit with a leather briefcase, like he just stepped out of a boardroom a minute ago. From what Steve has read about his life since they broke up, he probably did.
Steve stares without fully meaning to and for much longer than he would have if it was intentional. He watches him order his drink and smiles when the barista’s eyes widen at what he knows is an overly complicated order, wondering if Tony ever did finish his quest to find that perfect combination of syrup flavors, sugar, and cream that only he would ever like.
He catches the double take when Tony notices him there, right as he’s taking his first sip of the iced drink, and the cough when he chokes on it is anything but subtle. Steve looks away with red cheeks and tries to pretend he wasn’t staring, but it’s a futile effort. He can’t say he minds, though. Not when it means Tony walks over to him and unceremoniously drops himself into the chair across from him.
His mouth forms a familiar smirk, and he says, “You seem to have a staring problem, Rogers.”
Suddenly, Steve is nineteen again, falling hopelessly in love with the boy in his introductory chemistry class. It felt sort of like fate at first when they were paired together for the final project, and Steve remembers thinking that his chances were shot to hell when Tony sat down next to him and said those exact words. He never was any good at being discreet.
Back then, for that first time, all he could manage was a stuttered apology in response. But eventually it became their thing. Something just for them that no one else could ever understand. When Steve would watch him from across the room at parties, because he knew how much Tony loved having his eyes on him, and Tony would saunter over with that same smirk and those same words, there was only ever one reply.
“Guess I just really like what I see,” Steve says, and Tony’s face splits into a grin that matches Steve’s own. He’s still beautiful, even if it’s different now. Less softness to his appearance and more defined edges and sharp lines, but heart stoppingly beautiful nonetheless. He doesn’t quite say as much, but he does comment, “You do look good, by the way. Different, but good.”
Tony’s smile softens into another familiar one. It’s his smile for compliments, when he’s thinking self-deprecating thoughts that he won’t voice. Instead he’ll turn the attention back around, shifting the spotlight.
“So do you. The good part, but not really the different part.”
Steve runs a hand through his hair, contemplating if not looking different contributes to the good or not. He should look different somehow, shouldn’t he? After two and a half years not seeing each other in person and what feels like a lifetime’s worth of heartbreak in between then and now, he should look as changed as he feels. As changed as Tony looks now, like he’s someone new entirely. He’s pretty sure the t-shirt he’s wearing now is one he owned back then.
“Thanks,” Steve says anyway, for lack of anything better.
Just before it has the chance to fall into awkward silence, Tony says, “I didn’t know you were in New York these days. I would’ve called or something if I’d known.”
Steve raises an eyebrow. “Would you have?”
“I don’t know, maybe. I would’ve thought about it, at least. You know, stalked you online, found your number, dialed and hung up a few times.”
Steve laughs, fiddling with the straw wrapper from earlier to give himself something to look at other than Tony. “I moved back last year. Thought about calling, but I figured you were busy. Didn’t want to waste your time.”
It’s only a partial truth. He did think about calling when he came to Brooklyn after his year-long internship in London ended, but he didn’t want to know what Tony would say if he did. If he would have some sort of transparent excuse to avoid seeing him or if it would be an outright rejection.
“I would’ve made time for you,” Tony says, so painfully sincere that Steve has to look up again to meet his eyes.
He wonders if Tony is thinking of that last fight, if it’s a purposeful or coincidental reference to some of what Steve said. It was by far the worst fight they’d ever had, all over the phone with an ocean between them and so many things that Steve still wishes he could take back. Accusations flew on both sides until the entire thing was blown so completely out of proportion, yet impossible to reel back in. He should have just hung up the phone before it went that far. Before he could tell Tony that he always felt unimportant compared to everything else in his life, which was sometimes true but entirely unfair. Before Tony could say that Steve talked about Peggy in the same way he used to talk about him, and he didn’t have to finish the thought for Steve to understand the implication.
“Are we talking about it?” Steve asks.
Tony shrugs, feigning casual, but just the corner of his lip is between his teeth in that way that means he’s nervous and trying to hide it. “I guess that depends on what this is.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, we said back then that maybe it was just bad timing. You were in London, and I was in Boston until graduation, and it was always going to be a bit of a mess, but there was always that someday chance, right? So maybe this is someday, and we talk about it, and try to get it right this time,” Tony says. “Or maybe that was just something we said and didn’t mean, and I ask you about your life, and you ask about mine, and we talk and laugh and pretend that we’re friends again for the next half hour or so before we go our separate ways.”
It’s an easy choice, really. If there’s one thing that Steve’s sure of, it’s that it’s always been him and always will be.
“I don’t want to go separate ways,” Steve says. “The first time was hard enough, and I never really moved on. I got better, but I don’t think I’ve been more than just fine in a long time.”
Tony nods slowly, “I kept thinking you would call, you know. Back then. I thought you would call and tell me that it was a mistake and it would be okay again, but you never did. Although, I guess I could’ve called, too.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“For the same reason as you, probably. I couldn’t risk it if you didn’t want me again. Couldn’t risk getting back together just to break up again, either. We weren’t exactly the poster children for making long distance work.”
“We were terrible at it, weren’t we?”
Tony’s smile is tinged with the pain of the past. “It’s kind of funny because I remember thinking that it might be a good thing for us when you told me about London. Can’t get sick of somebody if they’re not always around.”
“You thought I would get sick of you? You never told me that.”
“Why would I?” Tony laughs. “Just put all my insecurities on display like that? Come on, Steve, that doesn’t sound like me, does it?”
Steve laughs with him briefly, “No, but I could’ve told you back then that it wasn’t possible. Told you that I wanted you around all the time and I missed you every second you were gone. I might’ve even stayed if you had told me. I was thinking about it, you know? I almost turned the internship down. Probably would’ve if you’d asked even once for me not to go.”
“It was your career. I never would’ve asked you to give that up for me.”
“There would have been something else. Another job somewhere closer to you.”
“I still wouldn’t have asked,” Tony says. “And I would have told you to go if you’d said you were staying.”
Steve knows that, which is why they never talked about it much before he left. Tony pretended to be happy for him, and Steve pretended to be happy for himself, when really it already felt like the beginning of the end. A year apart is longer than it seems, and it didn’t take more than a few months to realize it.
“I never…” Steve starts, trailing off when he doesn’t quite know how to finish the sentence. “There was never anyone else. Not while we were together, and never with Peggy.”
“I know. I knew back then, too, that you were never that kind of person. Jealousy’s just a real bitch sometimes.”
“There’s really not been anyone since, either,” Steve adds, and Tony’s mouth quirks into a half smile. “I mean, a couple of people here and there, but nothing like what we were.”
“There’s not a whole lot out there like what we were, is there?”
Steve smiles, leaning back in his chair, “No, there’s really not. But I do remember reading a rumor that you got engaged.”
Tony groans, and it’s so much like he used to sound when he was nine pages deep into a ten page essay at three in the morning that Steve has to laugh.
“Don’t you dare laugh. That rumor haunts me, Steven,” Tony says, belied by a grin that he seemingly can’t control. “Do you know how I found out about my supposed engagement? When my mother called and asked why I hadn’t told her I was planning on proposing.”
“So I’m still the only person you’ve ever proposed to,” Steve teases, just for the way he knows Tony will get indignant about it.
“How many times do I have to tell you that one didn’t count?”
“You were on one knee, you asked a question, and you had a ring. All the boxes are checked, sweetheart.”
“It was a blue raspberry ring pop, and you ate it,” Tony argues. “Not to mention that I actually asked you to marry me someday in the distant future. That’s not a proposal.”
Steve laughs again, thinking about that day in the middle of their living room, just a few weeks before Steve got the call that would take him to London and change everything. It was almost like a joke, and for anyone else it would have been. Not for them, though, because Steve remembers the look in Tony’s eyes when he dropped down in front of him, spur of the moment and impulsive like almost everything was back then. He remembers how it still felt like a promise, even if it wasn’t the real thing.
“But I said yes, which I think technically means we’re still engaged.”
“Absolutely not,” Tony scoffs. “It’s going to be a production when we get engaged. Elaborate and planned and romantic as hell.”
“When, huh?” Steve grins.
Tony’s cheeks pinken a touch, but he doesn’t take it back. He reaches for Steve’s hand on the table. “Yeah, when. Is that alright with you?”
Steve threads their fingers together, holding on tight. “That’s alright with me.”
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Nose Bleeds: Part 1
Pairing: Ushijima Wakatoshi x Reader
Word Cout: 1692
A/N: sorry for taking a week off! I was drowned with schoolwork and then did some college visits. I’ll try to keep up with my set schedule! Also, this is my first Haikyuu story because it has taken over my life. Plus, thank you to whomever made the gif!
“Got it!” You exclaimed as you dug the volleyball towards your setter.
“Good Y/L/N!” Your friends cheered. The set ended with another point for your team.
Your team crowded towards the center of your side of the court. Amongst the trees known as your teammates, you looked like a shrub in comparison. Of course, your short stature was an advantage since you were the libero but it was always funny seeing as you only made it up to their shoulders or chests.
After bowing to the opposing team, your friend Tendo rushed to congratulate you. He swept you off of your feet – which wasn’t very difficult – and swung you around like a doll. “You did amazing, Y/N!”
You giggled as he set you down, “Thank you Tendo. But I could still use some work.”
Tendo grinned mischievously and wiggled his eyebrows, “I think I know how you can solve that.”
“No!” You whispered harshly. “I won’t take you up on that idea!”
“Please?” He whined, clutching onto your cheeks like you were a puppy. “I think it’d be a good chance for you two to get closer. There’s only so much time before we all graduate.”
You sighed, “I know, but I can’t even be around him! I’m as good as a rock when I try to talk to him.”
“Well, he’s more or less a rock in general,” Tendo acknowledged with a shrug. “Why not just one practice with Miracle Boy?”
You bit your lip and avoided looking at Tendo’s convincing smile. If he could control you like a Sim, you were sure your romance levels with Ushijima would be off the charts.
Of course, you wanted to get closer to Ushijima in the last months you had before you inevitably went your separate ways, but again – there were only a few months left. The boy seemed as dense as ever, never having understood what you tried to say to him in the first place. Then again, it might’ve been because you were incredibly flustered.
But, if you had only a few months left, why not enjoy it?
You sighed in defeat, “Okay, I’ll try one practice.”
“Finally!” Tendo jumped into the air from sheer excitement. “You’ll redeem yourself from the last time you tried to talk to him.”
A groan escaped your mouth, “Please don’t ever mention that again.”
Obviously, Tendo would always mention it. He would never forget when you tried to ask the tall boy if he could sit lower so you could see the board during class. Before you mustered the confidence, you could only rely on hearing the teacher to take notes. Even Ushijima’s broad shoulders prevented you from looking around him.
So, you finally tried asking him. By asking, you meant getting so shy that you were a whispering mess. In the end, you failed and had to ask to be moved up front. So much for being able to admire Ushijima’s back muscles.
“If you two get married, I’ll have a whole presentation of all the times you were shy around him,” Tendo teased.
“Do you want me to smack you on the head?” You threatened.
He smirked, “Can you reach?”
~
How did you let Tendo convince you to do this? Did he secretly enjoy your suffering? You saw Ushijima walking to the gym for volleyball practice, as usual. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach, urging you to beat them down. Breathe in and out. Inhale. Exhale.
Okay, you got this.
You stepped towards Ushijima, who noticed you immediately. His olive eyes peered down at you, looking curious. No doubt, he thought you were looking for Tendo. He was about to open his mouth to ask, but you beat him to speak first.
“Hi Ushijima. I know we don’t speak much, but would you mind practicing with me?” You asked as calmly as possible. Yet inside, your heart was pounding wildly.
He only blinked, so you elaborated. “I want to work more on my defense so I’d really appreciate if you would serve for me.”
“Why practice with me?” His baritone voice rippled. You were suddenly reminded of your thoughts about what it’d be like to rest your head on his chest. The thought made you blush and widen your eyes. Surely, you must’ve looked like a deer in headlights.
So, you faltered slightly. “W-well, I wanted to be able to practice with someone outside of my team.”
“Is Tendo not willing?” Ushijima asked, surprised that you two wouldn’t practice together first. He always saw you two attached at the hip. If Ushijima didn’t know that Tendo only saw Y/N as a friend, he would’ve mistaken them for a couple. Except for the fact that Tendo treats you like a little sister regarding your height.
You rubbed the back of your neck with a soft laugh, “I think Tendo would distract me more than anything.”
Ushijima resisted the urge to smile. Instead, the prodigy nodded with understanding, “Then we’ll practice tomorrow.”
~
For the first time, Tendo saw Ushijima smiling for no reason. It wasn’t one of his forced smiles when someone asked if he could ever smile. Those smiles were terrifying. However, this smile was different. Tendo had a gut-feeling that he knew why, but he would love to hear the reason.
“Hm, is there a special reason why you’re smiling?” Tendo teased, winking at his friend. He leaned over towards Ushijima with sparkles twinkling in his eyes.
Ushijima’s mouth returned to his firm line, secretly embarrassed at being caught. “Why do you want to know?”
“Is it because of Y/N?” Tendo asked in a whisper, using his hand so only Ushijima can hear.
Y/N and Ushijima didn’t know, but Tendo has been acting as Cupid ever since he found out they liked each other. For Ushijima, Tendo noticed the quiet boy looking at her more than anyone else, even with all his admirers. For you, it was because you couldn’t talk to him at all despite your radiating confidence. Of course, he was right. When was Tendo’s intuition ever wrong?
“I’m surprised that she asked me instead of you,” Ushijima muttered.
“Hm?”
“I thought I scared her.”
Perhaps all the times you were unable to speak to him was interpreted incorrectly on Ushijima’s end. It would make sense, given that he was intimidating for most people in the first place. It was even worse looking at the two interact. To anyone it would seem like he was scaring you.
Tendo sighed before he giggled, “It’s in a good way. Trust me.”
“Being scary is a bad thing,” Ushijima said with a hint of confusion in his voice.
His friend sighed and clasped his face, “What will I do with you?”
~
For you, tomorrow came too soon. Your nerves made you arrive earlier than necessary – 20 minutes early to be exact. You wanted to warm up a bit beforehand, just so you wouldn’t embarrass yourself in front of him.
You tied your hair up and put on your knee and elbow pads. Then, you decided to stretch out your legs. Spreading your feet out to match shoulder length, you sighed as you pushed yourself towards the ground. Luckily, you seemed to have the flexibility of a gymnast so you easily touched the floor.
“You’re here early,” a deep voice rumbled behind you. You look through your legs to see Ushijima. His eyes quickly averted from the position you were in.
You unraveled yourself, maintaining eye contact with him. As much as you could anyways, without combusting on the spot. “Yeah, I just wanted to stretch.”
He grunted, “We’ll start in a moment then.”
For a second, you watched him set down his belongings. The apples of his cheeks reddened slightly as he gulped. You raised an eyebrow, and then died a little inside when you realized why.
A few minutes of silence passed, until Ushijima called you to attention. He stood at the opposite end of the court, ready to serve. The absolute focus in his eyes ignited a sense of admiration within you. He smacked the ball in front of him, before looking ready.
You nodded. Not a second later, you were making contact with a ball he served. You’ve seen him serve before. A gunshot would ring out in the court, with the ball only making an appearance after it landed on the opponent’s side. Yet you were able to connect with the ball. However, it felt like he was serving directly at you.
He made another deadly serve. Once more, you were able to dig the ball. Another.
“Hey,” you yelled across to the other side. “Are you just going to serve towards me or make me work for it?”
If you were closer to him, you would’ve been able to see a small smile form on his face. Instead, all you saw was a nod and heard a grunt. He served towards the middle this time. You sprinted towards it and took a roll to get it. Finally, you were able to feel out of breath and sweaty.
“Again!” You smiled like a maniac.
Another ball went towards the back corner. You were fully in control of your side of the court. Ushijima made sure you were light on your feet by purposefully making the ball hit the net before slowly falling on your side. After an hour, you felt a bit fatigued by running across the floor.
Perhaps that’s why you didn’t notice the ball coming right at your head. You fell to the ground, feeling like you just got hit by a car. Afterall, sometimes spikes can be over 100 km/her. You groaned, the lights on the ceiling blurring. The dulled sound of long, quick strides towards you overwhelmed your ears despite the ringing in your head.
“Y/N, your nose is bleeding. I’ll find a tissue and then we’re taking you to the nurse.”
You couldn’t respond, except with a groan. He muttered something about not being able to find any. Ushijima returned to your side, taking off his shirt. Luckily, your vision was returning. Then, your nose started bleeding more.
“Is this heaven?” You asked, dazed.
#ushiwaka#ushijima x y/n#ushijima x reader#ushijima wakatoshi#haikyu x reader#haikyū!!#haiku#haikyuu!!#tendou satori#haikyuu tendou
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Of Birthday Cakes and Sentimentality
Here’s a fluffy (Slightly late) birthday fic for Logan, featuring Loceit! @coconut-cluster ‘s is wonderful loceit uni au content was really what got me into the ship in the first place.
a03
word count: 1,755
Logan wakes slowly, the sunlight filtering in through the blinds casting stripes of shadow on the carpet. He glances to his side, vision blurry without his glasses, and frowns. The spot beside him is upsettingly empty. He feels along the sheet, realizing they’ve long since gone cold.
Logan reaches for his glasses on the bedside table, slipping them on and checking the time. 8:00 a.m. Curious. That’s far earlier than Janus is usually up on a Saturday.
His boyfriend is a firm believer that cuddling into the late morning should absolutely be considered self-care, and really, Logan isn’t one to challenge that notion. He might put up a fight from time-to-time, but it’s all for show and Janus knows as much. Logan can pretend he’s above cuddling all he wants, but as his boyfriend would say, he’s a dreadful liar.
Logan wonders what might’ve compelled Janus to rouse from his slumber so much earlier than usual, before noticing a sweet smell wafting through the apartment. This only raises more questions. What could Janus be making at this time of day that would smell so saccharine?
Logan rises from bed slowly, still bleary and comforted by the warmth of the duvet around him – but certainly missing the feeling of Janus against him. The hardwood is cool beneath his feet as he stands, the scent of baked-goods – yes, that’s definitely it – drifting through the air gaining in strength.
He glances at the mirror hanging on their bedroom wall, his hair a fright and pajamas still on, and Logan realizes he doesn’t care. It isn’t usually odd for someone to be comfortable not looking entirely presentable in their own home, but this is Logan, a man who practically lives in polos and neckties. He’s been told more than a few times by several people that he could stand to “loosen up.” While he’s not always the best at it, Logan can certainly try; it is his birthday, after all.
Oh. Wait – it’s his birthday. He’d completely forgotten. Likely, Janus remembered, though. And with the sweet smell coming from the other room, and the day of the year, that must mean…
Logan opens the door to look out across their open living and kitchen area to see Janus standing at a kitchen counter smeared with flour, a jar of crofters, and an array of baking ingredients around him.
Janus has never been one to bake, as far as Logan’s concerned. It’s not that he isn’t proficient in cooking, it’s just never been something he’s seemed particularly invested in. But here Janus stands, in his pajamas opening the oven and pulling out circular bakeware Logan’s certain they don’t own. The smell of vanilla is now detectable, and Logan can’t stop the smile from slipping onto his face.
“Good morning,” he says softly, trying not to break Janus’s fragile concentration.
A spoon clatters against the ground, Janus all but shrieking as he turns around to face Logan. Concentration be damned, it seems.
“You weren’t supposed to be awake yet!” Janus huffs, bending down to retrieve the spoon, dropping it in the sink.
“I wasn’t aware I was meant to be confined to our bed until you said otherwise,” Logan responds sarcastically, walking up to Janus.
Getting a better look at him now, Logan can see there’s flour smeared on his yellow pajama shirt and pants, their small kitchen rather cluttered. Just a few years ago, Logan would’ve sworn against sentimentality. He’s a man of logic, a man of intellect and focus. And yet… his time with Janus has worn down that stubborn belief that romanticism and he are separate beings.
Janus is a lot of things. Passionate, driven, cunning, affectionate to a point that Logan thought he’d never tolerate, nor grow to love. But right now he’s also making Logan a birthday cake at eight in the morning and Logan can’t help but feel the emotion well up inside of him.
“Happy birthday,” Janus says, moving to embrace him before remembering the mess he is. “I’d kiss you senseless, but –,” he gestures vaguely to himself. Logan shakes his head, the stubborn smile on his face refusing to leave.
“I don’t care,” Logan says, leaning down to connect his lips with Janus’s, his hands cupping either side of his face, thumb tracing along the faded scar on Janus’s left cheek. Janus sighs into the kiss, his hands settling on Logan’s waist. The two pull close to one another. The taste of vanilla mingles on Logan’s tongue, and he can’t help the laugh that bursts from him. Janus pulls away, eyebrows raised.
“What’re you laughing about?”
“Nothing,” Logan says, trying to bite back the laughter, and failing quite miserably, “It’s just – you taste sweet.”
“Well,” Janus says, tone matter-of-fact, “I needed to taste-test the batter, didn’t I? And, this way, you know your cake isn’t poisoned.”
“Ah, true. Unless, of course, you’ve developed an immunity to whatever you’ve poisoned me with.”
“Guess it’ll be a surprise then,” Janus says teasingly, before returning to finishing the cake.
“You really didn’t need to go to so much trouble, darling,” Logan says, watching as Janus stirs a bowl of white frosting that he must’ve been fiddling with a moment ago.
“It’s a cake, Logan. You act as if I’ve been slaving away. It’s the least I can do.”
“Yes, well, you woke up early. On a Saturday. And you’re baking… I don’t believe we own any bakeware.”
“I’m perfectly content with waking up a little early on your birthday,” Janus says pointedly, eyes fixed on the frosting he’s creaming. “And no, we do not own any bakeware. But Patton does, and I asked him to lend me it.”
“Janus –.”
“And, I had him explain the steps in great detail over the phone, as to not royally screw this up. I know I’m not always a master in the kitchen.”
“I never said anything about your cooking skills,” Logan interjects. “Seriously, love. You didn’t have to.”
“I wanted to,” Janus says with so much sincerity, Logan wonders if his heart might burst. “I’ll have you know, it’s a crofters filling.” Logan’s eyes light up at that.
“Well, that… does sound quite good.”
“Oh, does it now?” Janus asks teasingly, holding an icing-covered spoon to Logan’s mouth. “Taste this and tell me if you like it.” Logan obliges, sticking the spoon in his mouth and humming around it. Janus chuckles.
“That bad, huh?”
“It’s delicious,” Logan says, moving to take another spoonful before Janus pulls the bowl from his reach.
“How about we save some for the actual cake, hm?”
“I suppose…”
“Go, on. Sit down,” Janus says, motioning towards the table, “The cake ‘ll be done in a minute.”
“Cake is hardly an appropriate breakfast,” Logan points out, earning a glare from his boyfriend.
“Allow me to remind you for the millionth time this morning, that it is your birthday,” Janus says, spreading the frosting with a knife over the top of the cake. “Cake for breakfast on the day of your birth is absolutely appropriate.” Logan scoffs.
