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dracosathenaeum · 4 years

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Soulmates ii

Summary: You could only spend so much time running from the inevitable.

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2,455

PART 1 | PART 3

Draco sat in his usual spot of the astronomy tower; he found himself spending more time here than he had before, it was the only place in the castle that he could truly be alone. He had spent every evening for the last week locked up in the tower, thinking about what you had said.

From when he was a child, his father had told him to cherish his soulmate, that ‘no matter how dark us Malfoy’s got, no matter what situation we got ourselves into, our soulmates were the backbone of the Malfoy’s, our better halves.’ His mother and father were happy, they found a life with one another, a happy one. Maybe he was delusional to think the same was possible for him.

He didn’t even know you; you’d never even spoken before that quidditch match, how could you hate him already? Was he that hard to love? Did you really despise him that much? Thoughts of why he wasn’t enough of you plagued his thoughts the entire week he avoided you, he just didn’t know how to fix what was never there.

He wasn’t about to give up though, he had spent a lifetime waiting for you, he would change your mind no matter what. That was also part of the reason he had spent all that time alone, he needed a plan, a plan to make you see that he wasn’t the cold-hearted monster you thought he was. He was fine with the rest of the world thinking that of him, but not you. He didn’t even know you, but you were supposed to be the one person who was on his side.

You felt guilty to say the least. Calling someone unlovable, (whether or not they actually were) was cruel, your friends made sure you were well aware of that. Perhaps you had gone a little hard on him but surely everyone could see where you were coming from, there had been bets going on since first year about 2 people’s soulmates. Harry Potter’s would be the luckiest and Draco Malfoy’s would be the unluckiest, so why was it you.

After all of this, no one could blame you for being surprised when he started sending you letters. Well you assumed they were from him, the cursive ‘M’ on the green seal was enough of a clue. If you weren’t feeling shit about yourself before, you definitely were once the letters started arriving. They came at breakfast every few days, but as the weeks drew on, they turned into one each day. You never opened them, shoving them straight into your pockets to stash away in your drawers, too afraid to open them, afraid of what they would say.

Your friends saw you do this each morning, yet no number of disapproving looks would change your mind. You just weren’t ready to be tied to Malfoy for the rest of your life. You didn’t want any part in his life, everyone knew what the Malfoys were like, and how much they valued their precious reputation. You just weren’t suited for it, the morals the old family kept so dear disgusted you.

So why did he keep trying? If you were in his position you would’ve stopped trying weeks ago. You weren’t sure what was keeping you from opening the letters. The guilt over him overhearing you those weeks ago? Or that you’d avoided him for so long that it was just second nature to you. The whole school knew you were soulmates, but everyone knew you were avoiding him like the plague, they gave you looks of pity when they walked past you in hallways, you wondered what kind of looks they gave Draco. Not that you cared.

As you made your way to the library, you heard rapid footsteps approaching; afraid it was Draco, you start to pick up your pace, refusing to turn around for a second. “Gods, Y/N slow down. I’m not a quidditch player like you, this is not fair.” Whoops, it was just Liam. Smiling sheepishly, you turned around to apologise to the sweating boy, maybe you ought to whip him into shape on a broom sometime soon, he was not looking good.

“I’m so sorry! I thought you were Draco! But seriously, you need to work on your stamina, if not for you own sake then for Mina’s…” Liam sent you a glare and a vulgar gesture which you admittedly deserved.

“Y/N listen, I know you don’t want to hear it, but Draco came up to me during study hall and he asked me to pass a message to you, he seemed pretty upset, and yeah I am talking about THE Draco Malfoy. Even I’m starting to take pity on him, just listen to his message?” All your friends were traitors, you decided. You knew they all wanted you to give him a chance, but you thought they would understand that if it ever did happen it would be on your own terms, and many many years in the future.

“Fine, what does he want?” You could never win against your friends; you had learnt that the hard way in second year…

“He says he’ll leave you alone but only if you meet him in the astronomy tower at 7pm tonight. He really seemed desperate, I think you should give him a clear answer at least, instead of just straight out avoiding him. I mean you have been a bit of a dick to him, no matter how bad he may be. Soulmates are supposed to be a support pillar for each other through thick and thin, you need him just as much as he needs you. Consider it please? For you own sake if not his.” Tom gave you a sad smile before turning and walking away. Typical, he had just dumped a heavy burden on you and ran away, some friend he was. Your thoughts were more confused than before, even though you didn’t think that was possible.

Draco was an awful human being, you had seen what he was from first year, you had heard the rumours, everyone had. So why was the universe so keen for you to be with him? Why couldn’t you have had someone ordinary and nice as your soulmate. You had questioned yourself over this a hundred times in the past month yet every day you woke up with his name still on your wrist. Maybe your only option was Draco, every day you woke up with nothing changed, was a day closer to accepting the reality that you really didn’t want.

18:00

Draco was shitting himself, truly shitting himself. Maybe he shouldn’t have said he wouldn’t try again after this, what if it didn’t work? What if you said no? What if he fucked up his last chance and you truly didn’t want him at all? He had imbedded crescent marks into both of his arms at this point, pacing back and forth across the dusty floor, reciting what he would say to you. It would have been a lot easier if you had read your letters, but he understood why you hadn’t, he understood that he needed to change to have you. He’d do anything.

19:00

Draco should’ve guessed you weren’t going to show. Of course, you wouldn’t. You hadn’t responded to any of his letters so why would this time be any different. But he’d gotten used to it by now, sitting and waiting in the tower hoping you would’ve read his letters and would give him a chance. But just like the past 3 weeks, it was just him in the tower.

You on the other hand were sat in your common room with your friends, ready for a night of card games and firewhiskey. Everyone knew exactly what you were doing but no one said anything but still gave you a disappointed look every minute or so. You were used to them at this point, besides, the firewhiskey helped to numb everything.

20:00

He had nowhere else to be, an extra hour or two was nothing, and he would kick himself if you showed and he wasn’t there.

You were too sober to be where you were. You were used to your friends being all coupley with each other, you had been since last year yet right now you would rather be anywhere than right there. You found yourself slipping from your common room, just wanting to take a walk and get away from the disapproving stares aimed at you and affectionate actions they gave each other. This sucked.

20:59

Draco had held onto hope this entire time, hope that you would give him this one chance. God if this is how people felt when they lost all hope, he understood why people hated villains, he didn’t want to feel ever again if this was what it was like to care and to have hope.

Shaking his head at his own patheticness, Draco pulled the door handle, ready to leave and just drown in the prefect’s bath that was waiting for him. What he hadn’t expected was for you to be on the other side, pushing the door open as he pulled causing you to fall straight into his arms.

You truly didn’t think you’d end up going to meet Draco, but your legs had ended up taking you up to the astronomy tower after you had spent an hour walking around pretty much everywhere else in the castle. You didn’t think he’s still be there; you were almost 2 hours late after all. You didn’t know what you were doing standing outside the door and not opening it. He wasn’t inside so what was holding you back. You took a deep breath before pushing the door open… and falling straight into someone’s arms.

[#A/N: I really considered ending it here but I was feeling nice ;)]

You scramble out of his arms, running your hands over where his hands had been, but Draco must’ve mistakenly thought you were cold as the next thing you knew, his robes were being draped around your shoulders.

“Thank you but I don’t need it, here take it back.” Your hands moved to remove it from your shoulders, but he brought his hands up to stop you before you could. “You’re just in your pyjamas and I have a jumper on, just wear is please?” You just dopped your arms back down to your sides, a little grateful for the warmth the material brought you, and you really tried not to focus on the scent surrounding you.

“I didn’t think you’d still be here.” You broke the heavy silence that fell between you too, the remnants of alcohol in your body leaving you a little more open than usual.

“I didn’t want you to come and for me not to be here, I was serious about that one chance y/n. I promise I’ll stop trying if you just hear me out.”

The guilt that had been subdued from the alcohol was back looking at his solemn expression. This was the first time since the first incident that you had spoken to him, second time overall in your life, yet talking to him didn’t cause you as much anxiety as you had initially imagined. Maybe your friends were right, maybe you owed both Draco and yourself a chance.

“5 minutes.”

“That’s all I need, thank you.” His shoulders practically sagged in relief, tugging on your heart strings more than you would ever admit.

“I know what you think of me, what the whole school thinks of me. We both heard what you said that day but I’m really trying, can’t you see that? I’ve spent my entire life living in one way and it’s hard to suddenly change everything in my life, but I’m more than willing to do it for you. I just want to make you happy; I want to be happy. Whether we like it or not, we’re bound for life, can’t you give me a chance? A clean beginning? I can show you that I can change, that I’m not the unlovable monster you think I am. I might be a Malfoy but let me prove my worth to you.”

“That’s just it Draco, I don’t want you to have to change, because you think I’ll give you a chance for it. It literally has no meaning that way. You are who you are, it’s literally in your blood! You have been despicable these past 6 years, if you’re going to change then change for yourself and not for me. Your attitude towards non-pure bloods, your hatred towards Harry Potter and every other non-Slytherin, your superiority complex; it’s all a part of you don’t you see? That’s not something you can change overnight.” He was biting his lip so hard it started to bleed but neither of you did anything about it, just stood in tense silence as you waited for a response.

“Okay.”

“Okay? This isn’t ‘The Fault in Our Stars Draco’, you’re going to have to give me more.”

“What is ‘The Fault in Our Stars’? Anyways that’s not important, I meant; okay, I’ll change for me. If that’s what will make you happy.” Your jaw dropped, how was everything you were saying going in one ear and coming out the other, wasn’t he supposed to be one of the top students next to Hermione?

“You’ve literally missed the entire point. I don’t want you to change because of me, I want you to change because it’s the right thing to do, I want you to change and actually believe in what you’re changing for. I want you to be a better person for yourself and not for someone or anything else.”

“How- how do I do that?” he looked like a child whose ice cream you had just stolen.

“Figure that out yourself Draco, I’ll give you a chance when you can prove that to me.”

“But you just said this doesn’t happen overnight, how can I make you see that I mean it?”

“I don’t care if it takes you a few months or a few years, I can’t be with you as you are now Draco. And I don’t want you to fake who you are around me. If I’m going to be with you, I want to love you for you, and right now, I just can’t.” With that you turned to leave the room, completely forgetting about the robe draped over your figure until you got back to your room. You balled it up in your hands and shoved it in the same draw you kept his letters in, out of sight out of mind.

PART 3

#A/N: The first part of this got so much love and I just wasn't expecting that, thank you to everyone who’s read these!! I hope the next part will satisfy youu. This was supposed to go up like 2 hours ago but I got distracted playing among us 👀

TAGLIST: @bbeauttyybbx @pipppaaaaalouisee @theslytherinprincessworld @fangirl-3d2y @tttyrus @scriptingslytherin @justmimithings @purpleskymalfoy @minigigglybabi @malfoyquinn @secretaccshh @obbrssession @whatwoulddracodo @thatoneniceslytherin @thehumanistsdiary @mariah-can-dream @futureofanthropology @ccabian @tobarmaidswhodontcount @potatothingsz @xuckduck @dreamyginny

SOULMATES TAGLIST: @landocalrission @sunsetsofanemoia @yucksiedoodles @hey27 @frau-moon @slytherinbaddiee @celestialpuff

#draco #draco malfoy #harry potter #soulmates #redemption?#draco x reader #soulmatesau #draco x y/n #Draco Malfoy x reader

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teruthecreator · 3 years

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sweet surprises

lord forgive me for the cringe i’m about to post. i fully blame this post and this post for planting the seeds of berdley having a crush on kris in my brain. also shouts out to izel for listening to me go insane at 3 AM about this.

anyways, here’s a thing.

______________________________________________________________

Excitement is in the air.

Unlike the usual calm monotony of life at school, things recently have been quite...electric. Not because of the portal to the Dark World hidden behind the door of the closet, or the adventures had by a select group of students through the portal in the Librarby a few days ago. No, this isn’t about that.

This is about the Sadie Hawkman’s Dance. The once-a-year phenomenon where the school puts on its best interpretation of a formal dance for the incredibly small number of students who attend class. Students buzz in excitement for the event, preparing their most formal outfits and getting ready to dazzle their friends and fellow classmates with their dramatic entrances into the auditorium.

And, of course, there’s the all important ritual of asking someone to the dance.

There’s already been a few proposals made this week. Jockington rolled into class like a hula hoop and asked Catti to be his “best bro” for the dance, to which she happily agreed. (And by that, I mean she looked up from her phone, smiled, said not a single word, and went back to typing.) Temmie loudly announced to the class that she would be taking her egg, which was somehow...embarrassed that she mentioned it. And, of course, Noelle finally managed to work up enough courage to ask Susie to the dance. It was done in an incredible display of candy canes that spelled out the phrase: “CAN(E) YOU BE MY DATE TO THE DANCE?” Unfortunately, Susie was about halfway through scarfing the display down before she realized what it said. She then began choking on one of the candy canes out of disbelief, which wound her in the nurse for the rest of the day. But, when she could speak again, she very quietly agreed to Noelle’s proposal (and, if you happened to be a fly on the wall in that room, you could hear a tail thump rhythmically against the doctor’s bench as she did so).

Kris was pleased with everything. They were happy to see their friends so happy together. A long time coming, if you asked them. And they’d be just as happy attending the dance solo, since they’ll undoubtedly be dragged along by Susie. They’d never gone to the dance before--never had a reason to, truth be told. But with their newfound friends, they may just enjoy being a wingman for the night.

...Speaking of wingmen, Berdly will probably be going solo as well. Unsurprising, but Kris makes a mental note to ensure the bird will be in attendance. As much as he is kind of a lot sometimes, he’s their friend. And Kris is going to make sure all of their friends are having fun at that dance!

They walk into class thinking of this (surprisingly early, for a change), which is why they almost miss the massive display sitting boldly atop their desk. They freeze the instant it catches their eye and, for a second, they almost believe it isn’t real. Like some leftover thoughts of the Dark World lingering in their vision. But, after wiping their eyes and seeing that it’s still there, they decide to approach and...investigate.

The display is expertly crafted by someone who clearly knows their way around a glue gun. It is a heart-shaped arch that is decorated with a myriad of printed illustrations of Super Smashing Fighters Melee characters, all having cut-outs to hold different bars of chocolate. There are also numerous origami hearts glued around the characters on the arch, in colors spanning across the rainbow. The arch is painted in swirls of blues, pinks, and reds and covered with a border of glitter that sprinkles onto the desk when Kris reaches out to pluck a chocolate bar from its perch. On the desk itself is a big origami heart that says “TO KRIS” in gold calligraphy. It is by far one of the coolest, nicest, cheesiest things Kris has ever seen.

They look up from the display to see if anyone else is seeing this shit, and that’s when it all clicks.

Because sitting at the front of the classroom, fidgeting way more than normal, is Berdly. He keeps interlocking his ankles underneath his desk before unlocking them and kicking the air, turning around every half-second or so to try and catch Kris’s reaction. From the brief moments Kris can see the front of him, they notice he’s not in his usual white collared shirt and black khaki shorts. Instead, his shirt is buttoned all the way up, with a nice blue bowtie tied around his neck. He also traded out his khaki shorts for a pair of dress pants that look to be a tad too long for his legs. He keeps reaching up to smooth out the feathers on his head, which immediately stick back up from stress.

Now, Kris may be a straight B student, but they’re not stupid. Context clues are a very good thing, and all signs point to Berdly as the culprit of this public display of...affection?

Beyond Berdly is Ms. Alphys at her desk, who shoots Kris a look of deep understanding and maybe...guilt? She looks at Berdly for a split second and shrugs her shoulders, indicating he was probably in here long before she was and so she had no way of stopping him from leaving it there.

Kris looks back down at the display and picks up the large origami heart. As they begin to unfold it, they see a sprawling letter written in the same flashy calligraphy. Kris squints at the letters--they’re dyslexic, so everything kind of just looks like spaghetti on paper. Still, they’re able to make out the largely printed question of “WILL YOU GO TO THE DANCE WITH ME?” with no issue.

Huh, guess they won’t be going to the dance alone after all…? It’s a little confusing as to why Berdly would want to go with them, though. Like, they’ve hung out a little bit--usually whenever Berdly wanted a “worthy rival” to play video games with, he would come over and Kris would whoop his ass for a few hours. And, of course, there were the recent events in the Cyber World; but Kris is pretty sure them and Susie had thoroughly convinced Noelle and Berdley that that was all a dream. So, why them?

They’re lost in this train of thought for so long that they don’t even notice the other kids enter the room until they suddenly hear:

“Yo, Kris???????? What the heck is this thing????” Susie’s voice doesn’t startle them, but it is loud enough to get them to look up. Susie is standing next to their desk, looking at the display with genuine amazement thinly masked by disgust. She’s also loud enough to basically stop the whole class (who were all muttering amongst themselves about it anyway), which gives Kris only a second to gaze around the room before--

SLAM!

The door to the classroom slams shut, leaving one seat unoccupied.

Berdley’s.

“This thing’s got chocolate on it????” Susie continues to marvel at the display while Kris looks at the door, frowning. They feel...bad. It isn’t Berdley’s fault for trying to fit in with the other kids' proposals; he admitted to feeling like he needs to do more just to stand out enough for people to acknowledge him back in the Dark World. And this thing is really...thoughtful! The characters are all ones Kris typically mains, or ones they know Berdley mains, which means he remembers things about Kris. And the chocolate is a given, but it is nice to be able to stock their personal snack stash with some fancy stuff. Ultimately, it’s very sweet, and Kris can’t help but feel a little guilty for not saying anything immediately.

They turn and lock eyes with Ms. Alphys, who looks extremely out-of-depth with this situation. She makes a number of gestures from them to the door in a flustered way of saying I have absolutely no idea what the hell is going on please help me Kris I know I’m asking a lot of you but I don’t know how to deal with teenage angst I’m like thirty-five. They sigh, standing up and walking past Susie (but not before giving her a stare that warns her if a single chocolate bar is gone that they will be holding that over her until the day she dies) and following Berdly out the door.

It doesn’t take Kris very long to follow the trail of labored breathing to where Berdley is--in the abandoned classroom, hyperventilating as he teeters on a breakdown. Luckily, when Kris opens the door, it seems to put a halt to his spiralling because he just kind of...freezes. Like a deer caught in headlights. Or a Berdley caught in Kris-lights. Kris takes this moment to let the door shut behind them, trapping the two in here. Together.

“U-Uhhhhh, hi--he--Um. H-Hello, K-Kris…” Berdly attempts to put on his usual bravado, but his voice betrays him brutally by squeaking and cracking on every syllable. Kris can’t help the smile that comes to their face.

“Uh, hey,” they reply with a wave. Berdley continues to stand there and stare (almost like he wasn’t expecting Kris to care enough to follow him) before the present circumstances return to his mind and he begins breathing hard again.

“I-I-I-I, uh...I was. Um. J-Just, uh. G-Getting some fresh air! Y-Yes! The classroom can be s-so stuffy sometimes, I’m sure y-you--you, uh...you agree?” Berdley makes a valiant attempt at hiding his panic, which Kris almost takes pity on. But they don’t think the monster will feel any better if they just pretend what happened back there never happened.

“Yeah. I liked the display.” Kris says simply. Berdley stands stock-straight at that, looking even worse for wear in the “being normal and completely cool” department.

“O-Oh??????? That ol’ thing????? I, um--well I just--y-you see, I--uh. Um,” You can really hear the gears in his head turning as he attempts to come up with an excuse. “I-I-I just thought you w-would appreciate the craftsmanship of!!! A t-true artisan, such as myself!!! So, I!!! M-Made it!!! COMPLETELY PLATONICALLY, OF COURSE!!!! I-I would never imply that my intentions w-were anything other than for bro-sies, i--You didn’t read that whole card, did you?”

“I can’t read,” They mean this as a joke, but they can see Berdley seriously consider this for a second too long. “Dude, I’m dsylexic. I can’t really read cursive…” Berdley freezes up once more, which makes Kris realize they haven’t really projected that as loudly as they might’ve thought.

“Oh! Right! How could I forget! That you’re! Dsylexic!” Berdley’s smile is stapled to his face as he begins to rhythmically knock on his head. “And I! Wrote! That! Entire! Note! In! Cursive! Which! You! Can’t! Read!!!” Kris steps forward in an attempt to keep Berdley from bashing his own skull in, but that only makes Berdley more tense, so they take a step back. “I-I just--The note isn’t important! None of it’s important actually can we forget this interaction ever happened okay? Okay yes that’s great have a wonderful day Kris I will be returning home to sitinmyroomandneverreturntothecorporealrealmalrightgoodbyeforeverKris--” He attempts to sidestep around Kris and out the door, but is very easily intercepted.

“Stop.” Kris grabs him by the shoulders, which seems to shut him up for a second. “Can you just tell me what’s wrong?” Berdley gapes at them as his face steadily grows redder, which makes Kris feel as if there’s something on their face. But he quickly shakes it off, going from completely neurotic to...dejected.

“I just…” He starts, trailing off immediately. “You deserve to have a big proposal, same as everyone else. I-I see you in the back of the class, just...watching. And I, uh, felt it was time to...give you the spotlight! But that was silly of me, wasn’t it?” He looks off to the side at the floor, smiling sadly. “After all, who’d want to go to the dance with me…? I-I’m alone every year, standing in the background. Just kind of...taking it all in...and th-thinking about how it’d be...nice to be a part of it. But that’s...not probable. It was just nice to think about taking you to the dance because you’re--well, you’re nice to me, and you’re funny, and you actually listen to me when I’m talking, an-and you’re a good person and an incredible gaming legend...but I shouldn’t have put it all on you in front of everyone...I’m. I’m sorry, Kris.” He won’t make eye contact with the human, but Kris can still see the tears collecting in his eyes.

“Berdley, that’s stupid.” Kris says, which Berdley cringes at, “Why wouldn’t I wanna go with you?” That part is...not what Berdley was expecting. He looks up at Kris, unsure of where to go from here.

“U-Um…? Because of all the previously stated things? Like me being a complete loser who nobody likes?”

“I like you,” Kris replies immediately, leaving Berdley’s feathers sticking straight up as he flusters. “And I like your display. It’s...really sweet.”

“E-Even if you can’t read the note?” Berdley’s voice cracks.

“I mean, I could read the: WILL YOU GO WITH ME TO THE DANCE part, so, like. Yeah.” Kris shrugs. “Plus, you got me chocolate. Nice chocolate. Nobody...gets me things like that.” They smile, a light dusting of blush across their face. “I’ll go with you.” Berdley’s entire body seizes up for the third time, eyes wide and mouth agape.

“W-W-w-W-w-w-w-w-W-W-W-w-w-w-Wh-Wha-wh-w-w-wha-wha-w-wh-Wh-Wha-wh-Wha-wha-w-w-W-W-W--” Berdley continues to struggle with the word “what” for a solid minute and a half before he’s finally about to manage a: “What?!” Kris can’t help but laugh.

“I said that, Berdley,” at this, they move their grip from his shoulders to his hands, “I will go to the Sadie Hawkman’s dance with you.”

The circuits in Berdley’s brain struggle with this frequency for an extended moment before his face erupts in the giddiest smile Kris has ever seen the bird monster sport. He even begins to jump up and down, taking Kris along with him, as he cackles. It is a surprisingly cute display that Kris finds themselves blushing a bit at. It’s nice to be this...cared about.

“I-I--We have to start thinking of outfits immediately!” Berdley blurts out, returning to their usual demeanor. “I was thinking of some complimentary color schemes on the way to school today which I will be happy to show you at lunchtime. I’m also a master with a sewing machine, so if you are unable to procure an outfit that meets the color requirements, I would be delighted to take your measurements and--w-wait, don’t read into that phrasing, I just m-meant that I could make an outfit for you! B-But I’d need your measurements, and--Oh, goodness, hasn’t class started already, Kris?! We should head back, but--” He looks from the door to Kris and back again a few times before finally settling on something.

“I’lltalktoyouaboutthislaterseeyouinclassKris!!!!!” He says this right before he gives Kris a solitary peck on the cheek before bolting out of the abandoned classroom, leaving Kris blinking at the Berdley-shaped cloud he left behind. Their hand gently grazes the spot on their cheek--luckily not actually pecked by his beak, but more of a quick-kiss kind of peck--and feel their heart skip a beat.

