#PREV SO REAL AND TRUE i miss her.
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Chapter Twelve of I'm Sorry, Teenage Mutant What Now? is up!!! It's the moment you've all waited for-- the reveal. :000 They boys discover some things about themselves (things they once knew) and visit an unfamiliar place (a place that was once familiar.) Read it on ao3 or below the cut!
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The group’s shocked silence lasted for two, maybe three seconds before it quickly morphed into chaos.
“That’s him! That’s the goat!” Mikey shrieked, pointing wildly. “That’s the goat who has Dad!”
“Leo! Call 911!” Raph commanded. Leo scoffed loudly.
“No way! I wanna kick this guy’s ass. Make Donnie do it.”
“What?! No fair! I’ve called 911 the last six times! It’s someone else’s turn!”
“You have not! I called 911 last time!” April protested.
“That one doesn’t count!”
“Well someone’s gotta--”
“Enough!” Goatman snarled, absolutely bristling, waving his arm sharply. The air around them suddenly felt colder and stiller, and Leo shuddered, gritting his teeth as his posture stiffened. “I am not here to listen to your silly arguments. I am here to bring you home, so you can finally fulfill your purpose.”
Leo gave a short snort of laughter. “Hm, yeah, tempting, but our Daddy actually taught us not to go with creepy sheep strangers, even if they offer us free candy, soooo…”
“What?! Candy? No! I’m talking about your purpose! The reason you were created-- to eliminate the human threat! Come with me, and I can unlock your full potential!”
“How many divine purposes have we got again? ‘Cause I’m starting to lose track,” Mikey complained. Leo rolled his eyes.
“Eliminate the human threat? Yeah, uh, maybe you haven't been paying attention, but in case you haven’t noticed, we’re literally humans.”
The yokai paused for a moment. His face twisted, and he hunched his shoulders back before he gave a forced laugh. “Humans?” He echoed. “Humans?! Surely you aren’t fooled by those silly trinkets! You can’t possibly, actually believe…”
“Oh my god. This guy is, like, for real crazy,” April observed, raising her brows.
“No, you are fools!” He hissed in return. “Humans?! These ridiculous forms are completely fabricated! These are not your true selves! You are experiments! You are soldiers! You’re mutated turtles-- my greatest creations! The creations of Baron Draxum!”
“Baron Draxum? Okay, well, we’ll deal with him when he gets here… Oh… Oh-ho-ho wait! You’re doing that, like, sinister talking-about-yourself-in-third person thing, aren’t you! Oh my god, that’s rich!” Leo snorted.
“Hey! Only Raph can use the third-person!”
“I’m sorry, did he say turtles?” Mikey questioned.
“Oh my fucking god…” Leo laughed, clutching his stomach. “Turtles? I’m sorry, we’re mutant turtles?”
“This guy can’t be serious,” Raph muttered.
“Uh, yeah, I’m pretty sure we would have noticed by now if we were reptiles,” Donnie scoffed, one hand on his hip. “Let alone subjects of some kind of biochemical experiments. Which I am intimately familiar with, by the way. Do you have any idea how many community gardens I’ve been banned from?”
“This can’t…” The yokai shook his head, a hand on his brow. “How could you be tricked by such simple magic? I will show you if I have to.”
“Oh, I’d love to see that,” Donnie muttered.
“Come with me--”
“You are out of your damn mind if you think we’re goin’ anywhere with you!” Raph cut in.
“Maybe if you prove that turtle hypothesis thing you have going on, we can discuss it from there,” Donnie laughed, one brow quirked, sounding caught somewhere between exasperated and amused. Honestly, this whole thing was a little bit fucking hilarious. It was also fucking horrible and scary because their dad was missing and a magic criminal had them cornered in an alley, but like. Seriously. Mutant turtles? You can’t make this stuff up, dude.
Draxum sighed very deeply, scowling at their group.
“Very well,” he said, and he snapped his fingers.
Things became unfunny very, very quickly.
If the air had become cold earlier, now it became startlingly hot, just for a moment, the alley rising up at least five degrees, and Leo heard this choked, startled gasp that he immediately recognized as his twin brother. At the same time, a blinding, almost familiar flash of white light overtook the alley, and Leo hissed, flinching away.
When he looked back, he was horrified to find that where his brother had been standing just a moment ago there was instead some sort of green, scaled creature, their eyes slitted and their skin leathery and bumped, and he thought, what the hell happened to my brother? And after a moment of silence, all of them staring in dazed shock, the reptile flailed, floundered, held its own hands up to its face as if to examine them, and promptly began screaming.
And Leo recognized his own brother's screams, so instead he was thinking: what the hell happened to my brother?!
“What did you do?!” Leo shrieked. Behind him, Mikey screamed, too, and he could hear April spluttering out an impressive string of curse words. He just barely resisted the urge to race over to Donnie’s side, to check if he was okay, (he’s not okay, he knows he’s not okay,) to try to help him, to fix it, because he couldn’t just turn his back on the enemy in front of them-- couldn’t ignore the very obvious threat.
“I simply removed the cloaking enchantment as he requested,” Draxum responded calmly. He even looked amused, almost, the very corners of his lips turning up.
“You what!? What the hell are you-- fix it!!! Turn him back!!!” Leo demanded, his voice rising with the very edges of panic, his pulse climbing ever-steadily higher the longer he listened to his siblings scream.
The other sighed deeply, tilting their head to the side. “Do you still not understand? Fine, then. I’ll show you as well.”
Snap.
Leo wouldn’t describe the experience as painful, but it really wasn’t pleasant, either. He swore he could feel his skin being stripped away and reforming; it was like his skeleton itself was being rearranged, his entire body becoming fluid for just a split second before solidifying again in new places, new patterns, new spaces. An unfamiliar weight pulled at his shoulders, forcing his spine to bend, and his hands and feet fell in a way that now felt unnatural to him. His skin seemed to lay over his muscles differently now.
He was vaguely aware of Mikey screaming somewhere behind him a second time, echoing Donatello’s continued wails.
“Guys?” April bit out, her voice high and frightened.
What the hell happened to him?
“What-- what did you do?” Leo repeated himself, his eyes wide, straining, because his vision was ever-so-slightly different than it had been a few seconds ago and he didn’t know how to adjust. He swore to god he was frozen in place. He wasn’t sure when he had ended up on his knees, but he was shaking so hard, he supposed he wasn’t surprised.
What the fuck happened to his body?
“Now are you convinced?” The yokai pressed. “Now, we will be going to my lab whether you want to or not. We can either do this the easy way or the hard way. I would highly recommend the easy way,” he hummed, giving a sharp sweep of his arms. Wind tugged at his back and Leo had just barely the presence of mind to glance behind him, his eyes widening in horror to see this huge expanse of black opening up behind him.
Mikey-- (Mikey? They were small, they were wearing Mikey’s clothes, it must be Mikey--) yelped loudly, the inky cloud yanking him from his feet. April jumped, attempting to grab her baby brother, though she only succeeded in falling into him-- both of them swallowed up into the portal. Raph gave a strangled howl of protest, diving right after them, and Donnie was sucked up as well, disappearing from Leo’s sight. His heart thudded wildly in his ears. He could feel the magick yanking at him, trying to pull him in as well.
But Leo had always been the fastest.
Every shred of him was screaming to follow, to chase after his family, to go with his sister and brothers, but he tensed his muscles, his stance widening and holding firm as he set his sights back on the yokai towering before him. A tiny voice in his head whispered in his ears that following wouldn’t help--
No, he had to move forward. This guy was the one hurting them.
Get him.
Leo wasn’t sure if he had leapt forward or if he simply was there. Everything was moving too quickly for even him to follow, the blinding white of panic and rage eating hungrily at the edges of his vision, threatening to overtake him. Either way, he lunged, a cry of protective fury wringing itself from his chest.
"Stay away from my brothers," he snarled, his own throat staggering painfully with the force with which he screamed out his warning, his hands flying forward to grab the yokai by his throat, slamming into him at full speed. He felt the alien velvet fuzz of Draxum’s skin beneath the tear of his fingernails (claws) even as the pair of them were flung from their feet. Gravity was stolen from them both, the portal behind them reaching out to consume them.
Everything went black. For just a second, tumbling through nothingness, floating through the sizzling rush of magick itself, Leo couldn’t see anything. He couldn’t hear anything, all he could feel was the body of the yokai against him, struggling against his grip, attempting to throw him away.
And then this bright, searing lavender light came singing through the world. It didn’t reflect or bounce; nothing was lit up by it. Leo still could not see himself, could not even find the outline of his own hands or fingers. But this brilliant, complex pattern of the palest, gentlest pastel purple lit up bright before him, swirling and twisting in foreign shapes, and Leo just barely recognized that the ribbon of runes they formed echoed the shape of the yokai he had just grabbed.
The body he was clinging to went limp.
The next second, the wind was knocked out of him as they made impact with stone, light coming streaming back into his universe. Leo found himself landing in a heap in their new location, the portal disappearing behind them. Oddly, however, the crash landing didn’t hurt near as much as he would have expected it to.
“Leo!” He heard Raph cry. Leo groaned, still dazed, looking around blearily. Where the hell were they? He glanced over at the yokai who he had yanked through the portal with them, only to find them in an awkward slump just a few paces away, completely limp and seemingly unconscious.
“Are you okay? What happened?” Raph demanded, moving quickly to his side. Mikey was already all bundled up in his arms, shaking like a leaf and absolutely clinging to him for dear life like he was going to fall apart if he let go. And Leo couldn’t even blame him if he did. Mikey had always been the smallest of them, and Raph always the biggest, but Leo thought dimly that the size difference between them now was fucking bananas.
Jesus christ. Raph was fucking huge. And… spiky. Was he a goddamn dinosaur? What the fuck.
“I-- yeah-- I-- I think the goatman got knocked out--” He stammered, still reeling slightly, trying to collect himself, to gather himself, adrenaline still rushing through his veins like it was a racetrack.
Somewhere in the background, Donnie fucking screamed, and Leo immediately forgot about everything else, his head whipping around.
“Donnie!” He cried, on his feet in a second, rushing over to his brother’s side. He had no idea where they were, not having yet taken stock of the location. He was only dimly aware that they were someplace cold and dark, with stone and concrete above, below, and around them. Donnie had pressed himself up against one of the walls, his entire body rigid and his head bent forward, his arms fluttering wildly beside his head in such a way that Leo recognized he was fighting not to hit himself. Good job, Dee. The screaming continued, but every wail that wrenched its way out of Donnie’s mouth was short and grinding, repeating itself over and over like an alarm. It was fucking terrifying. Not for him, but for Donnie, because he could tell that they were completely, totally not in control. Just panicking.