“I can’t see why. There’s hardly anything special about today. It’s merely the anniversary of me being alive another year. I can’t understand why it’s such a big deal.”
“Hardly anything special?” Janus asks, slightly incredulously. “Hardly anything special, he says! Do you realize, that were it not for you being born, we never would’ve met?” Logan’s heart pangs at that.
“Janus.”
“And then where would I be? Who would I debate with into absurd times in the morning? Who would teach me about each and every constellation he knows about, so excited to share his passion? Who would I bully into going to bed at a decent time?” Logan tries to interject, but Janus isn’t having any of it, “Don’t you start. You may preach about circadian rhythm and the importance of going to bed at a decent time, but I’ve found you asleep at your desk far too many times now.”
“In all fairness,” Logan says, trying not to let the sentimentality well up in him, “I’ve also found you asleep on the couch, and at the table late at night a fair few times.”
“Well then, it seems we’re meant to take care of one another,” he says like it’s the easiest thing in the world to say. As though it’s not achingly tender.
A slice of cake is slid in front of Logan.
“The point is, I love you. Let me make you a stupid cake, and have our friends over for a movie night,” Logan opens his mouth in protest, but Janus is quicker, “A very casual movie night. Just Patton, Virgil, Roman, and Remus and whatever movie of your choosing. Clue, perhaps?” Logan perks up at the mention of one of his favorite films, and Janus grins.
“Clue would be… nice,” Logan admits. Janus pecks him on the cheek.
“Then that’s what we’ll watch. Now, take a bite, the anticipation is positively killing me,” Janus drawls out dramatically, gesturing to the cake. Obliging, Logan scoops a piece of the cake with his fork, popping it in his mouth.
“Mmm,” is as dignified of a response as Logan cares to give, but Janus looks pleased with himself all the same.
“You like it?” Janus asks, already knowing the answer. Logan nods, grabbing at the collar of Janus’s shirt and pulling him into his lap. “Goodness, what’s gotten into you?”
“You were just giving a rather sappy declaration of love,” Logan explains, pressing his lips to Janus’s. “And, you made me a cake.” Another kiss. “With Crofters.” A kiss to the corner of his mouth. “And you’re having our friends come over for a movie night, for me.” A kiss. “And I love you, so very much, my dear.”
“I love you too,” Janus responds, seemingly happy with his place in Logan’s lap, “But I thought you didn’t care about your birthday?”
“I don’t,” Janus doesn’t believe that for a second, “But you rather seem to. And it’s kind of… nice,” Logan admits, voice soft, “To have you care about something so seemingly silly so much.”
“Oh, you think I care about you? Wherever did you get an idea like that?” Logan chuckles as Janus presses a kiss to his cheek, his face resting in the crook of Logan’s neck.
“I haven’t a clue.”
Logan could pretend he didn’t care about birthdays till the cows came home, but Janus would always call his bluff. And really, Logan can’t find it in himself to complain.
=+=
General Taglist:
@nadiestar
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@igonnatalknothing
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#loceit#romantic loceit#human au#sanders sides#ts#Thomas sanders#fluff#happy birthday Logan!#Logan sanders#Janus Sanders#so much fluff#sappiness#exhaustedfanderwrites#exhaustedfander
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THE CLOSURE YOU ASKED FOR • Ren
» Star Wars / Kylo Ren
… Y/N, the Knights of Ren’s psychiatrist and med doctor, has a brief chat with Ren before he leaves for Remnicore.
Set in the Duel of the Fates Universe.
A/N: Hello I love jealous Ren yes that’s all.
Status : Colleagues
Relationship : Professional, Platonic, Crushing
WORD COUNT: 1416
Unsaid feelings of love being found out before the final goodbye.
“You’re always so dramatic when it comes to love, Ren.” you said as Ren entered the empty foyer. He jumped at the sound of your voice. He didn’t notice your presence, but he wasn’t surprised that you were waiting for him. It was something you often did.
You chuckled as you stopped leaning on the wall and faced him. “It’s almost as amusing.”
Your laugh and smile had always enchanted him and never failed to make his heart flutter, but he had always pushed these thoughts away.
He clenched his fast beating heart, making sure you weren’t suspicious, and turned away. “Almost amusing?”
“Just almost.” You shrugged, fiddling with the lapel of your lab coat. “You tend to have those dark parts.”
A familiar drone raced out of the hallway and flew directly towards you. You smiled as the drone circled you, speaking in its droid language. You understood the droid well as it excitedly beeped, explaining to you what it and Ren were up to. Overall, you knew VX-20 was happy to see you.
“Hi, Vex.” You chuckled as you had it perch on your hand. “It’s good to see you too.”
Ren sighed at your nonchalant behavior and couldn’t resist a facepalm. Your ambushes had been something he had gotten used to a long time ago, but recently, your eavesdropping had become something. Though he had nothing to hide from you anyway, it made him uncomfortable knowing someone listens to him while he monologues in his chambers.
“How many times have I told you not to eavesdrop, doctor?” he said, resisting the urge to unprofessionally groan.
“I’ve lost count, but it’s the only way I can monitor you, Ren.” you said. You understood Ren’s main concern, but you were doing this for him. “I barely get to interact with you and it’s been like this ever since I became the doctor for you Knights.”
“Their doctor,” he firmly corrected you. “not mine.”
You rolled your eyes. Sometimes you forget how dramatic he can be. “I just tend to look after Hattaska, Ott, Lorl, and Jaedec more. It’s not my fault you tend to train separately from them. I’m your doctor all the same, both psychiatric and medical, Ren.” You smiled. “I’m here for you.”
Ren clenched his jaw at your reassurance. He wanted you to hold his hand and tell him again, this time without his mask, but he had already made a promise to himself not to repeat his grandfather’s mistakes.
“Why is it that I’m the only one you call Ren?” he said in replacement to his sentiment. “You call the other knights by their first name.”
“Well,” You shrugged while your lips were in a tight forced smile. “I’d gotten used to calling you Ren all the time as commander that it just stuck, especially now that you’ve taken up a much higher position.”
“If you’re calling the others by their first name, you might as well call me by mine. It helps with the consistency.”
You smirked and raised an eyebrow. “What would the others think about me calling the Supreme Leader by his first name?”
“This isn’t because you’re my subordinate, it’s because you’re…” He silently gulped. You stared at him in anticipation with your smirk only getting wider. “my doctor… both psychiatric and medical.”
“Alright, Kylo.” You stressed his name to make a point, sensing a bit of unease in him. “If you perceive me to be your doctor, do you mind telling me what’s on your mind for once? You never like it when I psychoanalyze you.”
He clenched his fists and looked down. “Me talking about my duties as Supreme Leader would only bore you. I wouldn’t want to waste your time—”
“That comes second on your list of things you want to talk about.” You cutting him off genuinely surprised him even if he didn’t show it to you. “What’s first?”
“How could you tell that there’s something that comes prior?”
“I wasn’t appointed as your doctor for nothing, Kylo.”
You watched as he turned his back to you and stay idle for a few moments. You waited patiently for him to speak. He was thinking on whether to ask you despite it being something to be considered as trivial, but he was leaving anyway and he felt that it would be good to finally get some closure.
“You have a thing for Hattaska, don’t you?” he said, his deep robotic voice echoing in the high-ceilinged room.
You didn’t feel the seriousness un his question and just laughed. “A ‘thing’? Does being Supreme Leader really degrade your vocabulary by that much?”
He turned to face you and threw his cape behind him. “I’m serious, Y/N.”
You stopped laughing. Ren had never called you by your first name. It would just usually be ‘doctor’ or ‘L/N’. Him calling you by your given name genuinely caught you off guard other than the serious aura he began to exude.
“Well… yes, I do, in a sense.” You smiled thinking about Hattaska. You did see Ren’s fists clench and shake, but you just presumed it was because him and Hattaska weren’t on the best of terms. “You may not have been on board with the other three appointing him as their new leader after you became Supreme Leader considering him being less hellacious than Ott, Lorl, and Jaedec, but it’s for the best.”
You thought back of all the key moments Hattaska had proved his reliability to you. You understood well why the other three made him the new leader without question. He was a remarkable man and you would’ve been surprised if he wasn’t the Knights of Ren’s leader after Kylo Ren.
“He is an exceptional leader, Kylo,” Your face lit up with an even brighter smile — a smile Ren was envious of. “and his compassion is what I admire about him the most—”
Ren threw his arm across the room and a marble vase from the left side of the foyer followed his arm’s movement, breaking when it came into contact with the other side of the room. You were startled by the sound, but most especially by how aggressive and fast it flew. You turned to Ren who still had his shaking arm up, but lowered it after he saw you staring.
He spun back around and stood his ground. “That was… impulsive.”
You hummed, unconvinced. “I say otherwise, but it’s clear that you’re…” Ren suddenly snapped his head towards you which made him the slightest bit easier to read. It took a while, but eventually you came to a solid conclusion and even you blushed realizing what your conclusion was. “You’re envious of Hattaska.”
“I am not envious of Hattaska.” He stressed ‘not’ to make a point. He was. He really was, but he didn’t want to admit it. It would go against everything he’s worked for.
You, however, knew when he’d be lying and this was one of them. To be honest, it didn’t take much to tell that he was lying. His reaction gave away too much and outright betrayed him.
“Sure,” You smiled, your heart fluttering at his subtle confession. “you wouldn’t let love ‘cloud your vision’ after all.” you said, quoting his monologue from earlier.
He waited for a confession from you and stared you deep in the eye for it. He even tried probing your thoughts for it, but a confession wasn’t anywhere in your mind. His heart ached when he could only find Hattaska in your head.
“Anyway,” you began, not wanting to give him a chance to say anything further. “I hope you return safely from Remnicore, I believe VX-20 told me?” You smiled as the drone’s lights blinked as an affirmation. “I’m always worried about you the most since you’re always running off to unknown places because of your ‘destiny’. Make sure to check in with me when you come back—”
“Goodbye, Dr. L/N.” Ren firmly said before he began walking out, VX-20 following behind him.
You smiled and shook your head. Your presence messed with his thoughts that he felt the need to leave. You could sense though the hesitation in the goodbye. It was just a suspicion, but it might have been the very last goodbye you’d get from him.
“Bye, Kylo.” you called out just before he wouldn’t be able to hear you anymore.
That might’ve been your final goodbye, but at least he got the closure he needed. You liked Hattaska and not him.
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8 - Twisted Warren
Too much had happened in this place, between the time Murkoff had lost control, and the MHS failed to regain control. The patients had gotten free and had ample time on their hands to undertake all manner of hobbies.
I wasn’t certain what to make of the large hole chiseled through three feet of solid cement, and rebar. Given there’s not a lot to do around this place but come up with creative ways to get around, I gave this one a seven out of ten. I doubted that big ugly fucker would have been amused by a commission for big fuckin holes, he seemed dedicated to his current task of decapitating the former law. I couldn’t envision the inmates having the tools for this sort of work, and then using them correctly to remove the cement, but they were just insane, not stupid. There was a difference.
The problem was they were not stupid.
To satisfy my lethal curiosity, I did return to the other side of where I had dropped down, to see if the egress guy was still lurking. I didn’t want someone following me, I’d rather know at this point and try to lose them than get a nasty surprise in a dark cramped hole.
There was only a small room, and a door. I tried the handle confirming it was locked, but perhaps earlier it was open and the patient decided to lock it. Didn’t matter, my path was charted out. It must’ve led into a lavatory, or female wash room, there were hand dryers on the wall, a mattress flung on its side, and the more important detail. Sinks.
I tried the dial on one and received a fresh flow of water, its color I couldn’t tell due to the night vision but it looked clean and free of sediment. After giving my perimeter a quick look I leaned under the tap and tasted it, first rinsing my mouth out of the reek and copper. The water had a strong metallic quality, I wasn’t sure if I should drink it, much as I was advised not to drink the water when visiting another country, but I was dehydrated. I reasoned with myself the lines couldn’t all be compromised, and drank just enough to quench my thirst.
There was also the issue of my bloody camera, and my backside, but I felt my jacket was a lost cause and it was cold. In the dark I flushed water on my sleeve and used it to carefully dab the side of the camera until it felt like much of the stickiness was removed. I didn’t expect to do a perfect job in the solid black. I also took the time to rinse the blood from my scalp and the back of my leg, then flushed my tender brow.
I felt renewed, not meeting ready but stable enough on my feet to carry me onward. I returned to the other side, squelching over the sticky puddle of blood back to the warrens entrance.
Below looked like an access space, for repairs or maintenance on broken pipes that might be reached through the basement. It might’ve been installed in the past century if this place was as old as I suspected.
The hole wasn’t deep, but there was a passage dug out in the softer earth beneath the crawl space. A small draft crept over my ankles, warmer air spilling into the cool shower. The thick reek of natural gas coupled with moist earth reached my nose as I crouched down and used the night vision to navigate, I really didn’t need to get lost under this place.
Though the path seemed straightforward, I was fully aware of how easy it was to get turned around in a short section of black crawlspace. A few of the Outdoor Adventurer columns warned of how inexperienced cavers could get lost in less than twenty feet of cave. One story mentioned a specific case in which a cavern had only a few extending tunnels, but the individuals involved thought only to bring one light source plus their cell phones. As with any adventure destined to fail, the torch had a mishap and the cavers with their cell phones couldn’t distinguish between the details of the cave through the poor light source, nor could they call for help. Many would scratch their heads or joke towards their expense, how can you get lost in such a small cave? Few have ever experienced the total silence, the oppressive dark, and the disorientation that comes with confusion, then panic. How easy doubt sets in and turns your instincts against you.
This is why they, like many, didn’t live to learn from their error.
Even a few feet into this passage, I could no longer see the light. Not at all. Thick pipes ran in orderly groups into the dark depths, railways of electrical input. My path was carved around a cement pillar, going deeper. My heart thudded harder against my ribs filling my head with a dull pulse of pain. How deep did this go? Would I be able to turn back if I lost my way? I paused to listen in the crushing black, the total silence but for the thunder of my heart and my heavy breath. I had my reservations for traveling deeper, I was terribly fucking lost running everywhere through the Asylums endless maze of halls, but this was fifteen times worse. This was my grave.
I pressed on with no where else to look back on, I fortified my resolve to keep calm and find a way out. There was nothing that could hurt me here, I could hear nothing, no shrieking, no pleas for mercy. Dead silence.
The warmer air would’ve been a nice change of pace compared to the chilly asylum, but the reek of sludge and compost did not set me to ease. Blood was, as always, my guide through this twisting nightmare. Across the upper portion of the tunnel was a set of pipes, I had to stretch out and slip under them to get through. It opened up a bit and I could stand, more pipes, for gas or water.
As I moved forward it looked like my path came to an end, but the earth shifted under my feet. Looking down, I found a deep hole which I had nearly stumbled into. I dropped down, making sure to evade the bricks on the one side. The stench and heat was in full force at this point and I turned, locating where the bricks had been torn out of a wall.
The sewers beneath the asylum were huge, possibly to redirect the flow of water and alleviate erosion. It wasn’t called Mount Massive for the jollies of it. I glanced beyond the ruptured wall, crinkling my nose at the odor. To my right was a light source, but my left was difficult to make out even with the NV. Moisture in the air interfered with the feed.
Satisfied that the path was free of wavering figures, I sloshed into the filthy water of the drainage flow trying not to think about what might be floating in it. The dark tunnel twisted around and after a few feet I could make out the collection of fallen boulders and earth. A cave in, a weakness of some sort in the foundation. This made me uneasy, the tunnels could be subjected to collapse while I was down here, especially with the heavy rainstorm currently hammering the mountain. I didn’t bother to get closer should there be an opening I could squeeze through, it wasn’t worth it.
The lit tunnel offered two paths, I proceeded through the light, and presumably the path the patients had taken when they came down here. At least I knew there must be a way out, unless they came down here and backtracked out. I doubted that. This was where the blood led me.
No matter how many times I repeated that phrase in my head, it always sounded wrong and insane.
A barricade for flotsam shed some perception on the water levels of these tunnels, if there was a good flood it could reach my hip. I imagined the water was lower but even now the flow rolled over my ankles, I could only be thankful the water temper was tolerable or I’d succumb to hypothermia. The barrier offered little trouble, but a sharp pain in my side. Nice thing, I was growing accustomed to the jolts of pain. Just had to avoid getting thrown out of windows, or kicked in the chest.
An intersecting tunnel came into view, but it was easy to decide which way from here with no detours. My right was completely packed by another cave in, giving me some mild grief if that was my way out. The ruble didn’t look fresh but I was no expert on collapses.
The right looked like another dead end from a distance, but as I moved closer I could see the small drainage tunnel in the shallow ditch was open. A strong source of light soaked through a large grate overhead, offered by the upper floors perhaps, I couldn’t tell. I stood off to the side of the gaping drain to look up, but the light from above was too bright to view past and make out its origins. I thought I heard someone screaming, it could’ve been my imagination. The echoing chatter of water spilled along the cobblestone bricks into the ditch below at a high frequency.
As I looked down, I thought I saw a body slumped by a grated drain. It was a body, I crept in close to examine him through the NV feed. He didn’t look like one of the patients that had come down earlier, a small relief. He had been dead for some time, his pants and the lower area of his body had absorbed so much water he almost looked fluffy, but it was only skin dissolved and flaking away. I didn’t need that thought on my mind, though I had already presumed I would find more bodies in the sewer, I didn’t need to see them immediately. What a naïve hope that was.
Returning to my task at hand, I grimaced as I couched low and scooted along the water into the small tunnel. The humid stench was overpowering and the cramped space of the drain had me nearly knelt in the foul water, but I managed to only submerge one knee as I felt along. I tried to bury my face in my collar and hold the camera up so I could see where I was going and not put my knee into something unpleasant. Blood was one thing, it was tolerable.
I tried to keep my hand along the ‘dryer’ side of the wall, where the tunnel sloped down but wasn’t in the water. The cuts along the back of my leg stung like hell and I tried not to envision what sort of bacterial infections I’d come away with. A piece of paper from something got caught on my foot, but I wouldn’t mess with that until I could stand. The tunnel ended and I assured myself there was nothing here with me poised just beside the opening to lop my head off, before I shuffled out and stood.
Much of the same met me, no light and pipes suspended along the roof of the tunnel. As I stared through the quivering visor I realized for the first time, I was shaken all over. Not just mild tremors, I could literally not hold myself still as I inspected the open channel over. I wasn’t cold, in fact a thin layer of sweat had spread under my coat causing it to stick against my shirt.
I was terrified.
Despite my small reprieve of isolation I was frightened, my nerves frayed. Where was I going? How did I get out of here? What if there was no way out? What if this was where I was meant to die?
Get ahold of yourself. I stepped back and leaned beside the wall and touched the cool brick, feeling the vibrations of the Asylum against my palm. Not gonna die here. I would get out. I would get out with the evidence and reveal this heinous mess to everyone.
I took a small breath through my mouth and stared at the long corridor ahead. I wanted to believe that. I wanted to make that the truth so bad.
The water sloshed over my shoes, and I flipped off the remains of that sheet of paper–
Something flittered into sight ahead. I barely turned my camera up, night vision and everything I could see perfectly, and something glided by in the intersecting tunnel. Looked black, like a shadow, but it was in direct light. Was something there?
I took a few steps back to the tunnel and perched down, checking on my camera. Features, playback, last five minutes. I realized in reviewing the footage that I was breathing hard, I still was. Didn’t care.
I paused the feed and stared at what was caught, it wasn’t very clear. Just a black shape, it had passed in barely a second and looked almost transparent. It wasn’t in the light as I had imagined, the NV had caught it in the dark of the intersecting tunnel. Maybe it was a residual image, the camera had color mishaps since I flew out that window. But…it looked suspended, a good six feet above the ground.
I took a deep breath through my mouth and exhaled. Later I would review the evidence with better equipment, image quality enhancements. And I’d make copies of everything.
First, I had to get out of here. And the only route open to me was ahead, where that shadow was.
I exercised extreme caution as I proceeded forward, listening every few steps for sounds or stopping when I thought I heard something. Carefully I picked my way along the tunnel with my eyes fixed ahead, the camera never picked up another image.
To my right where it must have gone, was a barricade or gap for high water levels. I decided to avoid that path and check elsewhere, give whatever was there now a chance to clear out.
The left side extended a distance, all manner of trash was down here from dissolving files to cardboard boxes. The path took a right path followed brick and on the left a drainage tunnel, grated up. The path took a right and around the corner a light source, and possibly a way out.
I was disappointed to discover it wasn’t to be. This was an exit, perhaps some time before, but the ladder set here was completely destroyed. On the floor beneath lay the remains of a human, entrails, rotted limbs, and the ladder. I attempted to lift it up but it was too short. Even pushing some cardboard boxes over helped in no way, they were too soggy from sitting in the wet air. The upper one cracked and folders scattered, patient letters. I’m guessing Murkoff never sent these to the families, and probably forged return notes. A few were stuffed into a file, which I took interest in
“"(Found scrawled in pencil on the back of an admittance form. Handwritting matches samples from patient “Father” MARTIN ARCHIMBAUD.)
This God is real. What we’ve mistaken so long for ghosts, spirits, madness. We were only willfully ignorant. The scales on Saul’s eyes were fear, and when you see beyond it, you truly see. This is the gift of the Walrider. The Gospel of Sand. The greatest sin in the world is willful ignorance of God. To receive a revelation and not spread it to the waiting flock. This place… To stand in the way of salvation is a sin for which there is no punishment too great’.”
For some reason this note caused goosebumps to crawl up my skin. My mind brought back images of the MHS team, throttled and dragged away. What had I seen? What did Father Martin ask? “Will you see? Can you?” I still didn’t understand, but I felt closer to understanding these mysteries through these sloppy scribbles. Something about these words felt more than deranged delusions. There was a truth.
I left the file and moved around the opposite side of the tunnel, lowering the camera where the lamps overhead still functioned casting deep yellow globs of light to spread over the moist stone. Save batteries, live longer.
A soft tinkling…turned into an aggressive rattle as I passed under a large pipe. I tried to find the source, but it sounded as though it were coming from within the pipe itself. I raised my camera though there was nothing to record, but that sound was eerie, I could see nothing to generate that sort of sound. Like pouring pellets into a bebe rifle.
I left that place and quickly returned to what must have been my route, where the shape had gone? I don’t know at this point. Peering through the tight gap I could make note of nothing threatening or otherwise, despite the distance I could tell there were areas where danger could lurk. My progress so far had been quiet.
The barricade was tight, difficult even for me to get through. I grunted as it rubbed on my bad side but I made it. I’m sure there were hundreds of those down here.
The sewer opened up into another tunnel, a huge drainage gutter sat a few feet ahead with a grate over it. To the right was a ladder swallowed up in a flood of murky water with a plaque reading Lower Junction
Fuck that. I’m trying to get out of this place.
A large pipe directed down into the lower area was clearly labeled ‘Female ward,’ and across from it an identical pipe with the faded words ‘Prison ward.’ More the reason not to go THAT way. I continued to where some crates had been abandoned, probably filled with replacement parts or materials for the plumbing. The asylum was nearly a city all in itself and required routine maintenance.