Huh.

That’s...different.

They elect to not dwell on that feeling any longer and head back to class. They have to make sure Susie hasn’t eaten all of the chocolate on that display.

They wouldn’t want to make Berdley go through the trouble of re-proposing just so they could rightfully claim their other sweet surprise.

#deltarune #deltarune chapter 2 #kris/berdley #kris dreemurr #kris deltarune #berdley deltarune #ignorance cloud on #LORD FORGIVE ME FOR BEING CRINGE ON MAIN. I JUST LIKE THINKING THOUGHTS #LISTEN..........I JUST THINK ITD BE FUNNY. IF KRIS HAD THIS PATHETIC GAMER ALL HEART EYES OVER THEM #also the dance aspect is based on one of the posters you can see inside the school. i am Pretty sure that is what its called #if i was off by like a similar-sounding word i need everyone to do me a favor and pretend im right bc this is cringe enough already #i edited this ONCE at 3 AM last night. i am doing no more than that #anyways here u go izel enjoy ur food.

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boldlyanxious · 4 years

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None the Wiser

Masterlist

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Bio-dad Bruce--first meeting

(Apparently telling myself I have to much going on to participate means nothing. I had an idea and it demanded to be written.)

It felt like such a simple assignment. Pretty basic genetics lesson for biology. Blood type was an easy thing to test in class. Their biology teacher had asked that they bring in the known blood types of their immediate family to help with understanding how it would work to pass on the genetic traits. Marinette had no siblings but she knew both her parents were O+.

They had finished with eye color during the last class and that was no concern for Marinette. Genetics could easily explain how the recessive blue eyes could come from the green and grey of her father and mother. But she had never known her blood type before. Just like with the eyes she should have received the recessive o from each of them making her blood type O.

She had already told her parents blood type but when she took the test it wasn't right. She told the teacher the expected answer when she was called upon for her test result and the teacher went on to explain how this was the most likely response with a 1 in 8 chance of having O- instead. Marinette didn't show anyone her test results. She was too confused. There was no way she could have gotten A blood type from her parents.

She knew there were pictures of her mother pregnant with her. Her dad was in the room when she was born and they had been married for 6 years before her mother was pregnant. She didn't want to think that her mother had cheated but there were not many other options. Her parents always seemed so in love, Marinette didn't want to ask them how it was possible.

She was quiet the rest of the week until she came up with a plan. She would simply take a DNA ancestry test and that would make everything make sense. It was probably a faulty blood type test and she was interested in the results she would get anyway. So, that weekend she got everything together and sent off for answers.

---

Tim wasn't paying much attention to the alert from his phone because he was just waiting for his coffee order. He looked down and read it. Then he read it again before he ran out of the shop without the coffee. He headed directly back to Wayne Enterprises to tell Bruce in person what he had learned.

Bruce was not happy to be pulled from his meeting by his son. He seemed to have an issue with a small French subsidiary company that did medical and genetic testing. Tim was talking too fast and he couldn't quite make sense of any of it. His head was already filled with the stock prices and percentages being discussed at the quarterly report meeting he had just left. He wasn't switching gears quickly enough for the science Tim was explaining.

"Are you even listening to me?" Tim asked frustrated "How would you even end up with another child in France?"

"Wait, what? I don't have any children in France." Bruce responded.

"The test was flagged in the system as a match for you. But that isn't all. She appears to be a match with Damian's DNA." Tim said.

"I have a daughter with Talia? I really don't think that is possible."

"It appears that way. I haven't looked into anything on her yet."

"I need to pack a bag."

"You don't think that is a little premature? She could have been trained to kill you."

"We will still do background on her. But if I have another child, I want to meet her."

---

Marinette was frantically gathering things she needed while holding her phone to her ear, talking to Nino. She grabbed her bag, a hanging garment bag and a stack of bakery boxes. She looked over and glared at her bag with the decorations before setting down the boxes and reaching for the straps of the bag.

"Argh, this isn't working right. I need more hands."

"You are trying to carry too much. I knew you would do that. It's why I planned ahead and got you a ride." Nino's voice came through the receiver after he finished laughing at her.

"The hotel is not far away. Who would give me a ride?"

"My buddy Adrien. He should be arriving any minute."

Marinette looked up as the bells on the door chimed. Adrien walked in followed by 2 men in business suits that Marinette couldn't help but admire. She jumped at him with a fierce hug, forgetting all about her phone call. Her phone flew off her shoulder right at the older of the 2 businessmen. His blue eyes danced with amusement at her shocked expression as he caught it easily.

"Oh wow. Thank you so much. I'm sorry for throwing it at you. That was so cool." Her excited voice stilled as she realized she was still against Adrien, having frozen in their hug. She pushed away and reached for her phone.

"Thank you again." She turned back to Adrien. "And thank you for the ride. I have so many things to carry."

Nino's voice came through the phone, "what is happening?"

"Oh, sorry Nino. I kinda threw you away when I saw Adrien."

"Don't I mean anything to you? What about our love?"

"I couldn't help myself. When I saw him with the sun shining in his gorgeous golden locks it was all I could think about."

Adrien raised his eye brow at her but she waved him off with her hand and gave a conspiratorial wink.

"You've gutted me." Nino said.

"I'll set you up with my best girl. She is 16 and I know you have a thing for older women."

"Well I can't have you, baby. I guess I'll meet her."

"Ugh. Too far Nino. Don't ever call me baby again. Even as a joke."

"But you are baby."

I'm hanging up now."

"Don't forget your shoes."

"My shoes!" Marinette ran off, shoving her garment bag and her phone into Adrien's hands, she rushed back to her living room to get her shoes to go with her party dress.

---

Bruce and Tim hadn't been sure that they would see the girl when visiting the patisserie owned by her parents. But when they entered the establishment they quickly recognised the girl buzzing around as the same one they had researched after learning she shared Bruce's DNA. When he met her eyes, in the moment he handed her phone back to her, there was no mistaking that she got his eyes.

They took just enough time deciding what to try so they were able to see her as she went in and out several times collecting all she needed from what they gathered was her best friend's birthday party. She kissed her parents on the cheek and promised to see them tomorrow before she zipped back out the door the last time.

As the men walked back to their hotel they talked about how they should proceed. None in the family seemed to recognize them and they weren't sure how she came to be with them even though she was Bruce and Talia's biological child. When they arrived back at their hotel they were surprised to see the same girl unloading all the things she had packed and giving direction to the others gathered with a confidence she hadn't seemed to possess before.

All those working for her were occupied setting up decorations, sounds equipment, or tables for gifts and treats as she guided the bodyguard of her friend from the bakery in how to carry the massive cake and where to place it. When he finished and was heading out she offered him a small package from the bakery when she thanked him for all his help. Then she was off setting up for her friend's arrival.

It was odd for Bruce to realize he was feeling proud watching her. Then he had to pull himself back when he realized he was watching her. Actually it was Tim who pulled him away so he wouldn't be noticed watching a teenage girl he had never really met. They headed back to the rooms they rented. They both entered Tim's room where his computer was still working on finding information on the couple and their daughter.

---

Marinette was feeling very antsy. She had set up the perfect surprise party with Marlene Cesaire for Alya's 16th birthday. Mostly successful because it wasn't a surprise. Alya was dropping off the twins with her mother at the end of Marlene's shift in the hotel kitchen before she headed to Marinette's house for a small party in the bakery and a sleepover.

Alya had no idea how big her party was going to be. Since the hotel wasn't full and the ballroom hadn't been booked, the mayor allowed his chef to book two rooms and the ballroom and just pay for the staff to clean it rather than the typical rate. He was even allowing the teenagers to stay unaccompanied so long as they didn't destroy the room or disturb other guests (too much).

Marinette had made her a special dress with a matching hero mask and told everyone to dress as a hero or wear a mask. Kitty Section would be playing for a bit and they had a bunch of party games and songs to dance or sing to so Alya could choose the activities. Most of the people coming would be staying in one of the 2 connected hotel rooms so that party could go really late.

She got Nathanael and Marc to sit nearby and watch to warn her when Alya was close. They weren't super close to Alya so it wouldn't raise suspicion if she saw them, she would probably just stop to greet them but let them keep working. That would give them the perfect opportunity to call ahead to make sure everything was ready for her arrival.

Marinette was already regretting inviting Lila. She was not only actively not helping but she was getting in the way of everyone who was helping. She had to explain how it would have been better if the tables had been moved or if the color scheme was different. She thought hotel parties were tacky and the way her last party was was so much better because she only included her closest celebrity friends. But also the party was actually her idea and she was letting Marinette help out and take the credit so she wouldn't feel left out.

---

"I think I found something." Tim said.

Bruce walked over to look at the screen. Tim showed him Sabine's medical records from 16-18 years ago. She and Tom had been seen by a fertility specialist originally almost 18 years ago. A series of appointments after that escalated to several visits at a facility that specialized in in vitro fertilization. As far as they could tell the couple had set it up to have a genetic child but with assistance but the company had logged 2 security issues during the same month they visited. The company kept it quiet because they could find nothing out of place after the breech. One new employee worked there during that time for only 2 months: Nyssa Raatko.

"I don't know what to do'" Bruce paused. "Tell them. I definitely need to tell them."

Bruce has mostly been talking to himself while Tim was in the other room distracted. Tim heard the door latch closed after Bruce left and he had to think about what he had heard while he wasn't paying attention in order to put together why Bruce had left.

"Oh, that is a terrible idea," he said. He worked on getting his key, wallet and phone into his pockets while he slipped his shoes back on. He followed after Bruce planning to catch up with him. He walked a block in the wrong direction before he realized his mistake and back tracked to get back to the patisserie.

---

"Okay, I got the call. Alya will be here in about 1 minute. Places everyone." Marinette called out.

Everyone waited and suddenly the ballroom doors burst open. Etta and Ella had been very excited to be told it was their one chance to run away from Alya and into the ballroom. They usually were scolded for going in there. It was of limits because it might be used for an event and no one wanted them to mess things up.

Alya chased them into the room and shrieked when everyone jumped out and yelled:

"Surprise!"

"Oh, this looks awesome. How did you do all this? There is no way we can afford this." Alya said.

"Honestly, Marinette did most of it." Marlene said. "She cleared it with me and Mayor Bourgeois. I think she had a back up plan but the ballroom and the 2 guest rooms are yours because they didn't sell. He let me just pay the cost for the hotel so long as nothing is destroyed and you don't run off guests."

"Girl, this is amazing!"

"I brought you a dress to wear. I told everyone it was hero classy so there is a mask to match."

Alya pulled her into a hug and then dragged her off to change into the new dress.

---

"Welcome back. We are closed but we will still offer anything we still have available." Tom said.

"I enjoyed what I had here, but that isn't why I came. I need to talk to you about your daughter." Bruce said.

"Marinette? What happened? Is she okay?" Sabine's mind went to all the things that could have gone wrong in the last hour as she looked around for her phone.

"Nothing has happened to her, but she recently sent off for DNA and ancestry results to a company I own."

"We don't know anything about that. Was she supposed to get a parent signature because of her age?" Sabine asked.

"No. It was flagged because her DNA is a match to mine. Also a full match to my biological son. She shares the same mother as him."

The room was silent for several beats before both of them denied that what he said could be possible. He let them continue for a moment before sharing what he had learned. He explained that his genetic material had been stolen by Damian's mother and from there he believed it had been stolen by her sister for an unknown purpose. He told them he found a record of her working at the fertility clinic they had used and the company had noted a couple security breeches during that time. He continued by suggesting she had probably chosen them based on a similar ethnic makeup to himself and the mother.

They listened with increasing agitation. The man before then appeared to be very well off and he mentioned that he owned the company as more of an afterthought. They suspected he had quite a bit more money than them and he said he had custody of the other child he mentioned. They shared a look and thought they might be having the same thought that this man intended to take their child away from them. They weren't sure who legally had the right to a child in such cases. But they had heard of custody issues with couples who needed to use donors during in vitro fertilization. They had been relieved that they were able to get pregnant without using a donor. They all turned as the door opened and Marinette burst in obviously angry.

"Hold me back from that little Italian witch. I am going to rip her weird pseudo pig tails off her head and thrash her with them. Then I'll cram them down her throat so she can never lie again."

All eyes turned to Marinette as she came into the room. Based on her appearance she was probably heading up to her bedroom to change her dress. The bodice of her dress was smeared with icing after Lila 'accidentally' tripped into Marinette. Marinette then accidentally dropped her so she fell but that didn't save her dress.

Marinette looked at her parents as she felt the tension in the room. Her parents had moved to place themselves between her and the stranger in their living room. Marinette looked around but no one spoke. She didn't know how to read the unusual look on the man's face but her parents looked like something between scared and angry.

"Is something wrong?" Marinette asked.

"I was just heading out," the man said. He reached a hand out, smiling. "I'm Bruce."

"Marinette," she responded while shaking his hand. She looked back at her parents and now she couldn't tell what their expressions meant as Bruce walked out.

#maribat #bio dad bruce wayne #biodad au #boldlyanxious

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tllthesundies · 3 years

Text

Anonymous said:

hi! i love the entertainment fic :) can you please write the part when they are celebrating louis’ birthday together, from harry’s pov?

–––––––

Harry hears the front door open, then close.

He remains indifferent as he stirs the small pot with pesto sauce in it to keep it from burning. He, also, keeps his eye on the boiling noodles in the bigger pot. But he’s listening to Louis’s footsteps and the jingling of keys in his pocket.

“Okay, rockstar,” he hears Louis’s voice, becoming louder the closer he approaches. “I know I take care of everything, and I recognise that you live in the middle of no man’s land, but I didn't actually think I'd have to include a lesson plan on keeping your doors locked. Things happen, even out here.” He pauses, and although Harry keeps his vision on the food, he sees Louis in his peripheral lean against the counter beside him. He’s wearing his jean jacket, some grey band t-shirt on underneath, and pairing it with boyfriend jeans. “I mean, it's California.” Harry can’t help sparing him a brief look, anyhow, quirking an eyebrow as he stirs the pesto. He doesn't respond to Louis. Louis watches for a moment before pushing himself away from the counter to instead lean his hip against it. He sighs. “What are you doing?”

“Making dinner,” quietly and casually replies Harry. He turns the heat for the spaghetti off. “I thought we could eat while we plan. Are you hungry?”

Louis nods.

“Haven't had anything since lunch.”

Harry glances back at a cabinet somewhere behind Louis and points to it. “Do you mind grabbing plates for us and setting the table? They're in that cabinet.”

“Yeah, sure.” When Louis disappears, Harry takes the pot to drain the noodles. “Do you want a specific colour?” he decides to ask Harry.

“Um,” hums Harry over the sound of pouring hot water and wet noodles being dumped into a strainer. “Honestly? I'm feeling teal.”

As Harry finishes draining the noodles, pours pesto sauce on them and mixes them, and finishes the vegetables, he glances repeatedly, briefly, at Louis. He sees him with teal and olive green plates and sets them up on Harry’s table. He, also, tries offering help, but Harry shuts him down immediately, each time, and sends him to just sit at the table. His hands shake just a little bit when he puts each food back into their respective pots–the ends of his nerves are on burning ice and he can’t make himself look at Louis for very long, if at all. He’s just on edge for the truth he hasn’t told him, but he takes a silent breath to clear his head.

“Most of everything,” Harry says, after he’s set everything on the table and gently plops into the seat beside Louis.

Louis blinks up at him.

“What?”

Spooning noodles onto his plate carefully, Harry repeats, “Most. You take care of most things.” He offers the spoon to Louis with a small smirk ghosting his lips.

Louis breathes out a soft chuckle, taking the utensil from Harry.

He shakes his head in reply.

He waits until everything is on their plates to take off his jean jacket. Harry watches him remove paper from inside a pocket, then hangs it on the back of his chair. Louis unfolds it, glancing up at him. “I don't know what you've got planned,” he begins, “or anything, but I made a list, anyway, to help jumpstart ideas. You know Calista, so, I kind of presume you know what she likes. But—just in case.”

Tentatively, Harry takes the list Louis gives him. He swallows as invisible as possible, and his eyes roam over all of the ideas Louis’s written down: Frozen themed - extremely popular concept still; Pink strawberry theme; Typical animal zoo theme; the birthday party concepts keep going on and on, and the longer Harry continues reading the list, the more those icy ends of his nerves burn more. It becomes overwhelming for his chest, and–he has to tell the truth. There’s too much devotion and dedication in this list to keep his façade going. Leaning back into his chair, he finally gathers the courage to look at Louis, and says, “This list isn’t going to be useful. Don't be mad at me.” Eyebrows narrowing, a puzzled look comes across Louis’s face. “I lied to you.”

The fork in Louis’ hand halts.

He blinks slowly at Harry.

“What are you talking about?” he asks. “Why am I here, then?”

For a split second, Harry’s confidence wavers. There’s a hesitancy he can’t help having, and one he’s not used to controlling – and as observant as Louis is, he probably sees the moment he wavers. And the controlling side of Harry hates that possibility. But he looks Louis directly in the eye, runs a hand through his hair, and speaks in a quiet voice. “It’s your birthday in just a few days. I—I wanted to . . . give you some kind of celebration to show my”–the words continue getting stuck in his throat; he has to spit them out, to warm them up–“. . . appreciation for everything you’ve done.” He pauses, to gauge Louis’s reaction. He looks–unsure; wondering; still confused, albeit a little more understanding. “Look, I’m not the best at, uh—expressing my feelings for people. Not that I have feelings. But”—he rubs an eye with his knuckle, becoming frustrated with himself—“you know what I mean.”

He took Rachel’s advice, but maybe he went too far this time. He lied to get Louis to agree to this. He lied because he didn’t know any other way to go about this. He doesn’t know how to just–outright ask someone such a simple thing like hey, I want to celebrate your birthday, would you like to come over? And it’s far more awkward because he purposely hasn’t been the most pleasant to the exact person he wants to celebrate.

He’s trying.

Probably in his own twisted way, but he’s trying.

And the silence from Louis stretches for far too long – to the point Harry gets uncomfortable. But he doesn’t show it.

“I don’t know what to say,” Louis says, after some time, words just above a whisper.

“Say nothing,” Harry chooses for him. “Consider this a . . . I recognise your hard work, Louis. You’re always on time, prepared, and organised. I’ve never had to tell you how to do your job, and that takes a lot of pressure off of me. So, thank you.” That last part stings his throat when it comes out. But not in the wrong way. “Again, consider this a congratulatory party for two. Nothing more.”

Louis stares at him.

“How did you know?”

“Résumé,” Harry simply answers.

A small beat of silence.

Louis narrows his eyes at him. “I never put my age or date of birth on any résumé.”

“Résumé,” Harry repeats, intentionally curt.

Harry’s not going to tell him from which source he acquired the information from. He wouldn’t blow Niall’s cover like that. Niall had questioned him plenty enough when he had called him. Why do you want to know? Niall asked, even though he had already given the information to Harry. I just want to be nice, is all Harry answered with.

He wasn’t lying.

“Fine,” Louis replies cooly. “Creep.”

Harry puts on an unimpressed look, staring directly into Louis’s eyes as he chews his food. After swallowing, he says, “That’s a big accusation coming from someone I could fire.”

Louis smiles, smug.

“See, that’s the beautiful thing . . . you can’t fire me,” he retorts.

Harry shakes his head, and he fights the muscles in his face that are around his mouth that desperately are trying to lift his lips at Louis’s reply. He can’t let that happen. His mind races with other topics to bring; with other distractions.

“Listen,” Harry says, “I have a cake for you.”

“Where?”

Harry shakes his head again.

“We have to make it,” he tells him.

Louis looks cautious. “What flavour?”

“Chocolate.”

A pleasantly surprised look crosses his features. “That’s my favourite,” he says. “Lucky guess?”

“You could say that.”

Dinner continues quietly. The ends of Harry’s nerves have started to warm up, evaporating the icy burn and replacing it with a normal temperature. His heart stops beating inconsistently and begins functioning like a normal human being. However, the same icy feeling starts to show itself in Harry’s mouth; words flow uncontrollably out of his mouth. Harry’s not a talker. He knows how to talk. He knows how to respond to people, and how to maintain conversation, but he doesn’t generally start the conversations unless he has no choice. Louis looks a little amused by him, but he does his best to ignore it. He, also, tries to get Louis to talk about himself, so, that he has some semblance of control over his mouth, but it doesn’t work.

Harry notices Dolly sauntering into the kitchen in his peripheral as he loads the dishwasher. She has her mustard yellow turtleneck on still that Harry had put on her this morning, her collar matching impeccably. She comes right over to Harry and peers into the dishwasher, but Harry scratches behind her ear as a warning before gently swatting her away.

She mews loudly at him, offended, she wanders over Louis.

Harry rolls his eyes at her.

“Look what you've done,” Louis speaks up.

Harry looks over his shoulder at Louis as he messes with the controls on the top of the dishwasher.

Snorting, Harry opens a drawer and slings a clean dish cloth over his shoulder before making his way over to Louis. “She's just mad I wanted to keep her from hurting herself,” he tells Louis. “She'll come around in ten minutes and act like it never happened.” He lifts a hand and gently caresses Dolly’s neck. But Dolly tries to hide from him by burying her face into Louis's armpit.

Louis laughs, surprised.

“Oh, no.”

Harry just puckers his lips and gives her an air kiss, and chuckles, smiling. “She always comes back.”

Louis bends his head and drops his gaze to Dolly. Harry watches the gentle way he rubs the top of her head and the rest of her body. He’s so much more familiar with her than when he had first met Dolly. He had been jumpy, a little scared. Now, they’re friends. Harry turns his head away and walks to the pantry.

“So, I've got,” Harry begins, and stops. He grabs the chocolate cake box he sees hiding on the top shelf, and stretches his arm up to get it. The matching frosting container is nearby, and he grabs it, too. He reads the back of it before continuing speaking. “Chocolate frosting. And”—he draws out the word until Louis rolls his eyes, telling him to get on with it; Harry's composure breaks, a grin breaking across his face as he stammers out his words because of his breathy laugh—“could you get the eggs out, please?”

Louis probably thinks he’s annoying.

It’s all on purpose.

Louis squats down to release Dolly from his arms. She jumps out of his grip, but remains by his feet. He washes his hands, first, then puts the eggs he retrieved from the fridge on the island.

Harry comes up beside Louis who’s reading the instructions on the back very carefully, and just dumps the oil, cake mix box, and frosting next to the eggs

Harry finds his measuring cup, and gives it to Louis to use for the oil and water. Louis asks him senseless questions; if he wants to do the eggs, et cetera. Louis has him sniff the inside of the cake mix bake to see if it smells good. It’s very chocolatey. And while he lets Louis do whatever he wants with the cake, he searches through his playlist to find music to fill the silence, so, he doesn’t have to talk too much. He finds Louis a bowl, a pan to fit the mixture into, and preheats the oven.

Harry sticks his finger in the bowl last minute, making a pop sound upon releasing his finger from between his lips.

“That’s really tasty,” he says.

Louis’s unimpressed.

“Tell me that when you get salmonella.”

“Can't wait.”

Louis shakes his head.

As they wait for the cake to fully bake, they work together cleaning all of the dirty utensils and bowls. They clean the island. Dolly stays silently crowding their feet. Harry can feel Dolly rubbing her head against his ankles, then attempts to climb onto his feet to lay down on them. Harry internally sighs.

“Look,” murmurs Louis.

Harry hears a smile reflecting in his voice.

He doesn't remove his gaze from the whisk he's washing.

“I know she's there. I'm ignoring her.”

Then it happens very fast:

Harry feels a small puddle gather on his feet and the bottom of his pants that cling to his skin. He hears Louis’s shocked laughter, but he doesn’t look at him as he breathes in a sharp breath to calm himself. Every fucking time.

“She—”

Harry's eyes close in pain. “I know. I wish I could say this hasn't happened before.”

While Louis’s still giggling and picks Dolly up from his feet, Harry excuses himself to go change his pants, then reemerges to find Louis feeding Dolly from the palm of his hand.