“Hey. Hey, hey, it’s okay, I’m right here, Don. It’s alright. It’s okay, you’re safe, I’m right here, hermano,” he tried to soothe, forcing his voice down, calm, steady. He knew better than to touch Donnie, but he would reach over just long enough to tap a button on the side of his headphones that he knew would flip the device into white noise mode. Donnie jerked slightly in response, and the screaming stopped, at least, but he didn’t relax. His arms still fluttered and flapped anxiously, and he shifted just enough to begin rocking back and forth, clenching his jaw and grinding his teeth so hard that Leo was afraid he was going to hurt himself. His chest absolutely shook with the panicked, shuddering breaths he was taking, hyperventilating so hard that his entire body trembled in response.
“Come on, Donnie, it’s alright. It’s okay. We’re safe, Mikey and Raph and April are safe, we’re gonna be okay, but you’ve gotta breathe, dude. Can you try it with me? Like this? We’ve gotta calm down a little bit--” Leo pressed on because this was not his first rodeo. He wasn’t quite as adept at handling these things as their dad was, and at this point, Donnie was pretty good at avoiding meltdowns and panic attacks, armed with tools and tricks and years of therapy, but sometimes they were unavoidable and Leo had always known how to calm them down, always been able to step up and help, the same way Donnie could for him--
But Donnie wasn’t calming down. Donnie wouldn’t even look up at him. Rather, Donnie scrunched up harder, curled his lips, and fucking hissed at him.
And, okay, look, it wasn’t the first time Donnie had hissed at them. Donnie used to love to hiss at people when they were little kids, though nowadays he was more likely to express annoyance with declarations such as “groan” or “scoff” or “eye-roll.” But he didn’t hiss like this.
He sounded fucking feral. Even more than that, he sounded fucking terrified. He looked like a goddamn cornered animal, his eyes blown out and huge, the scaly skin that now made up his form stretched tight over shivering muscles and his lips drawn back over sharp, pointed teeth. And Leo looked down at his own clawed, three-fingered hand and came to a horrible realization.
He couldn’t help because Donnie couldn’t recognize him. They were panicking because they were in this crazy, fucked up body that wasn’t theirs, and Leo was in a fucked up body that wasn’t his, and looking at him was just a reminder of everything wrong. He was just scaring them more. His being here was just making things worse, and Leo’s throat tied itself in a knot, swelling up as the backs of his eyes pinched with the thought.
“April,” he called, his voice cracking slightly as he desperately turned to look for his sister. She wasn’t far off, watching from a short distance with obvious worry, and she blinked in surprise at the sound of her name.
“Help me.”
---
If Leo was being completely honest, he hadn’t even realized that Donnie wasn’t still nearby. The two of them typically stuck together like glue whenever they were at school. Leo would usually lead the way, and Donnie would trail after, with Leo doing most of the talking and socializing for both of them. And once Donnie got sick of whatever they were doing, he would simply drag Leo off to sit and read or work on some project or puzzle for a while, and Leo would oblige and keep him company. Donnie was always close by, and Leo wasn’t even aware that this wasn’t currently the case, too absorbed in his latest arts and crafts project, until he heard a telltale, high-pitched whine from across the room.
He was on his feet in seconds, abandoning the activity and his classmates to scuttle off in search of his twin brother. Luckily, he wasn’t too hard to find. Both because he was pretty loud, and also because their substitute teacher was crouched down next to him. She was nice enough, Leo thought, but not quite as cool as Miss Mitchelle was, and he wasn’t sure if Donnie liked her at all. It definitely didn’t seem like he liked her too much right now with how he was all balled up, and Leo wasted no time at all in planting himself physically between the two.
Donnie immediately gravitated towards his brother and Leo moved a bit closer in turn, giving Miss Substitute (he didn’t remember her name,) a very displeased look.
“He doesn’t like whatever you’re doing,” he declared firmly.
Miss Substitute’s expression twitched and faltered for a moment before it settled back into something patient and pleasant, though Leo still didn’t quite trust it. “Leo,” she said, “I was just trying to talk with your brother--”
“I can talk to him,” Leo assured immediately, not bothering to listen to the remainder of her sentence because he couldn’t imagine it would be all that important or interesting. He turned to face Donnie instead. “It’s okay. I can always understand him, ‘cause we have a secret twin language. We made it up. Only we can speak it,” he declared proudly, crouching down to lean in towards his brother, his arms wrapped around his knees.
Donnie was still whining a bit, curled up into a ball and shoved halfway inside of a cubby, his arms crossed protectively over his head as he rocked. And yeah, he was obviously upset, though Leo wasn’t completely sure why yet. As such, he got to work, conversing with his twin in the previously mentioned secret twin language.
… And.
Okay.
So.
They didn’t actually have a secret twin language.
But it was close enough! It wasn’t a language, per se, ‘cause it didn’t have words, just noises and chirps and trills and squeaks and babbles. But he still always got the gist of what Donnie was saying, and Donnie would get the gist of what he was saying, too, so it worked. Sooner or later, he could pretty much always get an understanding of what Donnie was meaning based on the inflection or tone of his noises, as well as calm the other down enough so that Leo could coax a couple of signs out of him, so Leo figured it was close enough to language.
Plus, the ‘language’ itself always seemed to kind of settle Donnie down when he was upset like this. Once Leo started humming and squeaking at him, Donnie gradually started to answer with his own chirps and clicks, and, little by little, Leo watched their twin’s body untense and unwind. Leo grinned, moving to sit properly by him, and Donnie moved closer, edging just a bit out of his hiding spot so he could shove himself up against Leo’s side instead, resting his head against his shoulder and settling in there, an indignant scowl still on his face.
Leo grinned, puffing out his chest a bit as he shot Miss Substitute a look. See? He told her so. He and Donnie always understood each other, no matter what, and he could always fix it when Donnie wasn’t feeling good! He was basically the best brother in the entire world. Confident that he understood the problem, he turned back to face Miss Substitute.
“He said you’re not doing the schedule right, and we’re supposed to do math right now,” he announced, crossing his arms over his chest. And he hadn’t even noticed, but Donnie was right, they did usually do math lessons during this part of the day-- not arts and crafts. “And also, he doesn’t like the paper fish we’re doing ‘cause the glue feels bad. So we gotta find something else to do,” he insisted. “‘Cause otherwise Donnie and I aren’t playing.”
Donnie nodded a tiny bit from behind him, and Leo beamed with pride. Understanding Donnie and calming him down wasn’t even that hard. He didn’t get why adults besides Dad had such a hard time with it sometimes. You really just had to listen to him.
---
It took a while for April to calm Donnie back down, (or at least get him as calm as they possibly could be in such circumstances,) but she managed after a bit, his panicked breaths eventually dying down into something a bit more even and steady. Thank god. Mikey thought dimly to himself that he had never seen Donnie freak out so bad, but... he supposed he couldn't really blame him.
He frowned a bit, looking down at his own, unfamiliar hands, and he curled up a bit more, his tail tucking in (oh my god, he had a tail,) as he clung to Raph's plastron (oh my god, Raph had a plastron.) And though it still held comfort, the fold of his biggest brother's arms, bundled up close and held there, this place that he had known his whole life... it suddenly felt foreign, too. Everything was hard and jagged and cold. And even worse-- it was unfamiliar.
He kept staring at his own hands because he couldn't stop himself, and it made his stomach wobble. He wondered bleakly what his own face looked like because he had no idea. He wouldn't even recognize himself in the mirror.
Now that Donnie had finally settled a bit, though he was still curled up and pressed just against April's side, just barely not touching but still squeezed up small against her, Leo finally got up to his feet-- only to immediately lose his balance, falling over onto his back with a loud clunk.
"Leo!" Raph's eyes widened, his muscles immediately bunching up, ready to jump up and go grab his brother. Mikey could tell that he was just barely resisting the urge to scoop up all three of them and bundle them up in his arms and just hang onto them for a while. He had been sitting here long enough for Mikey to notice how fast his heart was beating. Mikey’s was keeping pace. Leo kind of flailed for a second before he managed to redirect the momentum to roll over onto his side, getting himself back onto his hands and knees. A wry, strangled laugh forced its way out of him.
"Alright. Well. Pro tip: center of gravity is weird now," he remarked dryly, his voice strained. "But the good news is falling doesn't even hurt anymore! So that’s great!"
It didn't get a laugh out of anyone. After a moment of hesitation, Mikey slowly wriggled his way from Raph's grip, making his way over to Leo's side. He didn't dare try to walk after watching Leo's attempt, noting that it seemed to be more difficult now without the rush of adrenaline to aid them, so he instead stayed in a crouch, sort of half-hopping-half-crawling over. Raph followed shortly after in a similar manner.
"Can I see?" He questioned softly, and when Leo didn't deny him, he leaned over slightly, moving his hoodie (which was now a very awkward fit,) out of the way enough so that he could examine the edges of his brother's new shell.
(Oh my god. His brother's shell. What kind of a sentence was that? What kind of weird, fucked up make-believe world were they suddenly in? Leo was his brother. He didn't have a shell. He had cool brown skin. He had bouncy blonde curls that Mikey had helped him bleach and dye a red streak in. He had vitiligo 'stripes' over his eyes. He had a bad habit of cycling through boyfriends and insomnia and a shockingly large vocabulary... but he didn't have a shell. He didn't have scales or stripes or claws or a tail.)
He looked anyway, running the tips of his fingers over the top of it, following the curve. He couldn't quite tell if he was feeling the texture of the shell, or just the texture of his own fingers, which were different than they had been; covered in scales, the skin thicker and rougher than it had been before. Bending his joints felt odd, and he couldn't help himself from doing it over and over, as if that might help him get used to it faster.
Every part of his brother’s shell was this cool, ocean blue, just edging on teal in some places, and Mikey thought to himself that, in the very least, it matched his life color perfectly.
He swallowed hard and resisted the tears that were building up in his eyes. He didn’t want to cry right now. He didn’t even know what he was crying about. Because he was scared? Because he was overwhelmed? He wasn’t very good at not crying, but he forced it down, his hands trembling a bit with the effort of it.
"Does it look the same as mine?" He heard himself asking, his eyes flickering over to meet Leo's (which were now not something he recognized, looking more animal than person, though they still retained the same, familiar almond shape. The color, however, he realized, was slightly different. Leo's eyes were brown. All of their eyes were brown, so dark that they were almost black, but now, instead, Leo's eyes were mismatched; one of them dark blue, like water in a cove, like the sea at night, and the other dark red, like ink with blood, like black cherries.)
"I dunno," Leo laughed, though his voice was still shaking. "I don't know what mine looks like."
"They're... kinda the same…" Raph observed from nearby, leaning over slightly to examine them both. His voice sounded kind of hollow, like he wasn’t really there. Sort of far-off. "I mean. The parts I can see. Mikey, yours is more... orangey. And bumpier," he said. "And yours is spotty. Leo's is kinda... stripey."
"Yours is huge," Leo observed with a chuckle, glancing over at their biggest brother, who was always the tallest and largest by a wide margin, but now absolutely dwarfed the rest of them. "And... spiky. You're all spiky. And… and fucking huge, dude. You look like you have fucking paws. And your mouth is all..." He laughed again, scrubbing anxiously at his face with his hands. "You look like a fucking snapping turtle."