This made sense, they had a lot of people here on residence doing the experiments. Probably the higher security clearance guys never went out on a sunny day, couldn’t risk them getting hurt or lost.
A loud thud echoed through the tunnel, I stopped near the crates and watched as a shape dropped down at the other end. I stepped back and knelt behind them as he marched forward, struggling to breathe as he always did after the heavy exercise of killing.
The big ugly fucker just wouldn’t give it a rest! What was his obsession? Did he just follow me wherever he thought I was, or was it just chance? Maybe he was following the patients, and somehow I was shepherd in with the flock. Didn’t change matters, he was here now for whatever reason. Damnit.
He moved towards the middle of the corridor and paused, glanced around as his breathing calmed. Now that I saw him clearly in the light, I could make out details I hadn’t been able to pick out on when he threw me out a window.
No. I will never let that go.
His face was indeed mutilated, by himself reports said. I doubt he had sharp items while institutionalized. Was it from the treatment he became so large? Or just bad cardio, the guy ran like a horse. The report also stated he had modified restraints to conform his massive size, and by modified they meant huge chains which he dragged around on his legs and arms. The ones wrapped about his wrists appeared to have restricted his blood flow, I couldn’t tell from the distance if his hands still worked, they looked pale and skeletal.
Chris turned and began down a path on my right. I listened to the sound of his chains as they grew soft and distant, with his heavy huffing. At this point I wasn’t sure where to go, if I used my camera and zoomed, I could see to the end where he plopped down was grated. One of the tunnels might lead somewhere, someplace where I could climb out of this sewer. This option was more favorably than sitting here waiting for him to find me while I was indecisive about where to go.
I took hesitant steps forward, listening. The sounds bounced around the walls, but I only heard the soft swish of water around my shoes. He entered a tunnel further away on the left, as I moved it I could make out a dark entrance not far from my position on the right.
The tunnel was well lit, it set my nerves to ease but a coil of anxiousness knotted in my throat as I felt exposed. I gave a small whimper unintentionally as I sprang over a flotsam guard when I twisted the wrong way, and I stopped to listen for a few seconds to assure the bug fucker hadn’t heard that. As I resumed, the tunnel took a right into shadows and a cool draft, at the end I found a few planks of plywood and another grate drain. And an open door brimming with light.
The room had little to offer. Some shelves stacked with paints and boxes, a few batteries that I could use, lockers, and a large pipe with a valve labeled Prison drain
Apparently I was going into the Lower Junction.
I shut the door behind me and griped the valve tightly and turned. Or tried. My arm ached and my ribs just couldn’t take it, a hot streak of pain pulsed in my side. I stepped back and frowned at the valve. Maybe I could trick Chris into turning it, or rig him up to it in some elaborate way.
Or I could stop being a pussy and turn that valve?
I took a few shallow breaths and steeled myself. I was not halfway done with this place, and it wasn’t done with me. If I was going to survive this, I would endure a lot more than some cheap shots and…
Crashing out a few windows.
I gripped the valve and braced myself, ignoring the throbbing or the red in my vision. It would turn or so help me.
The valve gave in and wrenched. I turned until it was all the way open, or what I presumed to be open. I panted a bit as I turned and left the room.
Nothing. That was nothing. I could turn valves all day. The pain would subside soon, and I could forget it in favor of more compelling matters.
In the dark tunnel I heard chains drag, and a voice mutter. Two ways to spell dead. Without a thought I pivoted and returned to the room, shutting the door behind me. I stood waiting for a short while before I saw the knob twist. My immediate instinct told me hide in the lockers, but the door was already opening and I was too far to get one open and stuff myself within. I had already moved to the other side, where there was a large space behind the shelves where the light fell short. I squatted in the furthest corner and watched as Chris entered.
He pushed the door open fully and stepped inside checking on the lockers. Yes, they were very lovely. He must not have known I was here, he didn’t bother opening a one. Then, he turned looking at the shelves where I was hiding. I held my breath and stared at him, directly at him. I thought we made eye contact and my heart stopped, but the big fucker turned smoothly and left the room.
Even when I was certain he was well gone, I couldn’t move. It felt like my body was frozen. It took some effort but I managed to adjust my grip on the camera, then raise my arms and took a breath, then another. I felt my mind begin to clear and the images replayed in my mind, Chris turning and his murky eyes dead on me. In reflex I shut my own eyes and listened to the sounds of the sewer, soft hissing in pipes, water trickling down ancient mortar. The tremors were back in full force, but I doubt they ever truly left me. I only forgot they were there.
In some time I had coaxed myself enough to stand and move towards the open door, I wobbled on my feet and caught the frame before I could go charging out to make a thunderous descent on the slick plywood.
The dark was my only ally.
I pushed myself off the doorframe and ventured into the tunnel, jumping at every little sound. The drip of water was incessant, nerve wrecking. I couldn’t see where he had gone from the opening of the tunnel, I stood waiting for some sign. The idea that he might’ve left this area by some way was on my thoughts, but I knew better. If he found a way out, I’d have a way out. But he would exhaust his search first and that could take hours.
There were two large pipes leading into the lower junction, I already drained one. The female drain was located on the left side of the tunnel, the pipe must’ve run that way.
While the coast was clear, I went ahead to the backside of the tunnel where the big fucker had initially entered from. Maybe there was a way out I missed, a break in the grate.
Another dead end. A dead guard, crumpled and broken, it looked like his legs had been twisted off and the only thing keeping them attached were his blood drenched pants. I spun about when I picked up on the big fuckers approach, and ducked down behind the crates pressing myself into the edge where they met with the curved wall of the tunnel. He was getting closer.
For a tense moment it sounded like he was right on the other side of the crate. My only option was to hold still and pretend I wasn’t there. The chains clinked as he moved and sniffed the air, I imagine this smell didn’t faze him a whole lot. I was focused on the sleeve over my arm as I held perfectly still, studying the different colors and stains it had acquired.
“Scout the perimeter, then isolate the target.”
Eventually he continued on his way, his footfalls and muttering getting faint. I waited a moment certain he took the left tunnel, towards the prison ward. Of any tunnel, I just wanted to relocate and find a better vantage point. Slowly I stood up, and there he was no more than fifteen feet away.
Chris bellowed something unintelligible and charged, sounded like “There you argh!” I bolted, hitting the edge of the wall with my arm and skimmed off heading to the other side of the tunnel. Had to find a place to hide, needed somewhere I can duck into. He was screaming something after me, it was hard to tell between the splashing water and his dragging chains.
I vaulted over a drain guard and took a sharp left, into the dark. No place to duck into, only a few alcoves that heightened my hopes only to crush them. I slowed to toggle the NV and not drop the camera, he was nearly at my back when I picked up pace. I nearly missed the sharp turn to the right, I stumbled when I stepped on a greasy cardboard box but managed to stay upright. Ahead was light, revealing another cave in, but it looked like there was an opening I could squeeze through. I wasn’t sure if this was a good idea, but standing around debating wouldn’t improve my health either.
The boulders and brick felt sturdy enough as I crammed myself between them, had to get deeper or the big fucker would drag me out. Or rip my arm off in the process.
“Get out ‘ere!” Chris was trying to dig me out as I crammed my body deeper. He could topple the mound onto himself for all I cared.
As it was, I was nearly trapped in this alcove. But with a firm shove I dislodged some rock at my feet and was able to slip down and crawl out. It looked like the tunnel did continue down this way, but the cave in extended to that area and effectively blocked this path.
A bent door was lodged in the brick wall a few feet ahead, ripped off the lock by a force of science I didn’t wish to meet. The plaque beside it read ‘Female drain.’ I pushed the door in and peered inside. There wasn’t much to note, the room was small and there was no place to hide. A shelf held a few of the paints, and a few boxes had been abandoned here.
I stepped across to the valve and braced myself before attempting to turn it. I coughed a bit as my side tingled, but managed to get the handle to turn on my first try. Small achievements were possible, now if I was able to get out of here.
I couldn’t hear him working to dig me out from the other side, or his heavy breathing. He knew I was here and had no place else to go, it was likely he was camped on the other side waiting for me to emerge. He was former military, he could afford to wait hours if necessary without losing focus. If it came down to it, I could dodge him. Or try, it worked but I had a sick feeling he’d remember that trick.
The rocks hadn’t shifted at all, I was able to get through with little effort. I listened when nearly clear but picked up on nothing, only the constant drum of water running from the upper grates, and my own breathing. The tunnel was large enough I could get around him if I timed it just right, but I didn’t care to test my reflexes against the big fuckers. He was capable of nasty surprises, and the drain gutter was slick and unreliable.
I moved from the narrow space and took in a deep breath, then began to walk along the side of the drainage gutter where the water rolled down. It was impossible to eliminate my movement completely, but I would hear him before he heard me. I raised the camera for the night vision, but the power was getting low. I paused on the corner checking for the clear before I pulled out the dead battery and put in a fresh one.
The sound of churning water caught up to me. I didn’t pause as I quickly felt for the slot, and put in the battery before I turned to make a slow retreat. There wouldn’t be time to crawl in the gap, especially once I hit the light. I’d need to fake him out. For a moment I thought I had gained some distance, the sound of his steps quieted.
Then I heard the rapid approach of chains. “Little pig….”
I sprint the last stretch to my safety, but never made it. A strangled yelp slipped from me as the back of my collar was snared, I clutched the camera to my stomach as he lifted me off my feet and flung me to the side of the channels drain.
“Just lay there.” He stepped over me as I was trying to recover. Had to keep the camera out of the water, without it I was as good as dead! I kicked at the slick bricks, I was dead anyway if he got his hands around my throat. When I twisted my head to see where I was going, I spotted a missed tunnel that had a shattered grate. A space Chris couldn’t fit.
I kicked at his ankles, throwing myself through the open passage. Chris was still struggling to grip my shoes as I clambered inside thrashing in the shallow water until I was nearly soaked, but always making sure I was holding the camera away from the water. I didn’t stop there, I flipped over and kept going when I saw that the other side was open as well.
With a roar of outrage, Chris stalked off, to head me off. He had speed, I was severely limited as I struggled to move without knocking myself unconscious.
I cleared the other side and lunged to my feet, as I heard the water torn apart by his strides not far from my right. I hurtled over the dam and ran, relying completely on the effectiveness of the pipes and the factor that they had finished draining.
“Outer perimeter breached!” A crate flew by my head and shattered on the wall, I didn’t hesitate in my race. Couldn’t dwell on the effectiveness of his aim either, I just needed to reach that ladder. I shoved the camera into its hoister and practically dove down the ladder as the big fucker caught up to me. “Don’t you hear it?”
I glanced up at his fuck grated face, in time to cringe against the ladder when he dropped a crate. It crashed against the sides splinting in two, a piece hitting my shoulder but I barely felt it. I continued down the ladder two and three steps, until I hit the bottom and stumbled away blindly in the dark.
Another crate fell smashing against the floor, the reverberation so close and sudden I felt my head spin. I couldn’t see it until I had the NV active and took the time to give the soggy corridor a quick glance. From the ladder I could still hear Chris, snarling at my escape. I’m not sure why he didn’t pursue me, it didn’t seem impossible. I gave up and accept these matters, and struggled to understand where I was now.
I took a few breathes, wincing at the stale sewage and raw metallic scent. Not far from where I stood was another body of a patient, grotesquely bloated from being in the water for so long. My stomach turned at the soured reek disturbed by the drainage. This place just got better and better.
The heavy sounds of fresh drainage and falling water was tripled here. In the pipes hung algae or liquefied rubbish, I couldn’t discern. I only avoided it as I renewed my search, though it didn’t matter at this point, I was thoroughly soaked from my fall. I suppose the red stains in my coat had either diluted or washed out completely, and yet I was more of a mess than before. No surprise.
My path was literally straight forward, but I took it slow. I could easily get turned around or something might’ve crawled down here. I doubted it, as everything in here seemed to be in the advance stages of rot from the recent flood, but this place was full of unpleasant surprises that made you regret letting your guard down.
Much of them didn’t make any sense either. I mulled over the thought of what this place might’ve been like if they didn’t use an asylum and crazy people for the experiments.
I took note of a thick pipe overhead which followed the same route open to me. It didn’t have access through walls that had the small grated tunnels, but it gave me a direction. I followed it around a sharp corner, and above was another bloated body, the skin around his bare arms slipping off his skeleton, without the water to cushion the buoyancy. I made sure not to step directly under him, as I continued through the sewer. A few crates bobbed in the water as I moved by, a few were marked with Murkoff’s faded logo.
More left over plywood, maybe used to board up areas down here where the scientist made their last stand. Maybe a few of them came down here to shelter from the patients, but as of yet I had seen no evidence of this. The wood gave me little trouble, stiff but soggy from its prolonged aquatic existence. Above the pipe made a sharp turn and ended its path at a connecting pipe parallel with the wall. I retreated as a sharp blast of hot steam shot out. Damn pipes were now against me.
I skipped over another broken barrier of wood and boxes scattered in the drainage gutter, before finally coming to a ladder, and my escape. Given, the big fucker hadn’t beaten me here somehow and was waiting above for me to poke my head out of the warren. At least there was light above.
As I made my gradual progress up the tall ladder, I occasionally glanced up to my destination. I tried to keep my steps soft, but someone had heard me. They popped their head over the opening from above, curious to who was coming up.
I stopped debating what that might’ve been. Too normal to be Chris Walker, but all patients were insane murders at this point. A little slower I renewed my climb, unable to hear what the variant above might be planning. It was likely he couldn’t see anyone down in the dark depths, but he did hear me. He knew someone was coming.
I tightened my grip on the bars when I peered just over the edge, checking around as much as I could for the person. I was relieved to find myself alone, but I thought I heard voices echoing in the distance. Set to ease but still wary I climbed up onto the grate and kept low, I was certain they coming from somewhere….
“No. I can hear it!” There was a large grate in a tunnel to my left, that the voices echoed down. Did they mean me?
“Somebody—”
“The Walrider!” Guess not. I pulled myself up a little more as shrieks splint the calm, I hung back as a sound came to me similar to crashing water, and a low rumbling. Not rumbling, was it trickling? Or a hissing, as something caught in the air and lashed out. I winced as the howls began.
The voices intensified, as people somewhere shrieked with wild release. I couldn’t place what I was hearing, a lifting swell of agony and terror as the multitude came to a crescendo, cracks and tears of bone and flesh and crushed windpipes catching voices midway through their final throes. Somewhere, not far from where I was, people were slaughtered by something they had warned me about.
It couldn’t be. The Walrider was a myth, it couldn’t exist.
Eventually the anguished cries fell silent, as did the sounds of what had enacted its punishment.
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Commission for @pyre-9! A crossover between Danny Phantom and Psych.
---
Absentmindedly crossing the street, Shawn considered the situation he found himself in. Working a case all alone, in an unfamiliar city. No Gus to rely on.
Sure, he could handle the investigation himself, but it just wasn’t the same without Gus. They were a team for a reason!
He continued walking. According to the people he’d asked, his destination should be glaringly obvious. The Fenton household was apparently rather recognizable. It was also a bit of a mess, based on the warnings people had tried to give him. “Don’t go there,” they’d said, until he explained that he was an investigator, that he needed to talk to Danny Fenton.
A bright light caught his eye, and he stopped to take it in.
Well. People definitely hadn’t been wrong about the Fenton house being easy to find. What a sign!
Shawn quickly made his way over, running over the details of the case again. What he wouldn’t give for a Gus, who could keep all this stuff straight for him. But, alas, Shawn had come to this city for a food festival, not a murder investigation, and Gus hadn’t been able to come. Maybe if they had known that Psych would find a private client, Gus would’ve been here, but that obviously hadn’t been the case.
No point in reminiscing about it, though. Game face on, and go!
He rung the doorbell, plastering on his serious detective face. This was a murder they were dealing with. Serious business!
The door swung open, a teenager looking out. Male, messy black hair, visibly tired. Surprised to see him.
“Good day, Mr. Fenton,” Shawn introduced himself, a grin creeping onto his face. “I’m Shawn Spencer, from psychic detective firm Psych. And you are Danny Fenton, witness. Can we talk?”
“Uh…” The boy glanced behind himself, grimacing. Strange behavior. Suspicious. “Sure, I guess, if we can talk outside.”
Freaking out, almost paranoid. Very suspicious. But no clear reason… “Why?”
“You clearly haven’t heard about my parents,” Danny snipped back. Definitely tense, definitely freaked out about something. “They’re… kinda crazy. Ghost hunters. Very paranoid about strangers.” The boy paused, then tacked on, “And they will jump in and start blathering on and on about ghosts.”
Well, that seemed to line up about right with the advice all those other people gave him. “Right. Of course. Outside, then?”
Danny nodded, stepping outside and closing the door behind him. “So, um. You’re here for that murder, then?”
“Yes. You were the only person who witnessed it all happen, Mr. Fenton. What can you tell me?”
Narrowed eyes. Still suspicious, still suspecting. This kid was hiding something, that was for sure. “Aren’t you supposed to already know that? Since you’re a psychic, and all that?”
Ah. A skeptic. Shawn paused in walking to turn towards the boy, placing one hand against his own temple.
“I’m having a vision! Hmm…” He frowned slightly, turning his head down like he was processing it. “Yes, I see… Mr. Fenton, let my rephrase my earlier question. Who else was there, besides you and the victim?”
“A couple people, I guess.” Danny shrugged, playing off the fib. “No one was really paying attention to the victim, I think, besides me.”
Shawn hummed. The last bit was the truth. “How well did you know the victim?”
“I didn’t,” Danny answered truthfully. “I didn’t know him.”
He was switching wildly between honesty and fibbing. Remained suspicious.
“You are aware of the way the victim died?” Shawn asked, and Danny nodded. “Did you see anyone near the victim?”
“Um, a couple of people, I guess.” Danny rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. Definitely a nervous tic, that. “It was kind of chaotic.”
The first part was so-so, but the latter was the definitive truth. This was someone used to lying, although to someone less trained at picking apart said lies. How strange.
One thing was clear, however. There was definitely something going with this kid. He made an effort to answer all of Shawn’s questions, but fibbed on a select number of them.
Well, it was better than the little his client had given him, he supposed. The man had only been able to offer Shawn a name, and a useless one at that. Seriously, he knew that he was supposed to be psychic, but who could find a person with just the name Phantom to go off?
“What can you tell me about the prime suspect?” Might as well go for gold and ask the kid, right? If this “Phantom” was there, then Danny might be able to tell him a little more about the guy. “About Phantom?”
Danny grew, almost impossibly, even more fidgety. “How much do you know about him already?”
“Just tell me the whole story. You’re the witness, after all.”
“Right. Um.” The hand went back to rubbing his neck. “Well… He’s a ghost. Phantom is generally considered to be the protector of Amity Park, fighting off other ghosts, but not everyone agrees with that. Some people think he’s just a pest, because he’s a ghost, and all ghosts are bad.”
Always with the ghosts, huh? The kid sounded like he was telling the truth—or believed he was telling the truth—but he remained worried, remained fidgety. His secret was related to this Phantom person.
“Ghosts, huh?”
Danny laughed, relaxed visibly. “Yeah, I know right? Although I guess they’re not that surprising for a psychic.” Well, that was very pointed. “Amity Park is the ghost capital of the US for a reason. We’ve got tons of them, at all times. It’s almost impossible to stay in this city and not see them.”
How encouraging. How delightful. Why had Shawn even come to this city? The festival hadn’t even been that good!
“Hm. Well, thank you for your time.” Shawn stopped walking, offered a hand to Danny. “You were a big help today.”
“Yeah… Good luck with the investigation, Mr. Spencer.” The kid took the offered hand and shook it. Danny’s hand was almost concerningly cool in his own.
He watched the teenager turn back around, walking back in the direction they had come from. In his mind, Shawn was running through possible theories. One thing was clear to him, however. Danny Fenton was no ordinary witness. In fact, he might be a suspect. Might’ve worked with this “Phantom”.
He needed more information.
---
A flick of movement caught Shawn’s eye and he stopped. The sidewalk had been completely empty; it was getting late.
Was it just him or did the air feel colder, all of a sudden?
Someone was next to him. Someone who hadn’t been anywhere near him, before that tiny bit of movement.
Shawn turned to look. A kid—a teenager—male, with astonishingly white hair and overly bright green eyes. Floating. Glowing.
Well. Wasn’t that something? Ignoring the discoloration—the wig and fancy lenses—it was easy enough to recognize the kid.
“Mr. Fenton,” Shawn greeted him. “Back again?”
Danny flinched, then started fidgeting. Pulling on the edge of the white gloves he was wearing. And wow, wasn’t that an outfit? “I… Call me Phantom when I look like this.”
Did he just— Did he really just go and confirm himself as the prime suspect?
Shawn opened his mouth to point this out, but Danny cut him off.
“Look, I can explain what happened, okay? What you asked, earlier, about who was present… It was just the victim, me, and the ghost I was chasing. Skulker is enough of a pain normally, so I was kind of focused on keeping up with him. And yeah, he passed kind of close by someone, but I didn’t really think too much about it, since Skulker doesn’t usually care about anyone but me. But then the guy started collapsing, and I realized that Skulker had sliced him up. A distraction for me, I think.” Danny shrugged, an unsettled expression on his face. “I tried to help, but there was— there was nothing I could do. And I heard people coming, so I… I distanced myself and shifted back, and said I saw the whole thing go down.”
Not a lie in the slightest, as much as Shawn hated it. “And this… Skulker?”
“I caught him.” Determined, harsh. No hesitation. “First thing I did when everyone left. I have him captured still. Not sure what to do with him now. Can’t exactly hand a ghost over to the police, can I?”
“Well, I can’t argue with that.” He supposed it was a job well-done. It’s not like the client will care that Shawn wasn’t the first to figure out who the perpetrator was; they wouldn’t have listened to Phantom anyway. “I will go inform my client, then. If they want more they can take it up with you.”
Shawn turned around, satisfied, to continue walking towards his client’s house. So the kid was floating, glowing. So the temperature had dropped when he’d approached Shawn. So what?
A cold—freezing cold—hand caught his shoulder. Shawn jerked, but the fingers dug into his shoulder, forcing him to turn back towards Danny.
“You’re not really a psychic, are you?” Danny asked, in a tone of voice that made it clear it wasn’t really a question.
Shawn shrugged off the hand. “Like you don’t have your own secret to keep.”
“Touche,” the kid said, grinning slightly. “Guess we’re at a stand-still.”
“I won’t tell if you don’t.” Shawn straightened himself up. Ignored the niggling feeling of danger that emanated from Danny.
“What, so we keep the other’s secret for our own sake?” Danny hummed, thoughtful. “I guess that that’s alright.”
Danny moved back—like a step backwards, except he just… glided. Floated? “See you around, Mr. Spencer.”
And then he was gone, like he’d never been there in the first place.
Shawn took a slow breath, a bracing breath. Turned back towards the client’s house. He could tell them it was a job well-done, and be satisfied with that.
And he would never ever come back to Amity Park, food festival or not. Ghosts? Never again.