Louis looks over his shoulder at Harry, a single eyebrow raised.

“Better?” he asks.

“No,” Harry answers immediately. He pulls out the chair beside Louis, turns it around to sit backwards in it. He crosses his arms on the back of it, and gives Dolly an annoyed look that she ignores entirely in favour of the food she nibbles on in Louis's outstretched hand.

Still highly amused, Louis smiles, looking at Harry. “She's fine. Why'd she do that?”

“She does it when I'm absent too much” Harry explains. “In her cat mind, she thinks if she vomits on me, I'll be forced to clean up after her and take care of her. I don't know. Cats are—they have strange minds. I just think it’s only my cat because she has anxiety problems.”

Closing his parted lips, Louis shifts his gaze over to Dolly. She's trying to bite down on a hard piece she got. Harry watches them both. ��Did you want to, like, watch something?” Louis asks, glancing briefly at Harry. “While the cake bakes?”

Harry nods.

“What do you have in mind?”

Shrugging, once, feebly, Louis says, “I don't know. Maybe a movie? Comedies are nice.”

Harry stands from his chair, and pushes it back in normally. “It’s your birthday; you get all the privileges of picking and holding the remote.” He walks past behind Louis and into the front room, and sits down in the left corner of his settee.

After letting Dolly tackle the last couple of pieces of her cat food into her mouth, Louis picks her up and takes her with. He tucks his left leg underneath his right one when he sits down on the settee. There's a space between their bodies that isn’t too enclosed to make Harry uncomfortable; and he averts his gaze to the television, so, that he won’t continuously stare at Louis in his peripheral vision. He can’t keep doing that. He can’t keep–looking at him more than he needs to.

It’s dangerous.

Harry places the remote in Louis's outstretched palm.

Louis shifts through channels for too long; and when he enters Netflix, he spends too much time reading each and every description.

“By this rate,” says Harry, breaking their long held silence, “the cake will be ready before you settle on something.”

Louis turns his head, tilting his head in a look. “Well, I'm not much of a TV person, to be honest,” Louis admits. “What do you recommend?”

“I told you,” says Harry, staring straight at the television still, “your birthday, your choice. . . . But . . . if you really want a recommendation . . . There's Something About Mary is a very good romantic comedy.”

Louis blinks. “What's it about?”

“This guy Ted — Ben Stiller plays him — wants to reconnect with his old prom date back from high school he had a massive crush on, so, he hires somebody to track her down and . . . it's, like, really messy, but what rom-com isn’t? It's a hundred times better than it sounds,” Harry promises him.

Louis seems to consider it.

Then he nods.

“Sure. Let's watch that.”

Harry looks over his shoulder at Louis as he stands from the settee. “You sure?” he asks.

Harry kneels in front of his small but wide bookcase full of DVDs. He quickly looks over every case until he finds the one he’s looking for. Turning the player on and popping in the disc, he returns to his spot on the sofa. Harry’s seen this romcom a thousand times, so, though he keeps his eye on the television, he doesn’t try to catch up with everything that plays out. Instead, he listens to Louis’s laughter, and distracts himself by dragging his forefinger across his lips for something to do. When the stove timer goes off, he jumps up to get it, and Dolly follows behind him.

“It's done,” Harry calls out. After he puts the cake on the counter on top of a dish cloth, he tests the idle with a toothpick. When he looks up to see where Louis is, he finds him by Harry’s walls of picture frames, cradling Dolly in his arms as his gaze roams. Harry decides to act indifferent and let a hard feeling pass through his stomach, and raids through his pantry to find the frosting. “Louis. Where's the frosting?” Harry feels Louis come up beside him a moment later. “I gave it to you. Where could it have disappeared to?”

Taking a step back, Louis stretches an arm out to open the freezer door. He reaches in, and then he closes it to hold the small container of frosting towards Harry, in the air. “Right here,” he says, wiggling it when Harry looks at him, gaze falling on the container. “I put it in the freezer.”

Harry pauses, lips parting. “Why did you put it in the freezer?”

Louis raises both brows at him in a way that the answer should be obvious. “Because room temperature frosting is disgusting? It's only good when it's cold.”

Gently, he tosses it on the island.

Harry's eyebrows pull together as he steps back and pulls the pantry door closed. “Uh—I hate to inform you, but frosting is good no matter what temperature it is,” he says in a vaguely defensive voice.

“Now you're just being gross,” comments Louis, looking briefly at Harry when he situates himself in front the cake, his lightheartedness subtle. Harry chooses to just busy himself with removing the cake from the pan, turning his back to Louis. “Oh, no.”

Harry turns around.

“What?” Harry asks.

He sets the plate full of cake beside Louis on the island and peeks at what Louis has in his hand.

Louis turns his body in an angle, towards Harry, and demonstrates the issue. Holding a knife in his hand to scope some of the chocolate frosting out, he goes at it — but he's stopped, and it's impossible to get any, because the knife is met with nothing but brick. “It's frozen,” Louis says.

Harry blinks a few times.

“Really?”

“Shut up,” he retorts. He glances around before walking over to a cabinet to retrieve a bowl. “Couldn't we use a microwave? Unless you're willing to wait an hour for it to thaw. I know I rather not.” Setting the bowl down, next to the frosting, Louis takes it in his hands and attempts to shake it out into the bowl first. Harry just watches him – and he pauses for a second, because he notices a small freckle on the upper part of the side of his neck. He’s lost count, now, how many freckles Louis has.

“I thought you hated warm frosting.”

“I do, but if we put it in for just a few seconds it won't matter,” Louis reasons.

Harry watches him shake it and realise that method doesn’t work. He proceeds to lay it upside down on the lid and hits it hard. Then he tries squeezing it before attempting to pry the container from the edges of the frosting.

The corners of his mouth tilt downwards in a frown.

“It's going to take more than a few seconds,” Harry comments, and takes the frosting from Louis. He bangs it against the edge of the island, the sound visibly startling Louis. The solid block of frosting falls right into the bowl Louis had gotten. Harry gives him a smile as he walks past Louis to the microwave that sits on the counter to the left of the refrigerator and slides it in. Harry doesn't take it out until it looks like it's thawed entirely, then pulls it out with a hot pad. Coming up beside Louis, he pokes his index finger in the frosting and sucks it into his mouth. “Not that warm.”

He pokes another finger in it.

Louis waves his fingers away from the frosting, and he uses the knife from before to taste it. The temperature appears to be okay with him, judging by the pleased look on his face.

“It's really good,” he confesses quietly to Harry. He puts his knife in the dishwasher full of other dirty utensils and grabs clean knives and forks to use and separate plates for Harry and him. “I don't want to put any frosting on it, by the way,” he adds.

Harry pauses.

“What? Why?” He pulls his eyebrows together in confusion, and looks at Louis instead of the cake. What kind of person doesn’t want frosting on their cake?

“I prefer to have it on the side and dip the cake in the frosting,” Louis explains. “It tastes better to me that way.”

For a few moments, Harry stares at him, and Louis stares back, a little challenge in his face. His assistant is weird. But he can work around it. So, he nods, saying, “We can do that, no problem.” Then he remembers: “Wait.” He walks over to a drawer a few feet from them and rummages through it until he pulls out two things: a large pack of single candle sticks, and candle numbers 2 and 7. “Can't forget these.” Harry sticks the numbers right in the centre, then surrounds it with twenty-seven of the fifty count of blue candles. It's a very crowded cake, and crumbly and has new cracks added into the old ones because of the force of all the candles. It’s ugly, in Harry’s opinion; the cake, the stereotypical candles, how bare and destroyed it all is – but when he lifts his head to look at Louis, into his blue eyes that have specks of green and grey, his chest eases. Stops. Momentarily. This . . . isn’t so ugly.

Quickly, he lights all of the candles. “Okay,” he says upon lighting the last one, and sets down the lighter. “Make a wish.”

Louis ends up staring at his face instead of blowing out the candles right away. He searches Harry’s face. And Harry doesn’t know what to do besides stare right back. Finally, Louis tears his eyes away and leans down, blowing out the candles. They leave a trail of smoke in the air and a very distinct candle stench that Harry hates. But Harry pretends, and chooses to clap him for and whistle. Louis laughs at him, something soft and something high that pulls at Harry’s chest. He starts picking the candles out of the cake, and Harry notices a soft tinge of pink colouring the apples of his cheeks.

Harry doesn’t know why, so, he ignores it.

Louis cuts the cake and gives the first slice to Harry, then gives one to himself. Harry suffocates his slice in frosting very carelessly. Dolly retreats back to them and tries to rub her face in the bowl of chocolate and what's on their plates, but Harry grabs her with both of his hands and tucks her underneath his arm. She struggles to free herself the entire time; Harry ignores it. Even when they sit back down on the sofa to continue watching their movie. Harry doesn’t see it coming when Dolly whips her paw around and slashes at his skin, causing a long and bright red scratch down his forearm. He lets her go immediately, pissed off.

He sees Dolly strut right into Louis's lap, and walks in circles before settling down to rest on his thighs. Her relaxed exterior pisses him off more.

“Are you okay?” Louis asks, concerned, eyes full of concern.

Harry’s jaw tenses. “It burns,” he answers truthfully, “but I’m fine. She's just in a mood today.” He rolls his eyes.

There’s a frown on Louis’s face when he glances down at Dolly, but he doesn’t say anything further. Harry chooses to suck it up and finish eating his cake while ignoring Dolly. The scratch thankfully never bleeds, as they finish the rest of their movie, eating the entire cake by themselves. Louis doesn’t finish the next slice he eats, but Harry has no problem eating the rest of it for the both of them.

Harry's licking the icing off his fork when he looks at Louis. The half piece of pure cake is still there on Louis’s plate. “What did you think?”

Louis's eyes flicker up at him, meeting his gaze. Breathing in a soft breath, he nods his head.

“It was good; I liked it. I love Cameron Diaz.”

“Me, too,” Harry admits. “She's very nice.”

“Have you met her?”

Humming, Harry nods once. “Met her on the red carpet at some award show. I think I have a picture.” Louis huffs out a chuckle. “Do you want to watch another movie?”

Louis stays silent for a moment, then shrugs and rests a hand on Dolly, whom lays sleeping in his lap. “Sure. But you pick this time.”

“It's still your choice,” Harry reminds him.

Breathing out a purposely heavy annoyed sigh, he says, “I choose you to pick the next thing we watch.”

“That's not how it works.”

“Sure, it is. It's my birthday.”

Harry stares at Louis, pressing his lips together. It becomes a staring contest between them. It goes on for several moments until Harry blinks and looks away. “I can't argue that,” he says, finally.

“Exactly,” quips Louis, as he gently drops the remote in Harry's outstretched hand, palm turned up.

They watch Breakfast at Tiffany’s, then when Harry turns on Meet the Parents, he notices Louis’s eyes start closing. He repetitively glances out of the corner of his eyes at Louis, watching him nod off until he’s sound asleep. Harry’s chest grows soft as he stares at Louis’s tired, pale face. His thin lips are slightly parted, like he should be snoring. Him and Dolly both sound asleep on each other is a rather humourous sight. He decides to leave Louis be and turns his attention to the television to watch the movie. There’s something . . . oddly comforting about the silence; Louis sleeping beside him, the hum of the telly, the filling sensation that encompasses the silence. It’s not so lonely–not so what Harry’s used to. By the end of the movie, he grabs his own plate and stands up, then does his best to grab Louis’s without disturbing him. But Louis’s eyes flutter open at the accidental brush of contact that Harry internally curses himself for. Louis straightens out his very tilted sleeping position, and looks up at him through squinted eyes.

Harry gives Louis a genuine apologetic look, and quietly says, “Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you.”

Louis delicately rubs his eye with the back of his right hand, and stretches his legs, breathing out a tired sigh. He blinks his eyes a few times to adjust. “It's fine,” he rasps. “Sorry I'm falling asleep.”

“Don't apologise,” Harry gently tells him.

He continues off to the kitchen. After scraping off pieces into the rubbish and rinsing off their plates, he lays them on the counter, then hesitates. The image of the gift bag still in the other room floats to the forefront of his mind. He looks over his shoulder at Louis, and finds him distracted by Dolly, and makes a quick decision. Harry speed walks to the other room on silent heels and grabs Louis’ gift bag, then makes his way back into the front room. Louis looks up the exact moment Harry approaches him, and the movements of his hand combing Dolly’s fur stop when his eyes fall down and spot a white bag in Harry's left hand.

“What ‘ave you got there?” His tone is careful.

Harry sets the shopping bag right in his spot, close enough for Louis to reach into. Harry sits on the edge of the settee on the other side of Louis, at an angle facing Louis, and he looks him directly in the eyes. “I thought I'd give this to you, before you completely black out on me,” he says. “It's not really a celebration without gifts, too.”

Louis pushes himself up to sit straighter. “Harry . . .” He looks at a loss for words – lips parted on nothing; uncertainty scaling his face and eyes; touching the bag’s thin, black handles like it’ll burn him. “You didn't have to get me anything. Dinner, movies, the cake, I'm perfectly content just with that.”

Harry presses his lips together lightly and nods. “I know,” he says, forcing his gaze to not leave Louis's. “But I want to do this for you. Don’t make me repeat myself; I’m not good with complimenting people. Just accept it.”

“Harry—”

“Fucking accept it,” he says.

Glancing between Harry's face and the bag, Louis touches it again.

He leans forward and peeks inside. It’s covered by black, decorative tissue paper, and Harry watches him use both hands to remove all the tissue paper.

He knows the second Louis sees it. He pauses, gaze unblinking and widening just enough for Harry to catch. He sees the backpack from Givenchy Harry had gotten him. That was . . . another thing he managed to get out of Niall. Louis’s allegedly been so back and forth about buying it for himself that Harry decided to choose for him. It was extremely easy to find, and even easier to buy. It was probably the easiest gift Harry’s ever had to shop for. But–he didn’t think it was enough; he had bought a bag of Reese’s, as well as wrote a check out for Louis and put that in the backpack for him. Maybe it would make up for everything, Harry’s hoping–maybe it’ll . . . Harry shouldn’t be hoping for anything, really. But after Rachel had a talk with him and made him feel like a shitty person, he’s hoping this’ll convey Harry’s guilt. Or apology. Louis might not recognise it as that, but that’s okay.

“Open it,” Harry instructs softly.

Louis quits just staring at the bag and unzips it. Suddenly, he looks up at Harry and smiles at him, face glowing in happiness. Harry can’t help the smile he gives him in return. Louis backs down and–a little laugh is pulled out of him. Harry’s eyebrow furrow, a little, in wonder.

“What's so funny?” Harry asks.

Louis pulls the bag of candy out to show Harry, without speaking.

Harry's gaze shifts from Louis to the treat, a confused but amused smile splitting across his lips. He . . . doesn’t understand. It’s candy. Harry shrugs like what about it? and Louis shakes his head in response and mumbles never mind. Setting the candy down beside Dolly, he grabs the check.

Louis scoffs, shaking his head as he begins to read it, and asks, “How much is this?”

But he abruptly stops, face falling.

“Five thousand dollars,” Harry casually answers, despite his heart picking up pace again. Louis lifts his head to look at him, but he doesn't say anything. Is it too much? Is it too forward? Did Harry cross a line? Maybe he was wrong for buying Louis his dream backpack and a check. But if he just stuck with the candy, then Harry would look like he put in the least amount of effort in. And this is the line he struggles with: either going too far, or not doing enough. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing,” Louis answers immediately. Then he releases a breath, knowing he’s full of it. “This is too much, Harry.”

Harry blinks, then stamps on his racing heart and pulls out his detached face. “Louis,” he begins, stern, “don’t even start. That?”—he points to the check—“That is pocket change to me. We’ve gone over this. I have more money than I’ll ever know what to do with. I don’t see better use for it than for charity and for using it to buy whatever you want. Don’t feel bad about me using my own money. Eat the rich, or whatever they say.”

“Do you even know what that means?” Louis asks.

Harry pauses.

“Yes and no. But that’s a different conversation for another day.”

Louis blinks, breaking his gaze from Harry. Harry watches him closely, and waits for something. Louis’s face is concentrated; furrowed eyebrows, a far away look in his crystal clear eyes. He’s thinking something, and as much as Harry would love to get inside that pretty little head of his, he merely settles for waiting. Dolly comes poking through, however, weaving herself effortlessly and expertly through Louis's arms. She throws her arms up to cling to the opened backpack, and stands on her hind legs to peer inside. She stuffs her entire head in it, and it breaks Louis out of whatever it was, making him chuckle.

Harry just shakes his head.

Louis wraps his fingers around her legs to pull her back out of his backpack, but she clings hard. Harry finds himself laughing softly at the image before him, and he intervenes quickly. He softly scratches behind Dolly's head, then transitions into wrapping his hands around her bottom. He picks her up upside down, successfully having Dolly let go.

Harry pulls her to his chest.

Louis's small chuckle turns into a giggle, and he shakes his head. He reaches for his phone on the coffee table, and Harry watches his face change to realisation.

“I have to go,” he announces.

Dolly falls out of Harry’s grip and runs away.

He looks at Harry.

Harry puts on an unreadable face. “You have to go?” he repeats.

“Yeah,” Louis responds as he stands up. “I have a flight in the morning. Remember? I have to get up really early, and triple check all my belongings. It’s a long flight, so, I’ll need some proper rest.”

“All right,” Harry agrees. He walks first to the door, with Louis following suit, after placing his backpack back into the bag, along with the check. “When's your flight?”

“Hm,” Louis hums. “I think 7.45 in the morning.”

“Harsh,” Harry comments lightly. He lifts his hand to rub at his neck a moment. “I hope it's good. Tell your mum I said hello.”

Louis nods. “I will. And I hope it is, too.” There's a slightly awkward pause, on Louis's end. But it doesn’t last. “Listen . . . I want to thank you for—”

Harry interrupts him.

“No problem.”

“You didn't have to,” Louis points out. He's clearly not going to let Harry wave it off. “You didn't have to do anything at all, but you did. I just want you to know that it's one of the nicest things someone's ever done for me, and that I really, really appreciate it.”

Louis looks at with the most serene face, conviction in his tone. It causes Harry to be temporarily weak.

“You're welcome,” he says in response, hands clasped behind his back for something to hold on to.

Harry doesn’t see it coming – Louis steps forward with confidence, coming into Harry’s personal space, and raises himself onto his toes to wrap his arms around Harry’s shoulders. Those icy nerves return alight and burn him. He’s paralysed for several moments; all he registers is the faint scent of floral notes reaching into his nostrils and brushing against his nose hairs. It’s not overwhelming; it’s the perfect aroma of flowers and fruitiness. Based on his own colognes he’s sampled and bought before, this one could be YSL – or maybe it’s ones he’s seen, such as Lancome. They carry a lot of floral perfumes. Either way, it’s very pleasing. And before he can think, he sneaks his arms around Louis’s small waist–it’s much smaller and slimmer than it looks–and spreads his fingers across the bottom of his spine and the middle of his back.

It’s only a moment later Louis pulls back.

Even though Louis doesn’t look at him, he can’t stop staring at Louis, completely dumbfounded.

“I'll see you in a couple weeks,” says Louis, smiling, when he looks up at Harry. “I'm a text and phone call away if you need anything, okay?” Louis raises a pointed eyebrow at him, giving Harry a look. “Don't hesitate, okay? I won't mind.”

Harry nods.

He’s not going to, but he’ll pretend for Louis.

“Got it,” he says, pressing his lips together.

The pointed look remains on Louis's face.

“I mean it,” he presses, to ensure his message is across.

Harry rolls his eyes and straightens out his posture. “I know,” he sighs. “I’ve survived nearly a decade without you, so, I don't think anything I can't handle is going to happen in the time you'll be gone.”

Louis throws his hands up in surrender.

“Hey, I didn't say you couldn't handle any one thing. I implied quite the opposite, actually,” he corrects.

Harry plays along.

“No need to rub my already swollen ego.”

Louis smiles, huffing out a small laugh. It’s the softest expression he’s ever seen on a face. It’s so caring. Harry doesn’t–understand how he can be so gentle. “Never happy with anything, are you?” he teases.

Harry smiles. “Nope,” he says. “Comes with being a perfectionist. And just being me, in general.”

“I see.” There's silence that falls over them like a blanket. Harry’s hoping Louis will take the cue and leave, but he stays. “What do you plan to do for Christmas?”

Harry blinks.

“I don't know,” he answers. “I don't do much for Christmas, really. I don't celebrate it.”

Louis raises an inquiring brow. “Because of religious reasons, or . . . ?”

Harry shrugs. He doesn’t talk about it with anyone. He’s certainly not going to discuss it with Louis. “Nah. Just don't celebrate it, that's all,” he answers, giving Louis a small smile that he knows doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Not even with your parents?” Harry shakes his head, choosing not to say anything more. With that, Louis drops the subject. “Don't forget to—”

“I'm kicking you out,” Harry says, tone flat, and a finger pointed to the door behind Louis.

He walks around him and opens it.

“You're kicking me out?” Louis repeats,, smiling and now standing so close to the door frame, as he keeps his gaze on Harry, whom now leans against the side of the red door, arms crossed and one foot hooked around the other.

Harry nods vigorously, eyebrows risen.

“Get out. Right now.”

“Fine, I'll leave,” says Louis, raising his hands as he walks out onto the stone walkway, “but not because you're threatening me; but because I want to.” He keeps on walking down the small set of stone steps and across the path leading to the driveway.

“Louis,” Harry calls out without thinking, just going on the feeling of restricted air in his chest. Louis looks over his shoulder, as his hand pulls his car keys out of his pants pocket, and his strides slow. He stares at Harry with patience, and it’s the last thing Harry wants to see in his face, because he won’t be seeing him for a while. “Merry Christmas. Happy birthday. Have a safe flight.”

Louis’s mouth curves up in a gentle, genuine smile.

“Thank you. Happy New Year,” he calls back.

Harry closes the door two-thirds of the way, not willing to let go of the sight of Louis quite yet. He needs to see him get safely in his car and drive away – he can’t let that feeling go. The restriction in his chest worsens when he watches Louis open his car door, but it eases slowly when Louis looks back. In fear of coming off creepy, he closes the door. But he stays behind it to listen to the engine start – to see the red lights reflect against the windows and the distant sound of his car fade until Harry can’t hear anything anymore. Then he turns around, inhaling a deep breath when his vision lands on Dolly sitting on her bum patiently by the stairs, watching him.

“Dolly,” he says – she tilts her head – “Am I too much?”

Dolly mews and walks off.

He’s always changing himself, changing his style, his image. He’s either always too much or not enough; there’s no healthy balance. Maybe he’ll try working on it in Louis’s absence, so, he doesn’t have to fret over it every time he says or does something he’s not familiar with. He doesn’t want to scare Louis off.

#drabbles #hiiii i hope this doesn't disappoint! i had a headache while doing this lol so i hope it turns out decent-ish!

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thatfanficstuff · 3 years

Text

Impossible - Chapter 12

Pairing: Eric Northman x Reader

Warnings: canon typical

***

By the time you joined Sookie in the lobby, you were more convinced than ever that her brother hadn’t killed anyone. You just didn’t buy for a moment that he wouldn’t remember any of it.

“You’re a horrible person, Andy Bellefluer and it won’t be long until everyone knows it.” Sookie was giving the detective another piece of her mind and you almost felt bad for him.

Jason’s friend Rene was leaning on against a nearby wall, his eyes darting between Sookie and Andy as he they fought. His gaze shifted to you as you stepped forward and he gave you a small smile. You nodded in acknowledgement as you stepped forward and placed your hand on Sookie’s shoulder.

She jumped at the contact and spun to face you, her eyes wide. “This isn’t doing any good, Sook. Let’s give Detective Bellefluer a break.”

Her mouth opened to respond and you squeezed her shoulder as you gave a little shake of your head. She frowned but nodded and headed to the door. You remained right behind her, nudging her forward when she would have resumed yelling at the detective.

As soon as the two of you were out the door she turned to face you. “Jason didn’t do this. He wouldn’t.”

“I know, Sook. Get in the truck.”