Mikey paused a bit at that, glancing over at the other.
Donnie must have said or signed something that the rest of them didn’t catch, because April spoke up next, clearly addressing him. "Uhm, no, yours is... uh. It's kind of flat? And..." There was a pause. "Oh, oh my god, it's, like, squishy!" She squealed, everyone else in the room jumping in response, before she tamped down the noise, biting her lip and getting a handle on her reaction. "Sorry! Sorry, I just. I just wasn't expecting that texture, that's all! It doesn't... feel like what I thought a shell would feel like, I guess."
"Are we different kinds of... turtles?" Mikey questioned, tilting his head to the side. He wanted to laugh at himself when he said turtles. I mean, seriously, turtles? Of all the creatures in the world, turtles? Why were they turtles?
"I guess we must be," Leo sighed, resting his chin on his knee. "We obviously look different."
Mikey frowned, and he thought that his lips might be trembling if he had proper lips anymore, but he wasn't sure if he did or if they could tremble or what that would feel like if they did. Okay, fine. Now there were a few tears.
"Does that mean we're not brothers?"
A beat of silence followed.
"We're not," Donnie said, and quite frankly, Mikey was surprised to hear him speaking. Small miracles? Kinda…?
"Yeah, we are. Don't be crazy," Raph immediately refuted, his brows (er... brows? Place where brows once were?) furrowing together, and Mikey was desperately relieved to see that the space in between still wrinkled into a crease the same way they always did. "Of course we're brothers."
"Evidently, we're not even the same species," Donnie hissed out bitterly, drawing himself up even closer, even smaller, into a little ball. "It's literally impossible."
"Come on, Dee--"
"We're not even human!" Donnie snapped, hunching up his shoulders. "We're not even people!"
"Hey, look, come on you guys," April tried to soothe, holding up her hands as if to calm the group. "It doesn't matter if you're turtles! It doesn't matter to me. I love you guys no matter what--"
"Oh, wow, what a comfort!" Donnie scoffed, and April bristled.
"Okay, look, I am trying to be helpful! I know that this fucking sucks but you do not need to take out your nasty attitude on me!"
Leo suddenly laughed-- loudly, painfully-- tilting his head back and letting his shoulders slump so he could stare up at the ceiling. "Oh my god. Jesus christ. We're not people," he bit out in between his barely restrained hysterics, squeezing his eyes shut. "We're freaks, dude!"
"Leo, c'mon."
"We're not even people!!!" He repeated. "Fuck. We never even had a chance, and we didn't even know it!... Oh my god, we’re such morons!!! Hahaha-- welp! This is it! Pack it in, boys, it’s all over!"
"Leo, chill. What are you even talkin’ about?"
"Did you know I was gonna go on T?" He questioned, turning around sharply, suddenly, to face Raph. "Me and Dad were talking about it. For, like, a while now. And I was gonna start T, finally. Do you know how much I wanted to do that? Do you know how long I've been waiting to get to do that?"
Raph frowned. "Leo... This doesn't mean--"
"How the fuck is that going to work now!?" He interrupted. "How is anything gonna work now? We're fucking! REPTILES! Raph!!!"
"I KNOW THAT!" Now Raph was yelling, too, and Mikey flinched a bit, hiccuping softly as he drew himself down, retreating slightly, halfway into his shell (oh my god, he can do that now?) "You think you're the only one who was lookin' forward to stuff? I was--" He cut himself off, breathing in deep and then letting it out slow, his jaw tensed.
"Look. I know this... sucks. But it's not gonna help to just throw in the towel right now and mourn shit that we don't even know is gone yet, alright? We'll... figure it out," he said. "We don’t even know what’s goin’ on, so let’s just… let's just try to figure it out first. Okay?"
Leo frowned. He looked down and to the side, tightening his hands into fists, but he didn't have any rebuttal. After a moment, he took a deep breath, pulling himself up to his feet for a second time. He tottered for a moment, his arms windmilling until he found his balance and this time he stayed on his feet. He looked around the room for a moment before his eyes fell on the limp form of Baron Draxum, still crumpled in a heap some odd paces away.
"What do we do with that guy?"
All of their eyes snapped over, as though they had all just remembered that he was there in the first place.
"Did you knock him out, dude?!" Raph questioned, his eyes widening slightly.
"No! I mean. I don't think so. Not exactly," Leo said. "It's, like-- he grabbed me and some sort of mystic-magic-whatever thing happened. He lit up with a bunch of symbols and he just... went down. I dunno what happened."
"Well," Raph said, sighing deeply before he pulled himself to his feet as well, doing a similar rock and wobble to Leo before he figured out the new balance he had to strike, correcting his own footing. His long tail swung back and forth behind him, assumedly on instinct, to help. "We dunno how long he's gonna stay down, so we oughta find a way out of here and put some distance between us and him ASAP. We already know where Dad is, anyway."
"Maybe we can figure out where we are," Donnie mumbled bleakly, pulling himself to his feet as well. He seemed to struggle much less than his brothers did, and Mikey noted that his back rounded less than theirs. April got up as well, sticking close to his side, but perhaps hovering a bit less now.
Mikey watched as his family rose up, one by one, finding their feet again. And something in his chest unwound and loosened again. A breath he hadn't realized he had been holding came tumbling out of him.
He didn't know his own face anymore. And he didn't recognize his brothers when he looked at them.
But they were still them. Already, Mikey was completely sure of it. And the change, while still terrifying, felt just a tiny bit less devastating.
He hadn’t lost them yet.
Bracing himself for the coming challenge, he rose up to his feet as well. The unfamiliar weight on his back was more than he had expected and attempted to drag him down, and he stumbled slightly, nearly toppling over onto his back the same way Leo had the first time-- but Raph grabbed his wrist before he could, pulling him forward and correcting him, and Mikey was relieved to find his center of gravity once more. Usually, he would complain about his big brother stepping in, preferring to do things on his own rather than being 'babied' by his older family members, but...
Right now, it was actually okay.
"Okay. Let's do this."
(They took about three steps before Raph yelped and tripped over his own tail.)
---
Though they had tied up the so-called "Baron Draxum" with whatever rope and other scrap they could find in this place, (the longer they were here, the more Donnie began to suspect it was a lab of some kind,) none of them were very confident that it would be able to hold him for very long, if at all, and so they all got to work trying to figure out an exit. But to call this place 'maze-like' was a bit of an understatement.
"This is the worst landmark ever," April hissed in frustration as they turned a corner, only to once again be met with a hog-tied yokai, face-down on the concrete. "We keep going in circles!"
"Okay, look," Donnie sighed. "I know we don't want to linger here any more than we have to, but let's look around a bit and see if there's anything useful lying around to get us out of here. Clearly just walking out isn't getting us anywhere."
There was a chorus of grunts and mumbles of agreement from the rest of his family, and the group slowly fanned out, beginning their search. It was dark here, wherever they were. The ground beneath his feet was cold, with him and his brothers having already ditched and stowed their sneakers and boots after realizing how awkward and painful it was to walk in them with their new wide, two-toed feet.
The space was wide and almost circular, with various tunnels branching off at different levels, all leading away to who-knew-where. Several desks and tables were scattered about the space, each surface covered in everything from charts to pipettes to oddly-shaped jars filled with oddly-colored substances. Donnie just barely resisted the urge to sit down and start working, or to begin snatching and pocketing things as he found them. Instead, he took a liberal amount of photographs of everything they found on his phone.
His impulse control could only get him so far, however, and his eyes narrowed as they fell across a small, purpley-pink gem that lay on the desk, suspended within a small glass case. This certainly looked interesting... Geology wasn't really a passion of his, but something about this just seemed... intriguing. He couldn't quite place it...
Surely no one would miss this, right? It was small! It would be silly not to take it, quite frankly, and he slipped it into his pocket as quietly as he could when he was sure no one else was looking.
Now, if only he could find some blueprints of the tunnels... But that would be too easy, wouldn't it?
"So," Mikey said after a minute or so of them searching, and Donnie sighed internally. Of course, they couldn't expect him to stay quiet for that long. "If Raph is a snapping turtle, and me and Leo are turtle-turtles, then what kind of a turtle is Donnie?"
Donnie rolled his eyes, scowling. "Okay, well, first of all, do we really have to discuss this?" He hissed, immediately bristling. "I’d highly prefer we not address the proverbial elephant in the room, thank you! Second of all, 'turtle-turtle' is not a species."
"Yeah, but, like, we have turtle shells!" Mikey explained. "But April said yours is squishy. So what does that make you?"
Donnie sighed deeply. Talking about this made his skin itch.
"A softshell turtle, I suppose."
"A softshell?" Leo questioned, raising a brow. "That's a thing?"
"Yes."
"How do you know that off the top of your head?" Raph questioned.
"Some of us actually paid attention during biology classes," he responded dryly. And having a near-photographic memory did, admittedly, help as well…
"Whoa!" Mikey absolutely beamed. "That's so cool! Now we just gotta figure out what kind of turtles me and Leo are!"
"Well, I'd look it up if we had any service. And also if it was even close to being an appropriate time for us to waste our efforts on something like that," Donnie said with a roll of his eyes. He knew that Mikey was just distracting himself, finding a silver lining so he didn’t break down, but Donnie didn’t want to think about it, didn’t want to think about how much of their entire lives was completely fabricated, about how--
He snorted, suddenly doubling over with laughter.
"What?" April questioned, raising a brow.
"I just-- I just realized!" Donnie laughed. "Our... our moms must be turtles! Fucking turtles!"
There was a beat of silence as this sunk in before Raph gave a similar reaction. "Damn! I guess you're right, huh?"
"Do you have any idea how much time I wasted in therapy talking about this?" Donnie squeaked out through giggles. "I spent so much time with Mossy talking about our mom and how she didn't want us or whatever the fuck and about the stuff she did to Dad and how I couldn't remember her, and she-- she was never even real! None of that ever even happened! She was just a fucking turtle, wasn't she!? We don’t even have a real mom!"
"Whoa! Mind... blown. I didn't even think about that..." Mikey gaped, his eyes wide. "This whole time I just assumed that our mom was probably the hotel lady..."
"Yeah, me too," Leo agreed.
Donnie blinked.
"You what?"
"Well, you know, that woman that Dad was datin’ right before he disappeared," Raph said. "And she runs the Grand Nexus Hotel, right? All the articles I ever read always mentioned her."
Donnie's eyes twitched. "You thought she was our mother?" He questioned.
"Well, that's who Dad was datin’ last! And for a long time, too. It'd make sense, wouldn't it?" Raph defended.
"Yeah. You didn't think that?" Leo said.
"NO! Why would I think that?!" Donnie was laughing again.
Leo huffed in offense, crossing his arms over his chest. "I'm sorry, do you know something we don't?"
"Apparently!" Donnie exclaimed. "Guys, you've seen pictures of her, right?!"
"Well, yeah?" Mikey tilted his head to the side.