#danny phantom#psych#dark writes#writing commission#commission#pyre-9#imagine if tumblr ever fixed it's tagging system...#make no mistake i am completely unfamiliar with Psych#i relied heavily on the wiki but unfortunately that doesn't give you a good grip on a character's speech patterns#i hope it's alright though! tried real hard
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Today Is Wingman Day, Ch. 1
Fandom: Red Velvet
Pairing: WenJoy
Words: 5.4k+
Rating: T
Summary: Joy downloads Tinder. Wendy suffers through the trials and tribulations of being Joy's wingwoman for one day—while juggling some complicated feelings. Good thing Yeri's there to help them both in her own way.
Links: ao3 | aff
Sooyoung leaned forward across the table. “So, listen…” she said, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, a sly smile tugging on her lips. The hairs on Seungwan’s arms stood up. A smile like that from Sooyoung spelled trouble—
“I’m thinking of hooking up with a girl.”
—and bad ideas.
There were few things Seungwan hated more than her sleep cycle getting cut short on a Saturday morning right after midterms.
As a university student smack dab in the middle of her senior year, tackling five whole courses and several extracurriculars that kept her up well into the early a.m.’s, Seungwan cherished every minute of sleep she could get. Admittedly, it was her own fault for being overambitious. But after spending week after week downing espresso shots just to get through morning lectures, substituting a good night’s rest for caffeinated blood coursing through her veins, any weekend where she could finally sleep in was a luxury. A godsent gift. And finally, after getting through the midterm exam week, she could finally get the relaxation she deserved.
The incessant vibrations of her phone against the bedside table, however, said fuck you, Seungwan.
Seungwan groaned, rolling over to her side to reach for her phone. Who the hell was texting her a storm on a weekend morning? A precious weekend morning! She slapped her hands blindly on the table until she found the device, bringing it over to her face so she could read the offending name on the screen.
Park Sooyoung, 7:52 a.m.
She sat up immediately, blinking away the blurriness from her eyes as her vision adjusted to read the words in the slew of texts.
Hey.
Hey.
Hey.
Seungwan-unnie.
I need you.
Meet me at Café Eureka.
I have something to tell you.
Important news.
Cold dread crawled down Seungwan’s spine as she scanned the messages. Any traces of her sleep-induced haze scattered like ashes in the wind. It was never a good sign when Sooyoung sent her texts like these—full of urgency yet aggravatingly vague. Was it good news? Bad? Seungwan had never been able to get a straight answer, and she’d long given up trying. Any attempts for elaboration through text were always met with increasingly evasive non-answers, each one more cryptic than the last. Coming from a typically blunt girl like Sooyoung, though, it was always a cause for alarm.
At least, it was cause for alarm, until Seungwan had figured out that Sooyoung just liked to mess with her.
See, historically, ‘important news’ from Sooyoung meant one of two things:
1. either she really did have something important to share—like when she had just broken up with Sungjae and needed to be comforted, or
2. she was just baiting Seungwan with the fear that there was something hypothetically wrong—only to trick her into coming over to her apartment, trapping her into doing something as inane as figuring out which color dress looked better on her.
So yes, lately ‘important news’ was a dice roll. Over time, alarm over Sooyoung’s wellbeing had turned into wariness; wariness, into dread. Dread of a flagrant waste of time. Her best friend was a mystery at times, and Seungwan never knew which Sooyoung she was going to get on any given day. Excitable Sooyoung? Sad Sooyoung? Trickster Sooyoung?
Well, there was only one way to find out.
Seungwan sighed as she uncovered herself from the nest of her warm, plush blankets, resigning herself to another sleepless day and to Sooyoung’s whims—whatever they were.
I’ll be there in a few, she texted back.
-
For a day that was nearing the tail end of March, the weather outside was still surprisingly wintry: frozen dew clinging onto bladed grass, flowers that were normally in full bloom at this point only just shy of budding. Seungwan shivered as she stepped out of the dormitory, the chill of the cold spring air seeping through her white cardigan and into her skin. Maybe waltzing out in jean shorts wasn’t such a good idea. Out of all the advice she’d taken from Sooyoung, ‘dress for the weather you want’ (which was her go-to excuse for wearing skimpy clothing even in frigid temperatures) was probably the worst.
Not many other students were out and about at this time of day on a weekend. Especially not on a weekend after exams. There was still the occasional ever-so-disciplined jogger looking to knock out their daily run early—Sooyoung was one of them, which was why she was always up so early—but the vast majority of the student populace was probably enjoying their time off. Doing things that Seungwan sorely wished she could also experience: lazing around in bed, drinking a cup of hot chocolate, recovering from a hangover after celebrating the freedom from the brutal crunch of midterm studying.
While Seungwan didn’t regret her impulse decision to minor in music on top of being a biology major, the bone-deep exhaustion after a strenuous school week was… something else. She missed having leisure time. A life outside of school dedicated to hobbies. Having time to spend with friends. Partying.
Dating might’ve been nice, too, Seungwan thought as she passed by a couple holding hands, bundled up in hooded bubble jackets. They were strolling peacefully along the tree-lined paths that led to the city, pausing to take photos together against the sunrise-tinged lake. Stopping to smell the flowers. Poking each other’s cheeks. Laughing. Living in the moment as if they had all the time in the world.
It reminded her of how Sooyoung had been, back when she was with Sungjae. Carefree and happy. But here she was, forever single and without a lick of romantic experience. Oh, how Seungwan wished she were one of the normal students sometimes.
“Unnie, good morning!” called out a voice that sounded entirely too cheery for a Saturday morning. “Wait up!”
Seungwan’s shoulders tensed as she turned to see Yerim running to catch up to her, guitar case slung over her shoulder. Kim Yerim. Resident prankster. Sooyoung’s partner in crime.
There was a wide grin on her face as Yerim fell into step with her. Despite feeling wary toward her and cranky at being woken up early, Seungwan couldn’t help but return the smile. Yerim’s enthusiasm was infectious like that. On good days, it made the semester a little more bearable when they shared their music composition class together; on bad ones, it foreboded a future of trouble because she was a little shit sometimes. Like Sooyoung, Yerim was someone who always knew how to keep her on her toes. A frightening pair, those two. Especially when they put their minds together.
Even so, it was impossible not to have a soft spot for her.
“Yerim—hey!” Seungwan pulled her in, wrapping her arm over her shoulder as they walked side by side. Mostly, she just wanted to steal her body heat. “You’re going to band practice? You have a performance tonight at the new bar, right? What was it called—Tiki Island?”
“Yup!” Yerim nodded, waving her sheet music in front of Seungwan’s face. “Also, we’re finally going to try out that new tune that you helped me with earlier this week and see how it goes. I think Seulgi-unnie is going to love it. Thanks for that, by the way.”
“No problem, kiddo.” Seungwan gave her a pat on the head. “You had great melody—just needed some polishing on the harmonies. You did say you’d pay me back anyway.”
“Of course, unnie. I’m a woman of my word,” Yerim said. With her big round eyes and angelic face, anyone else who didn’t know her as well would’ve been fooled into trusting the innocent smile that graced her lips. But years of being swindled by that very smile had taught Seungwan better.
She raised her eyebrows. “Uh huh. Sure. The most reliable person I know, really.”
“You headed to Café Eureka?” Yerim asked, pointedly ignoring Seungwan’s jibe.
“Yeah, I am. Did you want anything? I could get you something to—wait.” Seungwan narrowed her eyes suspiciously. At second glance, the smile on Yerim’s face had turned more… smug than anything. Like she was privy to a secret that Seungwan wasn’t. “How did you know? Sooyoung told you something, didn’t she?”
“Ah.” Yerim’s shoulders stiffened under her hold. Before Seungwan could react to the obvious tell, she was already ducking out of her arm and booking it. “Gotta jet!” she exclaimed. “I’ll see you around, unnie!”
“Hey!” Seungwan yelled after her, but Yerim was already several meters ahead, breaking out into a full run.
Seungwan threw her hands in the air, shaking her fist at Yerim’s disappearing figure. “Why does nobody tell me anything!”
-
Seungwan felt right at home as she stepped into Café Eureka, inhaling the aroma of freshly-made syrupy waffles and the woody scent of weathered books that lined the walls of the upper floor, sighing in relief when the cozy indoor heating soaked into her freezing thighs.
Café Eureka, like any other restaurant business at the edge of the city, wasn’t an overly fancy establishment, but it was her and Sooyoung’s favorite library café to frequent. As a hybrid breakfast diner and quiet study place, with both sections split into two floor levels to separate the diners from the students, it was a boon for struggling undergrads who needed a break from schoolwork for a convenient quick fix or vice versa. The food was good; the staff pleasant. Overall, it was perfect aside from the drawback of being a trek from the main campus.
Once senior year had hit, she and Sooyoung had both become super stressed university students, constantly hunched over reading thick textbooks in dusty libraries through late nights, so it was nice just relaxing at a cute lowkey joint once in a while. Not too unruly or greasy like fast food restaurants, not too hoity-toity like those hipster coffee shops with one too many bearded baristas wearing an offensive combination of torn jeans and smartwatches. Café Eureka was nice in that way—just the right balance of homey and classy: comfort foods in the form of all-day breakfast meals, along with the refinement of an academic setting.
Although a bit cheesy, it was rumored that the owners had named it ‘Café Eureka’ to appeal to the student population. A place where epiphanies were made, supposedly, from just spending time there and basking in the atmosphere. Fresh food stimulating bright ideas, bright ideas paving way to brighter futures—that was something of its brand. It was said so often by staff and clientele alike that Seungwan was surprised it wasn’t made into a slogan yet.
She found Sooyoung settled at the booth in the corner of the café—their usual spot that overlooked the park and waterfront outside. The bright ambience really did help with keeping them alert during exam weeks—lots of tall glass windows, with each table partitioned by blue leather seats and tall mahogany posts framed by metal bars. The seating arrangement was a bit reminiscent of a 1950s American diner, just without all the hustle and bustle.
From where Seungwan could see, Sooyoung was busy scrolling through her phone, eyebrows creased together in concentration. An untouched plate of strawberry crepes lay on the table in front of her—the same thing she always ordered whenever they were together. It wasn’t a surprise that she was still in her jogging outfit, but as a non-morning person Seungwan didn’t often get to see her wearing it. She had to whistle at how modelesque Sooyoung managed to make it look, like she’d just walked right out of a high-profile athletic brand photoshoot: fingerless gloves, hair tied into a high ponytail, tight black leggings with mesh panels, a matching sports bra that gave a wide view of the well-defined abs on her stomach. Even as a runner, she wasted no opportunity to show off the magnificent physique of her body.
Seungwan didn’t blame her. The girl was chiseled like a Greek goddess, and she had every right to flaunt it. Especially ever since the breakup from a few months ago, Sooyoung had doubled down on working out to take her mind off of things, to spend time taking care of herself. The result was marvelous, of course: leaner arms, toner thighs. Plumper, healthier gluts. Even Seungwan herself was guilty of staring once in a while—but hey, it was a crime not to admire art, right? Not that she’d ever make an obvious show of it. Sooyoung would never let her live that down, with that ego of hers.
It was a good sign, though, that Sooyoung was out and about instead of moping around, as she was wont to do whenever a wave of bad moods struck her. Like the week when she’d split up with Sungjae, or had gotten a C on her exam. If she’d been feeling alright enough to go out for a jog, that had to mean whatever she had to tell her wasn’t terrible, at least.
“Hey,” Seungwan greeted, slipping into the seat across from Sooyoung.
“Unnie!” Sooyoung lit up, placing her phone down as soon as Seungwan announced her arrival. “You came!”
Seungwan laughed. Sooyoung reminded her of the puppies that she loved to take care of sometimes at the local animal rescue center—the bright eyes, excitable smiles. One and the same. “Yes, I did, you brat,” she said, though it wasn’t with as much bite as she’d wanted. Then again, she couldn’t stay too mad if Sooyoung seemed happy.
“Brat?” Sooyoung echoed, placing a hand to her chest in mock offense. “Excuse me—I’m anything but.”
“I think you demanding my time and attention before eight in the morning on a weekend constitutes as you being a brat.”
Sooyoung placed her hands on her hips and glared, bottom lip jutting out in the way that forecasted whenever she was about to summon her grossest baby-aegyo voice. “Unnie.”
“No,” Seungwan said, looking away.
Protests never stopped Sooyoung, though. In fact, they always seemed to encourage her.
“Why don’t you ever want to spend time with me anymore?” Sooyoung whined, voice rising in pitch with every word. “I just wanted to see you. You’re so mean! Hmph!” She punctuated her harrumph with a shrill squawk, cheeks puffing out.
Seungwan’s mouth twisted into a scowl, cold shivers rolling down her body. She couldn’t even stop the gagging noises that emerged from her throat. Sooyoung broke character at that, cackling as she pointed at the disgust undoubtedly written all over her face.
“Well, you must be in high spirits if you’re out here doing this,” Seungwan scoffed. “I’m guessing that ‘important news’ isn’t a bad thing this time?”
“I’ll get to that later,” Sooyoung wheezed out, still recovering from her laughing fit, wiping tears from her eyes.
“Later?” Seungwan let out an exasperated sigh. Of course. “What—”
Sooyoung clapped her hands together. “First things first, unnie!” she exclaimed, peeking her head outside the booth and snapping her fingers. At her cue, the waiter walked over to their booth, a platter full of food on his hands.
“Rainbow fruit yogurt parfait for Son Seungwan-ssi?” the waiter presented, a teasing lilt to his voice.
It was Jongdae—one of the regular morning employees who usually ended up serving them more often than not. Being regulars at Café Eureka, he was long past just a familiar face in the establishment. He felt more like an older brother at times to the both of them, even going as far to preemptively serve them their usual orders before they could even formally request the food themselves.
He smiled as he placed the plate in front of her: an assortment of cleanly chopped fruit—watermelon, mandarins, pineapple, kiwis, and grapes—placed in neat rows, separated by yogurt and granola within a tall glass cup. Her favorite. She hadn’t bought it in a while, though, since she was on a budget and it was expensive to order on a daily basis.
“I guess you finally have enough money now to splurge, huh?” Jongdae quipped.
“Actually,” Sooyoung interjected. “It’s my treat for her.”
Seungwan blinked, mouth falling into an ‘o’ shape. She looked back at Sooyoung, who was already staring at her with a smug grin, elbow propped on the table as she rested her chin on her palm. Just sitting there, looking like she was so proud of herself.
“Whoa.” Seungwan couldn’t say she wasn’t impressed by Sooyoung’s thoughtfulness. Not that she had expected to come out completely drained after meeting up or anything, but it was nice to know that Sooyoung could still surprise her with small gestures like this.
“Are you bribing her, or something?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Oh, nothing like that,” Sooyoung denied, though the smirk on her face made Seungwan feel a little unsettled.
Jongdae snickered. “Well, I’ve got to go back to work now. Enjoy, girls!” he said, bowing before he left.
“Thanks, oppa!” Seungwan called after him.
Sooyoung pushed the parfait closer to her, placing a spoon in her hand. “Bone ape tit, unnie.”
“I think the phrase is ‘bon appétit’, but thanks.”
“Am I still a brat?” Sooyoung asked, batting her eyelashes.
Seungwan smiled despite herself. Maybe it was worth going out after all. “Aside from grossly butchering the French language? You’re alright, I guess,” she conceded.
“Bon appétit, then,” Sooyoung said, slicing into the crepe with her fork, slathering a generous helping of cream over it.
It looked good. Seungwan’s mouth watered at the sight of it. “Hey, let me have a bite of that?” she requested, opening her mouth wide.
The fork halted before it reached Sooyoung’s mouth. She shot her an incredulous look. “Unnie, you have one whole parfait in front of you. You’re really going to make me sully my fork with your cooties before I even try my own crepes?”
“Don’t be difficult. You’re the one who pestered me to come see you. Besides, I haven’t tried it in a while.”
“Are you sure you aren’t the brat?” Sooyoung laughed, extending the mouthful of food out to Seungwan. “You should be honored. I don’t spoon feed just anyone, princess.”
Seungwan’s eyes lit up as she bit into it. “Mm! No wonder why you love this so much,” she said, wiping her mouth with a napkin.
“Yep! Well, glad to know it’s fantastic as usual.”
“It is.”
Spooning her own parfait, Seungwan took her first bite, humming contently as the taste of kiwis and creamy Greek yogurt melted on her tongue. Ah, fresh fruit. Definitely hit the spot. Crepes were good, but nothing beat a helping of fresh fruit in a parfait. “It’s delicious. Thank you, Sooyoungie—you seriously ordered this for me?”
“Duh. I wasn’t going to drag you out here from the freezing cold in the morning for nothing.”
“Why did you, then?”
Sooyoung leaned forward across the table. “So, listen…” she said, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, a sly smile tugging on her lips. The hairs on Seungwan’s arms stood up. A smile like that from Sooyoung spelled trouble—
“I’m thinking of hooking up with a girl.”
—and bad ideas.
Seungwan whipped her head up from the parfait, mouth stopping mid-chew. Her eyes widened to saucers. “What.”
“I’m thinking of hooking up with a girl,” Sooyoung repeated, eyes twinkling in the way they always did whenever she took in Seungwan’s distraught expressions. Clearly, she was enjoying herself.
Seungwan set her spoon down slowly, swallowing her last bite before she irrevocably choked on it. She’d been so absorbed in eating that she’d nearly forgotten that Sooyoung had dragged her out for a purpose. Right. The ‘important news’.
Something actually important, or just a bait?
For once, Seungwan wasn’t sure which it was.
She didn’t even know Sooyoung was into girls in that way. She’d been dating Sungjae for the majority of the time Seungwan had known her—a few months into their first year of school—so she could see why there wasn’t much opportunity for Sooyoung to express interest in the fairer sex. Sure, Sooyoung had made a couple of comments about girls here and there that warranted a bit of eyebrow raising, but Seungwan thought that was just how she was. No filters and unapologetically shameless.
Like when she’d half-jokingly considered bombing her organic chemistry exam just so she could get extra tutoring from the hot teacher’s aide, Bae Joohyun. Or when she’d gone slack-jawed watching Seulgi, their mutual friend from Yerim’s band, dance in a well-fitted suit and remarked I can see why they call her ‘oppa’. Or when she’d said girl butts were more fun to look at than man butts—and oh god, Seungwan was an idiot.
Sooyoung liked girls. How could she have missed it?
When she came to from her (extremely belated) revelation, Sooyoung was still staring at her expectantly. Right, she hadn’t even answered her yet.
“Uh,” Seungwan said eloquently, licking her lips to catch a stray granola bit hanging off the edge of her mouth.
“Well? Thoughts?” Sooyoung prompted.
What was even the proper response when your best friend simultaneously came out to you and announced she wanted to hook up with a girl—all in one breath? “Congratulations?” she offered.
“‘Congratulations’ is damn right!” Sooyoung asserted, slamming a palm on the table, plates rattling with the force of the thump. Seungwan winced, gripping her parfait glass to steady it. “It’s been months since I’ve broken up with Sungjae. Can’t a girl treat herself?”
“Treat herself… to a hookup?”
Seungwan could already feel herself growing some white hairs. This was all coming out of left field, honestly—Sooyoung liking girls, Sooyoung wanting flings with girls. For all the years they’d known each other—ever since freshman orientation—Seungwan had never thought Sooyoung as the type do anything scandalous, like hitting the clubs in hopes of engaging in one-night stands. Despite her outwardly flirty nature, she was a romantic at heart. Someone who valued stability. Softness. Not hedonistic passion.
“That’s right,” Sooyoung confirmed cheekily.
“And this is a good idea—how? Why?” Seungwan rubbed her temple. Having a bomb like this dropped on her definitely was not how she envisioned spending her Saturday morning.
Sooyoung picked up her fork, finally digging into her crepe. She popped a strawberry into her mouth, chewing slowly as she looked out the window. Seungwan followed her gaze, and outside she could see the couple she passed from before, still ambling near the lake. She hadn’t noticed earlier, but they were both women. Wow, she really was oblivious sometimes.
“You know, I was always curious about how it’d feel like. Being with a girl. Even before I accepted that about myself.”
The tone of her voice sounded a bit more contemplative now. Like she’d actually been mulling the idea over in her head, instead of tossing it out there just to throw Seungwan off balance. Maybe this was a serious matter after all.
“You never told me,” Seungwan said, hiding the frown that tugged at her lips behind another spoonful of yogurt. The watermelon had turned mushy. Great. “That you like girls, I mean.”
Sooyoung shrugged. “Yeah, I’m bi. I thought it was pretty obvious, unnie. I just didn’t think it was necessary to talk about, with me dating Sungjae and all.”
Bi. Sooyoung was bi. Seungwan felt her ears warming, hearing that out loud. She wasn’t embarrassed—just… caught off guard. Yeah, that was it. It was such a Sooyoung thing to do, confessing an important secret so casually. Flippantly, even.
“You could’ve told me,” Seungwan grumbled, pouting. Did Sooyoung think she was homophobic? She wasn’t! Sooyoung knew that, too. She had to, right? When Yerim came out to them as a lesbian, neither of them had even batted an eyelash, accepting her with open arms. Well, it wasn’t like she was entitled to know everything about Sooyoung, even if they were best friends, but still…
“I could’ve,” Sooyoung agreed, looking back at her, laughing when she saw her face. “Why so grumpy?”
“Did you think I would judge you?” Seungwan blurted out without thinking. She couldn’t even keep the hurt from her voice.
Sooyoung frowned at that, sobering up instantly. “No, that’s not it.”
“Then—”
“Hey,” Sooyoung said softly, reaching over to grasp Seungwan’s hand. “I know what you’re thinking when you have that look on your face—” Seungwan wrinkled her nose. What look? “—but you know I would trust you with my life, right?”
The fact that Sooyoung could read her so easily was a bit terrifying. Her shoulders slumped as she stared into her parfait instead of meeting Sooyoung’s gaze. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “I know it’s none of my business.”
“Like I said, it’s not like that. I just thought it’d be more fun if you found out this way.”
Seungwan rolled her eyes, but she didn’t mind when Sooyoung interlaced their fingers together. Her hand was warm. “More fun for you, maybe,” she huffed.
“Yep!” Sooyoung chirped, leaning forward to poke her cheek. “So don’t be such a baby, okay?”
The way Sooyoung’s finger dug into her dimple tickled, and it made her laugh as she withdrew her hand. Sometimes Seungwan hated that she could be placated so easily. “Well, I guess it was kind of funny,” she admitted, rubbing the back of her neck. “And to be honest, I should’ve expected it.”
“Yeah, well, you heterolinis can be dumb sometimes.”
“Heterolinis?” Seungwan frowned. She was less offended at being called dumb than baffled at Sooyoung calling her a… a heterolini. Where did she even come up with that?
“Yeah. You know—straight people, with their straight lives, always viewing things through their straight lenses.”
Seungwan gaped. She wasn’t that bad, was she? “I’ve never even had a boyfriend. Who knows if I’m straight?” She furrowed her eyebrows, head tilting quizzically at the words that came out of her own mouth. Why was she even arguing? She’d barely even questioned her own sexuality before.
Sooyoung eyed her skeptically. “Girl, the number of times I’ve caught you staring at Cha Eunwoo from the music department, though…”
Heat rose to Seungwan’s face. “And what about it!” she protested, jabbing her spoon into the parfait and taking an angry bite out of it, munching loudly. “He’s beautiful!”