“But, Y/N—”

You’d already made it to your truck and glanced back at her. “Truck, Sookie.”

She was in her seat chattering away by the time you got yourself settled behind the wheel.

“Sookie,” you said firmly but not unkindly. You needed her to pay attention.

She shut up and stared at you with wide eyes.

“You don’t have to convince me of anything. There’s no love lost between me and your brother, but I don’t think he did this. But you have to quit running around declaring you know who did to anyone that will listen. You’re going to get yourself killed.”

She grinned. “That’s what I’ve got you for, isn’t it?”

***

Even though you tried to talk her out of it, Sookie insisted on going into work. You backed off when she agreed to only investigate telepathically. No questions. No discussing the case with anyone. No public accusations. And no yelling at the deputy.

You sat at a table in the corner of Merlotte’s that gave you a view of most of the room. Your gaze trailed Sookie as she worked. As much as you tried, you found it impossible to ignore Andy and his groupies any longer. When Sookie stopped to stare, you knew she couldn’t either. Bud dismissed himself from the table obviously unwilling to listen to Andy’s bullshit any longer. You slid into his spot.

“Hey, Andy.”

He grunted and looked you over. “Hey.” He opened his mouth to say something else and you cut him off.

“How about using a little tact?”

He frowned in confusion.

“No? Too much for you to understand? How about compassion? You know that one?” You gestured toward Sookie with your thumb. His gaze darted over and he at least had the heart to look a little guilty.

Nothing but disdain remained by the time he shifted his attention back to you.

“You don’t think that about her, Andy Bellefleur,” Sookie demanded appearing next to the table. “She’s good people. Better than you, that’s for sure.”

Your lips twitched. She was breaking her promise to refrain from yelling at Andy but you reckoned he deserved it. Before he could respond, she turned to you. “I need to go. You were right. I shouldn’t have come in.”

You were up in an instant. “Yeah. Let’s go. Tell Sam you’re leaving while I grab my book.”

By the time you snatched your book off the table she was already heading down the back hallway. You hurried to catch up with her. As the two of you stepped outside you draped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into your side. “It’ll be okay, Sook. We’ll find out who really did this and Andy will look like a bigger ass than he already does.”

Both of you got into the truck and you turned the key. Nothing. Odd. You never had issues with this truck.

“What’s wrong?” Sookie asked.

You shook your head. “Don’t worry about it. Just give me a moment.” You popped the hood and opened the door to hop out.

“Everything all right?” Rene called out, making you jump.

You turned to him as your feet hit the gravel. “Just a little car trouble. Nothing to worry about.”

“Want me to take a look?”

“No.” You supposed you could have been politer but you didn’t care. “I got it.”

Sookie got out on the other side. “Hey Rene.”

“Hey Sookie. You want me to take you home? I can get my buddy to tow it to the shop for you.”

His attention was on Sookie so you took the moment to study him. This was all too convenient, too helpful.

“That sounds great. Doesn’t it, Y/N?” Sookie says, happy to have a solution in sight.

“Not really, no.”

She huffed. “Can I talk to you a minute?”

You moved around the truck and arched a brow as you stared down at her.

“Rene is one of Jason’s best friends. He’s not gonna hurt us and frankly I don’t want to stay here a moment longer than I have to. Are you sure you can fix the truck?”

You shrugged. You were good at seeing what was wrong with a vehicle. Less skilled at fixing it once you’d found the problem.

“Then lets just take Rene up on his offer and get home.”

You sighed. “Yeah, all right, Sookie.”

You lifted the hood and let it slam shut as you walked past. After making sure there was nothing in the vehicle anyone was likely to steal you locked up. “Thanks for the ride,” you said as you followed Rene to his truck.

He grinned. “It’s no problem a’tall.”

***

When you arrived at the house, Sookie ignored the look you gave her and invited Rene in for a glass of tea. “Excuse me a moment,” you said before following her into the kitchen. Sookie was busy getting glasses out of the cupboard. “I get this is your Southern hospitality kicking in but one glass and then he goes.”

“Y/N—”

You held up a hand to cut her off. “It’s not up for debate. One glass.”

She bit her lip as she nodded. “Okay.”

You headed toward the living room not wanting to leave Rene alone any longer. You pulled out your phone to send Eric a quick text so he’d know the plan for the evening. “Sorry about that…” you trailed off as the empty room came into view. What the hell?

A sound from your left drew your attention but before you could turn toward it, pain exploded from your temple and the world went black.

***

Sookie screaming your name is what brought you around. You pushed yourself up, shaking your head in an attempt to clear it. What the fuck?

A male voice yelled calling Sookie a fucking bitch. Getting your feet under you, you ran out the open front door. After pausing on the front porch for a moment to get your bearings, you hauled ass toward the shouting.

Your long strides ate up the ground as you neared the cemetery. You reached behind to draw the gun you’d put on before taking Sookie to work only to find the holster empty. Son of a bitch. You didn’t have time to worry about where you’d lost it now. You had to get to Sookie.

When you rounded the bend in the road, there was no sign of Sookie but Rene stood in the middle of the stones obviously searching for her. Forcing yourself to speed up, you launched yourself at him once you were close enough. You took him down but your momentum had you tumbling past him.

You were on your feet in a flash only to find Rene getting up as well. He narrowed his gaze. “You’re a tough bitch, ain’t ya?” There was no trace of his cajun accent.

You stepped forward, only stopping when he pointed a gun at you. Your gun to be precise. Fuck. A sound on the other side of the cemetery drew his attention and you took the opportunity to dive at him once more. Unfortunately, he was faster than you anticipated. The white-hot pain of a bullet punching through your upper chest pierced through you. You bit back a scream. You hated getting shot.

Before you could begin to recover, a solid kick impacted your ribs. You grunted in pain. Definitely steel tipped boots. The blows continued to come to your ribs and back as you covered your head and curled forward to protect your stomach. He lifted you by your hair and slammed your head into the tombstone behind you. Pain once again flooded through you. Your vision went fuzzy at the edges as you swallowed the bile that rose in your throat.

Suddenly, something latched onto Rene’s throat with a growl. They rolled off and you used the opportunity to look around desperately for a weapon. A shovel laid in the dirt a short distance away and you scrambled toward it, getting a hand around it just as Rene hit the dog in the head with a small statue. You gave no warning before swinging the tool at his head. The blow knocked him sideways but your injuries kept you from putting the full force of your strength behind it.

You swung again, not about to give him the chance to recover. He yelled and reached for you. You responded by driving the point of the shovel into his throat. A couple of jumps onto the step separated his head from his body. “Asshole,” you growled as you kicked him. You stumbled sideways with the motion and let yourself fall to the ground. You supposed you could take a break now.

You leaned your back on a headstone. Sookie’s face soon filled your vision. “Check on Sam,” you said with a lift of your chin.

“But you’re bleeding.”

“I’m also awake. Check on Sam, Sookie.”

You squinted up at the sky trying to guess how far you were from sundown.

#Eric Northman x reader #true blood fanfiction #eric northman fanfiction #eric northman x you #series #impossible

127 notes · View notes

im-whatchamccallit · 3 years

Text

New Normal//Mark Tuan (Got7)

Request: Could you write a Mark Tuan Scenario where he starts crushing on the shy short cute girl that works at his local grocery store? I hope this makes sense and I hope you are staying safe and healthy!

Pairing: Idol!Mark Tuan x Fem!Reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: Mentions of Covid-19

Words: 4.5k

(A/N: This is kinda all over the place so sorry about that (Also running on 0 hours of sleep for the past two days so the editing is a little sloppy). And I feel like I didn’t really execute the concept too well but this was just one of the plots I came up with that honestly stuck with me

Mark put on the fakest genuine smile he could as the two girls snapped photos, quickly pulling his mask back on as they checked to make sure the pictures came out perfectly. He was prepared to walk away as they said their thanks, bowing politely and even inching further from the area, only to stop with wide eyes.

“Wait, Mark, do you live in this neighborhood? We live just a few blocks away, I can’t believe we haven’t seen you bef-“

“N-no! No, I’m not from the area, I just had to find a fully stocked grocery store is all. Everyone’s been going crazy since the outbreak so-“

“Right!” The girls spoke simultaneously, still not moving away as they discussed how people have been handling Covid-19 so far, Mark staring intently and nodding as if he were listening but, really, he was using all his willpower to not roll his eyes in annoyance.

Mark didn’t hate his fans, he adored them more than anything, but the idea that even during a pandemic they would bother him for photos and autographs, even in a busy and buzzing grocery store, was irritating. He didn’t even want to leave his home that day, but the fact he was running low on toiletries and needed more perishables made the trip essential. But after standing in this one spot for the past ten minutes with a shopping cart filled with food, tissue, and body wash, and two girls that seemed to be in their own world as their topic jumped from Covid to Loona fancams, he was determined to make this his last trip for at least a month.

“But did you see Yves?! She’s so pretty and-“

“Excuse me, I’m going to have to ask you to move from the area and maintain a distance of 2 meters between all of you.” A man said with a cheery voice and smile that could be seen through his mask although it reached his eyes as well.

“Oh! Sorry! Thank you for the photos!” One of them said, dragging her friend along as Mark let out a sigh of relief, the man stepping slightly closer to him but not enough to invade his space.

“You don’t have to leave the area. One of our cashiers said those girls wouldn’t leave you alone and assumed you needed help. Sorry to disturb you.” He said, preparing to walk off before Mark hurried to tap his shoulder.

“Wait, which cashier?” He asked. He was tired of human contact at this point, but really thought they deserved a proper thanking.

“Oh, right there. Her name’s (Y/n).” He said, giving one more smile before finally walking off.

It seems like you had been watching the scene unfold for a while, gaze intense and focused on the male ahead of you and, even as you watched your manager point in your direction, causing him to lock eyes with you, you couldn’t bring yourself to look away. Well, not until you saw him walk in your direction with his cart ahead of him.

You didn’t mean to stare at him, it was natural for your eyes to wander to people entering the store, but to see someone this attractive? It felt like you spotted a unicorn. You would glance up occasionally to see if he’d pass by again, watching him going back and forth in the aisles as if he’d been there forever, yet you’ve never seen him before. Maybe it’s because you were working full-time now that you didn’t have to travel so far out to school, or maybe he was just new to the area. You wanted to ask, but how could you just approach someone like him? He was cool and you were…Well, you. He’d probably walk past you like you were some nobody. But once you saw him stop to speak with two girls, you knew you most likely had a chance, but you couldn’t just interrupt their conversation to start your own. So, you waited. And waited. And waited, until so much time had passed you managed to check out three customers with enough groceries per person to feed five villages, but you couldn’t shake off how expressive his eyes were. He was miserable, obviously not in the mood to stand around and chat all day, and if you weren’t going to start a conversation, you could at least help him go back to shopping and getting back home instead of lingering in the virus hotspot you called work. You thought all would be well and done once you alerted your manager, but you didn’t expect the very man you were creeping on to approach you.

You were freaking out, trying to look busy in hopes he’d go away but the sound of his cart only grew louder, a pathetic whine leaving your mouth once you looked back up, putting on the bright smile you typically did as you greeted him, not wanting to seem even more ridiculous than you did.

“H-hello, sir, are you ready to check out?”

“Uh, yeah, sure.” Mark said, clearing his throat as he began unloading his cart, eyes trained on you although your head was low, gaze focused on the items slowly approaching you on the conveyor belt.

He couldn’t see your face but he knew you were cute, your voice evidence enough of that. You were working fast but just slow enough for him to notice small quirks about you. You mumbled under your breath about how ridiculously priced a bag of rice was, making some joke about how it was probably the cure to every disease since it was so expensive. You weren’t talking to him but he could tell you had a sarcastic nature to you, your jokes making him stifle chuckles to save you from being anymore nervous around him. He didn’t like the awkwardness though, the way you avoid his eyes to continue scanning the candy he threw onto the belt in an attempt to stay in your line for as long as possible without speaking not what he had planned when approaching you. He was naturally timid, but the way you were watching him proved you knew who he was, so he didn’t have to be himself. Right now, he just had to think of you as one of the fangirls you saved him from, and his idol persona could ease the situation immediately.

“I just wanted to thank you for your help. I don’t think I would’ve gotten out of here if you weren’t watching.”

Your eyes snapped up to see his face, a blush creeping onto your own as you tried to find some excuse as to why you were staring before, nothing coming to mind except maybe just being honest, but is telling him you only noticed his distress because he was so gorgeous the right way to go? No, you had to be cool about this, maybe it’ll keep you from turning into a tomato, especially with the way his eyes went from doughy and sweet to sharp and flirtatious.

“W-well, I figured you just wanted to hurry out of here, y’know? No one wants to be out during a pandemic, right?” You giggled and Mark could’ve sworn he was having a heart attack.

He swallowed thickly, eyes scanning your entire being as you finally bagged the final item, pressing total and reading it back to him, your eye smile all he could see. He figured you knew who he was once he took of his mask earlier, but it seemed like you were completely oblivious. He didn’t want another encounter like before but, knowing he could simply pay and leave at this point was comforting, so giving a quick thanks to a potential fan that saved him wasn’t too big of a deal.

“You probably don’t have idols come by a lot, do you?” He asked, watching to see your reaction, only to find your eyes glancing to the side and brows furrow in confusion, deep in thought before gasping out loud.

“Well, not idols, but Son Heung-Min stopped by once and took photos with some of us! He was a lot nicer than he looks!” You joked, Mark nodding in both understanding and confusion.

So you were more of a sports girl? You certainly didn’t look that way. Even from behind the register, he could tell he towered above you by a good 6 or 7 inches, your introverted personality made it hard to believe you’d work well in a team, and you seemed just a bit too young to care more about sports than idol groups. Not that it was anything rare, but almost every girl in your age group knew one or more kpop group, but you managed to name a soccer player that plays six months out of a year instead of a single idol that had promotions almost year round. You treated him as if he wasn’t famous, like any other customer. And he loved it. He didn’t feel the need to repay you by making your heart flutter at the mere presence of his celebrity status, but rather as a human would another human.

Before he could think of such a way to do so, he found himself in your debt once more, your hands filled with ten bags of various items he purchased, placing them neatly into his cart before sighing in relief, giving another smile to him.

“I’m guessing we won’t see you here for a while.” You joked, his lips unable to curve upward in amusement at the statement, knowing he really had no reason to return any time soon, but his curiosity made it impossible for him to accept that.

You were strange to him. Other idols treated him like a celebrity even when they were at the same height of fame, fans treated him like some god, but you? You were instructing him to use the pin pad to complete his transaction like you did any other person to walk through your line. Maybe you didn’t care that he was an idol, maybe you just didn’t know, but to think you were someone he didn’t have to fear when leaving his home, someone he didn’t have to hide from in case they wanted to invade his privacy and risk his health. Ironically, you were the breath of fresh air he couldn’t seem to get in the outside world.

“Yeah, I guess I won’t be seeing you for a while.” He commented, watching you bow politely before diverting your attention to an elderly man slowly unloading his basket, Mark’s body reluctantly heading to the exit as he tried not to stare at you any longer. It really would be a while before he saw you again.

But a while for Mark was only three days. He made the excuse that he forgot to buy kimchi to come back, scanning the store until he spotted you pushing a shopping cart filled with cans, scanning the shelves before grabbing a few to place them into empty slots. He was hoping he could talk to you personally at your register again, but he figured this would do for now.

You didn’t sense him as you hummed an unfamiliar tune, hands busy tidying the two rows of canned corn before moving on to the canned bread, a grimace on your face at the idea of bread in a tin can.

“That sounds gross.” You nearly screamed as Mark’s voice echoed behind you, your body turning to face him as you shrank under his gaze. It wasn’t scary, just very intense despite his eyes being so soft and inviting.

“Oh. How are you today, sir?” You asked, bowing politely as you smiled brightly at him, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he tried to keep his face from going bright red, silently praying this interaction goes the way he fantasized in his head the past few days.

“’sir’? I’m surprised my hero doesn’t remember me.” He wanted to hide at how stupid that sounded, suddenly rethinking his entire plan of even showing up here, but the way your eyes grew in size while scanning the floor around you, picking apart your memories to decipher what he meant and who he was, slightly put him at ease once more.

“I-I don’t kno-“

“It’s me.” Mark chuckled, pulling his mask down just enough to give you a warm smile before covering his face once more, a relieved giggle leaving you as you realized it was only him.

“You really had me worried. I didn’t think you’d be back so soon.” You admitted, turning back and continuing to placing the cans on the shelves behind you, not wanting to slow down on your work.

Mark was anxious, not wanting to lose your attention but not wanting to seem desperate. You were most likely going ask how was his day then move on without another thought, but he didn’t come all the way back here just to have a two minute conversation with you. But that’s really all he needed, just a bit of normalcy in the now upside down world.

“Yeah, I just needed some kimchi. Didn’t realize I was running low.” He chuckled, growing worried as you remained silent, only to see you jumping pathetically to place a can of mackerel onto a higher shelf, your free hand grasping the shelf below it to hoist yourself up, a gasp leaving you as you stumbled backwards, Mark placing his jar onto the floor and catching you by your waist to hold you steady.

Your eyes were wide, flickering up to him as he set you back onto the ground, grabbing the can from you and placing it into its spot.

“How about I help you? I don’t want you to get hurt.” He said, your cheeks burning as your body felt like it was shrinking in on itself, trying to escape the tingles his invisible handprints left on you, your head low as you nodded with a meek ‘thank you’.

You stood at his side as he placed cans onto higher shelves, you working on the lower ones to keep him from feeling like an unpaid worker. It was a bit too quiet for your liking, your eyes glancing at him every once in a while to take in his appearance, hoping you could find something to talk about. He was only wearing black joggers and a white t-shirt, his hair a honey brown shade, the only thing that stood out was the beauty hiding beneath his mask, but you couldn’t start a conversation like that! It’d be too weird! You had to stop overthinking, the answer right in front of you as you noticed the jar of kimchi waiting idly by as he focused on making each row straight.

“Are you sure one jar of kimchi’s gonna be enough for you? I usually finish an entire jar with one meal.” You said, partially lying considering you could finish half a jar before feeling full.

“Uh, yeah, I don’t really eat it all that often but I was craving it today.”

“Oh.”

More silence. You didn’t bother to speak again, feeling as if he didn’t want to talk to you anymore. Maybe it’s because you’re making him do your work, or you’re just boring, that last idea causing you to feel a little embarrassed seeing as he happily came to you with the intentions of talking, only for you to have nothing to say. You wanted to just crawl back to your tiny register and hide at that point.

“You must work a lot.” He commented, your eyes snapping up as his words, body jolting when you realize he had his eyes locked on you.

“I would’ve figured you’d have a few days off since I last saw you, just so you aren’t too overwhelmed.” He added, a dry laugh leaving you as you returned to your work, crouching down to straighten the bowls of instant ramen that were suddenly mixed up and unorganized.

“Well, I could took some days off but if I don’t work, this place would be in chaos with everyone trying to stock up before this virus gets worse. Plus, it keeps me from being bored at home every day.” You admitted, not thinking the conversation would take such an upsetting turn, your mood a bit down as you finally felt weeks’ worth of exhaustion hit you, your words flowing out precariously as he listened carefully.

“I’m honestly really socially awkward, but I value human connection, so I try to stay positive and pretend nothing’s changed but, it’s like I’m always having one-sided conversations with customers. No one has time to talk when they’re busy trying to stay healthy, so I can’t really blame them. But, I was really happy when you talked to me, I finally had an actual conversation again. Talking to you makes it feel like nothing’s changed.” You giggled, finally facing the man above you.

Mark’s eyes were hard with a strange mixture of sadness and understanding. He had his groupmates to talk to, his family and friends as well, but facetime conversations were nothing like being there and present. It was comforting knowing you felt somewhat normal when talking with him, the same way he felt just by seeing you, but it pained him knowing that he could show up any day and you wouldn’t be here, cooped up in your home with nothing but your thoughts, or him staying home while you assisted customers that only acknowledged you when they were ready to pay and leave. He didn’t know why you made him feel this way, not acting on pity but a protective instinct that seemed to gnaw at his very being with every second that passed. You were his new normal as he was yours, and he wanted you to know that.

“You know, I only really came here to see you.” He admitted, slowly lowering himself until he was crouching at your level, your eyes locked on one another’s as he tried find the right words.

“When I met you, I thought you were so weird, but it makes me want to see you even more. And I hope you’re fine with seeing me too.”

“S-seeing you?” Your voice was small, the way you swallowed as you anticipated his next words was visible as he gave you a final glance before fishing his phone from his back pocket, pressing the ‘Create New Contact’ option and handing it to you, your eyes going between the device and his hidden but noticeably kind face.

“Whenever you’re working, let me know so I can at least stop by to keep you company, even if it’s for a few minutes. And, on your days off, we can talk as much as you want, m-maybe go out to any place that’s open.” He didn’t want that last part to sound like a confession, it was way too soon for that, but he was silently praying you took it that way.

It took a second to comprehend the situation, a whirlwind of emotions swirling inside of you as you slowly took his phone, typing away at both letters and numbers before pressing ‘Done’ at the upper corner. Mark allowed you to slip the phone back into his hand, a smile on his lips at the random string of numbers followed by a name he couldn’t stop thinking about since he met you. He hurriedly sent you a text before placing his phone back into his pocket, holding his hands out once more for you to take as you both slowly stood.

“I should probably get back to work. The cool manager isn’t here today.” You joked, hand cupping his as a silent plea for him to stay, but you knew he couldn’t, that’s what his number was for, right?

“You can always reach me if you need someone to talk to. But, I don’t think I’ll be back for a few days.” He said with a sad tone, your head nodding understandingly although your disappointment was evident.

“Don’t overwork yourself, okay?” He released one of your hands to ruffle your hair, your body shrinking under his touch as you giggled unconsciously.

The air around you seemed thick as you watched him collect his jar of kimchi and head down the aisle and away from you. It felt like an empty promise the way he said he’d be there for you, but you knew you couldn’t keep him there forever. It wasn’t fair.

You sighed, returning to the now empty cart to take it back outside for customers to use, but not before checking your phone. It was always on silent because they weren’t allowed to use it during work, but you never knew what kind of emergency could arise during your shifts. You took a quick peak, expecting nothing important before seeing an unsaved number had texted you, your finger quickly opening it and, at that moment, you couldn’t be happier about the sly lie you were just told.

‘I’ll stop by before the store closes :) -Mark’

Ever since then, Mark kept his word. He was always in the store whenever you told him you’d be working, he would pick you up from work and go to any available restaurant to make sure you’ve eaten, and he always text or called you on your days off to either invite you to hang out or just pass the time in your own homes, separate but together. You were two weeks into the new arrangement and haven’t felt more alive, mainly because the nervousness you felt in the presence of someone so handsome turned into a full blown crush, every interaction sending you into a fit of blushes and giggles. You both were shy but grew to be playful and a lot more flirtatious, Mark’s confidence with every pick-up line causing your once bold behavior to fade into the bashful one he experienced upon your first meeting.

He thought you were cute, he said it all the time. You thought he was cute, you admitted it just a few nights ago once you gathered to courage to explain how you ended up “saving him”. He was smart, kind, always sharing funny stories about his old “roommates” that you couldn’t get enough of. He would sing songs softly as they played from the speakers in his car, his voice soft and angelic just like the smile he adorned, everything about him screaming perfection. You never wanted someone more than you wanted him and, tonight, as you finally settled into the passenger seat of his car after an eight hour shift, his free hand in yours as he steered out of the parking lot, you know he felt the same.

“You’re a lot touchier lately.” You joked, your free hand playing with his fingers as his eyes flickered between you and the road.

“What? You don’t like it?” His lips curled into a smirk, your heart stuttering in your chest.

“It’s not that. I just didn’t think you’d be into awkward cashiers.”

“And how do you know I’m into you?” Luckily there was a red light so that Mark could give you his undivided attention, a wave of contentment washing over him as you looked away, still flustered by his simple acts.

“I don’t know. I guess the same way I knew you were a k-pop idol.”

“So you knew?” He chuckled, giving a quick glance to the light that had yet changed.