"She's pale as fuck!"
"So?"
"And our Dad is Japanese!"
"And? Donnie, what's your point?"
"We're black!"
"... Ooooohhhhh," all three of his brothers said, nearly in unison, after Donnie's argument finally sunk in.
"Oh my god," Donnie laughed, covering his face with his hands, scrubbing tears from his eyes. "You're all so fucking dumb..."
"I guess our mom would have had to be black. I mean. We got the Japanese half from Dad, but... I never really thought about where the other half came from..." Raph admitted, his mouth still slightly agape like he was still rolling the thought about in his head.
"Wait a minute," April said, her hands on her hips. "I mean, yeah, all that makes sense, but if you guys have secretly been turtles this whole time, then why are you black?"
"Dude, are all turtles black?" Mikey questioned, his eyes widening.
"I cannot discuss this any further. I'll get a migraine and furthermore cease to function, as I am, and I cannot stress this enough, just barely suppressing the gravity of this whole situation right now," Donnie sighed, gesturing to himself as he turned back to the desk in front of him. "Did anyone find anything yet?"
"Not yet," April sighed, shuffling through some papers. "What even is all this junk?"
"I'm not sure. Some sort of research, it seems like..." Donnie mused, sort of thumbing through a book as he spoke, reading key phrases and chunks of text as quickly as he could and making mental notes so he could refer back to it later. He was more than happy to have something else to focus on, though this would admittedly be a lot easier with human hands. "But I'm still not sure where--"
Shhhh shhhh.
Donnie paused mid-sentence, his brows furrowed. He hadn't noticed that sound before now. He tilted his head a bit to the side, turning in its direction, trying to zero in.
"... Donnie?"
"What's that noise?" He questioned aloud, though his voice was barely above a whisper.
Shhhh shhhhh.
He knew that noise. He recognized it. Where had he heard it before?
Shhhh shhhhh.
... Water, he realized with a start. The noise was running water. Of course. How had he never realized this before?...
That's what he was hearing. That's what he had heard.
"Dee? You good?"
"Guys," he said, turning just enough to glance over in their direction. His face suddenly felt like glass. It was odd. "I think... I think we're in the sewer," he said. "... And I think we've been here before...?"
Before anyone could say anything further, a new noise filled up the space.
Skrrrtttccchhhhh.
---
"What was that?!" Mikey shrieked, immediately leaping behind his biggest brother to hide. Leo and Donnie were instantly gravitating to each other as well, falling into stance on instinct as they stood back to back, each covering the other.
"It sounds like something scratching," April said thoughtfully, and true to her word, the same skritching noise clawed its way through the air a moment later, echoing slightly against the walls. "I think it's coming from over here!"
"April!" Raph hissed off a protest as she took off, heading in the direction of the sound. "We don't know what that is!"
"We will if we go look!" She chirped in reply. I mean, come on, what was the benefit of hiding over here instead of investigating? Weren't they curious either way? Besides, they were stuck here regardless-- maybe they'd find something helpful.
The noise continued as April searched, peering around corners and down tunnels, until, finally, she found her prize. Tucked inside one of the off-shoot tunnels, one of the many dead-ends that seemed to surround this space, was a proverbial treasure trove. A variety of odds and ends filled the space; various amulets and scrolls and chests and even weapons were leaned up against the wall or stacked up on the ground. In fact, a lot of weapons were in here. Was this some kind of a weird armory? Or a trophy room? What kind of sewer has a trophy room?
But most interestingly, she found the source of the noise. Inside a small, dimly lit orb, looking as though it were made of some sort of glass, or perhaps even light, was one of the oddest creatures April had ever seen, clawing sadly at the surface of its prison. It had ears like a chihuahua, pointed and too big for its head, with tufts of fur poofing out from inside, but huge eyes like some kind of a cat. Pointed tusks stuck from its mouth like a boar, but soft, downy yellow-and-blue fur covered its entire, squirrel-like body, complete with a fluffy, wriggly tail.
"AW, you guyyssss!" She called out. "Come look! It's cute!"
"April!" The guys were right behind her, with Raph leading the charge. "You can't just run off like-- jumpin' jack flash! What the heck is that thing?!"
"I dunno!" April said with a shrug, immediately making her way into the room, scooping up the orb so she could examine it, looking for a way to open it up. The little critter inside pattered about excitedly, its claws clicking against the smooth surface. "Help me figure out how to get him outta here."
"Are you sure about that?" Leo questioned. "No offense, but we have nooo idea what that thing is! Maybe it's, I dunno, locked up for a reason?"
"What? C'mon, guys, we've gotta help!" Mikey protested, turning on them with big, pleading eyes. Nice, April thought, with Mikey on her side she had basically already won. Suck it, middle children. "Plus, he was locked up by Draxum. So he can't be bad!"
"Yeah! Ever heard ‘the enemy of my enemy is my friend?’" April added in.
"I'm not convinced," Donnie said, crossing his arms over his chest. "I mean, has anyone else noticed that pretty much everything else in this room is a weapon of some kind? Isn't that maybe a bit telling?"
"Aw, come on, Dee. Look at this face!" April insisted, holding up the orb to the others. The creature, to their credit, played their part, pulling an absolutely pitiful face which Mikey immediately echoed, turning to his brothers with watery eyes.
Checkmate.
"Okay, okay, fine. Look, there's gotta be something in here that can help us bust him out..." Leo muttered, beginning to pick his way through the contents of the room with Raph, Donnie, and Mikey following suit shortly after.
"Here, what about these?" Leo said after a moment, turning to face them with a pair of twin katanas in hand. "Think I could slice that bad boy open with these guys?"
April scoffed, clutching the orb close to her chest. "Uhm, and this guy in half, maybe!" She protested. "Can we try something a little less deadly, please?"
"Aw, come on! These are cool," Leo protested, grinning as he twirled them in his hands with a metallic shwing.
"You just like them because you always win at any swordsmanship event at tournaments," Donnie remarked dryly, grabbing a long wooden staff to hold in his hands, testing the weight of it. "... That being said, should we maybe grab some of these just in case?"
"Whaddya mean?" Raph glanced over at the other.
"Well, we haven't even made it to the Hidden City yet, and we've already been attacked once," Donnie reasoned, placing a hand on his hip and frowning. "So it wouldn't exactly be a bad idea to have some weapons on hand in case of an emergency." He spun the bo staff in his hands appraisingly a few times. "I mean, obviously this is a bit underwhelming, but I'm sure I could make some improvements once we got back home..."
"Sounds like a good plan to me! Look at all the stuff they’ve got!” Mikey cheered, immediately diving in, beginning to sort through all the various options they had in the room. He chuckled darkly, swinging a pair of nun-chucks in his hands. “These’ll do…”
“Yo, guys!” Raph called, waving to get his brothers’ attention before pointing to the very far corner of the room. “If we’re gonna take stuff, why don’t we take the glowy ones?”
There was, in fact, a weapons rack filled with floating, vaguely glowing weapons, tucked away in the shadows, which only made the glow all that much more tempting. They were simply begging to be taken.
Mikey and Leo, almost in unison, gasped, their faces absolutely lighting up as they raced over to join Raph. “Ooh, dibs on the sword!” Leo cheered, immediately snatching up the odachi and repeatedly striking poses.
“Hot soup! Check me out!” Mikey snatched up a bright orange kusari-fundo, absolutely beaming ear-to-ear. Raph was nearly drooling as he laid his claim on a pair of tonfas, beaming as he gave a few experimental swings.
“They’re perfect! No one’ll mess with us now!”
“What about you, Donnie?” April questioned, tilting her head back to glance at the remaining brother. “Don’t you want a glowy weapon?”
“And add yet another unknown, uncontrolled variable to our current situation? I’m good,” Donnie scoffed, rolling his eyes. “I’ve trained with a regular, wooden bo staff. I’ll fight with a wooden bo staff, thank you very much. You all have fun with your likely-radioactive weaponry,” he said, waving them off.
“Here, April, I got something for you, too,” Mikey chirped excitedly, scampering over to present his find to her. “Ta-da!!! Baseball bat!”
It wasn’t a baseball bat-- it was a club. But close enough! April gasped in delight. “It’s perfect!” She enthused, immediately snatching it up, rolling it around in her hands and tapping it against the side of her shoe a few times. Ooh, and the weight was perfect, too. “And I think it can help us get little guy out of this ball thingie, too! Leo, come hold it still for me!”
"Aw man, why do I gotta hold it?" Leo muttered in complaint but did as he was told regardless, kneeling down to hold the orb steady, taking care in the placement of his hands to minimize the chances of broken fingers.
"Alright," April said, backing up a bit, her tongue sticking out from between her lips with focus. "This won't hurt a bit..."
She swung the club back, taking care to temper her strength, and brought it down on the little ball prison with a satisfying crunch.
"Did it work?" Mikey gasped, his eyes wide as he leaned over. The orb was not shattered nor laying in pieces; but the side of it had caved in considerably, a spiderweb of cracks blossoming from it, and a second later, it simply dissolved as if it had never been there in the first place. The creature that had previously been trapped inside cracked one eye open, having squeezed itself into the very back of its cage, flinching at the oncoming impact, gave an absolute trill of excitement, darting about in celebration.
"There we go!" April said, grinning wide, her hands planted on her hips. "See, told ya I'd get you outta there! That's better, right?"
The little yellow beast threw itself into her lap, wriggling with joy and nuzzling at her with an enthusiastic wag of its tail. "Okay, okay! You're welcome!" April laughed, giggling as she allowed the creature to clamber about in her arms, allowing it time to bounce about before it finally began to settle again.
"Any chance you know how to get out of here, little guy?"
---
Raph looked up from his phone and his tea at the sound of mail plopping down on the table, glancing over to examine the letters his father had just tossed over in his direction.
"For you," Dad remarked, sorting through the remaining mail from the day.
"For me?" Raph echoed, his brows rising up. "Who the heck is sending me mail?" Curiosity took hold immediately, and he abandoned the wrestling video he had been watching previously in favor of tearing open the letters on the table.
He was surprised to find college brochures inside. His father, however, did not seem all that surprised at all, even adding a couple more to the pile.
"It seems you are in high demand," Dad teased, smiling the tiniest bit. "I have received a few emails as well from recruiters recently."
Raph paused for a moment, rolling this idea about in his brain, trying to figure out what it meant and what it tasted like before he forced a small laugh, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.
"Guess they haven't seen my grades yet," he joked weakly. Dad hummed softly, pulling up a chair so he could sit down next to his eldest son.
"Nonsense," he scoffed. "Your grades are fine, Raphael. You've simply tricked yourself into thinking they're not by comparing yourself to others," he added, giving the other a knowing look. "And besides that, this is hardly the only thing that matters. I have told you many times that grades aren't everything. My grades in high school were terrible!" He remarked with a laugh. "And your career in sports is very impressive."