“Yeah, so?” Sooyoung scoffed, crossing her arms. “So am I, but you’re not attracted to me.”
Seungwan’s eyes widened. Whoa. Sooyoung really went there. Abort, abort, abort.
“When did you even figure out that you were bi?” Seungwan asked instead, floundering for a change of topic.
Rather than replying, Sooyoung delicately placed her fork down on her plate, metal clacking against ceramic. She clasped her hands together, looking out the window again. Birds chirped outside. The front door of the café jingled with the arrival of new customers.
When Sooyoung went quiet a few seconds too long for comfort, Seungwan fidgeted in her seat, backpedaling. “Sorry—was that too personal?”
“It’s fine. I was just thinking. I think I always kind of knew—but it probably only hit me a year ago or so?”
“Oh, wow.” Seungwan’s eyebrows shot to her forehead as she took in the new information. A year ago. That had to mean… “You were still dating Sungjae at the time?”
“Yeah.”
“Is that why you two broke up?”
“No,” Sooyoung answered immediately. Her lips pursed into a thin line as she swept her fingers over her hair, pushing them away from her eyes. “Well—not entirely. Yes and no. We had our differences, but I can’t say it didn’t factor into it. He didn’t know, though. I never told him.”
“Ah.”
“Mhm.”
They fell into an uncomfortable silence as they went back to eating, the scrape of utensils the only noise filling the air. Seungwan grimaced. Sooyoung never went into the details of the breakup before, but Seungwan hadn’t expected that to be part of the reason. She really had to be nosy and open up old wounds, didn’t she.
When it was clear Sooyoung wasn’t going to elaborate any further, Seungwan cleared her throat. “Oh, yeah! So, anyway—about girls. You wanted to try hookups?” She cringed as the words left her mouth. Hookups. It sounded so crass.
Sooyoung perked up, a wide grin spreading on her face as though nothing had happened, and Seungwan was thankful it was that simple to dispel the awkward atmosphere between them. “Yeah! I installed Tinder—I was just setting up my profile right before you showed up.”
“Tinder?” Seungwan repeated. “Like, for local randos? Not someone from our school?”
“That’s the point of hookups.” Sooyoung rolled her eyes. “I’m not supposed to see them again.”
Seungwan pressed her lips together as she regarded Sooyoung. Sooyoung, who always cried at the climax of romantic comedy movies. Sooyoung, who once dumped a boy she was seeing simply because her Maltese puppy, Haetnim, didn’t like him. Sooyoung, who—despite having a reputation for being a flirtatious tease—valued the fine art of courtship. Late-night candlelit dinners, picnics under a blanket of stars.
“This isn’t usually like you,” Seungwan pointed out.
“Yeah, maybe I just wanted to try something different. Something uncomplicated, no strings attached.”
“Why not dating, though?”
“Because I’m probably not ready for a relationship right now? And also, I’d really just like to kiss a girl.”
“Oh.” Seungwan flushed at the mental image of Sooyoung doing just that. Stupidly sexy Sooyoung, kissing a girl—not for the titillation of men but for herself. “Wow.”
“What is it?” Sooyoung asked. Seungwan didn’t like the look on her face—the annoyingly self-satisfied smirk that suggested she knew exactly what Seungwan was thinking.
“Nothing,” Seungwan said, shaking the idea from her head. “Just getting used to you being bi.”
“Well…” Sooyoung began. She slid out of her seat and into Seungwan’s side of the booth, a devilish sparkle in her eyes. Her voice had turned husky. “I think I have an idea of how to help you.”
Their hips bumped together as Sooyoung pushed her farther inside to make room for the both of them. She pressed in so closely that Seungwan could catch a hint of the fruity floral perfume she always wore. Plums and peonies. Of course she had to smell intoxicatingly nice even after a jog.
Seungwan tensed, fingers gripping onto the hem of her shorts. “Help me… get used to you being bi?” Why did that sound so ominous?
“Yep.”
“How?” Seungwan didn’t know if she liked where this was going.
Sooyoung gave her an impish, lopsided smile as she leaned in, maintaining eye contact with Seungwan the whole way even when the distance between their faces shortened to mere centimeters. Seungwan’s neck craned back as she strained to put space between them, head bumping against the window, and she had to hold her breath so it wouldn’t mingle with Sooyoung’s. Goosebumps rose on the surface of her arms at the heat radiating from the other girl’s body. It felt nice after walking in the cold for so long, but suddenly Seungwan found herself at a crossroads: uncertain if she wanted to pull her closer for warmth or push her away for her own sanity.
Finally, after what seemed like several excruciating seconds, Sooyoung spoke.
“I…” Sooyoung licked her lips, moving in almost impossibly close—so much so that their noses almost touched, and it took all of Seungwan’s willpower not to scream. “…am going to have you—”
She jabbed a finger onto Seungwan’s chest. Oh, hell.
“—help me pick out a date!” she declared cheerfully.
Before Seungwan could even process what was happening, Sooyoung had already pulled away, slapping a couple of 10,000 won notes on the table to foot the bill, laughing and slipping out the booth with a jolly spring to her step.
Seungwan exhaled shakily once she actually had room to breathe again, feeling a cold draft of air in the absence of Sooyoung’s presence. “Huh?”
What?
What?
“Come on, Seungwan-unnie! Let’s go back to my apartment. I want to shower already, and we can talk more about it there!”
Rooted in place, Seungwan stared after Sooyoung as she made her way to the front of the café, unable to shake how fast her heart was pounding.
What!!!
Once her brain kicked back into gear, Seungwan rushed to scarf down one final spoonful out of her parfait before chasing after Sooyoung—curse her and her long legs. She noshed on the granola, savoring every munch and crunch as though it could smother the budding realization that threatened to slip out from the tip of her tongue.
She chanced a look back at her wristwatch. It was only 9:17 a.m.
It was going to be a long, long day.
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I Can’t Help Falling In Love With You - AU
Here it is the end of @luxyweek. I had a lot of fun creating this work, so I hope you enjoyed it!
Part 6
Read on AO3
“Sir, sir.”
XY groaned as sunlight shone through his eyelids. “Ten more minutes.”
XY turned over, but the sunlight didn’t seem to go away. In fact, it felt like it was all around him, but that didn’t make sense. His room only had one window, and he always kept the curtains closed.
“Sir, I can’t let you do that. You’re blocking pedestrian traffic,” the feminine voice informed him.
Whoever was trying to get him up wasn’t doing a good job because they should know that he doesn’t know big words like pedestrian. Maybe it wasn’t someone who knew him very well.
That made sense. Though his father should know better than to send random people to his room. He was just going to ignore them. XY sighed, satisfied, settling back down on the hard bed to fall back asleep.
“SIR!” The person yanked XY up. “I’m going to have to ask you to go or else I’ll have to take you down to the station.”
XY reluctantly opened his eyes to see a red-headed police officer. She reminded him of the chief of police’s daughter but much older. She appeared to be super annoyed, but XY could easily tell that she was one of his fans.
“Hey, hey, hey, if you wanted an autograph, all you had to do was ask.”
Grabbing the pen and pencil that was in the woman’s hands, XY quickly scribbled out his autograph and handed it back to the stunned woman.
“Have an XY-cellent day!”
XY walked away from the woman. It wasn’t until he had walked about a block that he realized he was outside and not in the comfort of his own hotel room.
Weird. But at least it made the woman appear less creepy.
Shrugging off the fact that he couldn’t remember how he ended up outside, XY continued down the street. He ignored the stares that people were giving him. He was a celebrity after all.
Though he enjoyed all the attention, he kind of wanted to get back to his hotel as soon as possible. It was really bugging him that he couldn’t seem to remember the previous day.
It was cold, and he was starting to wish he had his phone on him. He would’ve easily called his dad to come pick him up.
The faint sound of police sirens alerted his attention to a cop coming down the street. Maybe they would give him a ride back to his hotel. Waving his arms at the cop car, XY realized that it was the same woman from before.
Huh, so she was a cop. If XY was into girls, he would totally turn his flirt up.
She slowed down, moving her vehicle to the curb.
“Sir, you can’t just walk around with no pants on,” she said once she rolled down her windows.
“What?” Looking down, XY realized that the cop was correct. He had no pants on. The most surprising thing about his attire, or lack thereof, was that he only had a white tank on with a mysterious yellow stain on it.
“How did that happen? I thought I had pants on,” XY thought out loud.
“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to come down with me.” The lady opened the back door to her car, but XY knew better. She was trying to arrest him and smear his bad name. He knew he shouldn’t have given her his autograph.
“You’ll have to catch me first!”
XY broke out into a run. Thankfully, the cop was surprised at XY running, so it took her a second to react, which gave XY more time to create more distance between the two of them.
“This is Officer Raincomprix requesting back-up…” XY vaguely heard from behind him.
He turned to see how far behind the officer was when he ran right into someone.
“Hey! You should-” He stopped as he recognized the man in front of him as Luka.
It was so easy for him to recognize the blue eyes that sometimes occupied his dreams. Luka looked much older than XY remembered. His face was less round, making his cheekbones and jawline sharper.
“Luka! I’m so happy to see you!” XY jumped up and hugged Luka. “You will not believe what I’ve been through ever since I woke up!”
“Uhh, could you please get off of my fiance?” a male voice said.
Looking up, XY saw that it was an older looking Adrikins too.
Did XY somehow jump through time? Cool.
Time definitely hadn’t been kind to Adrikins. His blonde hair was a mess, and he was wearing some cheap clothing that XY couldn’t fathom wearing.
Instead of letting go of Luka, XY hugged him tighter. This Adrikins was starting to get on his nerves, acting like he had possession of Luka. “I will not! We’re friends, right Luka?”
“Uh, dude, I have no idea who you are. And could you seriously get off of me?” Luka pushed a little, trying to separate himself from XY.
“Of course you know me. It’s me, XY! Famous rock star!” XY did his signature hand movement to try and jog Luka’s memory, but he just stared at XY, confused.
“You don’t remember me?” XY pouted. “I’m sure it hasn’t been that long. Let me see…”
XY trailed off, trying to think of some memories of the two of them.
“Hey, seriously, get off or I’m-- DUDE ARE YOU NOT WEARING PANTS!?”
Luka’s yelling startled XY, causing XY to let go of him. Luka took advantage of this and pushed himself up and moved closer to Adrikins.
XY couldn’t believe it, Luka didn’t recognize him. And it seemed like he was choosing Adrikins over XY. Sulking, he barely noticed that the policewoman from earlier had caught up to him.
He didn’t even care that his image would be ruined. Luka betrayed him. Or maybe not. His relationship with Luka was iffy at best.
-------
XY shot up in his bed in a cold sweat. His hair flopped in front of him, blocking his vision, but he didn’t care. That dream had felt so real, and it was horrible. Everything from sleeping on the street to Luka choosing Adrikins.
He needed to see Luka now. Jumping up, XY threw on one of his shirts and grabbed Luka’s jacket.
He ran as fast as he could out of the hotel to Luka’s place. It was super dark and cold out. XY was glad that he had grabbed Luka’s jacket or else he might’ve frozen like a popsicle. Despite the rugged look to it, the jacket was very warm and smelt like Luka.
Not seeing the normal plank out for the boat, XY did the next best thing and jumped onto the houseboat. He barely had a grasp on the boat, but he didn’t care as he started banging his legs against the boat.
It didn’t take long for someone to notice him, and thankfully it was just the person he needed to talk to.
“Xavier-Yves??? What are you doing? It’s 3 in the morning!” Luka asked, poking his head out from one of the holes on the side of the ship.
“Uhh, could you help me up, and then I’ll explain?”
Luka’s head disappeared, and XY wondered if he was just going to leave him out on the boat. Just as XY was going to start kicking again, a pair of strong arms grabbed onto him and pulled him up onto the ship.
“Thank you for saving me! It would’ve been horrible if my hair had gotten wet!” XY flopped onto the deck.
“That’s what you deserve for jumping onto the side of a boat.” Luka gave him a look, but XY ignored it.
“So, how are things?”
“WHA-You can’t just show up in the middle of the night and pretend everything’s okay! Why are you even here pantsless hanging off the boat like a crazy person?”
XY looked down and, sure enough, he only had his boxers on. “Why does this keep happening to me?”
“Xavier. Focus. Why are you here?” Luka stared straight at him with those piercing gel colored eyes. XY had to stop himself from moving closer towards them. He couldn’t remember where he and Luka stood, and he didn’t want to push it.
“I had a bad dream,” XY mumbled, looking away from Luka.
“What kind of dream?” Luka scooted closer to XY.
XY had to stop himself from smiling. Take that Adrikins!
“I was in some alternate universe. You, uh, you didn’t remember me and didn’t want to be my friend.” XY purposefully left out the parts about Adrikins and the police officer. Those were a bit too embarrassing. “I guess I just wanted to make sure we’re friends right?”
Luka gave him a soft smile. “Yeah, we’re friends.”
XY straightened up a little. “Friends kiss sometimes right?”
“Uh, no.” Luka kept his eyes on XY as XY frowned a little. “Maybe we could do the kiss thing at a later time.”
“You’re the raddest, Luka!” XY reached over and pulled Luka onto him.
“Whatever you say, Xavier.” Luka chuckled and XY couldn’t help but think that was the best sound he had ever heard.
“Call me XY.”
“Yeah, no.”
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Master and Apprentice | by Claudia Gray
I THOUGHT THIS WAS BEAUTIFULLY DONE IN THIS BOOK. Here’s the thing that Rael--who is absolutely painted as a not fully reliable narrator in this book--is missing, when he talks about how his judgment became impaired: He almost fucked over millions of people on Pijal’s moon because he was so focused on Fanry and, even once he realizes his mistake about her, it’s still all about his feelings re: her.
Hell, it’s not even about Fanry herself, but about Rael’s feelings about her. It’s about his feelings on what happened to Nim and how he can’t get past them, won’t work through them, won’t let them go, and they spill over onto Fanry and block out the people he was sent there to help.
It’s fascinating to watch this unfold because, even prior to this, Rael is established as having a lot of Anakin parallels, in that he came to the Jedi older than usual, he clung to the memories of his biological family (this isn’t portrayed as making him a bad person, but instead that it keeps him from seeing the Jedi as his family), he had trouble with fitting in and deliberately kept himself from doing so, he was given a ton of leeway and special circumstances understanding (too much so, in Qui-Gon’s view), all of which brings very deliberate thoughts of Anakin Skywalker to mind. And that’s important because Anakin’s attachment to Padme--up to and including that he didn’t care what she wanted (not bringing down the Republic, not murdering Jedi children, etc.), but about his feelings about her--and will parallel so, so much of Rael’s story.
Earlier in the book, Qui-Gon talks to a protest group that’s been labeled as terrorists, ones Rael won’t even consider as anything else, because they get in the way of what he wants for Fanry:
“So why do you oppose the idea of an Assembly?” Obi-Wan asked.
“We don’t oppose the idea,” Halin said. “We oppose the reality, as it’s set up in the Governance Treaty. Have you read through the entire thing?”
“Of course,” Qui-Gon said. “As did my apprentice, and the chancellor’s team on Coruscant. All appears to be in order.”
Halin’s expression darkened. “All is not what it appears to be.”
The legalese was difficult to recall exactly, and in such matters precision was important. “Please explain.”
“The Assembly sounds like a great idea, but when you dig into the details, you realize how shoddy this Governance Treaty really is. There’s only token representation for the citizens of Pijal’s moon, even though we’re a solid quarter of the system population.”
The moon had been described as “sparsely populated,” and the census records had seemed to back this up. Yet Pijal, with its sparse island continents, undoubtedly had fewer inhabitants than the average planet of its size. “Why would anyone obscure the real population of the moon? And who would have the power to do so?”
“Czerka,” Halin said. She offered no further explanation, but she didn’t need to. Qui-Gon had seen for himself the influence Czerka held on this planet. Czerka’s mining efforts took a far higher toll on the moon than on Pijal itself. The corporation had made sure that the planet’s leadership—most recently, Rael—would never be face-to-face with the worst damage. By now, the lunar citizens knew better…which was precisely why Czerka would work to keep them disenfranchised.
“So you want proper representation,” Obi-Wan said. “Did you not try normal political channels for your protests? Before turning to, um, dancing?”
“We tried,” Halin said, “but a fat lot of good it did us. The lord regent wouldn’t even listen. He sees any opposition to the treaty as a personal attack on the princess. That, or he’s too arrogant to admit he might’ve made a mistake. Typical high-handed—”
Her voice trailed off in a way that made Qui-Gon suspect the next word out of her mouth would’ve been Jedi.
“Rael Averross is devoted to the princess,” he said. “It’s possible that has affected his judgment.” Qui-Gon had no doubt that Rael’s ego could also have played a role in his obstinacy, but that was not a matter to be discussed with outsiders.
There are millions of people on Pijal’s moon, nearly a quarter of the entire population, which are being written up as “sparsely populated” so that they won’t vote against what Czerka wants to do in the system and on the moon, because they would have the numbers to do so. The people on the moon are being disenfranchised out of their votes, because Rael became so attached to Fanry and his vision of her, that she was all that mattered to him.
It isn’t just that he loved her so blindly that he couldn’t see who she really was--though, that’s part of it as well--and it’s not that he loved her that was the problem, because the Jedi have always said that love is normal and they’re encouraged to love, just not in ways that can mess them up as Level 100 Psychic Space Wizards. And the thing is even then, when he gets that the Council was right about him and how he attached himself to people, it’s still all about Princess Fanry and nobody ever mentions that he almost fucked over those millions of people because of it.
THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT ATTACHMENT IS AND WHY IT’S BAD FOR A JEDI. BECAUSE THEY ARE PSYCHICS AND BECAUSE THEY ARE PUT IN POSITIONS OF AUTHORITY AND NEED TO PROTECT THOSE PEOPLE, TOO.
The thing is, if Rael wants to live that life, he’s perfectly able to leave the Jedi and he would know it. They put the statues of those who leave right out there in the library, we know Dooku left and the Jedi still spoke kindly of him, Tula’s grandmother left the Jedi to go fall in love and there was still the utmost respect there. If Rael wants to let himself run wild with his feelings, then he could have done so.
But he shouldn’t be put in charge of a system that needed him to look out for all of the people, not just the one person that he cared about. Attachment isn’t the same as love, it’s the inability to let go when it’s time, it’s the inability to see past the person you care about (Rael wants to say it’s love, but everything around him and in the other Jedi-focused media, shows that that’s not at all true), that’s how this fictional universe’s fictional group of Psychic Space Wizards mean it, and Rael Averross proved their point far more clearly than anything.
And Rael Averross is hardly the only one, that’s why those parallels to Anakin Skywalker are so important. And this was a beautifully done illustration of it.
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Needy (Auston Matthews)
A/N: been in my head for a bit and I felt that I should share with the class. enjoy, ya beauties xx. request more if you'd like!!
Warnings: Smut (first time writing smut please be nice). Auston being needy (like borderline pathetic, sorry, Aus). Cursing because I have the mouth of a sailor.
Word count: 2,167
You’d met Auston nearly one year ago at a party with mutual friends. It wasn’t the ‘let’s get everyone hammered’ type of a party and only around 20 people were there, which resulted in you talking to Auston quite a bit throughout the night. He was charming, just as your friend warned you he’d be. However, she’d also warned you about his dating habits, or rather, lack thereof. You’d never been the type for one night stands or friends with benefits, so if that was all that Auston was looking for, you wouldn’t play into his games. He’d spent the whole night flirting with you, but to no avail. Instead, he found himself enjoying your stories and quick comebacks.
It wasn’t long before the two of you met again, at a later event with many of the same people. Auston had been no less intent on flirting with you, but you found it entertaining. It was a few more birthdays and special occasions after that and before you knew it, you were friends with Auston Matthews. Somehow, he was such a good friend that he winded up with the spare key to your apartment in case he ever needed it. He’d never quite dropped the idea of you two going out as more than friends, but he was still a good coffee buddy. One time when you’d gone out to a bar with Auston and some others, he’d even allowed you to cling to his arm when you felt some creepy guy staring you down. He’d had no problem playing the protective boyfriend when the time called. You’d spent the rest of that night cursing your own hormones because dammit, you liked Auston. Even still, you were determined not to let anything happen between the two of you. But no matter how many times you reminded yourself that he doesn’t date, your feelings refused to go away.
Auston, on the other hand, was a mess. Like, a complete and utter mess. He’d never really stopped being interested in you. From the first time you’d met him, he was drawn to you. However, his jokes about the two of you dating (only half-jokes, really) never seemed to get him anywhere, so he settled for being your friend. But dammit, Auston was in love with you. A year in and he was practically pining after you. You only ever saw it as Auston being Auston, but his friends knew that it was so much more. He’d annoyed everyone on the team with stories about how great you were and had even called Freddie while drunk and in tears because he just wanted to be with you so badly. To be honest, the team was worried. After all, they’d never seen Auston so head-over-heels for anyone before. He even took a puck to the damn head once during practice because you’d walked in the room and he lost focus on everything except for you.
On this particular night, Auston had a home game and you had made sure that your evening was free so that you could watch it on TV. As the season inched closer to the playoffs and the stakes got higher, Auston had been putting more and more pressure on himself to outperform his previous games. He’d also been been taking an increasing amount of the weight from each loss onto his own shoulders. That being said, you knew tonight would be difficult for him. The boys played hard, but they just couldn’t seem to find their stride resulting in a 4-1 loss. With a heavy sigh, you texted Auston that you were proud of him nonetheless and reminded him to take some Advil - he always forgot and ended up being sore for the following week. You went to bed without hearing a response, but you chalked it up to Auston being too disappointed to talk to anyone.
It couldn’t have been more than an hour when you were startled out of your sleep due to an unfamiliar noise. You sat quickly, eyes wide. As your vision adjusted to the dark, you could make out the slumped figure of someone sitting on your bed and recognized the noise that woke you as sniffling. You blinked a few times, relaxing as you realized who it was.
“Auston,” you started cautiously, voice heavy with the time of night, “what’s going on?”
He shifted on the edge of your bed, sniffling harder than before. Carefully, you reached a hand out and placed it gently on his back. He shook slightly under your touch as you finally leaned close enough to see the tears on his cheeks. A heavy sigh fell through your lips as you moved so that you were sitting on your heels with your knees bent. Auston was a big guy, and this was the only way you’d be level with him. You lifted your hand to his head and softly began massaging his temple, where you knew he’d be feeling a headache. Auston closed his eyes tightly as he fought off the urge to sob out of frustration. You rested your forehead against his shoulder as he leaned into you.
“Proud of you, Aus. You’re doing so much better than you think you are. Should be proud of yourself too.”
Before he could open his mouth to argue, you placed a chaste kiss to the base of his neck. Auston slowly turned toward you, making you lift your head to look him in the eyes. You could see how exhausted he was, knowing that he’d been overworking himself to try and be the best player he could be. Auston brought his hands to either side of your waist and just rested them there, bending down to lay his head against your shoulder, much like you’d just done to him. You took the weight of him, rubbing circles on his back as his crying came to a stop. The two of you stayed like that for a while, not saying anything. Auston’s breathing evened out steadily and for a moment you thought he might’ve fallen asleep. Just as you were about to lay him down, he hummed against your neck and shifted further into you. His hands wrapped around your waist and he placed slow kisses along your neck, moving cautiously up to your jaw. You tilted your head slightly, a silent communication for him to continue.