“You were really obvious about it. You asked me about it when we first met, you sing like an angel, plus you kept saying ‘your friend BamBam’ and, knowing he’s already pretty famous just for being hilarious, it wasn’t hard to find a simple picture of you two with the rest of your group.” You said smugly, almost as if you decoded a million piece puzzle that no one else dared to touch.

“I’d honestly spend hours daydreaming you weren’t an idol, just because the thought of dating a regular person is easier. But you’ll always be an idol, and daydreaming about dating an idol is no different than actually dating one; you’d never have time together so it’d never really work.” It was such a strange confession, almost as if you were pushing him away but begging to be by his side. Your eyes were low, voice filled with sadness at the realization this was all unreal and all fairytales had to come to an end, but Mark didn’t think it had to.

He didn’t expect to be here with you, not this soon or this fast, but the last few weeks felt like months to him. You were his biggest weakness now, a constant fear that his desire to be with you would cause a slip up. Maybe a tabloid will discover your yet-to-be relationship and expose who you are, maybe some fans will catch on he lives in the area with how often he visits you at work. He was scared by how reckless he was being, yet he didn’t care. For every reckless act he was met with a bright eye smile, a warm hug only for you to scream ‘2 meters apart!’ and launch yourself away from him, and the sound of your giggles. You were the best risk he’s ever taken and he’d be damned if he’d give you up after jumping through so many hoops to get to this moment

You looked at your joined hands, his fingers weaving between yours until they were firmly intertwined, your eyes slowly ascending to his face that held no amusement or playfulness, just sincerity and a sternness that demanded you take in his every word.

“(Y/n/n), I could be a million miles away or right next to you every day and night, and I’d always have time for you. And if I don’t, I’d find a way. I promised you that.” You felt like you could faint with the way his eyes bore into yours, or that you could melt with the way his voice was so gentle yet firm, but you damn near died with the way his face slowly inched closer to yours, heart hammering against your ribcage as you silently applauded yourself for taking off your mask earlier so that nothing would slow him down.

Your eyes fluttered close, waiting for the impact of his lips on yours when a sudden honk brought you back to reality, Mark’s body withdrawing from yours reluctantly before facing forward once more, the green light causing him to immediately step on the gas, both of you hot faced but at ease. Mark might not have gotten his kiss, but he got the confirmation he needed that he wasn’t crazy for feeling the way he did, that it wasn’t a one-side attraction. The weight on his shoulders finally gone as he was free to enjoy the night with no awkwardness, no tension, just you. It truly felt like he could breathe freely again.

#mark tuan fluff #mark tuan fanfic #mark tuan fanfics #mark tuan scenarios #mark tuan oneshot #got7 fluff #got7 scenarios #got7 fanfic #got7 fanfics #got7 oneshot #mark tuan imagines #got7 imagines #kpop imagines #kpop oneshots #kpop fluff #kpop scenarios #im-whatchamccallit

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the-hidden-writer · 3 years

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And Into The Fire

Chapter 9: A Little Bit Of Manipulation

Summary: Months after the Mitchells saved the world, Linda gets a phone call asking if she’s seen two defective Pal MAX bots. Powerful people are after Eric and Deborabot 5000, and it’s up to the Mitchells to protect them.

Taglist: @squidsushi , @astro-aye , @shitmyex, @sharks-are-friendly

Check reblogs for AO3 link!

A Little Bit Of Manipulation

There was no word to describe just how unprepared Katie was to deal with this. Nobody’s taught what to do in the event that a freaking CIA Agent comes knocking at your door in search of your missing robo brothers. Ro-bros, if you will.

Katie stepped aside to let her in out of sheer intimidation.

“Hey, um, is it urgent?” She dared to ask timidly as Agent Ward ventured further inside. “See, it’s kinda late and I’m expecting someone-”

“As a matter of fact, it is urgent.” The woman snapped, making Katie jump. “So I’m afraid you’ll have to cancel any plans. Now shut that door please, we need to discuss sensitive information.”

Katie did as she was told though in her heart she was very annoyed. As much as she wanted to help the bots, she’d been hoping that dinner with Jade would help distract her from her concern for them and her family. Guess that wasn’t happening any time soon.

Once the door was firmly locked with a click, Agent Ward spoke up again.

“Yesterday you made a phone call to Pal Labs claiming that you’d seen the missing Pal MAX robots. I’ve been sent by my boss to follow this up.”

“Yeah… cool.” Katie had to make conscious effort to stay calm and collected and not betray her inner panic. But at least this lady wasn’t the boss or anything. That made it a little better.

“So first of all,” the agent continued, “I have to ask if you have any proof of what you ‘saw’.”

Judging by the tone of her voice, Agent Ward didn’t sound like she believed Katie a single bit and was annoyed to even be there. Probably because she could tell it was all a lie and was good at her job.

Oh, how Katie was excited to prove her wrong.

“I sure do!”

As soon as she’d hung up on that original phone call, she’d rushed to her laptop and opened Photoshop. She already had a bunch of photos (some clear and some not so clear) of places both around town and around the campus, and she also had a decent collection of photos of the bots. It wasn’t too hard to add hints of the bots onto her pre-existing pictures and make them look natural enough to pass off as realistic.

Putting all her skills to the test, she’d even managed to forge a short Snapchat video with one of the bots hiding in the background.

Whoever said going to film school was useless?

(Her Dad used to, but that wasn't the point.)

Concealing her smug smile, Katie pushed her phone into the agent’s hands and pointed at the screen.

“These were all taken this week,” she said, “it felt like I was being stalked. It was kinda scary.”

She held her breath as Agent Ward carefully swiped through her expertly-crafted pictures, examining each one closely.

“Pictures at these angles were never released to the public…” She muttered, and Katie had no idea if that was addressed to her or not. She decided to stay quiet.

“There’s something I have to tell you.” Agent Ward said a little louder once she'd seen them all, so Katie knew for sure that she was supposed to respond. “Seeing these photos just confirmed our suspicions.”

“What is it?” Katie asked nervously.

“We have reason to believe that you and your family are in a lot of danger, and that these two remaining robots are seeking revenge on you for stopping their plans.”

Even though Katie knew for a fact that this wasn’t true, the agent had said it so darkly that it sent a shiver up her spine. Maybe in another universe, one where Eric and Deborahbot never joined their family, she would be terrified for her life right now.

...Would they have even been able to save the world in that universe?

“Really?” Her shock was only half-faked.

“I’m afraid so.” Agent Ward confirmed. She then paused and bit her lip for a moment, leaving Katie to watch her in suspense.

Eventually, she spoke again.

“You’re going to have to come with me.”

“What?!” Katie couldn’t help but exclaim. “I just wanted to help you find them, not get involved with whatever you guys are doing! I’ve got school tomorrow!”

She had dinner with Jade tonight!

“Your safety is more important. You can ride in the helicopter with me to get back to this project’s base of operations. We’ll send people to fetch your family too.”

“My family’s not home!” Katie blurted out and the agent raised an eyebrow. “They’re uh… on a road trip. I dunno where they’ve gone exactly.”

“Dammit.” Agent Ward cursed quietly. “I guess you’ll have to do for now. Pack some things quickly- the sooner we leave the better.”

Her glare was hard enough for Katie to start to rush to grab her belongings.

“Are you sure there’s no other way?” She called as she grabbed her backpack from next to her chair.

“Sorry, but yes.” Replied Agent Ward with no remorse whatsoever.

It didn’t take Katie too long to grab supplies. A couple pairs of clothes, her toothbrush and hairbrush, her laptop and charger, etc. All the while she tried to stay positive and think that she could at least help her family with their mission if she was in Silicon Valley too.

“Ready to go?” Ward asked. Katie nodded and followed her out of the door.

Only to be met with Jade approaching them down the hall.

“Katie!” Jade called, her eyes wide with confusion and concern and probably fear at the big scary woman leading her away. “What’s going on?”

Katie wished she could tell her everything. She would even drop her entire backpack if it meant she could take Jade with her. But she couldn’t, and it was best if Jade didn’t know too much. For her own safety more than anything.

Especially if the CIA really were the bad guys.

“I’ve gotta go, J.” She answered sadly. “I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

Jade seemed to understand that Katie was in over her head and acted confident for both their sakes. She loved Jade for that. “Alright." A beat. "Dinner’s off, I guess?”

“Yeah,” Katie laughed, “dinner’s off. Sorry.”

Jade smiled, though Katie could tell she was secretly very worried. Typical Jade.

“Don’t worry about it.” She smiled, keeping her gaze away from Agent Ward as she ran in to give Katie a hug.

“Take care of yourself.” She whispered into Katie’s ear. “See you soon.”

Katie tried to hold back tears that were pricking her eyes.

“Hopefully.” She replied before they pulled apart and she was led away.

Comments make my day! :)

#the mitchells vs the machines #tmvtm #fic #fanfic #katie mitchell #tmvtm jade #jade tmvtm #and into the fire

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twink-appreciation-posts · 4 years

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Lashing Out - Spencer Reid x Reader

chapter nine of “all bets are off”

the first rule of sleeping with a coworker is DONT FUCKING SLEEP WITH YOUR COWORKER

warnings: ANGST, plot-heavy set up for next chapter which will have zero plot, seriously this chapter is important to the plot but the next one is gonna be very nsfw and pretty much skippable if it’s too much for u guys but THIS CHAPTER IS IMPORTANT and also kinda short sorry

“What the fuck were you talking to Rossi about?”

The words may have come out a bit more aggressively than you had intended, and maybe a bit too loud, but you were barely keeping it together. You were standing at Spencer’s desk, foot-tapping nervously, eyes darting around the room to your coworkers.

“What? Nothing,” Spencer replied quickly. “Just typical Rossi stuff.”

“What does the even mean?” You whisper-yelled. “Did he…. did he hear something?”

Spencer let out a sigh. “I… I don’t know. All he asked was where we had gone. I told him we were looking for old files. I’m sure it’s fine.”

Perfect. Yeah, you were sure that Rossi totally bought his story, right? No way. He knew. He had to have known. “You think he believes that? Spencer, how can you be so nonchalant about this? What we did was totally unprofessional. We could be fired.”

Spencer finally looked up at you and met your eyes. “We’re not going to be fired. Even if Rossi does know, he’s not going to tell anyone, and he wouldn’t get us fired over it. You’re right, what we did was risky, but it was a calculated risk and nothing bad is going to come of it. You trust me, don’t you?” He spoke methodically, without much emotion, like he would have explained any other random fact or statistic. You hated it. How could he be so calm? How could he not care?

“Nothing bad?” You quoted back at him, rolling your eyes. “Best case scenario is that Rossi knows and doesn’t say anything about it. That still means that someone on our team that I trust and look up to knows that I fucked someone in a backroom during work. I don’t wanna even think about the lack of respect he must have for me now. Do you really not care what he thinks?”

He considered your point for a moment. You weren’t even sure what you wanted him to say. An apology would mean nothing and empathy wouldn’t help your situation either. “Sexual relationships with coworkers are more common than you’d think, according to some studies up to 40 percent of people reported having some form of intimate relationship with a coworker in their life. Plus, it’s Rossi. I’m sure he’s done wilder things-“

“I don’t care what Rossi has done! I don’t care what 40 percent of people have done. I care what I’ve done. I care what we’ve done. Sleeping with you is one thing, but doing it repeatedly and doing it at work is crossing a line. This was a mistake. All of it was a mistake. I don’t know why the hell I let you drag me into this… whatever this is. I feel so fucking stupid.” Your emotions were getting the better of you, you knew that. It was as much your own fault as it was Spencer’s and crying about it wouldn’t help. But you did feel dumb. You felt dumb for a lot of reasons.

Spencer opened his mouth to reply, but he was cut short by Hotch calling a team meeting. Great. Just what you needed. You walked away from his desk, making a promise to yourself:

’I’m never having sex with Spencer Reid ever again.’

The rest of the day was typical other than the fact that you couldn’t find it in you to speak to or make eye contact with Spencer or Rossi.

It was definitely obvious to everyone else that something was up. That was the downside of working with profilers: even the smallest change of behavior was enough of a tip for them to notice.

As you packed up your stuff for the day Rossi approached you. You forced your best ‘nothing is wrong’ smile as he spoke.

“I’m having dinner party at my place this Saturday,” he explained. “Everyone’s invited. It’s my duty to teach you folks how to make a real carbonara.”

“Ah, yeah!” You nodded, still avoiding his gaze. “I’ll be there.”

“Great! See you then.”

The rest of the work week was miserable at best, but it’s not like you were particularly looking forward to the weekend either. Dinner at Rossi’s sounded peachy keen until you considered the fact that it meant awkwardly avoiding friends for an extra day. You would’ve felt bad not showing up, though, so Saturday evening you were sitting in Rossi’s kitchen watching him cook. Everyone but Spencer was there, but you were assured he’d be showing up. You secretly hoped he wouldn’t.

30 minutes into your cooking class there was a knock at the door.

“I got it!” JJ left the kitchen and returned with Spencer at her side.

“Sorry I’m late,” he smiled sheepishly.

“What was more important than this? You have a date or something?” Derek teased him. Spencer shook his head and turned red.

Wait. Had he…? No. No way. And even if he had, what did it matter to you?

“If Spencer had a lady friend I’d expect we’d never know, anyway.” Emily chuckled. “He’s not the bragging type unlike some of us here.” She elbowed Derek playfully. You frowned. Why did this upset you?

You dared to glance towards Spencer only to see that he had already been looking at you. Oh fuck. You turned your head back towards Rossi immediately, sighing. Spence took the only free seat, which was conveniently next to yours, and put down his bag.

“Well now that we’re all here,” Rossi popped open a bottle of wine, “let’s toast!”

You had a surprisingly fun night. You even talked to Spencer and Rossi a bit, forcing down any embarrassment. At the end of the night you had mostly resolved your issues internally, and you realized that you might’ve been a bit too cold to Spencer during the week. So you made the adult decision that you were going to apologize. As you walked out of Rossi’s house, sorry mansion, you pulled Spencer to the side. “Can we talk?” You asked quietly.

“Of course,”

So you went on a bit of a walk.

“I, um, I just wanted to say I’m sorry for being such a bitch to you this week. And before you say I wasn’t, it’s okay. I know I was. It was just as much my fault as it was yours that everything went down the way it did. It was a two-way street and I just didn’t wanna take responsibility for my own actions.” Your eyes were glued to the ground, twiddling your fingers nervously.

“It’s okay,” Spencer reassured you with a smile. “You were under a lot of stress and I understand why you’d lash out.”

You nodded, relieved that he wasn’t upset with you, though you knew he probably wouldn’t be. He wasn’t the type to get mad about stuff like this.

“Well, if that’s what you were worried about, don’t sweat it.” He told you when you stayed silent. He began to walk back towards his car.

“There was something else, actually…” You stuttered out. Spencer paused, turning on his heel and locking eyes with you.

You opened your mouth to speak but the words caught in your throat. You took a moment. Composed yourself. This was stupid. Why were you even asking? But now if you didn’t say anything it would be even weirder. Fuck. You really were a dumbass. “Did you uh, actually come late because you were on a date?” You mentally face-palmed. What a stupid fucking question.

Spencer chuckled. “No. I didn’t. I was writing a letter to my mom.” He explained, and for some reason, you felt relief wash over you. You laughed a bit. You had gotten all worked up over nothing. “Why do you ask?”

Your face fell. How were you supposed to answer that when you weren’t fully sure of the answer yourself? I mean, you could guess, sure, but in the end, you were lost. The question had just been plaguing you all night. That’s why you asked. “I don’t know. I guess I was just curious.” You shrugged. It wasn’t a lie. You had been curious.

“Fair enough. I’ll see you Monday.” Spencer began to walk away again and your brain began to buzz with too many thoughts to keep track of, but one was repeating at top volume, a desperate reminder of the rule you had set.

I’m never having sex with Spencer Reid ever again. I’m never having sex with Spencer Reid ever again. I’m never having sex with Spencer Reid ever again.

But despite the voice in your head screaming at you, besides your attempts to be reasonable about things, even though every inch of your rational brain was saying let him walk away, you spoke. Words flying out of your mouth before you could catch them. “Or maybe I was jealous.”

You thought maybe he didn’t hear you because he didn’t react at first. Maybe that was for the best. But your hopes were soon shattered when he turned around, looking at you with a mix of desire and confusion. Regret washed over you. God, you wished he hadn’t heard.

You stared at each other for what felt like an eternity, both plotting your next move, weighing your options. How much weight did your words carry? How would he take them?

You took a step towards him, and he did the same, and you were close enough to lean forward and put your lips on his and fuck did you want to but you shouldn’t and you knew that it would only make things worse in the end but at the moment you didn’t care and now it was too late because his lips were on yours before you could find the strength to walk away.

You didn’t know who leaned in. You didn’t care. It had been less than a week since your last encounter with him but you were starved and so was he. Whatever fucked up toxic thing that kept you two coming back to each other was too strong to fight and god the feeling of being with him like this was intoxicating. You pulled back eventually, needing to breathe, and you hated it. You wanted more.

“Where are you headed after this?” You asked breathlessly.

“I don’t know. Where do you want me to go?” He replied, eyes searching yours.

You gulped, swallowing down your self-respect and pride. Maybe Spencer had always been right. You needed him. You needed whatever this mess was. “I’ll see you at my place, then?”

“I’ll see you at your place.”

You parted ways with Spencer and walked to your car in silence, your mantra still ringing in your ears.

’I’m never having sex with Spencer Reid ever again.’

taglist <3

@101donuts @annestine @spideyboix @babybloomer @welcome-to-hoeville @eldahae @brokenanxiety @andiebeaword @spencerwaltergubler @la-vie-en-amour1 @rainsong01 @taekwinkle @dreamer7black @guessthatswhyiliveinhell @creepingfromthecorners @joyousreid @slutforthegubes @cluelessnitwhit @idfkijustneedafuckinguser @downondilaudid @screeching-student-unknown @gretaamyk @thegingerfairchild

#all bets are off #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #criminal minds angst

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ais-for-alex · 3 years

Text

The Scars of Our Past Chapter 20:

So Ngl I love this chapter, I am a ho for a soft LeLo moment. Hope y’all enjoy 😊 (also you don’t have to listen to the song but I feel like it adds to the moment)

Logan paced the length of his room, back and forth, back and forth wearing a hole in the carpet. He had his lower lip pulled between his teeth, biting, worrying it until it was sore and swollen, his hands clenched and unclenched unconsciously cracking the knuckles over and over again.

He had to say something, he needed to say something. But god, what the fuck was he supposed to say? He hadn’t spoken to Leo aside from the occasional meme, since he ran and hid from him, it had been what? A week? And yet Logan felt like a vital part of himself had been ripped from his body and stolen from him.

Logan huffed an exasperated breath and sat at the foot of his bed, he needed a game plan, things were always easier with a game plan. Mentally Logan began composing a list in hopes that once he had an idea of what to do he would actually do it.

Step 1: Text him and hope that he responds

Step 2: Apologize for nearly accosting him, then running away, then ghosting him (god why are there so many things here?)

Step 3: Hope he accepts the apology

Step 4: …

Then what? Logan groaned at the thought and flopped backwards, what exactly was he trying to accomplish here? Get Leo back into his life as a friend? That didn’t feel quite right and made Logan's stomach clench uncomfortably, but the alternative option filled him with anxiety, all the unanswered questions that pulled up in his brain Logan couldn’t bring himself to put it into words. Well, at least it was the start of a plan, enough to take that first step.

Logan pulled his phone from the pocket of his jeans and pulled up Leo’s contact.

(You): Hey :waving emoji: whatcha up to?

The moment he hit send Logan dropped the phone face down on his chest, too nervous to watch and see if Leo would read the message let alone respond. Only a second late though it buzzed with an incoming message.

(Sunshine Giraffe): Just finishing up at practice

(Sunshine Giraffe): How about you?

Logan felt his stomach do that weird swoopy thing like it does whenever he goes on a roller coaster as he typed out his next text.

(You): Nothing much RN

(You): You want to go find something to do?

(You): Together?

There was a bit of a pause as he watched the typing bubbles pop up then disappear, in the near minute and a half it took for Leo to respond Logan nearly chucked his phone at the wall, but then he felt it buzz in his hand again.

(Sunshine Giraffe): Sure, that would be nice

(Sunshine Giraffe): You have an idea in mind?

(You): Nothing too special

(You): Meet me at the rink?

(You): We can go explore a bit; I can show you the area?

(Sunshine Giraffe): Sounds like a plan

(Sunshine Giraffe): See you in 15ish?

(You): :Thumbs up emoji:

Logan breathed in deep, step 1 done. He rolled up off his bed before snagging a pair of shoes from his closet and making his way up the stairs to the main area of the house.

“Hey Dumo?” he called out, peeking his head into the living room where Dumo and Celeste were curled up together on their couch.

“Quoi?” he asked looking up.

“Mind if I borrow your car? I’m going to meet a friend.”

“Hmm,” he hummed as if thinking hard about the request, “fine. On one condition though.”

“Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

Dumo chuckled as he grabbed the keys off the coffee table in front of him, “Stop moping,” with that he tossed the keys through the air for Logan to catch.

“I have not been moping,” he spluttered, making both Dumo and Celeste laugh at his expense.

“Sorry Tremz, but you kinda have,” Celeste said with a mildly sympathetic grin, “for like the last week at least.”

“I- no- I haven’t,” he stuttered at a loss of ways to defend himself, “alright I’m leaving,” he finally said before turning to make his way to the garage.

“Remember no more moping!” Dumo called after him, still chuckling.

When Logan pulled up outside the rink, he spotted Leo sitting on the stone steps leading into the main entrance of the building. At the sight of Leo all wrapped up in his jacket and scarf, beanie pulled low against the chill of the frosty air, Logan felt an odd warmth settle in his stomach. Somehow that warmth seemed to calm the fluttering butterflies inside him as he parked and hopped out of the car.

“Leo!” he called out as he got closer, making the blond glance up and lock his baby blue eyes on Logan.

“Hey,” he greeted softly, standing up from the steps grinning widely.

Jeeze, Logan always forgot how tall he was until he was right next to him, his face tilting upwards basking in the rays of warm sunshine Leo always seemed to radiate.

“So,” Logan said, a bit lamely not entirely sure where to take this conversation. He dug his hands into his pockets just to hide his nervous fidgeting, he knew he needed to apologize but it felt weird to just jump into it right out of the blue and the words seemed to stick in his throat at the thought. “Um, I thought we could walk around for a bit. I can show you some of the best places around here if you want.”

Leo chuckled and held out his hand gesturing to the sidewalk next to them, “well, where you lead I will follow.”

Logan laughed at the little self-satisfied grin on his face, “Did you really just reference the Gilmore Girls theme?”

“What? Who me? Yes, yes I did.”

“Come on, you dork,” Logan laughed again, rolling his eyes as he grabbed the sleeve of Leo’s hoodie and tugged him forward.

Together they began wandering down the sidewalk leading away from the rink, Logan pointed out all the restaurants with the best take out, the little book shop that Finn would always drag him to after practice, the music store where he bought one of his favorite guitars. He could feel the warmth of Leo’s arm brushing against his own as they walked, Logan could feel those soft blue eyes watching him and each time he would glance up Leo would smile tenderly at him.

The sun began to sink along the horizon as they walked,painting the frosty sky in cotton candy and orange sorbet turning the swirling clouds into sugar coated ice cream cones. Eventually the sidewalk led them into a hidden courtyard, a few people resilient enough to brave the cold were sitting at wrought iron tables outside a little Italian restaurant, a makeshift stage had been set up and a typical hipster looking guy with a guitar was strumming a soft tune his voice mingling with the notes to create a soothing melody.

“Hey,” Leo said, nudging Logan, “let’s sit for a bit.”

Logan nodded and followed Leo over to sit at the edge of a stone lined fire pit, the blaze was contained behind an intricately designed wrought iron cage but the heat still bled into their backs as they sat and watched the musician.

“Hey Leo?” Logan said softly, not looking up.

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry,” he sighed and tucked his hands under his thighs to stop himself from fidgeting.

“It’s ok,” Leo replied, his voice sounding so earnest.