"I guess," Raph said, wrinkling his nose up a bit as he leaned over the table. Easy for him to say. He had a hard time wrapping his head around the idea of colleges being interested in him when his three younger brothers were right here in the same damn house! Had they really meant to send these to Hamato Raphael?
Dad's hand moved to rub little circles into his back, and he nudged his son's teacup a bit. Raph agreeably took a sip, allowing the warm liquid to trickle down through his chest.
"I know you have not always enjoyed schoolwork, Raphael," Dad finally spoke again. "But you are not stupid. You may very well have the most common sense of any of my children!" He chuckled. "And you have many talents besides that. You are a remarkable athlete, and I know I do not have to drag you over to the trophy wall to prove this to you, but I will if I have to. You are only sixteen and you are already the captain of multiple sports teams... not just anyone could handle that! It is difficult to lead a team. But you have always handled this with grace. And teaching children! That is a talent in and of itself. That is no easy task. Trust me, I know," he said, smiling slightly. "But you are doing so well with your new job. And I am very proud of you."
Raphael glanced over at his father, for just a moment, hesitating like he wanted to say something, but then biting it back.
"You don't have to go to college if you don't want to," Dad added. "If you decide that is not the path for you, that is fine. I won't be upset or disappointed. I did not go to college, either! But I would hate for you to not even consider it just because you don't think you're good enough for it," he pressed. "I know you've always said you intend to pursue a career in sports of some kind, but this is very much an avenue to achieve that if you'd like. Many professional athletes get their start through college sports, you know. And I can already name half a dozen universities off the top of my head who would be thrilled to have you on their team in a couple of years!"
He sighed softly.
"But you do not have to decide right now, my son. There is still plenty of time for you to consider all of your options."
Raph glanced over at his father, shifting a bit in his seat, before looking to the side.
"Uh. I dunno, Pops. I mean. I'm not good at tests and all that junk. I mean. College football could be good 'n all, but, uh..."
He hesitated a second, sort of scratching the side of his jaw, hesitating a bit. "I dunno. Maybe I could... I mean. We could look at it, at least. I was kind of wonderin’ about, uh. I dunno… Just, lately, I was thinkin' about... studyin' early childhood education, maybe?..."
[ next ]
#sorrywhatnowau#sorrywhatnowau fic#rottmnt#rottmnt fanfic#rise of the tmnt#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles#rottmnt au#rottmnt human au#tmnt
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Plastic hearts - (6)
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Rocker_girl123 on A03 suggested a Ken POV and I was thinking the same hahaha. The man's really just in his feels
---
Ken’s whole life had changed and although he was forgiven and Barbie acknowledged his feelings, he still harbored the shame of his actions. That in his need to prove his worth, he had hurt the only person he had ever loved.
It still hurt, making peace with the fact that Barbie would never see him the way he had always wanted to be seen as and now life in Barbie land didn’t make any more sense either. He had seen what the real world was about and although now he hated what patriarchy portrayed itself to be, he still did long for the realness of things around him.
‘Beach’ as it turns out was just a strip of sand textured plastic, so was the waves and everything here. He couldn’t sink his feet into the ground or smell the ocean air anymore. That when he was distracted with the discovery of what men were doing in the real world, he had forgotten to take a pause, to breathe and reflect how he was letting his insecurities run rampant.
As he sat by the plastic shore, watching the Barbies and Ken’s play their daily game of volleyball, he huffed a laugh. Stereotypical Barbie always seemed to have a deeper understanding with how the world was supposed to work. He still had a lot of work to do, to not associate his worth with the things he wanted. But with all that said, he still craved the love he desired. He let her go but now he was alone.
“Aren’t you going to walk around the shoreline with your surfboard?”, Allan asked him.
In all these turn of events, Ken began to value true friendships and for so long he had never brought to attention that Allan never received the friendship he was made for. It was so frivolous and yet world shattering, that although he thought he knew what he wanted he had missed all the important things that were right in front of him, he had been so blind.
“Not really.”, he smiled, feeling grateful that in this world that was callous, he had one friend.
“I know what would get you out your gloomy mood.”, Allan took a seat next to him.
“What is that?”, he asked, wishing for an remedy to make him feel better. To feel free again.
“Those cookies from the bakery.”, Allan chimed before snapping his fingers as though he had remembered something.
“The bakery has been closed for a while though.”, he stated and that broke Ken out of his sadness.
He knew it, he had been missing something in all this. Even now he was so caught up in his feelings that he had let you slip by. If any outlet in Barbie land was closed that only meant one thing. The Barbie meant for that particular set had vanished from here.
“How long has it been shut down for?”, he asked to which Allan shrugged.
“Since the day you left to the real world.”, Allan answered.
That was months ago. Ken began to worry. How had no one noticed you had been missing this whole time?
He dusted his hands and got up, his thoughts now only about you and your disappearance. He let Allan know that he was going to take a walk and headed to the bakery.
His hands were tucked within the pockets of his ‘Kenough’ hoodie but he could only pause as he saw the dilapidated building that once held the warmth of your presence and made the streets smell of your wondrous treats. But now it was boarded up, almost as if with time it was going to fade away.
As he caught sight of the windows by which he would wait, he remembered how this was the only place that remotely felt like how a home should feel like. When he had no where else to go, he would come here, to pay you a visit. As he dug deeper, he came to realize that you were the only Barbie who had treated him with a kindness he had never felt before.
But a thought flashed across his face, a memory he had of you last. The hurt with which you took your box of chocolates away as he said he wasn’t yours to like.
Stupid. Ignorant. He didn’t handle you with the same care you had shown him. He sighed, with one small adventure in his mundane purposeless life, it had turned everything up side down.
Now he had lost you too.
“Yikes, aren’t you the one that destroyed Barbie land for a while?”, he heard someone approach him.
Weird Barbie stood next to him. And somehow that question only hurt him more. But instead of making excuses, he owned up to it.
“The one and only. Although now I see the damage I did and I’m ... sorry.”, he told her and for a second she looked at him differently. Because he wasn’t able to go back to being an oblivious Ken any longer.
There was a threat that plagued the real world, one that could hurt anyone if they were innocently led to believe to give voice to their insecurities.
“You’re different now, beach boy.”, she laughed but as he took in her statement, it made more sense.
Maybe he was.
“Do you know why the bakery’s shut down?”, he asked her.
“Actually, I’m here to ask for your help.”, she whispered.
Asking her sanitation crew to begin a sweep around the bakery set, she pulled him to the corner.
“We’re in deep trouble. She came to me with a broken heart and I told her it would be better if she told you and if she didn’t she could take the roller blades.”, she explained to him quickly.
But all he could take from that was you had a your heart broken because of him.
Why couldn’t he do anything right?
When you made him feel loved, he had only caused you pain.
“But she took the wrong pair.”, she sounded frantic.
“She took the doomsday skates when I wanted her to take the normal one.”, she had a slight tremor in her fingers.
Letting the other Barbies and Kens know would lead to wide spread panic. But for the first time, Ken felt his spirit stir, not to slink back in worry but to take an initiative. To find a solution, a proper one.
“What help do you need?”, he asked.
“I need you to bring her back and the roller blades. If the glitter begins to wane, that means our world here is beginning to disappear too, taking along with it the imagination of all the girls of the real world.”, she explained and it gripped him, to see this world disappear meant he would be lost with it too.
“That doesn’t sound good.”, he stated giving more thought to the possible damage.
“Since you know how that world already is, you’re my only shot at fixing this. Sending any other Ken would mean they will come back changed in the worst way.”, she put forth her statement which he knew too.
He couldn’t let another episode of Kendom take place and neither could he sit back to watch another one of his fellow brothers be affected by the bitterness he had once been.
He needed to repay for the hurt he had caused, for the trust he had broken and maybe by restoring peace in Barbie land, it might restore some within him too.
“Tell me how to find her?”, he asked her with a sense of resolve he had never felt before.
---
Tags:
@imogen-skye @ateliefloresdaprimavera @meowkid1000 @jokersgrf @linacool13 @oh-kurva @dreamsarenicer @memospacexx @haleysucks00 @ibetyouthinkaboutmefics @tempobaekh @fallingwallsh @whatafreakingloser @lcversrockk @imonmyvigilanteshh @constellationscharts @eddiemunson4ever @freyafriggafrey @neptunelixir @iamruiningmylife @floralsightings @ynbutbetter @lazyboikat @mrharringtonsbae @spookyscellar @harleyquinn03041998 @haydensith @thatgirljas13 @weasleytwinscumslut @bl00dy-murd3r @itstylersblog @papichulo120627 @lee-lee-23 @dazeglitter-blog
#barbie movie 2023#barbie movie#barbie#ken barbie#ken carson#ken x reader#ken x you#ken x y/n#ryan gosling ken#ryan gosling
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hOtgUy drops by to pick up his visor, and Cub viscerally regrets not googling his name before then (2/2)
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“He’s coming! Oh, he's coming! See, he just texted me, he said he’ll be here at 2:00! Look! Oh, what should I say? Something short, maybe a little heart at the end- emoji, or the little arrow and the three? No, no heart, that’s too much. Maybe he’d like a longer message, something poetic! Oh, but I’m no good with words, not like that anyway. What do you think? What should I say?”
The waitress looked a bit startled when Scar shoved his phone in her face, though anyone would be surprised if a celebrity like HotGuy turned around and asked their opinion on something so important!
“Well..” she deliberated for a moment, lips pursed (thinking hard, of course!), “I would probably say ‘Okay.’ Maybe add an exclamation mark?”
“Hmm..” Scar sat back in his chair, doing a very good job of pretending like that idea didn’t totally suck, “That’s a good start. I’m thinking I need a little more, though.”
The waitress shifted her weight, avoiding eye contact, “Did you want some more water then? While you wait?”
“Oh no, no I’ll be fine. Don’t you worry about me. Oh, this is going to be so great. Life changing. Let it be known, the world will never be the same after this fateful meeting. You’ll understand. You’ll know when you see him. No feathers or tails or scales or anything. Nothing against tails or scales. You, miss, are looking positively stunning today.”
“Ah-” The waitress looked a tad flustered, her reptilian tail curling inwards, “Well, I hope your date- uh- goes well. I’m.. cheering for you?”
“Oop! Not a date, not a date, no, however, just between you and me, I’m also cheering for me. Here’s hoping!” Scar rested his chin on his hands, sighing, but by the time he opened his eyes again, the waitress was gone. Where did she- oh! The text! Scar turned back to his phone, deliberating for at least ten more minutes before deciding on ‘Perfect! I can’t wait :D!’
Scar returned his head to his hands, more than happy to daydream for the next fifty minutes. Cub’s soft hands, fidgeting nervously in his lap, nervous, obviously, because he was sitting right across from HotGuy, his favorite superhero! Scar would tell him there was no reason to be nervous, not around him, and Cub would relax, saying something like ‘Thank you, HotGuy,’ and Scar would say ‘No, not HotGuy, Scar, remember? Please, call me Scar.’ And Cub would look into his eyes and Scar would look into his, and they would just stare at each other for a moment before Cub would say, ‘I bet you tell every guy you meet on the street your name,’ and Scar would say, ‘Are you kidding? That’s not my real name.’ And they would laugh and laugh and Cub would still be laughing while Scar would manage to compose himself, lowering his voice to something husky and romantic.