“Need you,” Auston muttered against you.
You simply responded with an mhm, your body opening for him as he laid you back on your bed, resting between your open legs. Auston let out a shaky breath before finally pressing his lips to yours. It felt like you imagined it would. He was gentle, but there was intention behind the kiss - made more clear as you felt his tongue swipe against your bottom lip. Your mouth opened for him almost unconsciously as the kiss grew more heated. You moved your hand from where it had been resting on Auston’s back, trailing it across his side and eventually under the waistband of his pants.
You wrapped your hand around Auston’s already hard cock, causing him to whimper into your mouth. You swiped your thumb gently over the head, spreading the pre-cum that was leaking from his tip. At that, Auston broke the kiss entirely as he faltered above you. His emotions were all in hyperdrive, and he was having trouble holding himself up already. Luckily for Auston, you’d sensed that as well, flipping him over so that you were straddling him.
Any other time, with any other girl, Auston would’ve been moving quickly to take off clothes, fuck, and cum. But with you, now, he couldn’t do anything except stare at you through hooded eyes. He watched motionlessly as you peeled your sleep-shirt over your head, leaving you in only panties. How had he not noticed earlier that you didn’t have pants on? He watched as you lifted off of him momentarily in order to pull his pants and boxers down far enough to free his cock. He watched as you wrapped your hand around him again, allowing his mouth to fall open and his eyes to shut.
You leaned down to lay soft kisses and licks along his jaw as you pumped him, earning moans and whimpers from his mouth. With your free hand, you lifted his shirt up his torso. He was quick to sit up, throw his shirt across the room, and lay back against your pillows again as you moved your hand down to cup his balls. Auston dragged his hands along the expanse of your back, pausing to grip your ass before moving them up to massage your breasts. You hummed into his neck and he was having trouble fighting off the urge to cum already.
“Please, baby, please,” he slurred, eyes still closed, “need to be inside you.”
You gave a hum of acknowledgment before sitting up, moving your panties to the side and lining his dick up with your entrance. You could see how unsteady his breathing was and you knew he was worked up. Wasting no time, you lowered yourself onto him, both of you sighing in relief.
Auston was doing everything in his power to last as long as he could. He was gripping your hips and clenching his eyes shut, just trying to savor the feeling of your warm, wet pussy around him. After all, he didn’t know if this would ever happen again. Your movements were slow and he reveled in the sounds of your moans. Auston forced his eyes open and nearly came as soon as he did. Your eyes were shut tightly, eyebrows furrowed with pleasure, and bottom lip between your teeth as you focused of the rhythm of your hips. He reached up to cup your breasts, rolling his thumbs over your nipples as you let out another moan.
“Aus,” you let out, leaning over rest your forehead in the crook of his neck, “you feel so good. Fuck, so good.”
You kissed up his jawline and left small bite marks along his collarbone, all the while listening to his desperate whimpers and groans of your name. It wasn’t much longer before you felt Auston twitch inside of you, so you slowed your hips slightly and clenched around him. He came hard, with a shudder and a string of curses. His hips involuntarily bucked up into you and you placed your hand on the back of his neck, moving your thumb in small circles. You felt the hot spurts of cum stop after a few seconds, so you began to lift your hips again, making sure not to move too quickly due to Auston’s sensitivity. You milked him for a bit longer until you felt him soften, staring at his blissed out face and flushed cheeks. Auston’s eyes were locked on yours as you got off of him. You leaned down to kiss him once more before going off to your bathroom to clean up.
When you returned to your bed, Auston was barely awake. He looked at you as you came in, putting his arm out and beckoning for you to join him in bed. You climbed in next to him happily and he quickly turned to his side and draped his arm across your stomach.
“You didn’t cum,” Auston muttered with a frown.
“Wasn’t about me, Aus.” You replied easily, and he gave you a tired smile. “You’re a great player, y’know.”
Auston closed his eyes, his smile falling at your reminder. You lifted a hand to his cheek and moved your thumb against it. He gave a quiet groan and nuzzled into the comfort of your movement.
“Just feel like I’m letting people down.” He murmured, his voice heavy with oncoming sleep. “Don’t wanna let anybody down.”
The last statement was quieter, almost as if he was ashamed of himself. You tilted your head to place a kiss to the side of his mouth.
“You’re not letting anybody down. Your team loves you, your family loves you, the fans love you.”
“Do you love me?” The question fell from his mouth before he could stop it, whispered like a secret. “‘Cause I love you a whole lot.”
Your breath hitched at his confession, not expecting such a candid moment.
“Of course I love you, Auston.”
“Be my girlfriend, then. I love you and you love me and I don’t ever want you to leave.” His words were so slurred and you could tell he was fighting hard to stay awake. Although he couldn’t see it with his eyes closed, you gave him a bright smile.
“I’m not going anywhere.” His lips curled into a closed-lipped grin as he tightened his grip around your waist. It wasn’t long before Auston was snoring lightly next to you and you knew that you’d be too tired to go to work tomorrow, but it didn’t matter. You loved him and he loved you and everything would be okay.
#auston matthews#Auston Matthews imagine#auston Matthews smut#nhl imagines#toronto maple leafs imagine
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Dinner Prep and Dangerous Eyes [b.b.]
a/n: Happy Turkey Day!
TGW19 → Day #1 → Dinner Prep and Dangerous Eyes
Fandom: Avengers
Pairing: Bucky Barnes
WC: 2192
synopsis: There’s a special look in a person’s eyes when they gaze at someone they care for, there’s no other look quite like it.
masterlist holiday masterlist
“I don’t see why you have to hire someone, Tony. We’re perfectly capable of cooking dinner on our own,” Vision argued as the large group of people looked at you skeptically.
“Maybe, maybe not, she is a trained chef, with a very successful place, and she won’t burn anything out of incompetence,” Tony shot back, his eyes darting over to Clint, Shuri, and Sam.
“(Y/n), darling, walk with me, please,” Tony called to you and offered you his hand before guiding you out of the conference room where he had met up with you.
“I think it’s kind of funny that they haven’t realized who you are yet,” he stated as you both arrived at the elevator.
“Well, I’m not always out front, Tony, it’s not their fault,” you argue.
“It’s just a group of superheroes who save the worlds once a year and none of them noticed that you are the wonderful head chef and owner of our favorite place in town,” Tony shrugged.
“To be fair you didn’t mention my last name,” you note.
“That would’ve given it away! After all, even they can’t miss the bright sign above the restaurant,” Tony scoffed.
When you arrive on the communal floor you spot a gorgeous kitchen and small smile takes your lips, “Did you design this or was it Pep?”
“All Pep,” he admitted.
“I love that woman,” you nod walking forwards.
You stop when you see three people who had not been down in the conference room with you earlier.
“Boys,” you greet as Peter Parker, Steve Rogers, and Bucky Barnes look at you with smiles.
“Hiya Doll,” Bucky greeted.
“See these three recognized you,” Tony pressed.
“These three are in the restaurant more than anyone else, excluding you Tones,” you shake your head.
“What can I say, it’s my favorite place,” Tony shrugged and you rolled your eyes.
“Hello, Sargent Barnes,” you greeted the man in return, ignoring your old friend.
“Stark mentioned you’re the one in charge of Thanksgiving Dinner, need any help,” Steve asked as you and Bucky stared at each other for a moment longer.
“I’d love some help, Captian,” you smile at the blonde.
“I wanna help too!” Peter chimed and your eye twitched.
“Maybe,” you said skeptically.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Peter frowned.
“Don’t get me wrong, kid, I absolutely adore you, but I’ve seen you drop a fair amount of things since I met you, including food,” you shrug.
“I guess that’s fair,” Peter mumbled.
“I didn’t say no, but you’re not going near anything important,” you decide and you can’t help the smile that spreads when his eyes light back up.
“You won’t regret it, Miss (Y/l/n)!” he promised.
“I know,” you nodded before turning back to the kitchen.
“Why don’t we leave the beautiful chef alone to get acquainted with the kitchen before she has to get busy, write up a list and we’ll get the stuff,” Tony hollered walking out. Steve followed with Peter.
“I’ll leave you to it, doll,” Bucky decided.
“Or you could stay and help?” you offer with a flirty look.
Bucky was a resident at the bar in your restaurant, he would come by once a week with Steve and Sam, once with just Steve, and then two nights on his own. Bucky was your favorite costumer, he’d enjoy his drink and talk to you whenever you had a few minutes to spare, of course, you made time for him all the time.
“I ever tell you that those eyes are a dangerous thing, doll,” he smirked walking back over to you.
“I think you might’ve mentioned once or twice,” you gleam.
“What do you need, sugar?”
“Someone who can help me navigate this kitchen,” you shrug stepping even closer to him.
“That all?” he shoots back as he takes a step closer too.
“Some company?” you add with one more step and then you found yourself inches apart.
“You have the prettiest eyes, doll,” he whispered, tucking a loose lock of hair behind your ear.
“I thought they were dangerous?” you remind him.
“They’re dangerous because they’re gorgeous,” his voice is so soft that you just stare at him.
“You’re a flatterer James Barnes,” you say softly and his hands reach for yours.
“Only for you, doll,” he promises and you smile, looking down.
You step back and pull him with you towards the counter, hiding your gaze for a moment. You had developed a special connection with James after he started showing up to the restaurant. There was something calming about him, and your eyes would always light up when you saw him in your restaurant.
“Alright, Tony gave me a list of what he wants me to make and now we need to do inventory,” you state and use the scrunchie on your wrist to tie your hair back.
James steps behind you and wraps one arm around your waist while looking at the list over your shoulder.
“Yeah, quite the list,” he scoffs, “Tony expects you to cook all of this?”
“It’s not so bad, I seem to have acquired a very handsome sous chef,” you note, turning to him.
“Sugar, I think you’re overestimating my ability in a kitchen,” He tells you as you start scribbling down ingredients, organized by each dish.
“Oh I don’t know about that Sarge, I remember you wooing me with homemade lasagna after closing a few weeks ago,” you remind the man and he chuckles.
“We were drunk and I remember a distinct amount of smoke coming out of that oven,” he negates.
“So we got a little distracted,” you shrugged.
“We nearly burnt your restaurant down,” he grabs the pen from your hand.
“Nearly is the keyword, plus we are not drunk this time, yet,” you offer and he laughs.
It’s this big booming sounds that heat you up inside because it’s so full and heartening. That’s how Steve and Peter find the two of you 20 minutes later. The two fo you still laughing. James is laughing so hard, as he looks at you, a pen behind his ear. Both of your palms are flat on the counter as your head is bowed down, shoulders shaking with laughter.
“Did we miss something?” Steve inquires with a knowing smile as the two come up opposite the counter.
“Steve!” your head shoots up with a bright look. “You are the perfect person! He can cook, can’t he?” you address the blonde.
“Who, Buck?” Steve asks and you nod. “Of course he can! You think his mom would’ve let him grow up without knowing? You think my mom would’ve?” Steve shakes his head.
“James Barnes, you lied to me!” you whirl around on the brunette who sends his best friend a betrayed look.
“Who’s side are you on, punk?” James shouts.
“No sides, Jerk,” Steve shot back.
“How can we help, Miss (y/n)?” Peter interrupts with a smile and your level the boy with a look.
“Do you call them Mr. Rogers or Mr. Bucky, no!” you point at the boy who seems surprised. “You are aware that they are older than me, right!”
“Uhm-uh…” Peter stuttered. “Sorry?” he offered and your face broke into another smile.
Both you and bucky start laughing again and Steve can’t help but chuckle too. “They’re messing with you kid, don’t mind them, they get like this whenever they’re together,” Steve shakes his head.
“No, not always,” you sober and tear the top paper odd the notepad before you and hand it to Peter and Steve. “That’s everything I need, Bucky helped me figure out what you guys had and what you didn’t.”
“Alright,” Steve nodded. “Let’s go, Queens,” he said tapping the counter and addressing Peter. “You two,” he adds pointing and you and James, “stay out of trouble, please.”
Bucky helps you find pots, pans and serving dishes that you organize and set to the side. When Steve and Peter return you had begun cooking prep. Bucky helps you organize the new groceries and soon enough the kitchen is smelling fantastic. Throughout the day different members of the team trickle in and out of the kitchen becoming taste-testers for whatever was available.
By 8 PM the entire team has dressed up a bit and they’re all seated in a dining room James helps you wheel a cart in, and even you had changed. You smile as you sit down. Minutes later the food is being passed around and once everyone is happy with their first plate Tony taps his wine glass and calls everyone’s attention to him.
“Alright before we dig into this beautiful looking meal, there are some things that need to be said. First, I’m very glad to see us all here today, and I do mean all, we are a family. There are times where I want to strangle you all or ship you off-world,” this gains a few laughs, “but I”m very grateful for you all. I’d be leading a very different life now, if not for you. That being said there is one person here today who deserves special recognition. Miss (Y/n) (Y/L/N) and I gotta be honest guys I was disappointed that only the Capsicle, Buckaroo and kid figured it out. But our favorite restaurant is owned by this beautiful woman who I’ve grown up knowing. And she cooked tonight’s wonderful meal.” He pauses as everyone claps, but your eyes focus on Bucky who was sitting beside you, he whispered something lost to everyone else in the room over the sounds of clapter but your eyes gleam and smile widens as you hold back a laugh and Peter and Steve see it, they’ve been seeing it, all day long.
Tony drones on a for a few minutes longer before he says the words everyone had been anticipating, “let’s eat!”
Dinner goes by over the course of hours, and it’s late into the night when a fair amount of the food had been cleared away, dishes piled high and many, many empty bottles were littered here and there. Bucky was sitting with you on the floor, leaning back against a sofa.
“Mr. Rogers, sir?” Peter spoke up from where he found the Captain in the kitchen.
“It’s Steve, kid, and you know it,” The blonde turned his attention away from his best friend and favorite chef.
“Does Bucky like (Y/n)?” Peter spits out in a fast-paced sentence but Steve caught it and he smiled. His gaze went back to the two in question. Her empty wine glass was on the coffee table and her head was on his shoulder as the two looked at each other, whispering secrets, laughing and holding each other.
“I think so, Queens,” Steve nodded.
“And she likes him?” Peter asked as a follow-up.
“I think she does,” he affirms.
“Do you think they know?” Peter asks a third question and this time Steve pauses to look them.
Steve stares at the two, the way they interact, and then he smiles, “I actually think that they do, Pete,” there’s a light chuckle to his answer.
“How do you know?” Peter presses with a furrowed brow.
“It’s in their eyes, kid, look at how they look at each other,” Steve sighs.
“Have you ever looked at anyone like that?” the question is out of Peter’s mouth before he could comprehend and Steve takes a deep breath.
“Once, a long time ago,” he answers, and places his hands on the boy’s shoulders and starts guiding him away. “Let’s give them some privacy, Queens.”
When Steve and Peter left there was only Bucky and you in the room.
“Thanks for helping me, James,” you mutter softly, looking into his eyes as your head resting on his chest.
“Nowhere I’d rather be, doll,” he promised meeting your gaze.
“Your eyes are really pretty too,” you note suddenly and his lips curl into a smile.
“Yeah?”
“Definitely, they’re dangerous too,” you add.
“Why?” he presses.
“Because when I see them I don’t ever want to stop looking at them,” you whisper.
You were not sober, but you weren’t drunk out of your mind either. There was just more courage in your veins. And after spending all day by his side you really didn’t want to ever go another day without seeing him at all.
He was just staring at you now, not saying anything, just his blue eyes focusing on you as if he could see into your soul. He was also so incredibly close, just an inch or two away. And then, he wasn’t. His lips, full and pink, were pressing against yours and you pressed back. You were in his lap in an instant, one hand in his hair the other on his shoulder. He had one pressed to your cheek and the other wrapped in your locks. And you were happy, you were so happy. No, you were thankful, from the first day Tony walked him into your restaurant, to how he looked at you. No one but him ever looked at you like that, and you never want him to stop.
#tgw19#thanksgiving#thanksgiving dinner#thanksgiving weekend#bucky#barnes#james buchanan barnes#james#buchanan#bucky barnes#james bucky barnes#james barnes#avengers#holiday special#thanksgiving 2019#reader x james barnes#winter soldier#white wolf#reader x winter soldier#reader x white wolf#restaurant au#reader imagine#avengers imagine#imagine#daisy writes#bucky barnes x reader
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Who We Were & Who We Are Now 12
Characters: Forrest Bondurant x Tawny Barrett (OFC)
Word Count: 5800+
Summary: Tawny takes care of the mess left behind from the attack on Forrest. They both finally admit a few things to each other...in so many words.
Warnings/Tags: FLUFF. Blood/gore. Mentions of violence. Injury.
A/N: Memories are in italics!
Positive feedback is MUCH appreciated! Reblogs, likes, asks and comments feed me to write more! Let me know if you’d like tagged in my work.
My Masterlist.
Your fear and worry catch up to you when you're back at the station. You're scrubbing the floors clean of blood in the dark, sobbing and snotting everywhere. You cried while you cleaned the inside of the building, you cried while you cleaned out his truck, even the ground where he'd been laying you disrupt so it's not obvious there was a full grown man bleeding out there just hours ago. You can't stop crying, but you keep your body moving. But no one was there to judge, and no one with a heart would've judged your reaction for what you'd just been through.
Your injured hand is numb to you from shock and adrenaline. Your mind is only focused on cleaning this up. Making it look like nothing ever happened. You took the fingers from the man and put them into the hog's slop and they take care of the rest for you. You burn your dress, no saving it now and you needed to destroy any proof of a fight.
In the middle of a clean and normal looking station, you finally sit in a clean dress, completely new clothes, hair washed and body scrubbed pink and raw in your neurosis as you try to let your mind calm down. But as you do manage to stop crying, to breath normally, you realize your hand is fucked. Now every beat of your heart makes it throb and burn and with your adrenaline gone, the immediate needs are taken care of, the proof destroyed, you're left alone to take care of yourself.
The sun was coming up now, and you knew you couldn't open so you put on your coat, taking Forrest's gun and keys in your pocket and after checking the locks on the doors an insane amount of times, you take yourself to the hospital.
You drive with one hand, windows down with the biting cold keeping you awake and alert. The drive isn't as stressful this time around, but at least you'd had practice driving with one hand earlier already.
The sun is up by the time you arrive at the hospital. By this point, all your bruises are blooming and when you catch sight of yourself in a mirror after being checked in and lying about falling down stairs while carrying glasses, you wince at the sight. You know it could've been much worse, but you knew Forrest wouldn't overlook the red and purple haze that crossed your skin. The nurses gave you something for the pain, getting you comfortable before they start the long, tedious and painful process of removing the glass from your hand.
Forrest's eyes blink open, but just barely. He'd been dreaming about you. If that's what you wanted to call it. Was it still a dream when you blacked out from blood loss? Or did that make it a vision? The former seemed more appropriate to call it. Everything including his thoughts is more than a bit foggy, but he swears he can hear you. He wants to move and he can't. He can't move much of anything, barely even his eyelids. The exertion makes him pass out again.
You hear a familiar pairing of footsteps coming down the hallway, they pass right by the room you're in in their rush, and you see the two Bondurant brothers you'd been wondering about. At this point you look like you've been dragged behind a horse for a few miles, trying to avoid looking in the mirror any more than you had to because your face, entire torso and parts of your legs were smattered in bruises and scrapes that weren't going to fade anytime soon. Your hand is now in bandages, the painful experience of having it dug through with medical instruments over and now just the tiny splotches of blood that showed through the white gauze are left to remind you of how that hand helped save your life last night. You try not to use it, and at least it isn't your dominant hand, but it throbs with every twitch of muscle, the bruises around your wrist making a slight appearance at the base of the bandages that circle your wrist.
You'd heard the commotion about Forrest all morning, the whispers and the nurses coming out of the room whose door you could see from the bed you sat on. You'd done a lot of staring at that door, and an equal amount of shutting your eyes tightly to try to stop the tears from falling. As the brothers leave the room, you exit yours and by the look on their faces, you can tell they'd forgotten about you in the rush of finding out someone had attacked Forrest.
Howard starts to apologize but you hold up your hand.
"How is he?" your voice is as tired as your eyes look. You can tell he wants to ask you what happened but you don't seem much in the mood to discuss it.
"He's alive. Somehow." his eyes narrow, taking in the cool-toned watercolor portrait of colors across your face, putting your appearance and his brothers together to form an idea as to what might've happened.
"Always is. Docs said he walked all the way here himself. Can you believe it?" says Jack with a tear-jerking innocence. "Tawny? What happened to you?" he asks quietly, eyes darting around the hallway. You dismiss his question with a wave of your hand.
"Is he able to talk?" you ask quietly.
"Yeah the doctors told him not to but...you know how he is." Howard's voice sounds almost as tired as yours.
"I'd like a moment with him please." you say flatly, as Jack bows his head to move down the hallway.
The shoulder of your dress comes down as you remove your coat. Howard sees you wince. He sees how far down the bruises go. He opens his mouth, still curious but exhausted enough to leave the questions for later.
"Go on Howard." you say, looking away and moving into the room. You shut it with a quiet click behind you. A shakey deep breath as you take in the shadow of Forrest that now rested in the hospital bed. Thick bandages around his neck, splotched much the same as the ones around your hand. He's a ghost, a shell of the man you cared so much for compared to the calm strength and life that usually resided inside of him. He was as pale as the snow you drove him through to keep him alive last night. You wipe your tears away as they silently fall. You want to sob at the sight of him, but you know you're stronger than that.
"Forrest." is all you manage to rasp out. He blinks open his eyes, mouth shifting as he focuses on you. "I didn't mean to wake you, hun, I'll go, I just had to see you alive for myself." your brows knit and you're prepared to bow out of the room graciously.
"C'mere." he holds his hand palm up beside him on the bed and you move quickly to his side. You rest slowly and gently onto the bed next to him with a quiet creak of springs, facing him. You take the hand at first to move it, then you place it in your lap, interlacing your fingers into his.
"You don't gotta talk, sweetheart." you whisper, your hand moving over his forehead, giving away the state your nerves were in with how it trembled. You see his face soften at the gesture, slow lazy blinks take in the warmth from your skin. You brush his hair back with your hand slowly, taking in a shaky inhale.
"They said I walked." he whispers, narrowing his eyes. His sight might've been blurry but he could see something had happened to you. He sees the tight bandaged wrapped around your hand. If he could have felt rage he would have.
"That's what Jack told me." he keeps his eyes on yours even though you don't meet his, fingers still lightly smoothing his hair.
"Tawny." he croaks. You shut your eyes, wiping away tears before you meet his.
"Couldn't let them know you weren't invincible, could I?" you rasp out, a tear falling down your cheek again.
His brow furrows at you in question.
"I brought you. I was there. I found you in the parking lot...
bleeding out...I couldn't stop it " you choke, the tears come faster, his brow stays furrowed and his eyes look concerned.