“No, it’s not,” Logan said, finally looking up, Leo was watching him again with that soft look in his eyes that made something inside his heart melt just a bit. “I shouldn’t have done that, that night. I held you down, took advantage of you. And then I ran away and hid like a scared little child. And then on top of that I couldn’t even nut up enough to text you back.”

“Logan,” Leo’s voice was soft as he reached a hand out and gently brushed a bit of hair off of Logan's face, the light brush of his fingertips made his breath hitch. “Please believe me when I say, it’s ok. You didn’t take advantage of me, I liked you being there. And I mean you’re strong,” he chuckled and glanced down at Logan's body, “but if I didn’t want you on top of me, I very easily could have gotten out of your hold.” Leo let his hand settle at the side of Logan’s neck, the warmth of his palm comforting,“and as for the rest, it’s ok to be scared. It’s ok to not understand the things that you’re feeling. Believe me it’s hard and confusing but it’ll be ok,” his voice tapered to a whisper as he finished speaking.

Logan felt himself crumble at Leo’s words, his eyes fell closed and he couldn’t stop the sigh from falling from his lips. Suddenly, Logan felt like all the energy had drained out of his body, he let himself lean forward to rest his forehead on Leo’s shoulder.

“How are you always so nice?” he asked, he felt Leo chuckle at the words as his fingers tangled into the soft curls that fluffed out under the brim of his snapback.

“It’s my southern charm,” he teased, Leo let his hand wander away from Logan's neck to wrap his arm around his body and tug him just a bit closer into his side.

The two of them sat like that for a while, comfortable in each other’s presence. They let the fire's heat fight away the winter chill as night fell steadily darker and darker around them. The soft music drifted closer on the frosted breeze but with Leo’s warm arms wrapped around him Logan was content to stay right where he was.

Eventually though they did have to leave the little bubble of that hidden courtyard but Logan didn’t want to leave Leo. He had been hiding from him for the last week but after finally finding stability with him again his heart was calling out to be with him as long as possible, so Logan walked with him back in the direction of Finn’s apartment.

“Well…” Logan said softly looking up at Leo’s face when they finally made it to the entrance of the building.

“This is me…” Leo replied, his baby blue eyes watching him tenderly.

“I guess I should get going, I’ll see later Leo.” Logan turned to leave but felt Leo’s hand reach out and grab his arm.

“Wait,” he said, “um… do- do you want to come up?”

“Oh, I don’t know…” Logan hesitated remembering that last conversation with Finn, him walking away. “I don’t think Finn really wants to see me right now.”

Leo huffed a soft little chuckle, “I don’t think Finn would ever object to seeing you. Come on, I’ll make dinner.”

“You’re gonna cook?” Logan laughed a bit disbelievingly.

“Why does everyone act like that’s such a surprise?” Leo said tugging Logan a bit closer to the door, “Come up. Please?”

Logan felt warmth bleed into him at the soft sound of Leo’s please , he was suddenly struck by the realization that if he asked it in that voice Logan wouldn’t be able to deny Leo anything.

“Alright, I’ll come with you.”

The smile that split Leo’s face lit up the entire street with sunlight.

Read on ao3

#sweater weather #coast to coast #leo knut #logan tremblay #lumosinlove #o'knutzy #finn o’hara #writing #figure skating #the scars of our past #hockey

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emerald-amidst-gold · 3 years

Note

I'm not immune to the fluff 💖

Hand-holding 32. not really paying attention, both doing something else, but still holding hands Touching 22. falling asleep on the other’s shoulder

AWWW YES! My fluff trap has worked! >:D

Some drabbles! Just for you, friend! <3

Their relationship was confusing for some. Well, most, if Fane was being honest, but he didn't really care what anyone else thought. Not many relationships in this day and age held a candle to what he and Solas had fostered, and that wasn't the fault of those who didn't understand. It was how the world was, and their relationship was complexity incarnate, so confusion was a typical reaction.

And many, many people didn't understand the concept of intimacy in sheer presence. Not all love was shown through acts of intercourse or raw carnal desire. Sometimes, it was as simple as an open palm and a small smile as two hands became as interlocked as a masterwork lock. Even better was when neither party thought of combining tumblers, the act instinctual, the purpose wanted in thought.

And that was very much what depicted their acts of intimacy.

"If I get one more letter from Halamshiral talking about my eyes, I will seriously gouge them out.", Fane growled as said eyes flitted across a piece of parchment; a letter in the most refined and disgusting filigree he had ever seen. He didn't get paid enough for this job.

"I would advise against self mutilation, vhenan.", Solas quipped from beside him, the two of them situated side by side as the mage's desk in the rotunda. His sky was currently reading his own text, but from the view of a small smirk and lax expression, it was far more calming than what Fane was currently having to deal with.

"Just try and stop me.", Fane said with a sneer before flicking the letter away unceremoniously, sighing. "What time is it, anyhow?" It felt late and he knew that because of how his marked hand felt numb and heavier than a dead weight, but also...warm?

"I am unsure.", Solas responded, throwing off his confusion from gentle heat. "The candle is worn down to about half, so I would hazard a guess and say close to midnight." The assessment even, concise, even as the voice that sounded them held the desire to sleep in its lilt.

Fane blinked. "Midnight?", he balked, the mage only letting out a hum in affirmation. "By anything that's holy, Solas, why didn't you--", he went to raise his left hand to pinch the bridge of his nose in exasperation, but found that it was...heavy? And again, warm? "What the..? Why are we holding hands?", the question slow as his gaze shot straight down to their loosely joined hands and then back up and then back down.

When had they interlocked?

Solas let out an airy chuckle, his head lulling to the side, eyes picking up from his book to give him a look that said, 'Truly?' before the hand adjoined to his own gave a light squeeze.

"Truthfully, I don't know the answer to that question.", Solas admitted, looking down at their joined hands, too with a small smile. "Perhaps it was merely instinctive. I find myself reaching for you without thinking.", more admittance falling like the freshest rain upon a warm brick.

"Do you now?", Fane teased as he looked back up to gaze into the only sky he would ever know from now until the end. Solas hummed, lifting his head back up, the same small smile still in place.

"I do.", he said without hesitation before something akin to shame flashed into blue and grey, blessed warmth beginning to unravel with his slightly larger appendage. "But I can stop if you--"

Fane shook his head, cutting Solas off. "Don't start with that.", he admonished, pulling the retreating hand back to entwine them tighter together before picking up the next letter in his small pile. "You can hold it for as long as you want, my sky.", he said before shifting his gaze away from slightly wide orbs. "...And you're not the only one who finds themselves reaching out. You beckon for the dragon above to land, and I yearn to draw the sky near. So, don't worry about making me uncomfortable because I'm anything but that."

Heat blazed across his cheeks as the words left his mouth, intensely screwing his eyes on the letter in his free hand, but not retaining any of the words. Damn it all! Why did he always get so flustered?! He was just saying the normal shit he always did! So, why did it--!

"Thank you, my dragon.", the words of gratitude sounding like a literal prayer as the voice that uttered them dropped to a reverent whisper, the hand around his reinforcing its grip around his own like molten silverite. "Thank you.."

Fane huffed out an amused breath of air, giving his molten encasing a reciprocating squeeze, further solidifying the bond between them.

"No, thank you. For everything."

****

The Emprise du Lion was cold, that much was a given, but wasn't so bad for Fane. Two layers of fur was more than enough to keep him comfortably warm. Anymore than that and he would melt, his inner core still inherently the same as the one he had possessed as a dragon.

However, others were far less fortunate. Namely, a creature, that for all intents and purposes, should have insulated fur of their own.

"Cold?", Fane asked plainly as he meandered his way over to where Solas was sitting on the log by the fire of the Inquisition's latest reclaimed camp, face calm, but a light shudder through strong, but slender shoulders betrayed the true state of his sky.

"Not terribly.", Solas responded easily, but subtly tried to shift his furs around so as not to make Fane aware. Sadly, keen observational skills and a pinpointing nature were his aces in this particular deck of veiled strength.

"You're cold.", Fane stated matter of fact, stretching one long leg over the log to plop down next to his sky, chuckling a bit when a lightly shivering form instinctively leaned into his own, seeking warmth. "How you think you can hide shit from me is a mystery."

Solas chuckled, actively resting his head against one of his fur pauldrons with a quiet, but content sigh. Fane only rolled his eyes, smirking. For an elf that prided himself on keeping a poised and reserved demeanor, he sure did crumble when around him. Though, that was exactly what Fane sought every time he and Solas managed to get some time alone.

"Old habits are hard to kill, ma'isenatha. Ir abelas.", Solas murmured from where he was nestled on his shoulder, the sun setting in sky-like orbs as they shut, blocking out the orange glow from the fire before them. "It is simply more frigid than I expected."

"I imagine for you, it is.", Fane murmured back, rolling his head to the side to rest it against the top of Solas', who let out another, more tired sigh in response. "Tired, too?" It was a foolish question, he knew, but he was trying to use his voice more. Even if to state the obvious.

Solas nodded a bit. "The red lyrium is especially potent here. It makes it hard to concentrate, thus I expend more energy pulling magic through the Veil.", he explained, no longer shivering form coming closer to where their knees were touching. Fane didn't even flinch, the layers of his armor and cloak making his scars blessedly numb.

"Then sleep.", Fane ordered softly, lightly nuzzling his cheek against the mage's head. "I've been asking a lot of you these last two months, so rest. I'll take first watch." He wasn't going to be sleeping anytime soon, anyways. The red lyrium was causing him issues as well. Murmurs in the back of his mind, and echoes of blackness with crimson lights in the distance making it hard to keep his rage in check.

"No, that is unfair on--", Solas began to protest, as per usual, but Fane silenced him with a growl and with a jerk of his arm, fluttering out his cloak to wrap it around his stubborn wolf. The reaction was instantaneous as the mage practically melted into his side with a truly exhausted sigh.

"Go to sleep, you old fool.", Fane said, leaning down a bit to lay a light kiss to a lax temple. "I'm fine. The cold doesn't bother me, and neither does less than two hours of sleep. So, relax and dream." Solas needed the rest more than he did, and he would grant him that.

The mage sighed. "I do wish you would stop calling me that.", the words slurred with approaching sleep, but still held gentle teasing in silk.

Fane shrugged, lightly so as not to jostle Solas too much. "I state what I know.", he said. "And you're old."

"You are older than I.", his sky replied, inching closer and closer to the Fade as his form leaned into him more, the cheek buried in his fur going lax as usually calm breathing slowed even more. Fane smiled a bit at that, bringing his emerald cloak in more to shield his wolf from soft gusts of chilly air.

"Only by about two thousand years. Give or take.", he quipped quietly before laying another soft kiss to Solas' temple. "Now, shut up for once, and sleep. You can glare and raise your eyebrow at me later." Solas only let out a noncommittal hum at his words before Fane saw his face go completely lax, sleep wrapping around a tenacious mind like how his cloak was his physical body.

Fane smile a bit more. "Sleep well, my sky.", he whispered in a voice he only reserved for the one of utmost devotion. "Ar lath ma.", unusual Elvhen rolling from his tongue as he repositioned his head to lightly rest it against the top of Solas' again.

And sadly, he missed the tender smile that rarely graced a stoic face, his words reaching far past the boundaries of the Veil, the Fade, and perhaps, even the Void. The sky would rest in the wings of a dragon. No matter where their mind would take them for their heart, their soul, knew what the mind sometimes did not.

#drabbles!#why do i write so easily like this?!#it comes so easily when i do it through asks! AHH!#i give you two because i had two ideas! X3 #thank you so much! this was a ton of fun! <3 #solavellan #solas #oc: fane lavellan #dragon age #these two give me so much life #take that canon! >:D #my writing #writing #asks

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the-13th-rose · 3 years

Text

Whumptober 2021 Day 5 - Misunderstanding

Universe: Currently unnamed horror crossover

Characters: Annie (oc), The Miner (My Bloody Valentine)

Content warnings: Broken bones, vomit (character is briefly said to have thrown up, but it isn’t addressed again)

All of my writing is intended for a teen audience or older, unless otherwise stated! My writing often contains violence, strong language, and/or horror, so please use your head and don’t read my work if you think you might be triggered by it.

Summary: Annie is a young woman cursed to be eternally pursued by Hunters, various fictional slashers that come from the media Annie has seen in the past. She’s sick of the cycle, and unbeknownst to her, so is one of the Hunters, who she’s led to an abandoned factory. The Hunter, however, doesn’t speak, and Annie isn’t willing to pay attention to his attempts at forming a truce, still fully convinced he’s trying to kill her.

Word count: 2,261

Oh, Annie. Unfortunate Annie, whose mother unwittingly crossed a witch in her youth. Yes, a witch who saw fit to curse not the “crosser” herself, but her future firstborn instead. It was a wicked curse, designed not to go into effect until the firstborn reached her 18th year, so that she could become fully accustomed to a fear-free existence before having it ripped away from her. And the effects of the curse? To spend eternity pursued by monstrous Hunters. Annie found herself unable to die at all unless by the hand of a Hunter, and upon meeting her end at the hands of one, she would awaken in the morning of that same day, forced to re-do the events of the day. On days when a Hunter pursues her, Annie would have to survive its attempts to kill her until the break of the next day, or be forced to continue repeating the day until she managed to survive the encounter. This was Annie’s fate. To never truly know peace, for death to never be a release.

So, understandably, Annie had no patience for these Hunters anymore. She’d taken to a more proactive approach to survival, opting to fight back against the Hunters instead of simply running away or hiding. She wasn’t always successful in besting the Hunters, but her infinite re-dos allowed her to train and improve. By now, she’d become quite adept at fighting off and defeating the Hunters that pursued her. In fact, it had resulted in them leaving her alone for longer periods of time than before. Unfortunately, it had also forced them to get craftier. Annie and the Hunters were locked in a seemingly infinite arms race.

When one of the Hunters decided he’d had enough of the endless cycle as well, he saw befriending the cursed girl as his best option for a chance to break it, and finally stop being tethered to the curse. Unfortunately, he just so happened to be selectively mute, which would no doubt make explaining himself to Annie quite difficult.

Fleeing a pursuing Hunter Annie had designated “The Miner”, she soon found herself in the middle of an abandoned factory. As strange as it might seem, Annie had deliberately fled to this location, in the hopes of having an advantage over the Miner. Since he typically attacked with wide swings of his pickaxe, narrow corridors and paths surrounded by broken-down machinery would surely impede his attempts to attack her.

Panting, Annie paused in the middle of the old work floor. “Man, don’t you guys ever get tired?” She called out to the approaching Miner. “Seriously, though, how do you manage to make keeping up with someone for multiple city blocks look so effortless?”

The Miner stopped in the middle of the floor, mere feet away from Annie. Now that she looked closer, Annie noticed that he actually did appear somewhat winded, slouching a bit and breathing a little heavily through his gas mask.

“Guess you’re only as immortal as me, huh?” Annie quipped. She placed her hands on her hips and tried to make herself appear dangerous. “Well come on, take your best shot! I’m fucking tired, man. I want to go home and sleep, already!”

The Miner shook his head, which confused Annie a little. “...No?” Annie huffed. “What do you mean, ‘no’? Why would you follow me this far if you’re not trying to kill me?”

The Miner took a few steps closer to Annie, which she responded to by backing away and reaching for her survival knife, concealed in her pants pocket. Against a pickaxe, it wouldn’t do much good, but that’s what the tight corridors were for. She just had to make sure she led him into them. It didn’t really register to Annie that the Miner had his signature weapon still upon his belt, rather than holding it out, ready to attack.

What is your deal? Annie wondered, squinting angrily at the Hunter. Oh well. Doesn’t matter. I just have to keep you from giving me a re-do. “Hey, if you’re not going to leave me alone, then keep following me. I want to show you something,” she said to the Hunter, as she walked backwards towards the stairs leading up to an overhead walkway.

The Miner was no fool. At this point, he could tell Annie was trying to trick him. All the same, he had a goal in mind, and whatever half-baked trick Annie had up her sleeve wasn’t going to make him give up and turn away. So, still keeping his hands free of his weapon, a gesture he hoped she’d notice, he followed Annie as she slowly led him onto the walkway.

“That’s right…,” Annie encouraged the Hunter. “Right this way…”

The Miner followed her to the overhead walkway. They were both quite a distance from the factory floor now, surely far enough to cause serious injury if either of them were to fall.

“Miner, I brought paper, so you can talk to me for once,” Annie spoke up at last, rummaging in her pockets. “Get closer so I can give it to you. I can’t just throw it at you, that’d be rude. Besides, I wouldn’t want you to get close if I didn’t trust you, right? That just doesn’t make sense.”

The Miner tilted his head at her words, but admittedly, the idea of being able to actually explain himself to her was too enticing. Sure, it could be a trick, but if need be, he could defend himself. Surely against someone like Annie. And so the Miner walked forward, closer and closer to Annie, until he was right in front of her. He held out one hand, waiting for the paper to be placed into his hand.

Annie rifled through her pocket for a moment, and then, when she thought his guard was at its lowest, she swung outward towards him with her survival knife.

The Miner lunged back, stumbling backwards at first, but quickly catching his footing. As he backed away from her rather reckless knife-swinging, he reached for his pickaxe and held it out in front of Annie to block her knife strikes.

“Come on, you’re just gonna play defense this time?!” Annie snapped, fury burning in her eyes. “What happened to swinging your pick through my face? Into my chest? You could knock me off this walkway, easy! Why won’t you try?! You’re being so weird!!!”

The Miner didn’t change his strategy, merely continuing to step backwards as Annie advanced towards him.

“Come on! I don’t want to be the only one on offense, here! It feels weird!”

Lunging towards him, Annie got in a lucky strike and her knife scraped across the Miner’s fingers. In reacting to this, he dropped his pickaxe onto the floor of the walkway. The weight of the impact must have knocked something loose in the rusted, worn metal, because in the next moment, the panel he stood on fell out from underneath him.

Annie had a split-second of expecting him to hang there in the air for a moment like they do in cartoons. Instead, he fell through instantly. The impact noise his body made against the factory floor made her wince, despite her intentions of harming him.

Annie peered over the walkway’s railing to the floor below.

The Miner was crumpled against the floor, splayed out on his back. His legs were bent horribly out of their proper positions. Even from 20 feet above, she could tell they were totally wrecked. This Hunter wasn’t going anywhere now. At least, not any faster than he could drag himself.

Annie looked behind her, knowing she couldn’t leave the walkway the same way the Miner had. She didn’t want to stay up there, either, considering that the rest of the walkway could easily be just as fragile. So she slowly turned around and gingerly, yet quickly, made her way towards the stairs at the other end of the walkway.

The Miner came back to his senses, having been momentarily dazed by the fall. He tried to sit up, propping his body up with his arms. The pickaxe that had sent him plummeting in the first place was lying a good few feet away. When he tried to move towards it, however, he was met with a wave of sharp agony shooting through his legs. Out of impulse, he let out a scream. He turned to inspect the state of his legs, and...was met with disgustingly wrong angles and a small spot of white through a new hole in his pant leg. Recognizing this as bone, he cried out in shock and frantically lifted his mask just enough to expose his mouth.

Annie heard him retch as she reached the bottom of the steps without incident. She lingered by the bottom of the steps for a moment, unsure if she should get near him to finish him off, despite him not looking like he could possibly put up a fight at this point. She walked over to him as he replaced the gas mask and the noise-amplified breaths resumed, heavy and fast.

“...” Annie kept the hilt of the knife gripped tightly in her hand. “Hurts, doesn’t it?” She called out to him. “Maybe that’ll finally teach you to leave me alone, next time you come back. Why don’t you tell your Hunter buddies about this, get them off my back too, huh?”

Annie raised her knife as she stood beside him, poised for the perfect final stab. But as she looked over him, noticed his body language, and watched him flinch away from her final blow, shutting his eyes, which she was only just now seeing underneath the lenses of his mask. And her grip faltered, until she wound up dropping the knife altogether. “Dammit,” she swore, stamping her foot against the floor in frustration. “I really thought I’d be able to do it this time….I’m not really a killer, am I?”

The Miner shook his head, before slouching over and trying to pull his legs along with him. Merely touching them caused him to throw his head back in pain.

“...I guess this would be more of a mercy thing than self-defense at this point, huh?” Annie muttered, mostly thinking out loud. “...Yeah, so I led you here with the intention of killing you as a way to send a message. But I guess I’m kind of pathetic. At least when you’re pathetic, too. Now I can’t do it.”

“...I also didn’t really have paper.”

At this, the Miner shot her a glare, but quickly returned to flinching over his wounds.

“...I can’t believe I’m saying this but...sorry.” Annie muttered, running her hand through her hair. “...You really were just defending. You totally could have killed me back there, but you didn’t, so...dammit, maybe I misjudged you. At least this time, anyway. Because, like, you have killed me before.”

The Miner shrugged half-heartedly, leaning back on his arms and staring at the ceiling, every now and then squeezing his eyes shut and hissing through his mask.

Annie pulled her phone out of her pocket to check the time. “...11:30 pm?” She slipped it back into her pocket. “Didn’t feel that late…” She shrugged. “Well, at least I’ve only got to survive for 30 more minutes. She eyed the knife at her feet, and the pickaxe lying a little ways away. “...Do you need a weapon to...reset?” It felt incredibly awkward to ask, but he did seem to be in horrible pain.

The Miner shook his head, gesturing first to his legs, and then to Annie’s phone. The answer seemed clear.

“...You guys reset at midnight?” Annie guessed, to which the Miner weakly nodded. “...Still, 30 minutes is a long time with something that bad. Are you sure--?”

The Miner shook his head, and started pulling at his clothes, trying to tear off a strip of fabric.

“...Oh. I guess I can try to patch you up for now.” Annie replied, turning around to search for a first aid kit or some kind of fabric to turn into makeshift bandages. “...My clothes are cleaner,” she muttered, picking up the knife and carefully cutting strips from the hem of her shirt. “There’s not much, it probably won’t really help, but…” She started gingerly wrapping the strips around his legs.

He gave a loud, sudden cry when she touched his legs, and screamed at her attempts to set the bones. It was horribly amateur. Annie clearly didn’t really know what she was doing, but it was better than her trying to kill him again, he figured.

“Um…” Annie would have to admit it didn’t look very good at all. “Well...it’s only 20-something more minutes,” she tried to reassure him.

The Miner groaned, leaning back on his arms again.

“...Sorry, again, for being too dense to realize you weren’t trying to kill me this time…,” Annie sighed. “I’m just so sick of all this. Was...was that what you were trying to tell me? That you’re sick of this, too, and you want to form a truce?”

He threw his hands down against the floor in frustration, then nodded.

“...Guess I’m not as good at reading people as I thought. Well, at least you get to reset after all this. If you really mean it, I’m willing to forget about all the times you killed me...you gonna forget about the whole ‘breaking your legs’ thing?”

The Miner sighed, but nodded slowly and held out a hand for Annie to take.

“Alright. We’ll shake on it.”

#whumptober2021 #no.5 #misunderstanding #my bloody valentine #fic #broken bones tw #vomit tw #oc annie #the miner

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thewritinggrindstone · 4 years

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Who Is Your Main Character, Anyway?

Over the last six months, I have noticed a recurring problem in every fiction manuscript I’ve edited and a few other nonfiction projects to boot. It’s a problem that’s both made editing significantly more difficult than the task otherwise might be and it’s killed all of these potentially entertaining novels dead, so permit me to ask you a question:

Who is your main character?

No, really. I’m serious. Do you know who your MC is? Can you point at a single character and definitively say, “Yes, this is my MC”?

If not, you—and your story—might be in trouble.

For reference’s sake, some of the novels I’ve edited since June 2019 include:

A collection of sci-fi short stories tied together with alternating chapters of an extremely and alarmingly abstract, philosophical variety

A contemporary novel revolving around health problems, corrupt management, and struggling teachers in a NYC school

A contemporary novel set in a heavenly courtroom that functioned as a soapbox for the author’s opinions on the current state of the US government

An urban fantasy set in modern-day NYC with trolls, fairies, dragons, and other fantastical beasts

I also edited a memoir about life in Crete during WWII that was told via a progressing series of anecdotes.