‘But no, I don’t tell just any guy my name.’
And Cub would laugh, but soon he’d realize Scar wasn’t joking, and stop, staring with wide eyes, ‘What do you mean? Surely that’s not true, we’re practically strangers.’
Actually no, he wouldn’t say that.
He’d blush a little bit, and he’d say ‘Really? Why me, then?’
And Scar would say something, he wasn’t sure yet, but it would be very romantic and Cub would fall in love with him and maybe just maybe they’d get to hold hands under the table and it would be fucking awesome-
“Uh, hello?”
Scar jumped up, blinking rapidly. He looked at his watch. Ah. “Hello there!” he said, not a delayed reaction at all, “Sit, sit- oh! What’s that?”
Cub was standing a bit stiffly, but he did sit down, holding a little box in his hands. “Oh, this is the visor. Things got a bit.. distracting. I think. We forgot. I wanted to drop it off so you didn’t have to come back.”
“A gift!”
“It’s not a gift, you still have to pay for it.”
“I’m thrilled!” Scar happily ignored that last bit, fully intending on paying later, but a gift was simply much more exciting, and it was all wrapped up in a cute little box, too, how sweet! He took the box from Cub’s hands and set it beside himself, pleased. “I can not wait to get home and take care of that. I’ve adjusted to seeing around the cracks, but it’s still pinching between my eyes, which, I don’t think I have to tell you is unpleasant. Though, aesthetically, I don’t really mind it. Gives me a bit of a rugged look, don’t you think?”
“Uh, yeah, man,” Cub squirmed a bit in his seat, and Scar’s smile faltered momentarily. Was he uncomfortable? Did he not like the restaurant Scar had picked?
“Something on your mind? Good or bad, I’d like to know.”
Cub blinked a few times, like he was surprised Scar noticed, then sat up a bit, looking around a tad self-consciously, “I guess I just don’t know why I’m here. Pretty confused, honestly. Do you pick people off the street and get lunch with them often? Is it like a marketing thing or some sort of interactivity that keeps people engaged in you as a superhero or something? I don’t get it.”
Scar startled, “No, no, I don’t do this very often at all! Though, maybe I should!” He thought for a moment, cheek resting on his fist, “I mean, maybe not full sit-down meals like this, but just hang out, you know? I love meeting new people. But no, this definitely isn’t a common occurrence. I guess you’re here because I think you’re special!”
Scar wasn’t sure what he was expecting (floating cartoon hearts, confetti, instant mutual infatuation), but it definitely wasn’t the somewhat incredulous look that crossed Cub’s face. “Special?” he said, distrustful, then started looking around, like there might be a camera crew just around the corner.
“I- I mean,” Scar stuttered, struggling to save this, “You’re human. There’s hardly any humans living in the city anymore, and I guess I just think you’re.. I think it’s pretty cool. It’s a little worrying to see you walking around by yourself at night and blasting music, but that’s also kinda cool? The confidence, you know? I don’t know if I would have that if I was still- I mean- it’s not that I’m not human anymore..”
“I don’t think prosthetic legs make you any less human, no matter how high-tech they are.”
“Ah! Not that! Well, a little bit that actually- my body is like 50% robot at this point, but I was more talking about all the experimental procedures my parents put me through to try and save my life after I blew up.”
“After-” Cub spluttered for a moment, “You blew up?” Ah. Right.
Scar nodded sagely, making a little explosion gesture with his hands, “Bad day! Well, if I remembered anything it would be pretty bad, but it was at least two weeks before I started to be a person again at all. Yup. Not good! Legs were super messed up, and my back was like, super broken- I was in pretty awful shape for many many years. Most of which I don’t remember, which, tangent, is so weird? It was like I just woke up one day and I was 23 and everything before then was just.. this hole. Thought it would get less weird the more time passed, but nope, turns out five years is a long time to just.. not really remember.”
“You- this happened when you were 18?”
“Yup. I had just started college in this city. Bomb was an attack on the campus, and I was at the wrong place at the wrong time. Well. I guess I could have been in a wronger place and died instantly. I wished I had for a while. But given where I ended up, I’m real glad I stuck it out, I mean- I’m a fucking superhero. That’s awesome. And these kids- these little disabled kids, they come up to me and they see me and they have a little hope, you know? That everything is going to be okay.” Scar sighed, fighting the knot still tied sharp in his chest. The pain, the loneliness, the aching boredom. The ever presenting looming fear that something in his body could just malfunction and kill him instantly, the pain, fuck, the pain. Genetically and physically modified to absolute hell and back for the sole purpose of easing his suffering, and still he just couldn’t escape. “It’s worth it.” Scar wondered if he really believed that. When he told the world he’d endure it all again knowing this would be the outcome; is that really what he’d choose?
Cub gave him an odd look, then glanced to the side, then again, then again and-
“Are.. You two ready to order?” the waitress asked, and Scar felt his face heat up at his own obliviousness. Goodness, how long had she been standing there? Scar composed himself regardless and ordered; he had known what he was getting for a while now, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw a wry smile on Cub’s face, which only served to embarrass him further.
Scar watched as the waitress walked away, if for no other reason than to avoid Cub’s eye, who was still looking way more amused than what had to be warranted here. “Do I even want to ask how long she was standing there.”
“About five minutes. I said your name a couple times, but you were like, really zoned out. Like when someone in a movie starts having a flashback, except no one could see it and it was really awkward for everyone else.” Scar let his head thunk against the table, and Cub laughed, he laughed, and god damn it was the prettiest sound Scar had heard in a long while, and suddenly the social agony was entirely worth it.
“Careful, HotGuy, you might crack your visor.”
“Ha. Ha. But please, Scar is fine. Just not too loud, I’d rather keep it to a small circle, you know how it is.”
“Oh shit, well my manager saw your note.”
“One person is fine.”
“The waitress definitely heard me call you Scar as well.”
“I- it’s not that big of a deal, Scar isn’t my real name,” Scar sat up, struggling between amusement and disappointment due to deviating so far off his imaginary script, but Cub didn’t look too surprised anyway. The expression turned more thoughtful after a moment, not a massive change, but just a slight crease at the edges of his lips, and Scar felt heat rise in his face as Cub looked at him, really looked at him, finally in what felt like the first time Cub had properly checked him out. Please notice I’m attractive. Please let me call this a date. Please ask to hold my hand.
“Do you ever get worried someone is gonna take one of those knives off the back of your chair and stab you with it? Like, a supervillain or someone. You’ve got quite a few enemies, don’t you? Surely there are normal people that just don’t like you as well. Is your costume, like, knife proof?”
“It’s- it’s uh- cut resistant-” Scar didn’t know exactly what to do with that question, but it certainly wasn’t on the list he had hoped Cub would ask. Actually, it wasn’t on any sort of list at all. “The knives are there so people don’t touch my chair. I’ve got a big red sign on the back that says ‘DO NOT TOUCH,’ but that wasn’t quite doing the trick, and the police and government and everyone said I was not allowed to point my bow at people who ignored the sign, then they said I’m not allowed to verbally threaten them either, so I just started taping knives to the handles. An extremely effective solution, and one I’m quite attached to. It’s intimidating enough when I’m stationary like this, but when I’m going down the street they bounce around and it’s really scary, it’s pretty awesome. So honestly, I really hope no one decides to try and stab me with my chair knives, because 1) I’d be getting stabbed, which is never ideal, and 2) they’d be touching my chair, which is fucking rude. So.” Scar chuckled a bit to himself, pleased to see Cub looking amused as well. He was starting to be able to differentiate a bit between Cub’s base neutral expressions, and Scar was pretty sure there was a ghost of a smile there now. “You don’t want to stab me, do you Cub?
“I don’t want to, but I thought about it.” Cub answered that question frighteningly quickly and Scar just had to gape for a moment in his shock, “Again, I do not want to stab you.”
“But you thought about it?”
“You’ve got knives taped to the back of your chair. I’m sure I am one out of hundreds of people who had a thought about how easy it would be to stab you.”
“No one has ever said that to me before!”
“Of course not. They’d sound crazy.”
“You said it!”
“I thought you should know,” Cub said simply, not looking the least bit bothered, “And I thought maybe you’d tell me why you’ve got knives taped to the handles of your chair.” Cub paused again, a hint of that sly look returning to his eyes, “And I thought it would be funny.” Pause. “It was.”
Scar scoffed but was ultimately unable to hide his smile, “Well if I ever get stabbed, you’ll be the first to know. For now though, I think I-” Scar jumped as Cub’s phone rang, though Cub didn’t look all that surprised, picking it up without looking at Scar.
“Hey man, can’t really talk right now, but I’m okay. Hey, actually, could we FaceTime for a minute? I want to show you something before I go.”
The person on the other line was pretty loud, and Scar could still hear him despite Cub’s phone not being on speaker, “Oh- sure. Sorry I didn’t see your message earlier, I would have called- texted- whatever sooner. One minute.” There was a short silence as they switched from voice to video, Cub’s neutral frown shifting once more to that little smirk.
“You can see me, Grian?”
“Yeah, what’s up? Where are you?”
“Oh, just out to lunch with a friend.” Cub turned his phone around, and Scar was too busy reeling from being called a friend to react, staring dumbly at the camera for a second before perking back up, People Meeting Mode back up and running.
Scar waved, a somewhat strained smile across his face which he hoped didn’t look nervous, “Hello, Grian!” ‘Grian’ gaped, saying nothing for such a long time, Scar was starting to feel a little bit awkward, “It’s nice to meet you! I- uh- well, you’re one of Cub’s friends I’m guessing- just friends, right, are you just friends. Not dating? Just curious. Well, if you don’t know me, I’m Hawkeye, though, everyone calls me HotGuy. Just a nickname that caught on.” Scar laughed a tad awkwardly, but Grian suddenly jumped, looking- why did he look so afraid?
“CUB!” he shrieked, and Scar startled, though Cub only looked amused, “WHAT THE FUCK ARE Y-” and Cub hung up, snickering.
“My roommate,” Cub said, like this answered all of Scar’s questions, “He should believe me now. He really doesn’t like you. It’s fine though, he’s just a little dramatic.” Cub’s phone rang again, and he declined the call. The third time it rang, he turned his ringer off.
“Ah.” Scar ran a hand through his hair, suddenly a bit more nervous. Cub knew basically nothing about him, but had a roommate who hated him.. that couldn’t be good. How many bad things had Cub heard about him? Did he even want to be here, or was Cub just humoring him? The whole reason he was trying this as HotGuy was because everyone loved HotGuy! Everyone! HotGuy was so cool- did Cub not think he was cool? “Do you like me?”