"Tawny," he says again, making you meet his eyes, wanting to search them for answers.
"I can't believe I'm gonna say this but stop talking Forrest. The doctor says you're not supposed to." you sigh, your hand moves from his hair to his cheek, your thumb rubbing back and forth across the strong bones, the handsome planes across his face.
"What happened?" he croaks out.
You let out a huff of a laugh that makes his chin try to push back against the bandages around his neck. "I just told you to stop talkin'." you give him a real but sad smile. "You ain't gonna get better if you do. I'll be holding down the station for ya until they let you out. Lord knows Howard and Jack ain't gonna be no help." you're making light of something horrible.
"What'd they do to you, sweetheart." he whispers, his hand reaching up and cupping your cheek, you rest his elbow on your knee so he doesn't have to work to keep it there. You knew he had to be as weak as a child with how much blood he lost. His thumb reaches out and caresses your sensitive skin just like you'd done to him just moments before. You shut your eyes because your chest hurts so much at his touch. You'd been so close to never knowing what him touching your face like this would've felt like.
"Nothin' Forrest just..." you clear your throat. "This ain't the time to talk about it. You get better for me now, you hear?" you meet his eyes, his fingers move to wipe away the silent tears.
"I asked you a question." he whispers.
"You get better." you say. "You get better. When I get you back home and can take care of you, I'll tell you. I'll answer anything you ever wanted to know alright?" you put your hand over his on your cheek. "I'll get you back and get you some proper food in ya. I know they ain't feedin' you right here." you give him a weak smile. You move your face, kissing the palm of his hand, feeling your breath reflected back onto your face as you try to control it. If he'd had enough blood he would've flushed at the intimate gesture. "You just..." your brow furrows as your eyes shut and the shakey inhale hurts his ears, feeling the tears fall onto his skin, your mouth still against his fingers. You let out a long sigh. "You get better so I can stop crying, okay?" you whimper. "I can't stand the thought of losing you and until you're back home where you belong it ain't gonna stop." you kiss it again. One long press of your lips to his palm before you take his hand in both of yours and kiss across the pads of his fingers. He didn't even know what to say to such a heartfelt display of affection towards him. But he tries.
"I ain't ever leavin' you." his voice almost normal, just quiet.
"You better not." you actually smile, a small laugh escaping your lips against his hand. You lower it finally, clasping it in both of yours in your lap again.
"You ain't leavin'? Even after..." he drags off, his face as unsure as you'd ever seen it.
"I'm never leavin' you, Forrest. Not ever again. I made the mistake once and I ain't gonna make it again." your head shakes back and forth slowly, looking into his eyes, small hands shaking around his one large paw that was starting to feel warm again, soaking up the heat of your body.
"And here I was...thinkin' you was smart." you laugh again, the corner of his mouth pulls back in a weak smile.
"Well you make me act like a right fool, Forrest Bondurant." you whisper, leaning in to kiss his cheek. You sniffle and smile down at him, leaning over him as your hand brushes over his pale, but still stoic handsome face gently. "I'm gonna get back and let you rest. I got everything handled at the station. You sleep, do what the doctor says." your eyes are tired but how filled with love they are as they take in the sight of him doesn't go unnoticed by him.
"Get better." he nods.
"You're the smart one, ain't ya?" you smile with your lips press against his forehead. You could smother him in kisses and it would never be enough to explain how he made you feel. You hoped there would be time for that later.
"Nah." he groans as you raise and adjust his covers.
"I'll be back to visit you soon, alright?" you say, walking back towards the door, not wanting to leave him at all.
"You keep a gun-" he starts.
"I have your pistol in my hand in this coat pocket as we speak and that's where it's gonna stay. I might be a fool for you but I'm not fucking stupid." you grin. He returns the smile, a nod, and a grunt in response as per usual.
------
The days without Forrest there feel like they last forever. Every time you fake a smile underneath your heavy makeup to hide the state that you were in, you think about how you'd rather be by his side giving him a real one. Every time you look up and don't see him sitting at that table, his squared fingertips tapping against the aging paper of his book, that same look he gets when he's thinking on his face, your stomach churns. You missed him so damn much.
You had trouble eating, though you made yourself. You drank to put yourself to sleep because all you could think about was him covered in blood, the men coming back to finish the job. You knew Howard was there, you had a gun by your bed and a lock on your door but your mind was so over capacity with emotions that it didn't listen to reason right now. You knew it wouldn't hush it's nonsense until you had Forrest back with you where he belonged.
The day you wake up and realize he's coming home you're in tears. Sobbing into your hands in your bed as soon as the sunlight hits your blotchy face. They're happy tears, tears or relief and a sign that things would be getting back to normal soon.
You man the station as the brothers retrieve him. Luckily for everyone, they bring him in early and the people who are there know better than to say anything. He walks on his own into the station, hat on, his cardigan hanging just like it always did and it takes everything in you to not cry and run to him, kiss his face that has color in it again, touch him with your still beaten hands to make sure he's real. But you settle for the hole that had sat in your chest in his absence being filled as he moves slowly and carefully up the stairs to his room. Howard comes back down, leaning over the bar to beckon you towards him.
"He'll need his cut seen to. You being the most gentle and motherly around here I figured you'd wanna do it." he whispers, looking over his shoulder to see that no one was within earshot.
"Of course." you say, tossing the hand towel to the side.
"I know you'll want to but don't baby him too much or it'll piss him off. We tried to help hold him up on the way out of the hospital and he smacked both of us." a grin appears on his face. "I don't reckon he'll do that to you but...just so ya know." you nod in response, eager to get to him. "I'll watch the bar, you take your time. I know how much you missed him." he says with a knowing smile.
"Thank you Howard." you coo at him, patting his hand. "But I don't think you have any clue how much I missed him." you give him the first real smile he'd seen on your face since his brother had been gone. It warms him to see it and to know that you were finally coming around to how you felt after having to see you two make eyes at each other since you were kids. For once, he felt relieved.
----
You had already put the med kit in his room in anticipation, you'd made a thin and nutrient dense soup also in your anticipation to take care of him. You hold it in your hands as you knock on his door.
You hear a grunt of acknowledgment and you've never been happier to hear it.
You move slowly into the room, verbally announcing your appearance as he has trouble turning his head to see you from the side of his bed where he sat.
"Forrest, I brought you some soup, hun." you say gently, sitting it on the table by the wall.
"You do this?" his eyes narrow in question, hand motioning to the bed frame that hadn't been there when he left.
"Yeah," you say hesitantly. "I thought it might make it easier on ya, ya know? To get up and down and what not if you were still weak when you got home." he nods and grunts, eyes looks at the frame under him. "I can take it apart if you'd like, I just wanted to help, I-"
"That was very thoughtful of you Tawny." his voice deeper and more gritty than you recall.
You give him a small smile of relief and a fast series of nods. "I wanted to make you coming back as easy as possible on ya."
"And what about you?" he asks, face moving back up to yours as you approach him with the kit in your hands.
"What about me?" you say quietly, face down to avoid his intense gaze, getting out pieces to clean his wound.
It hurts him to hear you say such a thing. "What'd you do to make it easier on you?" he asks as you rise to stand in front of him.
"Well I..." you pause and you get the thoughtful look on your face that he loves to watch from a distance. Thankful to see it so close now. "I just wanted you home," you whisper, eyes finally rolling up to meet his that never left your face. The bruises were faded, but still there and it hurt him to see it, but he'd missed watching your sweet little face look at him like that with your big doe eyes. "I gotta get this on your throat, Forrest." you avert your eyes, focusing on the task at hand.
He knows you have to, and he'd rather you do it than anyone else so he doesn't fight you much on it. Your fingers move so lightly across the inflamed skin, sew together with x's across the base of his neck, you unbutton a few buttons on his shirt, suddenly realizing the intimacy of the touch. You'd never touched him like this before, there was something almost taboo about it that made the blood rush to your face. You also notice the uncertainty in his eyes as they look anywhere but you, caught off guard by the intimacy of the situation.
He gulps as your fingers hook beneath his shirt, feeling your soft fingertips against his neck and shoulders as you pulled the neckline away.
"It honestly doesn't look nearly as bad as I thought it would." you offer up to help ease any worry about how it might look if he concerned himself with such a thing. He's grateful you're so thoughtful, he's lucky, he knows this. Your words ease the thoughts that he might repulse you now, as he sees no signs of hesitancy in your eyes and doesn't feel it in your fingers as they dab gently away at the raw skin.
He winces, a nose twitch and a drawing of his lips.
"I know, sweetheart, I'm bein' as easy as I can," you whisper, a half smile on your face as you stay focused. "I ordered some of the medicine with the numbing stuff in it so it'll help you out once it soaks in." you say optimistically as you rise again, finished with his doctoring for now. He doesn't know how he'd made it all these years without you. How could he have made it through all the trials he had without having you to come home to after? "Let it breathe for a bit. Don't fuss with your shirt just yet." you politely request. He feels that ache in his chest again as you bring him the soup you'd made. "I found a recipe in one of my old school books for this. Supposed to be real good for when you're sick. I know you ain't' exactly sick but I figured it'd be nice and easy on your throat and it certainly couldn't hurt." you say with a shrug as he takes the bowl from you.
"Thank you Tawny." is all he can manage to put together without blabbing like a fool. You sit next to him on the bed, head down towards your wringing hands in your lap.
"I took care of the books while you were gone. I hope that's okay," you say meekly. "I asked Howard if he thought it'd be okay and he said yes. I didn't know what everything meant, but I made note of the ones I didn't know about and left it in the book for you."
"You didn't have to do that, sweetheart." he says, sipping away at your cooking.
"I know," you say, your toe dragging across the floor sheepishly. "I didn't know you'd be in such good shape when you got back so I tried to keep everything running as smoothly as I could if you couldn't see to things for awhile." you defend your choices even though it isn't needed.
"I'm just about back to normal." he admits with a small nod.
"And I'm happy to hear it." you say, finally turning your face towards his.
"Howard's told me about how you've been working too hard with me gone."
You let out a huff of a laugh. "The work helped distract me."
"From what?"
"From worryin' about you." you admit.
"Ain't gotta worry about me, Tawny."
"Yeah. Actually, I do." you give him a real smile that makes his heart pump a little faster. "I don't know how much you remember about what we said to each other while you were in the hospital..." you pause to see any hint of recognition in his face.
"I remember." he says quietly.
"Well, I meant every word."
"And so did I."
"Then you should know I'm going to take care of you. And this station and whatever else comes our way."
"Our?"
"I don't mean to be so forward, Forrest but I do think of you and me as a team of sorts. I suppose I can't help it, I felt the same way back years ago. Everywhere I'd go you'd find me, and I always happened to be around where you were. Wasn't even intentional on my behalf." you shrug. "I took having you around for granted back then." your voice sounds a bit sad and his lips frown slightly. "I'm certainly not taking having you around for granted now. And how could I after that night." your eyes go wide as you explain yourself.
"It was always intentional back then," he admits, your heart thumps in your chest at the admission. "Just like it's intentional now." his voice sounds stronger as he moves and takes your hand into his. "Now...I ain't never had no problems talking about things before." he shakes his head, his brow furrowed in thought. "But when I'm around you...I find it hard to find the right words."
"Lucky for you I'm fluent in Bondurant ." you give him a sweet, supportive smile, nudging him gently with your arm. Seeing as it's just you two alone behind a closed door he lets himself smile. "We've never had to say much to understand what the other meant. We've always spoken the same language, same then as now. Both outcasts in our own ways. Both having life throw things at 'em that we were too young to have gone through. But I think all that's lead to a deeper understanding as to where the other's coming from. Don't You?" you voice inquires, leaning in closer to him.
He clears his throat, a noisy gulp before turning his body to face you, and you do that same. "Right as usual Tawny." he nods, with a subtle smile on his lips. "I've been so used to talking to my brothers...to mostly men, and I don't wanna talk to you the same way. You're a good woman and... beyond that you... well you mean a lot to me." he forces out the words and you try to hold in the swoon as your wide eyes look over his handsome face.
"You mean a lot to me too." you say softly, his breath catches in his chest at the implications of the words you're saying to each other.
"I know I can be harsh sometimes. And I don't mean to be with you." his head shakes just slightly, a wince as he does so.
"That just comes from having to be so strong, sweetheart, you don't have to apologize for that. You also don't have to always be strong around me. Nobody's perfect Forrest, you don't have to pretend to be for my sake. I'm perfectly happy with you just the way you are. In fact, I prefer it." you reach out and stroke his cheek as you speak, his eyes grow less harsh at the gentle touch.
"You say nobody's perfect but how does that explain you?" his voice is deep and dark, calm as a winter night and so honest it cracked open your ribs and held your heart so tightly it skipped at the honesty.
You can't hide how flustered the words make you. Your lips stutter and you look down at your lap, blush moving across your cheeks as you suck your bottom lip into your mouth sheepishly, quiet little huffs of nervous laughter coming from you. "I'm not..." you shake your head, gathering yourself to meet his eyes again."I'm not perfect Forrest." you manage to whisper out.
"How do you explain how you handled that night then? Hmmm?" he looks to you from under his heavy brow. "And the nights after?" he squeezes your hand. "Howard and Jack don't even know what happened you took care of everything so well."
"I just used common sense Forrest, I-"
"Stop selling yourself short, darlin'." the pet name makes your teeth chatter against each other. "Seein' as I've kept my end of the deal...and I got better as per your orders." a smirk travels across his lips at you and you bite your lip to contain your smile. "Can you keep your end and tell me what happened that night?" he moves his other hand, taking both of yours into your lap and holding them. "Please?"
"Of course. Only fair." you shake your head, batting your lashes at him subconsciously. "I went out to the barn as you know." you begin, your voice becoming more somber. "I came back in to tell you I thought we might have raccoons." your lips pout in your explanation. "I went and ordered traps for 'em already I hope that's okay."
His shoulders shake slightly in laughter at your aloofness, still worrying about taking care of things in the midst of all this traumatic violence. "'Course it is." he says with a charming smile full of amusement at you at you have to focus again, getting lost in it.
"Uh... I came back in and I suppose they'd already attacked you." you swallow hard and continue. "Then they attacked me." you whisper, hesitant to tell the story as you didn't want to upset him.
"Go on, Tawny, I wanna know."
"I gave 'em hell, Forrest. I really did." you nod and your wide eyes earnest.
"I'd expect nothin' less." he gives you another support squeeze of his big hands still enveloping yours.
"One grabbed me, the one that'd touched me before. His hands got a bit farther this time but I kicked them, then I headbutted him and got away. Grabbed a knife...they came for me again, and I smashed a salt shaker into the other ones face. Which is how I got like this." you hold your hand, still in bandages.
"Mmmm." he nods.
"Got glass all in it, but it hurt him real bad and the other one came at me, I shoved my fingers into his eyes and slashed his face a bit. I grabbed his wrist and broke his hand I think? But I... I ended up using the knife to stab his hand." your eyes seem uncertain in the delivery of the words but he couldn't have been more proud of you. "I thought it proper to hurt him as bad as I could manage, seeing as he touched me and all an... well I cut off his fingers." your chin pushes back into your chest in embarrassment.
"What's what face for?" he reaches out, raising your chin back up to face him.
"I suppose I'm just a bit embarrassed about it all. Not very ladylike behavior." you give a little huff of laugh at yourself.
"No, but it's a very Bondurant behavior." he grins, you could see he was more than supportive of your actions and it made you feel lightheaded at the suggestion.
"Been around you boys too long." you let yourself laugh for a moment, a heavy sigh escaping you. "I got his pinky and ring finger, ended up feedin' 'em to the hogs. After that they ran cause I guess he didn't wanna lose no more fingers." you wrinkle your nose and the childlike expression going with you talking about cutting off a mans fingers makes him smile. He knew he hadn't spoken too soon with calling you perfect.
"And they left? They didn't... hurt you too bad or...?"
You know he wanted to make sure they hadn't touched you. Which you appreciated. "I mean I got hit and kicked and shoved around a lot, lots of bruises and scrapes but nothin' serious, no." you give a tiny shake of your head. "But then I found you..." you voice falters as the memory hits you, he sees your face fall and it kills him to have you look that way because of him.
He puts a hand on your arm to steady you, letting you know he was there now.
"You know what shape you were in." your brows knit together. "I got you in the truck, took you to the hospital and hide my face, hid in the shadows after they took you in, the man who helped carry you seemed like he wasn't even sure if anyone else had been there at all. But that's how I wanted it." you find it within yourself to look him in the eyes. "I knew that if you died I wanted it to seem like it was on your terms. Like you got there yourself. I've heard you talking to Jack and Howard, I know what kind of reputation you have to keep up."
"In the middle of all that you..."
"I knew I couldn't help you no more at that point. I knew someone had to go back and clear the evidence at the station before someone saw."
If he hadn't been injured he would've kissed you right then and there. You were everything he'd needed in a companion, weren't you? He's never felt truly lucky before, never really believed it despite livin' through what hell life had given him. But at this moment he felt really lucky. A look flickers in his eyes you hadn't seen before, and despite yourself, you swear he was looking at you like you were the only thing in the world.
"So I got back and cleaned and scrubbed and burned my clothes and cleared the truck and the parking lot. Got myself cleaned up and by then all that shock and nerves had worn off and my hand was just fuckin' throbbin' in pain. Nothin's hurt that bad since..." your face falls for a moment. "Since I got hurt when mama died," you say quietly. "So I went to the hospital, knew you weren't dead as soon as I walked in because everyone was talkin' about ya. Got my hand seen to, told 'em I fell down the stairs holding glasses." you shrug. "They didn't ask too many questions."
"They knew better than to mess with someone who works for the Bondurants comin' in lookin' like you did." his chin nods at you almost playfully.
"And then your brothers showed up. And... then I went and saw ya. That's it."
"I'll never forget seein' you after wakin' up," he speaks quietly, lips pursed together. "Thought I had died, you standing there callin' my name all sweet like that." his eyes move back to yours. You both sigh and your lashes flutter to contain the emotion pouring out of them at the other. "Come 'ere." he says softly, pulling you towards him with one hand, the other arm up and around your shoulders, pressing you into his chest.
"That's the first thing you said to me then too." you smile into the wool sweater he wore, you breathe deeply, wanting to remember what he smelled like. Musky and masculine, faint hint of tobacco, pine, and worn leather.
"I wanted you close to me same then as I do now." you let your arms wrap around him, being careful not to touch his throat. You feel him kiss the top of your head. "You couldn't have handled things any better than you did. I'm... I couldn't be more proud of ya." he murmurs into your hair.
You let yourself squeeze him just a little. "I missed you so much." you admit, swallowing to hold back tears.
"I missed you too, sweetheart." You could listen to him call you that forever. "I take it I've still not made you want to run away?"
"I meant it when I said I'm never leavin'. Especially now." you sigh into his chest.
He kisses your head again, adjusting his grip and pulling you even closer, harder than you thought he might be capable of at this point. But wasn't that just like Forrest, to keep surprising you time and time again?
CH. 13
@hardygal69 @jaegeeeeer @parlezvoustomhardy @pootle @negansdirtygirl22 @vale0413 @divadinag @emerald-bijou @emiliesnowflake
#Forrest Bondurant#Lawless#Tom Hardy#Forrest Bondurant x reader#forrest bondurant x ofc#forrest bondurant au#lawless au#forrest bondurant fan fiction#forrest bondurant fic#forrest bondurant fanfic#forrest bondurant imagine#forrest bondurant fan fic#forrest bondurant fluff#forrest bondurant angst#writing#fan fiction
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May I Call you Queen?
Pairing: Jackson Wang x Reader
Rating: PG-13
Synopsis: You get emotional waking up to your boyfriend in bed.
Author’s Note: This is about as fluffy as I get. This is actually kind of embarrassing because I got way too in my Jackson feels and I’m just.....yeah. Anyway, I hope you enjoy. Let me know what you think! ALSO: based off of the Ne-Yo song “Queen.”
“Don’t make me say it.”
Laying there in sheets that smelled like some beautiful mixture of me and him, there was nothing but complacency that filled my chest. The sun completely shut out of the room thanks to the blackout curtains, I couldn't help but feel like despite being able to make out much in the room, everything felt just right. I didn't need to look over to know that the arm wrapped around my waist belonged to the beautiful sleeping man beside me. I also didn’t need to see him to know his chest rose and fell ever so slowly as he inhaled and exhaled silently. Nor did I have to rely on the sun's light to show me that his hair was probably a complete mess.
Everything about waking up to Jackson felt ridiculously intoxicating. The feeling of his body heat radiating off of him and my skin soaking up every sensation like a sponge was something I'd never be able to accurately describe. And part of me was okay with that. I was fine with the idea of this being our own space, a place where I experienced things that seemed too improbable to believe and too intimate to share. In truth, I was probably more than okay with that.
As I felt my mind clearing the drowsy state, my vision clearing from its early morning haze, I let my hand rest against Jackson's as it was draped over my hip. With the softest touch I could muster, I let my index finger trace soft circles over the back of his hand, the small amount of contact overly satisfying my need to touch him.
And maybe that played into the reason I infuriated myself in moments like these. Part of me knew I should demand more, that my will should be stronger. Something so simple should've never been so satisfying, but with Jackson, it just seemed futile. My attraction to him, my connection with him demanded so little maintenance. I can't quite explain that reasoning either.
I sank further into the mattress that threatened to swallow my body whole, every muscle in my body sighing in relief from the exertion endured only hours earlier. Closing my eyes, I focused on every sensation I could. The way the sinfully soft cotton sheets hugged every curve and dip of my unabashedly naked body. The parts of my skin that pulsed with a warm glow that felt like it could power the entire hotel if I tried hard enough. My heart hammering against my chest reminded me that no matter how unreal or dreamlike this felt, it was very much real. Somehow, I could feel myself begging to snuggle closer to Jackson's.
At the first stirring from the body beside me, I sighed. I could feel every part of my body desperately clinging to this moment. I wanted to bask in this feeling for as long as I could. Before we had to think about the world beyond the blackout curtains. Before the guilt of neglected responsibilities forced us to compartmentalize this for another time.
Without any warning, I felt my eyes sting and the first few drops of tears spilling over. I wasn't sad or anything close to it. No. For the first time in my entire life, something felt so fragile and sweet...and worth preserving. And I was willing to lay and bask in that beauty for as long as the universe or Jackson would allow.
"You're awake aren't you?"
The gravelly voice from beside me was startling at first. I couldn't trust my voice at the moment, considering the tears that fell so easily down my cheeks. Blinking them away, trying to ignore the swell of emotions that threatened to burst me at the seams, I let the silence be my answer.
More movement dipped the mattress in certain areas. With my eyes still closed, I tensed slightly when Jackson moved closer, arms latching tighter around my waist and pulling me tightly against him. The tip of his nose grazed my neck in such a soft way, the tears only continued at the sensation. His chin rested against my bare shoulder, the scratchy stubble scraping so blissfully against my soft skin. Was this what it felt like to be in love? In Heaven?
I listened as he hummed in content and I opened my eyes only enough to take a glance at the abdomen swaddled in the fitted sheet. Letting my fingers grip his arm tighter, I could feel the seconds tick by — we were running out of time to lay in this bed.