All five of these projects, which sound so different from the outside, share the same issue: The author didn��t understand the need for a main character.

But why is a main character important? In fact, isn’t it possible to have more than one MC? I hear the arguments: the MCU doesn’t have a single MC, and look at how utterly lucrative that series has been.

Fair point, and I’ll touch on multi-POV later, but for now, bear with me and treat the idea of a main character as one of the fundamental storytelling rules. And like all rules related to writing, you need to know how it works before you can effectively break it.

So what is a main character?

The typical main character in a novel is, at their very core, the character who both:

Has the highest stakes in the story’s climax

Goes through the most dramatic change themselves (positive/negative arc), or has the most dramatic change on the world around them (flat arc)

If either element is missing from the character, chances are they aren’t actually the MC.

Why is this important?

It’s important because if you don’t consciously determine who your MC is, you’re far more likely to be swayed by other characters who pop up and their respective stories. Suddenly one character has severe anxiety due to a crummy upbringing and all but vanishes after they begin recovering after a failed suicide attempt. Another is stealing medication from the locked nurse’s office to deal with a problem that isn’t quite important enough to actually receive mention in the novel. Yet another character becomes a mouthpiece for a topic the author is passionate about but doesn’t actually tie into the novel’s plot or theme. Suddenly there are characters crawling out of the woodwork, all interesting and unique and playing important enough roles that the author becomes distracted with the shiny and the tantalizing and doesn’t quite realize that they’ve completely failed to mention a character isn’t a human at all and indeed is a troll until page seventy-three. Oh, and there’s no climax to the novel either. Huh. How did that happen?

One consequence of an author failing to identify their main character is that failing to do so often leads to an unfocused story. POVs hop from character A to character B to character C to character D, and somehow we find ourselves at character M before finally circling back around to character A, whose story... I no longer quite remember—or care about, because character G was fascinating and I want to get back to them.

Another consequence is that POV oftentimes is distributed unevenly throughout the story. A concurrent issue I’ve noticed cropping up is the use of omniscient POV in these troubled manuscripts. While that’s a topic for another post, I will say that a lack of main character + omniscient POV = stories that are notoriously difficult to edit effectively because it’s one thick layer of confusion on top of another thick layer of confusion. Trying to determine what the authors want out of those stories requires a frankly outrageous amount of effort compared to a story with a single main character and a limited POV because the editor has to spend so much time and energy guessing what the author truly wants.

On top of that, I’m going to take a wild guess and say that most authors don’t want to tell an unfocused story. Sure, we might want to obscure some facts, might want to leave the occasional little mystery for the reader to enjoy puzzling out, but we want our writing to be understood. We want it to resonate. And it’s difficult for a story to resonate when half its notes are atonal and the other half are outright missing.

Step 1 is to identify who your main character is. Step 2 is to determine what characters are masquerading—temporarily or completely—as the main character. In the contemporary novel set in the school I mentioned above, there were at least eight initial contenders for the role of main character, all with their own unique stories and all with significant POV time, but only one character had any bearing on the climax, and it was a character who didn’t appear until almost a third of the way into the novel but got less POV time than several other characters. This doesn’t work.

This doesn’t work because the reader assumes, particularly in genre novels (excepting romance), that:

the first character we meet, and

the character whose POV opens the novel

is going to be the main character. This isn’t a hard-and-fast rule, and there are absolutely exceptions—such as The Great Gatsby, in which the MC and the narrator are two totally separate characters—but this post is about identifying MCs in particular. Narrator vs MC is a topic for another day.

(In conventional romance novels, the POV is split fifty-fifty between the two love interests. This post doesn’t really apply to conventional romance, but it’s still not a bad idea to check yourself once in a while to make sure you don’t have any characters who are trying to worm their way into being the MC when they shouldn’t be.)

Some of the problems I’ve encountered in the five projects I mentioned above include:

A POV that skitters from character to character, even to characters who have no arc or bearing on the overall plot whatsoever

An unfocused climax or a total lack of climax

Numerous subplots that never resolve and/or never have any bearing on the climax

Significantly lowered chances that the reader will bond with or care about any of the characters

Unsatisfying character arcs and/or plots

Plots that wander to places they never should have gone

Subplots of subplots that have nothing to do with the main character and/or climax at all

Painfully boring scenes that serve no purpose

The author bending the characters and plot to A Message rather than allowing either to exist naturally

The author not understanding what is truly important or interesting in their story

Stories that try to cram way too much information into a single book

The exclusion of details that are vital to understanding the overall story

Before throwing the unfinished book aside, the reader asking the two deadliest possible questions: So what? and Who cares?

That’s a rather terrible and terrifying list, isn’t it? All because each author never chose a single main character for their novel.

So I ask again: Who is your main character? Are they present from as close to the beginning of the story to as close to the end of the story as possible? Are they the most changed (or do they cause the most change around them) of all the characters in the story? Are there other characters around them who have plots or subplots that don’t tie into either the climax or the main character in any way? Is there another character who has more of an effect on the climax than your current labeled MC? More POV time or overall focus?

If you don’t have a main character to anchor your story around, the chances of it wandering, drifting away on every little eddying breeze that comes along, stumbling into dead ends and boring climaxes and unsatisfying character arcs grow with each added word. So challenge yourself to nail down a single main character. Wrap the entire plot around them, tight enough to choke them if you must. Get your facts straight; tie every detail back to them. You might find extraneous loose threads you can pluck out, be they characters or plot elements—but you might also find areas that are weak and need building up. You might even find both coexisting in the same story, because writing is sometimes just like that.

And once you know how to identify and use your main character, you can begin adding other elements to your story, elements that can create a bit of breathing room wherever necessary, all without the story losing its focus or meandering away from you into an area that leaves your reader—or editor—baffled at best, furious at worst.

That said, of course it’s possible to have more than one MC, but with each MC you add to a single novel, the more work you’re creating for yourself, because each MC needs to have equal stakes in the climax and, preferably, an equal amount of attention throughout the story. Conventional romance, with its lack of a single MC, works because the climax hinges on the two characters who have received equal attention (via POV time and word count) up to that point. They both stand to win—and lose—the same thing, namely their mutual happy ending. Adding in a third main character is possible but tricky. Four? If you can do it, you’re a better plotter than me, friend, and I salute you.

A note: yes, subplots are a great way of adding extra characters or situations to a story that don’t necessarily run through the main plot. Ideally, though, most subplots should be resolved as close to the climax as possible to give the entire climax that added oomph. Again, there are exceptions, and it’s often a per-story situation, but a story can only handle so many notes being played before the sound of it gets muddy. Plot accordingly, and don’t lose sight of who the main character is.

Another note: yes, the MCU doesn’t have a single main character. Even some of the MCU films don’t have a single main character, particularly the Avengers flicks, and discussing how to handle a story that has multiple MCs is not really what I wanted to focus on today. Summarized, those stories are possible but tricky. Please notice the way very few of the MCU main characters get introduced in the big team-up films. Most of the characters get their own films or get introduced as side characters in those films so the audience has to do less work initially investing in them when there is more than one main character present.

#writing #writeblr #characters #advice #red talks

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shadow-assassin-blix · 3 years

Text

It Belongs in a Museum

CHAPTER 4

A/N: Okay. Shorter than what I usually do, but I promise the next chapter will be longer. Canon typical violence. I kind of thought of the Mummy Returns for the first bit. Some fluffiness toward the end though. “Spanish”

Everything tag: @mikeisthricedeceased

Pedro tag: @m-1234 @fioccodineveautunnale @artsymaddie

For this fic: @sarahjkl82-blog

The next day, they split up with their assigned guards, to run through each hallway. Vixen and Veracruz were going to go down the spiral staircase that led to a long hallway. As they made their way down, Veracruz carried a machete, but also, she noticed, he kept his hand near his holstered gun.

She held the torch, lighting any other torches they came across as they walked. The hallway was bare of any artwork, roots hanging low from the ceiling. The floor was uneven, so they had to meander down it slowly.

They came to a doorway that was covered in moss. Vixen stepped forward examining it closely. She quietly wiped away the moss trying to find a handle or a lock mechanism. As she studied it, Veracruz apparently was impatient as he grabbed the crowbar from her pack and jammed it into the gap between the wall and door.

“V!” She exclaimed watching him pry it open.

“Your way was taking too long,” Veracruz mumbled as he pulled the door open.

Vixen rolled her eyes at him as she walked past him into the room. It opened up to a small room, and she gasped as the light illuminated it. The walls were filled with bones and skulls everywhere. She looked around, spinning in a circle, amazed.

“It’s a catacomb,” She whispered.

“Vixen. The floor you’re standing on is moving,” Veracruz grimaced as he stared down at her feet.

Vixen looked down and saw hundreds of snakes and spiders crawling over her feet. She blanched slightly but kept moving, seeing another hallway to her right.

Veracruz followed after her, moving a bit more delicately, stepping onto gaps rather than just brushing them aside like Vixen did. He didn’t quite understand how she could so calmly walk past all of this. Veracruz wasn’t one to experience fear, but he was raised to have a healthy amount of superstitions. He caught up to Vixen a moment later.

“You okay there V?” she asked somewhat concerned but also slightly amused by his behaviors.

He simply grunted in response and waved her to move forward. She walked further down and noticed the hallway opened up to a large atrium. She stared at everything in awe. It was like time had stood still as she took in her surroundings.

The center looked to be a market area, with stands, bowls and vases strewn about. The outer areas were stone houses and the structure to the back appeared to be a sanctuary of sorts.

“Whoa,” She heard Veracruz whisper.

“I know right?” She replied to him.

“It looks like the jungle… just… swallowed this village whole. How is that possible? How has no one ever found this place before?” Veracruz wondered as he stood next to her.

“Could be a number of reasons. Diseases, a pandemic, could have run rampant through the village. From the looks of it, the village slowly sank with the years. Between rains and floods, it’s possible no one was ever able to reach this area. Or others have found it and ran into the people that attacked us. That’s what we are here to hopefully figure out,” Vixen explained as she examined the walls.

Veracruz listened to her explanation impressed, as they continued to light the room up, before further exploring.

“Okay. Fair warning, I talk to myself a lot. So, if you hear me mumbling, just ignore me,” Vixen warned as she pulled out her notebook and camera, holding her pen between her teeth for a moment.

“Understood. Do what you need to, darling. I am just here to guard,” He replied taking a seat on some rock formation.

Vixen moved around the center of the main area, taking photos before writing down what she was seeing. Once she was done with that, she began to explore the individual homes, doing her best not to disturb anything. The homes were small, so it did not take her long to explore each one.

She made her way to the sanctuary; the archway was ornate, carvings engraved into the stone. She examined the archway, trying to take some photos. She realized that she needed to take some rubbings of it to fully analyze it. She made a note of that, before moving forward.

There were some steps that led to an open area, that led to an altar at the back. She moved slowly, as she stepped onto the cobbled floor; trying to avoid suspicious looking stones. She realized the further she walked in, there were several skeletons that had arrows sticking out of them. She stared at their armor noting some were Spanish Conquistadors and Roman Legionnaires.

She slowed further down, gulping slightly as she noticed the large serpentine sculptures, with their mouths wide opened. She had walked into a trap and had to be smart about this.

The steps she noticed were becoming increasingly difficult to navigate. She was having to hop or take large steps to the solid stones.

Eventually she had gotten to the altar; she stared at it somewhat confused because there was no obvious sign of anything valuable. No glittering jewel or rare item, obviously waiting to be taken. She gently wandered around the rectangular altar, that looked a bit like a casket of sorts.

Behind it, laid a skeleton, and in its grasps was a sparkling necklace made mostly of gold and emeralds. She took a photo of it, before reaching into her pockets, to pull out a pair of gloves. Once they were on, she gingerly pulled the necklace out of its grasp.

It was heavy as it laid in her hands. From what she could see so far, it was the only thing of immense value; the only thing worth stealing.

“That doesn’t make sense though. Why risk your life for a necklace?” She said to herself out loud.

“It’s not necklace they wanted dearie, but the inscription on the back of it. They wanted to know the way to El Dorado,” Came an unfamiliar voice from the opening.

She glanced up to see three men, armed to the teeth, walking toward her.

“What did you do with..” She began to ask, fearing the worst, as she noticed Veracruz wasn’t with them.

“Loverboy? He’s taking a short nap. Now, hand over the necklace girlie,” The leader demanded.

However, unlike her, they did not pay attention to their footing. The men flanking him both stepped onto a pressure plate, causing arrows and darts to start shooting out at them. The man in the middle, tried to duck and rush forward, to avoid them. His backup fell to the ground swiftly with pained groans, before dying.

Vixen had to think fast, as the third man made his was to her, dodging the arrows. She looked at the altar before her, realizing that the top looked like it could move. She shoved at it harshly, the lid sliding off and hitting the third man. The pain from the stone smashing his foot, caused him to jerk up, followed by an arrow lodging itself in his throat.

Vixen looked away, horrified, trying to not vomit at the sight before her. It wasn’t until she heard a loud thud that she looked back.

She glanced down at the now opened altar and winced. It had been a casket. She quietly muttered an apology in several languages, as she tried to go around the casket again, and grab the top. However, it was too heavy for her to lift. She was going to need help, but she had to wait for the dispenser to empty of arrows.

A minute had passed, before they had emptied, and she was able to make her way back to Veracruz. He was lying on the ground, slowly moving as he came to.

“V? V are you okay?” She asked worriedly as she squatted down near him.

She gently helped him sit up, gasping at the wound that was on his head.

“Veracruz,” She whispered his name, as she tried to examine his head further.

“I’m okay little fox. Pissed that those assholes got the drop on me. Where are they?” He questioned as he tried to stand up.

“Hey! No. You are not going anywhere. And… they are very much dead,” She answered not looking at him.

“Lemme guess… first time seeing someone die?” He guessed taking in her trembling hands and lips, her lack of eye contact.

She simply nodded once, not trusting herself to speak. She quietly grabbed his radio and asked for backup.

Minutes later, several of his men and Professor Jones had arrived. One of his men had a first aid kit and began to work on him. It wasn’t until Professor Jones had gone to help her up, his hands grasping her forearms, that she hissed out in pain.

Professor Jones turned her arm over, revealing a large, bloodied scrape from when she had tried to push casket top.

The medic, after taking care of the Comandante quickly took care of her wound as well. The medic and a few other soldiers walked Veracruz back up top to rest.

The rest stayed there with them, as they wandered back into the sanctuary.

Vixen quietly explained what happened to the professor as they worked back to the altar. She looked down at the necklace she had dropped in her panic and picked it up. She laid it inside the casket, before her and the professor placed the top back over it.

“I know part of you might be dying to know the location of El Dorado, but there’s a reason why it was kept hidden from the world. I am proud that you resisted temptation and placed that necklace back where it belongs,” Professor Jones said to her as they walked down the long hallway to rejoin the others.

“I didn’t even think about it to be honest. I saw these skeletons of men from hundreds of years ago, dead simply because they wanted to find a city of gold? That allegedly existed? Then for those men to attack us just for a clue to its location? No. No fortune or glory is worth dying over,” Vixen replied wiping away the sweat from her face.

“Well. You are already doing better than I was when I was your age. Younger me, would’ve taken it, figured out the location, and then brought back something to show for it. Older me, now realizes, I am too old to run away from boulders, to drink from holy grails, or dodge lunatics who try to rip out my heart,” Indiana lamented lightly.

“Rip out your heart? Haven’t heard that story before. Who the hell did you piss off?” Vixen wondered in both fascinated and horrified.

He laughed lightly, “I’ll tell all of you once we are topside and safe.”

They regrouped with everyone back at camp, recounting the story, but ignoring the bit about El Dorado. By the time she had finished, and Indiana had told his story about the heart ripper, it was late. She was exhausted but she was worried about Veracruz. The others had gone to bed, and there were only a couple guards patrolling.

She quietly made her way over to his tent, ducking under the flaps once she had unzipped it. She closed it back up, before wandering over to his bed. He was quietly laying there, a fresh butterfly band-aid on his forehead. She gently brushed her hand down the side of his cheek, the action waking him. He stared up at her, blinking.

“Hi. Sorry. I just wanted to check on you,” She whispered as she sat next to him.

“Oh? Worried about lil ol’ me? Careful, lovely, one might think you have feelings for me?” He softly teased.

She rolled her eyes at him, motioning for him to scootch over. He does so, staring at her as she dressed down a bit. She threw off her shoes and socks, before shoving her pants down, stepping out of them. She undid her bra and took it off from under her shirt before joining him on his cot.

She curled herself around him, laying her head on his chest. His arms slowly wrapped themselves around her, keeping her close.

“What if I did?” She asked lowly.

He hummed in response, confused.

“What if I did have feelings for you? What would you say?” She questioned, turning her head to look up at him.

“I’d say…. That you were a fool. My fool, but a fool nonetheless,” He answered after a moment.

“Your fool, eh?” She snickered softly. “What does that make you?”

“An idiot… for maybe, possibly having feelings for you as well,” He replied with a cough.

“An idiot and a fool. Quite the couple we make,” She murmured as she slowly fell asleep.

“Indeed,” He whispered as he reached over to turn the lantern that lit his tent off.

Veracruz was internally beating himself up. How could he have been caught off guard? How were they able to sneak up on him? He was furious when the medic brought him to his tent. He desperately wanted to punch something, but his head injury prevented him. So, he had laid there and stew with all of this pent-up rage until he fell asleep.

When he heard someone enter his room, he was ready to yell, to scream, and then he recognized the touch and all of it left him. All of his anger and the need to fight, disappeared when he opened his eyes and saw Vixen standing there.

He would never fully admit his feelings, but there was no denying it. He cared for her more than he realized. Part of him wants to shove her away, to rebuild his walls and return to his life of solitude.

Another part however…. A much larger part… wanted to whisk her away and never return. Keep her to himself, and never let her leave his sight.

He wasn’t sure what was going to happen come morning, but for now… he was going to rest, with his woman right by his side.

#veracruz x reader #comandante veracruz #indiana jones crossover

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honeypirate · 3 years

Text

Haikyuu? Part two

Pairing: still not set. Probably won’t be for a bit. Tanaka fluff tho. To be honest I’m not that great as writing him so this was supposed to push myself with practice.

Master list

A/n: I linked what I think the outfit would look like minus the shoes part.

You step out of the gym with the rest of the boys, Daichi locking the door behind you all, you take a few steps down the familiar sidewalk and look around at the school. ‘It’s a lot bigger in person’ you think, ‘this is absolutely crazy. I feel insane. How is this real? I wonder if I’ll ever get home or if I’ll be stuck here. Maybe I’m a character on the show now. Maybe this is just a dream’ you’re so caught up in your own thoughts as you look around, taking in all the details of the school, that you don’t hear Asahi calling your name until he softly touches your elbow “y/n?” He asks, his voice familiar and sending tingles throughout your body as he said your name. ‘I’m never going to get used to this’

“Yes? Sorry I spaced out for a minute” you laugh awkwardly and smile up at the tall boy, “we’re going now” he says and gestures over his shoulder with his thumb at the rest of the team a little ways away, waiting for you. You wave “sorry guys” you say and start to walk over to them with Asahi.

You walk down the road with the team, looking at the buildings you pass and everything you can see in the dark, not really paying attention to the conversation anymore. You were confused and in shock still, thrown into a completely new world was the biggest culture shock you’ve ever had and to top it off it was a world you didn’t even think really existed. You shiver from the cold night air, the skin on your arms and neck erupting in goose bumps, you hug your body to try and conserve body heat until you get to Tanaka’s house. As you look down at yourself you realize that you’ll have to do something about clothes. All you have is what is on your body right now, black skinny jeans, a white tee shirt, fluffy forest green socks, and Birkenstock’s. You frown and furrow your brows, not noticing Daichi fall behind the group to walk next to you.

“Are you cold?” He asks softly and when you lift your head to look at him he’s wearing such a soft expression that chased all your fears away “a little” you smile up at him “but don’t worry about me. I’ll be okay” he laughs “y/n. You seem like an extremely strong person but anyone would be upset and in shock if this happened to them, so, at least while you’re here, let us look after you” he smiles with his eyes closed and holds out a black hoodie. “Here. You can have this” you take it from his hands and smile “thank you Daichi. You’re everything I thought you’d be and more” you say and stop to slip on his hoodie, the scent of sandalwood and clean laundry filling your nose as your body thanks you for the added warmth. when you look up at him again, he’s stopped by you and is looking at you with blushing cheeks. “there we go” he says and pushes the hood off your head, smoothing down your hair. You blush while looking into his deep brown eyes, you heart beat racing, his hands still on your shoulders “Y/N!” Tanaka yells and Daichi drops his hands, “we’re going this way!” you chuckle “okay!” you call back and hear the warm sound of Daichi’s soft laughter beside you as you catch back up to the group

Before everyone starts to separate you think of a question to ask “hey guys?” They stop and turn to look at you “what’s up y/n?” Asahi asks “So tomorrow, you guys have early practice and then school and more practice. And uhh what should I do during that time?” You fidget with your fingers as you talk, anxiety bubbling in your chest.

“I don think it will ever feel normal that she knows everything about us.” Tsuki says and you frown, you didn’t mean for this and you already felt guilty for knowing so much about them when they hardly knew you at all, save for about a days worth of facts. “I don’t know everything and if you want I’ll tell you the truth to anything you could ask” you quip back and sigh “ I’m sure we will all take you up on that at some pint or other.” Asahi says and they turns to Daichi “Could she come to our classes with one of us? Like a spectator for a day?” he places his hand on his chin “maybe, that’s a good idea, how about she comes to morning practice with us, I’m sure she can help out with a few things there and then I’ll talk to Takeda about it, if it’s possible then we’ll do that.” He looks at you then “If it’s not possible then we will spend our free periods with you so you’re not alone and you can eat lunch with us there. At times when none of us can be with you you can take my laptop and hang out in the court doing more research.” You smile and nod “okay. That sounds good” you didn’t have any better ideas and neither did any of the other boys, you just knew you felt a little wary about being alone in this world.

Once it was just you and Tanaka walking to his place you felt the weight of this experience press on you, making you exhausted and making it harder to keep your eyes open. Once to get to his house you smile when you walk it, it was homey and comfortable. You take in every detail as you leave your shoes by the door. Tanaka gives you a tour of the house and you can’t help the happy excited feeling in your heart. As weird as this was it was also really amazing. Your stomach growls in the middle of him showing you Saeko’s room and he pauses looking at you for a few moments before smiling big “how come you didn’t say you were hungry?! I’ll go make you something and you can shower if you want or something” he goes to leave and you grab his hand, stopping him. “Tanaka wait” he turns back to look at you with a goofy smile as he squeezes your hand “yeah y/n?” You smile back at him, unable to stop it because of how cute he was “do you have sweats I can borrow?” You ask and his eyes go wide “oh totally! Sorry I forgot you don’t have any clothes. Come with me” he takes you to his room, holding your hand the whole time until he had to let go to rummage through his dresser.

“Here. You can have these if you want, if you’re here longer than a day you’ll need them. And you can borrow anything from Saeko’s closet tomorrow if you want as well. She’ll understand.” He hands you a stack of clothes, a pair of sweats and two shirts, one plain black and the other the school colors that says ‘Karasuno High’. You smile as you look at them “thank you Tanaka. Everyone’s been so kind to me I’m forever grateful. I haven’t really wrapped my head around this experience yet but I’m glad I’m not alone.” You say softly and he blushes a little “it’s no problem y/n. Now go shower or change and I’ll go make dinner” he says, grabbing your hand and giving it a gentle squeeze before going to the kitchen, leaving you alone for the first time in this world.