Cub blinked, surprised, maybe, Scar couldn’t really tell. “Oh, I don’t know. You’re pretty alright I think.”
“You- you don’t know?” Scar was trying very hard not to sound like his heart had just been ripped into a thousand pieces, but he was pretty sure he was not doing a great job.
“I mean, I don’t really know you, but you seem like an okay guy.”
“Okay?”
“Yeah,” Cub didn’t sound too concerned- if anything, he looked a little bit annoyed, which only made Scar’s heart sink further, “If you didn’t want me to tell you, why did you ask? What were you expecting? If I asked you a loaded question like ‘Do you like me?’ what would you say?”
“I would say yes. I do like you.”
“Why?”
“What do you mean, why?”
“Why do you like me? What do you like about me? How can you be so sure? You don’t know anything about me, and I don’t really know anything about you, either. It’s not insulting, it’s just true. If you think I’m an asshole for this, then maybe you should reconsider ‘liking’ me. I don’t like when people ask questions and expect me not to answer honestly. I’m not out here trying to preserve anyone’s feelings, especially not superheroes.” Cub paused for a moment, cringing back just slightly, “That came out a little harsh. I just don’t respect people unconditionally, and you guys can be asshole customers. Nothing against you specifically, but I don’t think you’re any better than me because you’re famous. I don’t like how people treat celebrities like they’re made of glass. And I really don’t like not actually knowing how people think of me, so I’d prefer that you just told me the truth. I don’t want to guess. It stresses me out.”
“Oh, I mean..” Scar trailed off, a little bit unsure what to do with himself. But that made sense? Usually Scar found it pretty easy to tell whether or not people liked him, since the people that liked him either asked for pictures, autographs, or kinda just ignored him, and the people that didn’t like him threw bottles at his head, so, all in all, pretty black and white. Maybe it was a little harder when he was Just Scar, and people hardly batted an eye, but regardless, he kind of just assumed people liked him anyway. He got plenty of attention, that was for sure. People liked confidence, toned muscles, and men who dressed like whores, boxes which Scar ticked most days of the week.
But it was weird sometimes, being Just Scar. Scar couldn’t be disabled. Scar couldn’t be in pain, he couldn’t show much of his back lest people look too hard and notice it wasn’t all flesh. Scar had to worry about his legs, about looking human enough, about keeping to dimly lit areas when he felt like showing a lot of skin. Scar couldn’t go home with anyone else without being afraid of what they’d see, he had to take control if he wanted to have any fun, and that wasn’t always bad, but Scar couldn’t ever relax. Sometimes Just Scar felt less like Scar than HotGuy did. Most of the time Scar wasn’t really sure who he was at all.
Scar liked HotGuy. Most people liked HotGuy, especially in this godforsaken city. And if they didn’t like him, they probably hated him, in which case, whatever! Scar had given up trying to change minds a long time ago. He just wasn’t quite sure what to do with someone who didn’t know. Who didn’t have an opinion yet. But.. maybe he could work with this. Cub didn’t have to like him yet (if Scar repeated this enough times he would eventually believe it, right?), but maybe if Scar could prove that he liked Cub, and then Cub would know for sure that Scar wasn’t trying to lie. ‘What do you like about me?’ Well..
“I like your voice. And I really like it when you smile- your laugh, too, which I only heard today for the first time, but it’s just as nice as the rest of you.”
Cub jumped, and Scar realized with a jolt that their food was here- goodness, he really needed to stop zoning out like this! “What- What are you talking about-?”
“You asked what I liked about you.”
“That was like ten minutes ago!” Cub's voice lilted in his distress, and Scar put his head in his hands.
“I’m sorry. I have a lot on my mind. But I do have more to say if you still don’t believe me- I mean- I wasn’t thinking about you that whole time, just about what you said, but I guess maybe that is thinking about you technically, though I was more thinking about myself. I think. But I do like you, I promise.”
Cub looked briefly like a frightened animal, glancing around as if looking for an escape. “I believe you, Scar, it’s fine.” But Scar wasn’t entirely convinced, and if he wanted to be able to go out with Cub again, he was going to have to make sure that Cub knew!
“I like that you’re human. Maybe that sounds arbitrary to you, but it really means a lot to me, that humans are still living here. I want humans to feel safe, not trapped just because they can’t fly or run very fast or jump really high, you know? Humans, too- have you noticed how sharp everyone else is? They’ve all got claws and spikes and sharp teeth and sometimes I just wish I wouldn’t feel a little bit afraid every time someone else touches me or kisses me or-”
“Scar, it’s fine. It’s fine.” Cub’s voice was a tad strangled, but Scar was hardly looking at him- he wasn’t done yet!
“And the first time I saw you, you were with this stray cat- it was a couple weeks ago, do you remember? And a couple of us were fighting a couple blocks down, but The Goat- do you know The Goat? He said to me ‘Hey! You better not get any closer because this thing will snap you in half,’ and he started explaining this machine he had set up in the middle of the square and I was like ‘You definitely do not have a permit for this and I told you last week you need to stop testing your contraptions in public places,’ and I start going over to check this thing out and he says ‘If this doesn’t kill you I don’t know what will,’ and honestly that still bothers me. He said it like he wasn’t even trying to kill me, but he also didn’t care if I died! Like! Rude? Anyway, I told him ‘If you have a death machine in the middle of the square then-’ and suddenly I was launched like three blocks down and I don’t even KNOW what happened and-”
“Did that guy ever get arrested?”
“Oh yeah, but he got out the next day, it’s kind of his thing. He likes to go willingly and pretend- it doesn’t matter. So like, all my bones are broken and I’m barely conscious, but I remember seeing your face and your eyes; you kinda just looked at me for a second and I’m looking at you and you’ve got that cat.. It was friendly and trying to get you to pet it, and you had that sandwich and were trying to lead it away from the fighting and god. I just kept thinking about you and that cat. It was like the hottest thing I’ve even seen in my life.”
“I- okay?”
“I want to be the kind of person that stray cats like, but I have loud boots, and they always run away from me. I want to hold a stray cat. I want to be held like a stray cat sometimes.”
“I think our food is going to get cold- wait, did you actually break all of your bones? You’re exaggerating, right? I have to ask because it kind of did look like you broke all of your bones. And the cat thing- you know if you just shake a bag of treats most of them will come running, right?”
“Oh, I probably did. My body can take a lot of punishment. Still gotta put me back together at the end of the day, but you can do just about anything to me and I will not die- I might not even feel it. My nerves are like. Insanely not functional. You’d think that would be great but it’s not.”
“Huh. Do you ever get experimented on because of that?”
“You could say my existence is one huge incredibly unethical experiment, but if you mean recently, then no. There’s no point, the results wouldn’t be applicable to anyone else because of how uniquely messed up my entire,” Scar gestured vaguely to himself, “me, is.”
“I’d argue there’s value just in knowing,” Cub paused, looking at Scar for, quite frankly, an unnervingly long amount of time, “Hypothetically.”
“Am I about to be kidnapped?”
“Do you think I could kidnap you?”
“Not a chance.”
“Then no.”
“I’m having trouble telling the difference between joking Cub and Cub that wants to kidnap and study me /serious style.”
“I don’t want to kidnap you.” Cub stared. Scar stared back. Cub smirked, then began to eat. Well. Guess their food was getting cold, wasn’t it. But Cub wasn’t done, apparently, looking back up after finishing his first bite. “Do you still like me, Scar, or would you rather get to know me better before you decide?”
Scar blinked, looking up from his own food. “If you’re trying to make some sort of point here, I’m not getting it, but if it makes you feel any better, I’d probably think twice before accepting any drinks from you.”
“Would you still drink it, though? If I asked?”
“..Probably.”
Cub laughed, and seemed to notice when Scar perked up, the smile lasting a little bit longer before fading back into that little not-quite-smile, “I’m joking, Scar.”
“I thought so.”
“Did you?”
“I had no idea.”
Cub laughed again, and Scar preened, so very pleased with himself. It really felt like an achievement to make Cub laugh; to see the bouncing of his shoulders and the crinkling around his eyes. It felt so good. Scar never wanted to stop.
“Have I put you off, yet?” Cub asked, catching Scar’s attention just before he zoned out once more.
“Not at all!” Scar sat up as he spoke, hoping Cub would appreciate his smile as much as Scar enjoyed Cub’s, “Do you like me yet?”
Cub huffed through his nose, but Scar was pretty sure it was an amused sound, Cub resting his cheek on his fist.
“A little bit.”
#hermitcraft#hermitfic#hermitcraft fic#gtws#goodtimeswithscar#cubfan135#cubfan#convex#cubscar#hermitshipping#hotguy
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iii. breaking up is hard to do
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words: 4.8k
warnings: none
——————————
You and Kai still hadn’t kissed since Yeonjun’s party months ago, when you were two weeks into your fake relationship.
That thought crossed your mind from time to time, and it crossed your mind again while you sat in the bleachers with Aeri and Yizhuo, watching your school’s soccer team go up against their rivals from AG High. It was the final match of the season, AG were the defending champions, and you were losing.
Until Kai scored a goal, putting both teams neck-in-neck. Even amidst the chaos of all his teammates huddling around him, cheering, and ruffling up his hair, his eyes found yours instantly. You beamed.
Throughout the game he’d missed every goal he attempted, and you could tell he was getting frustrated. His brows were low and his jaw was clenched, and he barely glanced in your direction. Now, he was glowing so bright you’d think they’d already won the championship.
“Did you see how Kai looked straight at you?” Aeri whispered to you, a wicked grin on her face.
“Shut up,” you whispered back.
They did win the championship, and Kai scored the winning goal.
All around you, the students in the bleachers erupted into cheers. Kai’s captain tackled him to the ground and his teammates piled on top of him, yelling and laughing. You let them celebrate on their own for a while, but when the other players’ friends and partners started making their way down to the field, you had to follow them.
The second he saw you he pushed past his teammates and wrapped his arms around you, hugging you tightly. He was sweaty and out of breath, but you didn’t care.
“The MVP of the championship finals doesn’t even get a kiss?” Yizhuo teased.
Pointedly, you cupped Kai’s face in your hands and gave him a peck on the lips.
“Well, hello there,” he grinned, kissing the tip of your nose. His eyes shone with pride, and he couldn’t stop smiling as he basked in the glory of their win.
“That’s it?” Aeri baited, egging you on with a mischievous smirk.
“Damn. I remember when you couldn’t walk down a school corridor without finding Kai making out with someone inside an empty classroom,” Yeonjun joked.
You tensed up, praying Kai hadn’t noticed. You didn’t know if your heart could handle having to kiss him again properly. It took you two full weeks to get over the first one.
“Y/N’s different,” Kai said calmly, his hands still on your waist, speaking to the group but looking only at you.
The justification you’d both been giving all this time for the lack of PDA in your relationship, as opposed to all his previous flings, was that you were shy. And it was true. Sure, you flirted with people a lot, but you weren’t ever one to kiss and tell, and people knew that.