"Ignoring me after good sex?" he asked, and I could hear the smugness laced in his voice. "A guy just can't win can he?"
Sputtering out a laugh, I shook my head, opening my eyes. Slowly, I turned my head so that my lips brushed against his forehead. Ever so softly, I made sure to let the silence stretch until I was finally ready to answer.
"Was that what you consider good?"
"Oh! Shots fired."
"Would've been helpful last night don't you think?"
A laugh rumbled somewhere deep in Jackson's throat, the vibration buzzing against sensitive skin. In response I bit my lip, trying to keep my hormones in check.
Pressing his lips against the crook of my neck, he sighed deeply. "You smell amazing."
The groan was almost instantaneous, not a second given to considering how it would sound. I squeezed my eyes shut and shook my head.
"Shut up."
His laugh was the only response that made me sniff and shake my head again. My eyes rolled and suddenly my tears were forgotten, but that painful prickling feeling deep within my chest was still there.
"I'm just speaking my mind," he replied.
The sincerity in his voice almost made the tears spill to the surface again. I couldn't be sure he understood just how much those statements affected me. But even if he asked me to explain that to him, as I previously stated, I wasn't sure I'd be able to aptly describe how much weight those words held.
Blinking a couple of times, I almost didn't realize he was moving, sitting up slightly. He leaned on one of his elbows, one of his legs grazing and settling between both of my own. I watched in stunned silence as his brown eyes fixed on my face, fingers slowly and lightly dragging along my jawline. The delicate glance he gave my lips before his fingertips settled at my chin almost shattered every sense of sanity I thought I had.
As his stony gaze scrutinized every inch of my face, I sighed deeply when I noticed the slight quirk of his eyebrow. "Have you been crying?"
I could feel my own eyes widen in surprise, not realizing I hadn't wiped away the tears that fell at such a rapid pace earlier in the morning. This left me shaking my head, knowing I didn't want to get into the exact details of what happened, but also wanting to qualm any worry that might've surfaced in him.
"Yeah, but it's not serious."
"How is it not serious?"
"Calm down there, rascal. Nothing's wrong."
"Then why were you crying?"
I let a couple of beats of silence pass between us before I shook my head, looking away from Jackson. "Don't make me say it."
His eyebrows only creased further. "What does that even mean?"
"It just means that I don't want to say it," I said, looking away from him, down at his abdomen where my fingers traced along the ridges of his muscles and skin.
"Is it bad?"
"No."
"Then why don't you want to say it?"
"I'm not crying anymore. Isn't that worth focusing on?"
"Babe..."
"Stop feaking out."
"I'm not sure how I'm supposed to take any of this considering you're basically giving me nothing."
I think I was more embarrassed by the reason behind my tears than anything else. Saying it out loud would give it life and I wasn't sure how the man hovering over me would react to the answer. But at the same time, this was becoming ridiculous. I knew he was persistent and he wouldn't drop this until he got what he wanted.
Pressing my lips together, I looked up at him through my lashes before looking away again. "Have you ever held something so...have you ever been a part of something so..."
I couldn't find the perfect words. Nothing coming to mind seemed to truly grasp what my heart was telling me.
Jackson tilted his head, patiently waiting for my response. As he waited, his fingertips grazed along my cheeks where the tears stained and left nearly-dried streaks.
Closing my eyes, I inhaled deeply, the air inflating my lungs with what I hoped would be the minimal amount of courage I needed to answer his question aloud.
"Have you ever been in a moment in time or held a moment in time that was so perfect or so...transcendental of anything you'd ever had before that you just...have no idea how you got there?" I asked, feeling my nerves easing but my heartbeat still thundering loudly. "Like you're afraid that moment will leave with the smallest movement. Like it's too delicate to just let go."
Immediately after finishing, my eyes opened and I was staring directly into brown eyes that were soft and swirling. Jackson's face was considerably more relaxed than it was before. Loose strands of his silky brown hair fell over one side of his face and I reached up to push it back. I was beginning to feel worried as to what he was thinking. Did he think I was crazy? Did he agree with me? Did I say too much?
My eyes inevitably dipped from his eyes to his lips as he gave me a closed-lip smile. It didn't give away much in the way of a reaction, but by the time I looked back into his eyes, I had an idea before he finally gave me a verbal response.
"Are you kidding me?" he asked, his tone almost surprisingly confused. "I've never held someone even comparable to you. Why do you think I bother flying you out when I'm away for work or invite you to my house when I'm finally back in town?"
I shrugged, "I thought it was the mind-blowing sex."
The breathy laugh fanned over my neck and bare chest, a trail of goosebumps rising over my skin so easily. I couldn't help but smile at his reaction as well.
"Firstly, thank you for acknowledging that it's good sex, about fucking time," he said jokingly before his face softened and leveled out. "I care about you. I care about us. And in response to your statement, yes. I know that feeling to want to capture that moment in a mason jar and never let it go. I have that feeling every time you smile at me, call me an idiot—hell, I feel it when you're shoveling popcorn in your mouth like there isn't a whole other human being sitting there watching you like a Discovery Channel special."
Laughing, I turned my head to the side, the feeling swelling deep within me again, my heart fluttering but no longer thundering against my ribcage.
"You make me feel like a king," he said softly.
I gave him a warm smile, my palms flat against his hips as I replied. "That's because you are my King."
"Well in that case," he said, leaning down so that we were literally millimeters away. I went cross eyed trying to focus solely on him. "Can I call you Queen?"
I rolled my eyes at the corny but overly moving sentiment. Raising only one of my hands, I palmed his face, my hand not quite covering all the surface area, but the intention was there.
"I love you," I whispered, my heart squeezing my vocal chords.
"I love you."
#kpoptrashtag#gotbangnet#jackson wang#jackson wang fanfic#jackson wang fanfiction#jackson wang imagines#jackson wang imagine#jackson got7#got7 imagine#got7 imagines#got7 fanfiction
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Rest
Summary: People deal with stress and anger differently. Micah happens to be in a bad mood, and needs some time to relax.
Word Count: 1,716
Ships: The King and I (Micah/Gilga.mesh), hint of Hell's Angels (Micah/Gilga.mesh/Kirei Koto.mine)
Warnings: Fluff, a stressful day, maybe some questionable morality, mention of stalking, possible mapo tofu, Lancer appears
The uneventful day had been making Gilgamesh stir-crazy.
Kirei had been attending to the Sunday Service, meaning he probably shouldn't be seen until it came to a close. Bound inside like a caged mutt; it irritated him immensely. If he is to live in the modern world, before his new ruling, he should be able to walk about as he wanted. Yet, he knew Kirei was playing it on the safe side. After all, no Masters should know of his existence yet.
Which meant his only other method of entertainment was the one person he deemed eligible to be on near equal terms that he had with Enkidu: Micah.
Micah, or his “love” as they called each other, had left early that morning before the Sunday Service began. They left a small note by the bedside table, mentioning wanting to buy some ingredients for dinner. It was nearing the end of the service, and there was no sign of their arrival yet. Perhaps they were playing it safe as well and avoiding any collisions with the common folk, but it was making him impatient.
Sitting in a quiet room in the church, Gilgamesh rests on the couch, sinking slowly into the cushions with an arm cradling his head. As much as he wanted to drink, Kirei insisted to save those funds.
A boring evening with nothing to do.
The door opens. Gilgamesh turns his head to see the rabid dog, Lancer, walk in with a scowl on his face.
“Have you returned with more information”, Gilgamesh questions, much to the disapproval of Lancer.
“Nothin' out of the ordinary,” he replies. “Looks like the little lady still hasn't picked up her Servant yet, and there's no sign of a Saber nor an Archer.” Gilgamesh takes in Lancer's everyday attire, a brow perked in distaste.
Of course there's nothing going on today. But those details weren't important to him, not in the least.
“What about Micah? Have you seen them?”
“Oh, them?” Lancer hums, thinking for a second. “Come to think of it, I think I did. They were in town, but it looked like they were headin' back. Seems like your “beloved” had quite the glare, might wanna keep 'em in a good mood.”
“A glare?”
“Yeah, almost didn't recognize 'em. Bad day, from the looks of it.” Lancer struts towards the opposite side of the room, opening the door towards the kitchen. “Like I said, they're probably not in the mood to deal with much. If anythin' goes down, that's your business.” He passes through, leaving Gilgamesh by himself.
Micah, having a bad day? Well, he's not surprised due to his own bad mood, but it grabs his curiosity. If they're heading home, then they should be back soon.
Perhaps a small nap would do him good.
“Gilgamesh.”
He opens one eye, and his vision focuses on the form of Kirei above him. A small smirk curls on his lips, and he sits up from his position on the couch.
“Something the matter, Kirei?”
“Have you seen Micah?” The smirk falls, and he pulls at his memory to recall what Lancer told him.
“Lancer mentioned he saw Micah heading back to the church, so shouldn't they already be here?” Kirei nods, glancing over to the door where Gilgamesh last saw Lancer walk through.
“Possibly. I was told that there's a note saying not to eat what's in the grocery bags. I figured they must've been with you, but since you haven't been bothered, they're likely to be in their bedroom.”
Micah came home and didn't even bother to wake him up? And not even Kirei was aware where they were? Either they were spacing out, or their bad mood was much worse than he thought.
Gilgamesh pulls himself up, marching himself past Kirei and headed towards the corridor. Down there at the end was the room assigned to Micah, which he remembered being open when he came to investigate earlier. The door was now closed shut.
He stopped before their door, noticing the small dry-erase board. In red marker and in all caps, the words “DO NOT DISTURB” hung, bearing down a very-heated warning. Underneath, there was a small note saying “Thanks.”
Ignoring the signs, he turns the knob and finds it unlocked. Inside, the room is dark, and he can see a figure curled in blankets on the bed. There's some muffled sobbing, and anger flares in his skull as his brows furrow. His love was not okay. Whoever has caused them trouble would die where they stood, he swore that much.
He closes the door, approaching them quietly and softly. His knee presses down on the bed, and the muffled sobbing stops with a small jump.
“W-What do you want?” Refusing to remove the covers, Gilgamesh stares down at the sad sack of blankets and tears.
���You didn't wake me up.” A head of brown hair pops out slightly at the sound of his voice.
“I... I didn't want to bother you.” He chuckles, the creases in his forehead relaxing as he sits himself next to Micah. His hand gently brushes the brown locks from their face, revealing the teary-eyed face of his beloved. Blue-greens eyes were red and puffy, and their cheeks were a dull pink.
“Nonsense. As long as it's you, I do not mind.” He slides himself under the blankets, pulling Micah into his arms and resting their head on his chest. “What has brought you to such a pitiful state?”
With a small sniffle, they curled closer to him. “I-I was wanting to make something special for d-d-dinner, so I went into town to buy some things. A-At the checkout, I was getting nervous, and I-I-I messed up the number for the c-card, but what really set me off was this creeper who would not get that I did not want his help and he kept giving me this look and-” They were going off on a tangent, their words partially muffled and mixing in pace that he had to brush his fingers against their cheek.
“Did he hurt you?” Gilgamesh's tone settled between calm and threatening, as the thought of someone touching his beloved was enough to make him enraged. There are only a few who were allowed to even gaze at them, much less be touched by. Kirei was the only exception in that department, and Lancer was only allowed to if their life was in danger.
“N-No, thankfully.” Their breathing calmed down, and the sobbing was minimal at this point. “But he did follow me for a bit. I thought he might've decided to come all the way to the church, and-”
“Had that mongrel followed you,” Gilgamesh interrupted. “It would've decided his death then and there. I would not let some cur touch what is mine.”
“That's not...” Micah paused, biting their lip. “I didn't want to involve you in something I could've taken care of.” He stops, blinking slowly.
They could've been in a situation where they could've been kidnapped or worse, and that was their concern?
He goes from small chuckles to bursting into hysterics, his free hand grasping his head as he throws it back against a pillow. Micah lifts their head up, pouting at his antics.
“What's so funny?! I'm being serious here!”
“You're so amusing sometimes,” Gilgamesh replies, his giggle fit just about over. “You mean to say you worried about it being an inconvenience, rather than a life-threatening situation?”
“I mean... I'm a Mage.” Their tone was so nonchalant that he almost forgot they were sobbing just a moment ago. “I could just whip some sort of craft out if need be, but I didn't want to do it so close to the Church if it came down to it, and I had plans for dinner.”
Gilgamesh shakes his head. “Honestly... Out of curiosity, what was so important to go out and get in the first place?”
“Oh, um...” The flushing in Micah's cheeks return, and they avert their gaze from him. “I was, you know, wanting to try if I could replicate a recipe I found.”
“What recipe?”
They contort further to hide their expression. “It’s m... Mapo tofu.”
“Oh?” Gilgamesh's smirk slips into his tone. “For Kirei, I imagine.”
“I-I wanted to thank him for giving me a place to rest, s-so I asked Lancer what Kirei likes to eat, and that's the answer I got.”
Gilgamesh brushes a hand against their shoulder, his fingers sliding towards their chin and pulling them to face him. With a gentle tug, they gaze back at him as he leans forward and places a chaste kiss at the corner of their lips.
“So considerate,” he purrs before giving another kiss. “But, you should rest a bit; I do not think you should worry about dinner yet.” His arms wrap around them, and pulls them back onto his chest as he lounges back on the bed.
“But-”
He interrupts before Micah can finish the thought. “Rest now, my love.” They give a weak smile, snuggling against his chest. Their heat brings a smile on his own lips. With his lids shutting, he drifts off with Micah on top of him.
Lancer sighs as he follows Kirei down the corridor. It's bad enough that Micah seemed MIA; with Gilgamesh off who-knows-where, the two can only hope that they'd find some sort of lead as to where they were.
Kirei stops before Micah's door, pausing to read the message before giving three gentle knocks. The rapping goes unnoticed, so he turns the knob with ease as both he and Lancer peer inside.
Thankfully, the two are actually there. Micah is resting on Gilgamesh, and the two are softly dozing off.
“That's where they've been?” Lancer keeps his voice hushed, but he's a tad annoyed that he had to go out of his way to find them in the first place.
“It's one ordeal out of the way.” Kirei closes the door, leaving them to rest. He walks off, Lancer staring at his back as he strides down the corridor. “I suppose it's time for dinner preparation. I'm giving you the task to wake them up once it's done.”
Sighing for the nth time today, Lancer rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, yeah, gotcha...”
#my writing#otp: the king and i#ot3: hell's angels#f/o merry may 2018#no one listens to the nice warning#thanks#also i'm gomen lancer... you do not deserve these shenanigans#i hope i didn't make too many mistakes#anyway this is all i'm posting for today more than likely#the challenge looks fun so ima do my best
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The Red Queen (2/3)
MASTERLIST
Pairing: Nat x reader, Bucky x reader
Warnings: Car crash (again). Nat being a bit bitchy?
Word count: 1.720
Summary: A small yet skilled art thief is drawn to the French Riviera to settle a score, only to be met with the surprise of a lifetime.
The prompt: The reader can erase memories, or so she thinks. In reality, she merely misplaces them. But those misplaced memories have to go somewhere, the only question is, where?
A/N: This is a mini series I’ve written while on the road. It’s not an AU (surprise surprise!) and I feel like I’m a bit rusty writing something else. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it @jurassicbarnes <3
Read part 1 here
Generic. It’s the first word that comes to mind when your eyes flutter open. You don’t even have to turn your head to know you’re in a hospital room, or at least something that resembles a hospital. Apart from the many wires and tubes and the beeping of the heart monitor, the hospital gown pretty much gives it away.
“You’re awake.”
You half expect to see the redheaded woman again but much to your surprise, there’s a brown-haired man sitting on the chair perched next to the door. His eyes are hard and his face is all sharp edges. He would fall under your definition of handsome if it wasn’t for his tight-lipped smile. You like them tall and dark but pass out on the broody ones.
“I am,” you reply plainly, supporting yourself on your elbows as you attempt to sit up and groan at how sore you are. “Where am I?”
“The med bay of the Avengers compound.”
“The Avengers compound,” you repeat quietly as your mind goes over last night’s events. You don’t remember much, but the blue patches littering your skin tell their own tale. “What the fuck happened to me?”
“Agent Romanoff brought you in,” he explains as he follows your eyes, scanning your bruises with a hint of remorse. “I know she can sometimes be a little extreme in the measures she chooses to employ and I’m sorry about that. But your injuries should heal quickly, doctor Cho will make sure of that.”
“Agent Romanoff?” You shake your head as a snapshot of a redheaded woman flashes before your eyes. “The redhead? She said something to me…” Digging a little deeper into your fuzzy mind, it finally comes back to you. “Black Widow. She called me a bitch, too.”
He smirks just a little at this, a cheeky grin pulling at his lips. “Exactly.”
I quirk a judging eyebrow at him. “And you are?”
“I’m Bucky, Bucky Barnes,” the brunet answers.
“Doesn’t ring a bell. I’m not really up to date on all that avenging stuff. I only know Iron Man because I once tried to steal a Warhol from him, but I take no interest in the lot of you.”
The man eyes you with interest yet caution. “Nice to meet you, too,” he chuckles softly, pushing a hand in his hair, trying to remain casual but I know damn well this is an attempt at charming me for information. “What’s your name again, doll?”
“Such a simple question,” you mock in a flirty tone while you struggle to get the pillows right, “You sure you don’t want to start with a more intriguing one?” Your voice turns harder as you snarl at him. “Like why the fuck the Avengers kidnapped me?”
His leather gloves crack softly as he clenches his fists, like the pops and cracks of vinyl. “Who are you,” he repeats dryly, all signs of goodwill gone.
A whiff of red hair flashes by the glass door, the woman who ran you off the road taking her position next to the brunet. Dressed in dark yet more casual clothing, she inspires a softer aura. Crossing her arms over her chest, she stares you down in contempt.
“I can take it from here, Barnes. Go get some sleep.” Her tone is as cold as the Siberian waters. They appear to be equals, the way they are at ease in each other’s company. But there’s a clear change in command once she orders him out.
In complete silence he takes his leave, squeezing her bicep once before he disappears. I expect her to remain her stance, leaning against the wall, keeping her distance and studying me from afar. Instead, she walks up to the edge of the bed and rests her hands on the silver bars, holding them tightly until her knuckles turn white. It must take all of her self-restraint not to lash out at me.
“Let me tell you a story,” she whispers like a snake in the grass, soft yet menacing. “Your name is Y/N Y/L/N, daughter of an American diplomat and a French human rights lawyer. For your eighteenth birthday, your father threw you a birthday party at his secondary residence in Monaco. You got a brand new car as a present and you decide to take it for a spin.”
“So what?,” you throw back as you cringe in both physical as well as emotional pain. “That still doesn’t explain why I am being held here.” She obviously knows everything there is to know about you, even the parts you wish you could erase from your own mind.
“At the same time there was a major art heist taking place, orchestrated by the most wanted art thief in the world, the puppeteer. But the curator had made some last minute changes and decide to display the Van Gogh an hour earlier than originally planned. The puppeteer was caught red-handed and tried to escape, in which he drove eighteen year old Y/N off a cliff and straight into the sea. Your body was never found. Your parent declared you dead. You are supposed to be dead, Y/N.”
“As you can see, I’m not,” you bite back spitefully. “Why am I being detained?,” you try again, adamant in your pursuit for an explanation. This isn’t just about a stolen car, the earth’s mightiest heroes would never turn their hand for just a stolen car and a robbery gone wrong in the French Riviera. “What are the charges?”
“What happened, Y/N?,” she continues to press, equally obstinate to find out the truth. “Why is it that I don’t know you, but I somehow see you pop up in my mind? Why is it that ever since the day you plummeted into the ocean, I’m get these flashes, these memories… Memories that aren’t mine.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say flatly and she lets go of the bars, settling her hands on her hips and giving you a hard look.
“Don’t mess with me. I know you can erase memories, Y/N. Don’t lie to me. I’ve been following you for long enough to know what you’re capable of. What I don’t understand is…” Suddenly her tenor changes, the insistence of her accusations ebbing away and words of confusion taking their place.
The woman’s eyes glaze over with a pained expression. It’s clear these memories have not left her unfazed. “Why me? Why do I remember them?”
“I don’t know, okay?!,” you explode into a fit of anger. “I don’t know! One minute I’m living the perfect life and the next I can wipe out people’s memories!” The heart monitor picks up the increased beating of your heart as a fire lights up in your heart. You start to resist the wires in an attempt to get out of the hospital bed, yet an alarm goes off and it only infuriates you more.
“I crashed and I died and sometimes I wish I would’ve stayed dead,” you snap harshly. “But the man who saved me… he had other plans for me. I wanted revenge, he wanted money. And the only way I would ever be able to get back at the puppeteer was if I started my own business. I spent years trying to perfect my skills, years of tracking the puppeteer down. I don’t know why you think you remember them, too.”
Casting your eyes downward, you mumble quietly to yourself. “When I erase something, I want it gone. So it’s gone, it must be.”
“What if you don’t erase them? What if you merely misplace them?” A strange, purple man covered in a scale-like skin and with a glowing yellow gemstone on his forehead has entered the room during your heated discussion with the so-called Black Widow.
“Pardon my intrusion,” he expresses his apologies in the kindest voice, crossing one hand over his heart and offering the other one to you. You shake it reluctantly, having never seen anyone like him before. “I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation. I can offer no explanation as to why you and miss Romanoff share this undoubtedly fascinating bond… But it has led to the discovery of your abilities and I believe they can be useful to you, miss Romanoff.”
Eying the man suspiciously, you encourage him to go on. “Is it not true that Captain Rogers and miss Maximoff have been painstakingly attempting to find a solution for Sergeant Barnes’ memory problem?”
The redhead nods and the man directs his attention to you. “Is it not so that, if mrs. Y/L/N can erase memories, should she not be able to help with eliminating his trigger words?”
He leaves a little pause, expecting you to reply. Sensing your clear hesitance, he graces you with a most sincere smile. Placing his hand on your shoulder, his tender touch a reassuring gesture, he searches your eyes for a compromise. “With proper guidance from miss Maximoff of course, so his memories won’t be misplaced in miss Romanoff’s mind.”
“I think you might be on to something, Vision,” the redhead contemplates, her head shooting up in the direction of the door as the brunet from earlier enters again.
“What’s going on?,” he asks the redhead before asking the same question to the purple man, Vision.
“I think Vision might’ve just solved your memory problem, Buck. I think we have found a way to get those trigger words removed. Permanently.” She points in your direction and squints her eyes at you. “She will help us.”
You do not miss the hope lighting up in his eyes and your heart constricts when his blue eyes lock with yours. “Is that true? Can you help me?
“I – I don’t know,” you stutter, his question catching you off guard. But the relief, the unadulterated happiness written all over his face, it gives you no other choice. “But if I can, if I can do this… Wipe out those trigger words… Will you let me go?”
A smile appears on the brunet’s face as he nudges the redhead. “We will have to take that up to Steve just to be sure we have the final authorisation…,” she states calmly, her body language relaxing a little towards you now you’ve agreed to help. “But yes, you’ll be free to go.”
Part 3
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