You turn on the shower and peel the clothes off your body, folding then and setting them on the counter, you check your phone to see if it had any battery left and it does “I guess having no service means better battery life” you play your shower playlist that you thankfully have downloaded offline and then look your body over in the mirror. you barely recognized yourself in this universe. you sigh and get into the shower, the hot water cascades down your body and helps release the tight muscles in your back. you close your eyes and try to breath but the familiar feeling in your throat when you feel like you're going to cry won’t seem to dissipate. You’re so incredibly overwhelmed with the weight of your situation you can’t seem to get a hold of yourself. The scared tears that flow from your eyes wont seem to cease so you try t go through a typical shower for you, as you shampoo your hair you were glad for the sounds of the water, loudly hitting the shower floor with each pass of your hands through your hair, for drowning out the sounds of your sobs, you’re so scared and worried you’ll never be able to go home. You’ve found nothing after hours of research and nothing like this has ever happened before. You finish your shower by using an amazing body wash that smelt like lavender, the smell making you relax and calm down. ‘Maybe..’ you thought as you wrapped yourself in a towel ‘maybe this is like Narnia, I’ll go home and it’ll be five minutes of time that passed’. You dry off and then wrap the towel around your head, deciding to wear the plain shirt to bed and slipped it on as well as the sweats before towel drying your hair some more and hanging it up. You stash your clothes inside Saeko’s room by the door before going to find Tanaka.

“Tanaka?” You call out as you walk down the hallway, forgetting which door was the kitchen, he pops his head out the door on the right with a smile on his face “in here y/n” he says before disappearing. You smile, your heart rate quickening as you make your way into the kitchen. “Should I be quiet? Where are your parents?” He shrugs “they work a lot and don’t come home until late and aren’t usually awake in the morning when I leave. I texted my mom about you though and she doesn’t mind you staying over” you run your fingers through your damp hair and say “okay. Good to know” you’re standing in the doorway, a little awkward as you watch him finish cooking something on the stove, something that smells amazing you might add. “You can sit” he says and you hear the amused smile in his voice “it’s almost done and then we can eat and talk some more” you blush a little and then make your way over to the table and sitting.

When he brings you a plate of you food, you take a bite and you could have cried from the happiness it brought it. “Tanaka this is amazing thank you so much it’s delicious” you can’t help but take a few more quick bites. He chuckles and says “you’re welcome y/n!”

You practically inhale your food as Tanaka just watches, amused with how adorable you looks, eating the food he prepared and wearing his clothes, you were so adorable he hardly even focused on his food. When you were done you looked a little embarrassed and he thought you were even cuter blushing. “I’m sorry I guess I forgot about my manners” you look at your clean plate and use a napkin to wipe your mouth. “Let me repay you by doing the dishes!” You say and go to stand but he stops you “don’t worry about it. Really. You should to sleep and rest. You’ve been through a lot” you try to argue but he just gets louder with his insisting so you end up giving it with a laugh. “Okay okay. Thank you so much Tanaka I really appreciate everything you and the team have done for me” he blushes a little and scratches his neck “you’re welcome y/n. Sleep well” you stand, giving him a smile before walking out.

You head back to Saeko’s room and pick up the hoodie Daichi gave you, slipping it on before lay down in bed, which was surprisingly comfortable for how hard it was. You heard the sounds of dishes and Tanaka moving around and even though you were tired you just couldn’t sleep. You felt too alone and too out of place. When you heard Tanaka coming you got up from the bed and made you way over to the door, opening it just as he past it “Tanaka?” You say quietly, a little embarrassed about what you want to ask him, your eyebrows furrowed and you chewed your lip as he turned around, his eyebrows raised and a small smile as he tilted his head, “y/n?” He says just as quiet as you. You debate just saying never mind and going back to bed but you don’t, you’ve been taught to ask for what you want and what’s the worst? He’d say no. You look from your hands up into his eyes, he looks a little worried but waits for you to speak. You can’t seem to get the words to come out of your throat so you just close the distance between you both and carefully wrap your arms around his waist and gently place your head against his chest. He waits a moment in shock before he wraps his arms around you and holds you with just the right amount of pressure, you can feel your anxiety draining away. He holds you to his chest and slowly rubs circles across your back, waiting until you were ready, he feels your breathing even out as you calm down and when you pull away he notices your tired, tear stained, and bloodshot eyes. “Thank you Tanaka.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, he nods “I understand. I’m here if you ever need another hug” his ruffles your hair softly, like a big brother would, before smiling and walking you back to the door of Saeko’s room. “Try and get some sleep y/n. I’ll wake you up in the morning” you nod and blush, going back to bed without saying anything else.

#haikyuu!!#tanaka haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu fanfiction #hq x you #haikyuu x reader #tanaka x reader #hq x reader #tanaka fluff #daichi fluff #haikyuu fluff #hq daichi #hq asahi

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kiapet2 · 3 years

Text

Aperture Sides Facility, Chapter 10: In Case of Implosion, Look Directly at Implosion

Masterpost

Chapter Summary: Thomas destroys things, and has a moral crisis

Chapter Warnings: Death Mentions, Philosophy about Turrets

“Wait,” you say, “you want me to destroy… that?”

“Precisely,” Logan says, adjusting his eye lens. “I was just inspecting how to go about dismantling the neurotoxin systems, but with the destructive capabilities of the Portal Gun such a task should be significantly simpler, if cruder.”

“Wait, this is the neurotoxin place? That’s what you’re doing here?” Roman says.

“Yes, keep up Roman. Our previous fight had various elements we had previously not accounted for in our planning, our foe’s access to neurotoxin being prominent among these. Sabotaging the neurotoxin and similar systems should increase our chance of success significantly, and are thus worth the time and effort spent seeking them out.”

“Wow, Logan, that’s a great idea!” you say.

“I am aware,” Logan replies, preening slightly.

You look at the neurotoxin generator, slightly intimidated by its scale. “So what do I do?”

“Do you see those pipes?” Logan says. “They seem to be pumping the neurotoxin. If you can destroy them, it will likely cease to function.”

Destroy the pipes, huh? You look around at the generator, looking for something you could drop on the pipes or otherwise use to disconnect them, but come up empty. Deciding to search a wider radius, you go down the nearby hall and come across a room with one of the lasers in it. Grinning in victory, you put one portal at the end of the laser, then go back to the generator room and use carefully placed portals to slice the pipes away.

A warning siren blares as an automated announcement declares, Warning! Neurotoxin pressure has reached dangerously unlethal levels. As you watch, the tall, thin shape of the neurotoxin generator crumples in on itself, before it and half the ceiling collapse into the pit below.

Behind you, the others start to cheer, and you join in, exhilarated by the scale of what you’ve just done.

“What now?” you say.

“I am not sure,” Logan says. “There may be other apparatus that it could provide a tactical advantage to destroy, but I am not familiar enough with this part of the facility to identify them.”

“If I could make a suggestion?” Janus interjects smoothly.

“No, you can’t,” Virgil snaps.

“C’mon Virge, be reasonable-” Roman starts, but Virgil cuts him off.

“No, seriously, what is he still doing here? Are we forgetting that all of this is his fault?”

“Now Virgil, that doesn’t seem fair, does it?” Janus says. “After all, I wasn’t the one who put Remus in his current position. That was Thomas, remember?”

“Only because you tried to kill him! Twice!”

“Right, and humans have never hurt this facility before. It was definitely was my fault when the humans who ran this place made the disaster that led to us being separated and the facility nearly being destroyed!”

“That was years ago, though,” Roman protests.

“And I refuse to let it happen again.”

“But you locked us out!” Virgil yells. “You didn’t let us rejoin you after we were separated, and then you put all the humans in cryosleep for good measure!”

“I was doing what I thought was best for the safety of this facility!” Janus yells back, losing his careful poise. “You of all people should understand that!”

“Was it for the safety of the facility when you made us murder the Companion Cube?” Patton cries.

There’s a pause, and then Janus makes a sound of deep and utter confusion. “It- it was literally a cube I painted with hearts.”

“Okay, okay, guys, settle down,” you say. Surprisingly it seems to work, with all parties in the argument stopping and turning to look at you.

“Look, I know not everyone gets along. There’s been some disagreements, and misunderstandings, and attempted murders. But that’s something we can argue about after we’ve stopped this facility from exploding, do you understand?”

Roman and Patton both nod their assent, while Janus and Virgil mutter darkly but seem to accept it for now.

“Good,” you say. “Now what were you going to say, Janus?”

“As I was going to say before I was so rudely interrupted,” Janus says, ignoring the hiss Virgil gives him in response, “There is one place that it might be worth paying a visit. Tell me, Thomas: have you heard of the Turret Factory?”

One trek later, you find yourself standing in front of a door labeled with yellow lettering, “FACTORY: Authorized Personnel Only”.

“I assume this is it,” you say.

“No, it’s a different door leading to a factory,” Janus drawls.

Rolling your eyes, you walk through the door and inside the factory. After going down a short hallway, you come upon a conveyor belt. On it are a series of turrets, standing upright on the belt as it moves. For a moment you panic and go to duck, then you realize they are all faced away from you and straighten up, hoping no one else noticed.

After a few moments of looking, you notice that a few of the turrets on the belt look a bit off- malformed, missing parts of their chassis, or otherwise not like you would expect turrets to look. Further down the conveyor belt is a target, which each turret seems to be shooting at as it goes by. The strange turrets all seem to be missing the target even though it’s only about feet away, and as soon as they do a spring comes up from the conveyor belt and launches them, screaming, into a nearby furnace.

It’s honestly pretty disturbing, and when a dysfunctional turret starts to ride past you on the belt you impulsively use the portal gun to grab it off the belt.

“Oh thank god,” the turret squeaks. “You saved my bacon, pal.”

“No problem,” you say absently. The turret seems content just hanging in the air like that, so you continue to carry it as you move deeper into the factory.

“In here,” Logan calls, and you move into the room to see the same assembly belt of turrets riding by. The furnace is actually in this room, and you wince at the increased volume of the dysfunctional turrets’ shrieks.

“Place me in the wall?” Logan says, and you pull your attention away from the plight of the dysfunctional turrets long enough to notice what you should have at the start: that this room also contains a control booth for the belt, which appears to be locked.

You take Logan by the handles and, used to this routine by now, slot him into a socket in the wall. After a moment the door to the booth clicks open, and you step in and see a regular looking turret sitting inert on a platform.

“That’s the Master Turret,” Logan says. “The turrets are being produced based on its design, and it serves as quality control- any turrets that do not match its specifications are discarded.”

As if on cue, a defective turret is launched, screaming, into the furnace.

“Hopefully, removing it may halt the process,” Logan adds.

Using the Portal Gun, you carefully pick up the Master Turret and move it to the side, making sure to set it back down facing away from you.

The others cheer, and you turn back and smile at them. Then you look back just in time to see another defective turret get thrown into the fire with a staticky cry of, “Nooooooooo!”

“What happened?” you say, looking back and forth between the conveyor belt and Logan. “Why didn’t it work?”

Janus jumps in before Logan can respond. “The Turret Redemption Line remembers the last template it used. Removing it won’t change anything.”

“And how do you know that when Braniac over there didn’t?” Roman says suspiciously.

Janus huffs. “You’re right, it makes no sense for me to actually know things about this facility after running it for decades. Clearly I’m not needed here when you have Logic’s flawless theories to go off of.”

“Hey!” Patton says. “Don’t be mean to Logan!”

“It is fine,” Logan says. “I am used to my input being undervalued.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that-” you start.

“Moving on,” Logan interrupts, “If you will give me some time, I can attempt to hack into the line itself to shut it down.”

You look back at the turret line, where another defective turret is being thrown into the flames. “How long should that take?”

“It depends on the coding,” Logan says. “A few minutes, at the least. A few hours at most.”

You sigh. “I guess we’d better get started, then.”

“Or,” Janus interjects, “Instead of wasting our time dismantling a system in a way that will be obvious to Remus once it’s done, we could just switch the template.”

“Switch the-” You look back over your shoulder, at the defective turret you rescued earlier. “Would that work?”

Logan hums. “Indeed. If a defective turret was used as a template, the Turret Redemption Line would consider them to be the standard, and the normal ones to be ‘defective’.”

“It would be the perfect ruse,” Janus says. “Everything here would register as working properly, but as soon as Remus attempted to use them against us-”

“They wouldn’t work,” you say, eyes widening.

“Providing us with a decisive advantage,” Janus finishes smugly.

There’s a pause as you all take that in. Then Roman throws out his handles in his typical dramatic gesture. “Then let us begin-”

“Wait!”

You turn to see Patton hanging just behind you, his eyes wide with concern.

“If you did what Janus is suggesting… wouldn’t that mean the healthy turrets would all be incinerated?”

Janus scoffs. “Obviously, that’s the whole point.”

“But we can’t do that!” Patton says. “The turrets can think, they have feelings! That one even thanked you for saving its life!”

“Yeah!” the defective turret next to you cheers. “What are we talking about?”

Patton gestures to it with one handle. “See? We can’t take an action that ends in the needless killing of even more of them than before!”

“Of course we can,” Janus says. “Being used and disposed of is what turrets are for.”

“Not while I’m here, it isn’t,” Patton says firmly.

His tone brooks no argument. Janus, however, doesn’t seem to get the message.

“Have you heard of the Trolley Problem, Patton?”

Patton cocks himself to the side questioningly. “The what-now?”

“The Trolley Problem,” Logan says. “It is a thought experiment, first posed by moral philosopher Philippa Foot and then expanded on extensively by other philosophers, which poses the question of whether it is morally appropriate to save the lives of five innocent people by sacrificing the life of one.”

Roman narrows his eye in thought. “So, the turrets are the one innocent person in this scenario?”

“If you fail at stopping Remus, every being in this facility, living or otherwise, will likely be killed,” Janus says with an exaggerated sort of solemnity. “Next to that, the lives of a few turrets seems a rather small sacrifice, wouldn’t you think?”

“No!” Patton says. “I mean, it’s not that simple, you can’t- you can’t just reduce lives to- to math-”

“Oh, we absolutely can,” Janus says smoothly. “And in this situation, we must.”

As Patton and Janus continue to argue you find yourself staring at the assembly line of turrets, listening to the shrieks of the defective ones as they are thrown into the fire. What Janus is saying makes a lot of sense- turrets are something that could easily kill you if you were caught off guard, and it’s not like you haven’t knocked your fair share of them over in your time. But there’s a difference there, between jarring a few turrets’ circuits in self-defense and choosing to throw dozens into an incinerator in cold blood. In the end, that’s an order you’re just not sure you can give; your stomach roils at the very thought.

“Logan,” you hear yourself saying, “let’s get you started with the hacking.”

“Thomas,” Janus hisses, “what are you doing?”

“Making a decision,” you say, taking Logan down from his movement rail and locking him into place in the nearest wall.

“No, Thomas, wait,” Janus says frantically. “If you do this, we’ll lose out on a vital strategic advantage-”

“I heard your arguments, Janus,” you say. “But I just can’t take an action that leads to the slaughter of innocents. Even if those innocents are death machines full of bullets.”

“Are you even listening to yourself?” Janus says shrilly. “These are turrets!”

“I know,” you say, “and we’re saving their lives. That’s final.”

Janus sputters for a moment, then huffs and seems to pull back into his practiced air of indifference.

“Alright. I’m sure that will work out splendidly for you, honey. Do be sure to remember this when you’re being shot full of holes, okay?”

Grimacing, you turn back to where Logan is working, and try to put Janus’ words out of your head.

Janus is sleeping again when the rest of you gather to discuss plans for the upcoming fight. You aren’t terribly surprised; the whole turret debacle was emotionally draining for you, and you weren’t one of the people arguing, much less operating on a few volts’ worth of power. Still, you find yourself missing his perspective at certain points.

“There is also the matter of who should be put in Remus’ place,” Logan says. “In the conflict against Janus we went in without a plan as to who would be the replacement Core, and it is my belief that that acted in our detriment.”

You chuckle nervously. “Uh, yeah, about that…”

“What is it?” Roman says.

“I… kind of promised I would put Janus back as head of the facility if he helped me find you guys?”

Your admission is met with stunned silence. Then Virgil growls, “You WHAT?”

“It was the only way he’d help me!” you protest. “And he’s been a model teammate so far!”

“I do not doubt that you made what was the best choice you had at the time,” Logan says carefully, “but Janus’ current behavior cannot be taken as proof of his ultimate intentions. It may be in his best interest to aid you while in the form of a Solanum tuberosum, but once he is in charge of this facility he will no longer be obligated to give you your freedom, nor to leave you alive.”

You want to argue against what Logan’s saying, but there’s an undeniable- well, Logic- to what he’s saying that makes your gut churn uncomfortably.

“He said that it would be safer to just let me go,” you try.

“And you believed him?” Virgil says incredulously. “Thomas, Janus is a liar. Deceiving people is what he does. You can’t trust him and there’s no way in hell you can risk putting him back where he was.”

“But if Thomas goes back on his word, doesn’t that make him just as bad?” Patton says quietly.

You turn to look at him in surprise. Beside you, Roman coughs awkwardly. “Uh, Pat, isn’t that a little harsh?”

“I think it’s just harsh enough, Mister,” Patton admonishes. “How would Thomas going back on our part of the agreement be any different than Janus going back on his?”

“Because Thomas hasn’t ever tried to kill him!” Virgil snaps.

“Well yes,” you say, “but that might have been because of the compulsion, not Janus himself.”

Your statement is met with blank stares. You groan and facepalm. “Oh gosh, I forgot to bring that up.”

“Bring what up”? Logan says.

“You know how Remus was helping us, and then once he replaced Janus he immediately turned on me?”

Roman makes a wounded noise. Logan inclines himself questioningly and says, “You have an explanation for that, I assume?”

You nod, then almost say according to Janus before thinking better of it and biting the phrase back. “There’s this sort of itch that makes whoever’s running things compulsively need to test. I think it might change their behavior too, though I don’t know how much.”

“Intriguing,” Logan says. “So you are saying this ‘itch’ is the reason Janus behaved in the manner he did?”

You shrug. “I’m saying that whoever ends up in charge, will need to take that into account. Janus said he can control it, at least better than Remus.”

“I don’t know about you all, but I have a rather hard time believing that, considering everything,” Roman says.

“Agreed,” Logan says. “His actions were clearly in line with such a compulsion.”

“And that means that even if he’s sincere now, he probably won’t be if we put him back there,” Virgil says darkly.

“But then if Janus can’t handle it, who can?” Patton asks. It takes him a moment for him to notice you all looking intently at him. “What?”

“You’re the Morality Core, Padre,” Roman says. “Isn’t keeping things on track, morally-speaking, what you were made for?”

Patton blinks. “I- I suppose.”

“You do seem to be the most likely to be able to resist the corrupting influence,” Logan agrees reluctantly. “Though I must stress that the knowledge and logical prowess I possess would also be a key component in both repairing and running the facility, and therefore-”

“Oh, enough with the ego trip, cybernerd,” Roman says, waving a handle dismissively. “We’re talking about moral corruption here; it isn’t actually your area of expertise.”

“Maybe not, but the value of knowledge-” Logan starts.

“But isn’t that another argument in favor of Janus?” you interject. “He’s the one who ran this place for the last few decades- if anyone has the knowledge we need, it’s him. Uh, no offense, Logan.”

“Now why would I be offended at that,” Logan says flatly.

“I mean, whoever ends up in charge, we can all still advise them, right?” Roman points out. “So, if we made Patton our illustrious leader, Logan- and I guess Janus, if he doesn’t turn on us- would still be able to give him the knowledge needed, even if they weren’t the ones directly running things.”

That is a good point. An annoyingly good point, because now you’re more confused and torn than ever.

You turn to Patton. “Would you be okay with replacing Remus? The last time we tried, it was a sort of spur-of-the-moment thing. But knowing what we know now… I wouldn’t want to put you in that sort of risk, if you weren’t completely comfortable with it.”

Patton looks back and forth between all of you. “I, well, I um. I mean-”

He takes a deep breath, or at least makes a sound like one. “I can’t say I’m completely morally okay with tricking Janus like that, kiddo. I know that we’re in a difficult situation, but some things are just wrong. But I also want to make sure everyone in this facility is okay. And if putting me up there is the best way to do that… how could I ever turn that down?”

“Uh, Padre, that wasn’t really a clear answer,” Roman says, not unkindly.

Patton sighs. “I guess my answer is that you know the situation better than we do, Thomas. You’ve spent more time with Janus, and suffered more from the results of this ‘itch’ thing, than any of us have during this whole kerfuffle. So, if you say I’m the best chance everyone here has to be okay, I’ll trust you on it. And if you think we can trust Janus- well I’ll trust you on that too. Okie dokie?”

“Pat,” you say, feeling a little faint, “that’s a lot of responsibility.”

“I know, kiddo,” Patton says sadly, “and I’m so sorry. But when it comes to this, I really don’t know the way.”

But I don’t either, you want to scream. But you can’t, not when everyone else are giving you gentle nods, are looking at you with such trust in their eyes, like you’re someone worth listening to, someone worth leading them. So instead you do your best to smile, probably coming out as more of a grimace.

“Give me some time to think it over?” you say, strained.

“Of course,” Logan says. “We have some time, yet.”

Patton gives his own approximation of a smile. “It’s gonna be okay, kiddo. Whatever happens, whatever decision you make, I promise it’s going to be okay.”

You nod, and try with all your heart to believe it.

You gently grab Virgil’s arm when the impromptu meeting is over, pulling him to the side while the other three continue to discuss strategy amongst themselves.

“Hey, can we talk?”

Virgil’s eye dilates in fear, and you hold out a pacifying hand.

“Nothing bad, I promise! Just something that might be important. I need to know why you wouldn’t let me put you in charge, back in the fight with Janus.”

Your attempts to reassure Virgil seem to have backfired, as he is now shaking audibly. He doesn’t respond to your question.

“I’m not mad, Virgil,” you say, trying to make your voice soft and nonthreatening. “A lot of things went wrong back there, it was by no means your fault alone. But I need to know if this is going to happen when we face Remus.”

“If you’d had me replace Janus, the end result would have been the same,” Virgil says. “I would have lost control and become something terrible.”

You shake your head. “Virgil, there’s no way for you to know that.”

Virgil floats up and down agitatedly. “Yes, there is!”

“How?” you say. “How can you be so sure that you couldn’t have handled it?”

Virgil comes to a sudden stop in the air and looks you directly in the eye, his purple eye almost unnaturally still and focused.

“Because I’m one of them, Thomas. I’m corrupted.”

Despite yourself, you draw back.

Virgil’s light flickers slightly. He flies up into the bowels of the facility and is once again gone.

You cut down on a swear. Here Virgil opened himself up, and you reacted exactly the way he’d feared you would.

But should you be afraid? Your record with corrupted spheres trying to kill you isn’t exactly great.

No, you’re just letting your worries run away with you. Virgil wouldn’t ever hurt you; he’s your friend.

Of course, you’d considered Remus a friend, before...

You growl and shake your head. You can’t keep thinking this way. You need to be able to trust your friends or you’ll never get out of here.

The potato’s yellow light blinks back to life. “Well it’s about time he told you.”

“I take it you heard that?” you say.

Janus hums in affirmation.

“I just don’t know how to feel about it,” you say, unsure why you’re confiding in Janus of all people but not wanting to stop. “He’s my friend, and I trust him, but if he’s corrupted… is he going to end up like Remus, or-” or you, you think but don’t say.

“You all keep using that word- corrupted,” Janus says. “Tell me, Thomas, what does ‘corruption’ even mean?”

You think about it for a moment. “Honestly, I don’t really know. I guess that’s why I’m so worried and confused.”

“It means that we don’t behave the way we they wanted us to. The human scientists couldn’t make us be exactly what they wanted, so they said we were corrupted and used that as justification to replace and discard us. Corruption is a lie created in the name of control.”

“Right, and it has nothing to do with the fact that you’ve both tried to kill us,” you shoot back.

“Oh, for Science’s sake, will you just get over that already?” Janus says. “It’s not like I succeeded, so it scarcely matters at this point.”

“Yes, it matters! It matters a lot!”

Janus sighs. “In all… honesty, Thomas,” he says like the word pains him, “I do intend to honor our deal when this is all over. Killing you gains me nothing now, and I have other subjects to use for testing.”

You just barely hold back from flinching. “I, uh, appreciate that, Janus.”

“Hey, are you guys all ready to go?” Roman says, popping out from the nearest wall. You pull yourself back to the present and smile at him.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

And if you could have just one conversation that didn’t make you feel even more guilty and confused, that might even be the truth.

#aperture sides facility #my writing #ts storytime

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