He had felt you tense up after all. You could tell from his eyes, sweet and worried and reassuring. Maybe it would’ve been less painful to just kiss him instead of having to listen to him call you different while he looked at you like that, knowing it was a lie.
——————————
You kissed (for real) the very next week.
For the first time that weekend, you were going to spend the afternoon at Kai’s house instead of him coming over to yours. You vaguely remembered visiting his house before, most likely for a party a couple of years back, but it didn’t look all that familiar to you when you arrived.
His parents were out of town, and you had expected him to seize the opportunity to throw a wild party because of it. But all he wanted to do was order fast food and have you over for a movie night, and you weren’t complaining. He had promised you that movie projector system in his basement all those months ago, right?
“Welcome to my humble abode,” Kai said, opening the front door and inviting you in. He realised the insensitivity of his words the second he said them, wincing slightly and giving you an apologetic look. You shrugged it off.
There was nothing humble about his abode. You were fairly sure his foyer alone, large and cavernous and grand, dwarfed your entire house. The long driveway bracketed by gorgeous flowered hedges and the front garden complete with a koi pond and waterfall feature had already rendered you speechless long before you stepped over the threshold.
You found such ostentatious displays of wealth gaudy as all hell, and you felt the same way about Azeri and Yizhuo’s houses. It was a wonder any of them, let alone all three of them, could turn out as normal as they did.
“Do you want a house tour, or-” he trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable. He’d shrunken into himself, eyes glued to the floor and his broad shoulders rolled inwards, somehow appearing small despite his height and impressive stature. Awkwardness was a new look on him, at least as far as you knew.
“That’s alright,” you said. You actually did want a house tour (and to see his infamous basement, complete with movie projector system, retro arcade games, and mini bowling lane) but that seemed like the last thing he wanted to do. “Let’s just go to your room.”
So he led you up a coiling marble staircase with dark wood handrails, sturdy and polished, down a long corridor with more rooms than you could count. More rooms than were in your entire block of flats, it appeared. He looked embarrassed, almost ashamed, as you arrived at his bedroom.
When he finally pushed open the door and let you in, he couldn’t stop watching your expression. You knew this because you could feel his piercing gaze as you glanced around his room.
It was massive, more than thrice the size of yours, with an attached en-suite bathroom, walk-in wardrobe, and private balcony. He had a king-sized bed, a small sofa by the wide windows, and a large desk complete with a full gaming PC setup. Half of his bed was covered in stuffed animals.
“I like your plushies,” you said, before you noticed the wall above his desk.
Like he’d mentioned to you all those months ago, he had put up a collage of pictures of him and his friends, notes, letters, and the like. But there were pieces of memorabilia that were very familiar to you.
The first one to catch your eye was the photo you took of him at the botanical gardens, the one with the red leaf over his face as he stared mysteriously at the camera from behind it.
The second one was of you, also from the botanical gardens, except you weren’t aware it existed. You were facing away from the camera, a broad smile just barely visible in your side profile, your eyes wide while you admired the autumn leaves. When had he taken that?
You looked closer.
The receipt from Stackies, where he had paid for you and refused to let you pay him back. A recipe for crepes you’d scrawled on the back of a napkin for him one night while you cooked together for your little brothers. A polaroid of you and him taken on the field after his championship game, with your hands cupping his face and his hands on your waist. You were both looking at each other, paying no mind to the camera.
When he said you were different.
“This is a cute picture,” you complimented casually, trying to sound like your heart wasn’t aching. “Can I have it?”
“No! That’s my copy,” he refused. Ah, the perils of non-digital photography. He reached over your shoulder and pulled a different polaroid off of his wall, handing it to you. “Here, you can have this one.”
The polaroid was from Yizhuo’s party a while back, after most of the guests had gone home and you were helping with the clean-up. Kai was preoccupied with gathering used cups into a bin bag and you were trying to get his attention. You had on Kai’s student athlete jacket and were tugging on his sleeve.
It took a while, but you eventually remembered why: you had found an unbelievably embarrassing love note in one of the cups, perhaps written as a drunken confession. The folded piece of paper, a torn receipt stained with whatever had previously occupied the cup, was pinned between your fingers.
The photo captured the exact moment he turned around to look at you, his eyes falling to the sight of his jacket on your shoulders. The smile on his face was soft while yours was excited, wanting so urgently to make him laugh. Was that really how you looked at each other?
“Thank you,” you said, still studying the picture, running your thumb over its glossy surface. Finally, you turned back to Kai, who now seemed even more embarrassed than he was earlier.
“Yeah, don’t mention it. What do you want for dinner?”
——————————
You were drowning. In a mountain of stuffed animals.
“Can we move some of these to the floor?” you asked, moving a blue shark plush aside so you could lean back against the pillow behind you.
“No, they’re my children,” Kai said. “Why are we watching Ratatouille, again?”
“It’s a good film,” you answered, hugging one of his many teddy bears to your chest.
He laughed. “Okay, I guess I just thought we’d watch something more ro- conventional.”
You expected to be nervous, but you weren’t. It felt surprisingly familiar, lying on Kai’s bed with him as rain battered his closed windows. When he first hit play on his laptop, you two were barely touching. By the time the film ended, his arm was around your shoulder and your head was on his chest.
“That was a good film,” he admitted, somewhat begrudgingly.
“See? I told you.”
He was about to respond when a loud crack of thunder ripped through the room, scaring you half to death. You jolted at the noise. Somehow, neither of you noticed just how much heavier the rain had gotten. It was storming now, with howling winds and lightning repeatedly flashing across the dark sky, even though it was still early in the evening.
How were you going to get home now?
You pulled yourself out of the bed — which was difficult to do given the rocky terrain of stuffed animals on which you struggled to find purchase — and over to the window. Kai was right behind you, drawing his heavy cream curtains back with the push of a button. Automated curtains, you mused. Both interesting and wholly unnecessary.
“Maybe you should spend the night here,” he suggested, frowning at the way the rain fell in thick heavy sheets and the way the wind whipped so ferociously that even the biggest trees wobbled.
“I can’t leave my brothers by themselves,” you said, shaking your head, your fingers curled tightly around his windowsill. “The power in our building always goes out during storms and they get scared.”
Kai paused to think. “It’s still early,” he began calmly, trying to soothe you. “Let’s wait and see if the storm lightens up.”
He tried to distract you for the next hour, even offering you the house tour he so desperately wanted to avoid giving earlier in a bid to take your mind off the storm, but nothing worked. You weren’t really listening to him the entire time, constantly fidgeting with your phone and glancing out the window.
“It’s calmer now,” you mumbled to him, biting your nails. That was a bad habit from your childhood you’d mostly gotten over. Mostly.
The winds were nowhere near as ferocious as before, and the lightning and thunder had stopped. The rain was still heavy, however, and the storm was only going to worsen later that evening according to the forecasts.
“How are your brothers?” Kai asked quietly, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you into his side to comfort you.
“Scared. The power’s coming and going,” you replied, your phone pressed to your ear. If you weren’t so anxious, his gesture would’ve given you butterflies.
“I’ll send for a car while the road conditions are good,” he offered, half looking at you and half watching the rain outside. “They can spend the night here.”
You chewed on your bottom lip. Daeseong, the elder of the two, was only seven. “They’re kids. They’ve never taken a taxi without me before.”
“Not a taxi. I’ll call my driver,” he answered immediately, without a hint of hesitation.
You were speechless as he took out his own phone and began tapping away at it, only snapping back into action a full ten seconds later to call your brothers again.
Too anxious to talk, you passed the time helping Kai work on his current Lego project while he sang excerpts of songs you both liked to keep your mind off of the storm. As much as he could, anyway. He could see it in your eyes even when you tried to hide it from him.
Your brothers both arrived in one piece just as the storm began to pick up again. You fed them the leftover pizza for dinner while Kai set up the guest room, even changing the bedsheets for them.
He returned from upstairs once he was done and you were just finished with the dishes. “We can put them to bed now,” he said.
We? We? WE?
You ushered the two boys upstairs, with Kai staying silent as they squealed at the size of the house and how fancy all the furniture was. He watched on with amusement as you ordered them into the bathroom to change into their pyjamas and wrangled them into bed.
“This bed is softer than mine at home,” Daehyun whined. “I want this one.”
You shoved one of Kai’s stuffed animals into his arms so you wouldn’t have to explain the economics of quality mattresses to a four-year-old. He’d been complaining incessantly earlier about how much bigger Kai’s kitchen was compared to your own.
“I packed Daehyun’s bag for him. He’s too young to do it himself,” Daeseong told Kai proudly, eager to be complimented. You stifled a laugh, watching them from afar.
“You did? Good job, little man,” Kai praised, ruffling the boy’s hair. He was always so sweet with them.
The second your brothers were asleep and you were back in Kai’s room, you threw yourself at him with enough force that he stumbled back momentarily.
“Woah. Everything okay?” he asked with a light laugh, hugging you back.
“Yeah. Thank you,” you mumbled into the front of his hoodie before letting him go. Looking up at him, too exhausted to feel embarrassed, your gaze shifted down to his lips. “I want to kiss you, Kai.”
Again, just like at Yeonjun’s party nearly three months ago, he didn’t bat an eyelid. He placed a hand on your lower back and pulled you towards him. “Me too.”
You kissed him gently, tangling your fingers in his hoodie strings just to give your hands something to do. You remembered why you needed two weeks to get over the last kiss now; he was addictive, everything about him.
It was a bad idea to kiss him for any reason other than to add credibility to your fake relationship in front of witnesses — you knew that logically. That’s why you’d refused him the very first day he’d come over to your house. Then again, if logic was your strong suit you wouldn’t have been in a fake relationship with him to begin with.
When he pulled you back in for another, you didn’t stop him. His lips were so soft, his hands were so warm, and his cologne was just strong enough to be pleasant without being overpowering.
Like before, the way he kissed was slow and patient, not a shred of urgency detectable in his motions. He tilted your head back to deepen the kiss with a low hum, reaching under the hem of your jumper.
Not for the first time, you clammed up, splaying your fingers across his chest and pushing him away.
“Sorry,” he whispered.
“I- I haven’t-” you were too nervous to finish your sentence, settling for gesturing vaguely to his bed instead despite knowing he was the last person who would make fun of you over something so trivial.
“That’s okay. We don’t have to,” he said. His ears were red.
By the time both of you wound down, the storm had eased up considerably. The drumming of the rain was still heavy enough to be audible through his closed windows and heavy button-operated curtains, but in the absence of vicious thunder or wind it was more soothing than frightening.
With Kai next you, though, you didn’t think you would be scared even if those were present. He had offered to sleep downstairs in the living room like the gracious host he was, but you’d wrapped your fingers around his wrist and asked him to stay.
And he did, turning off the lights and joining you under his duvet.
“Thanks for letting us stay over,” you whispered for the fourth or fifth time that night, resting your head on his chest. You could hear his heartbeat, slow and steady against your ear, above the backdrop of the rhythmic rainfall.
He kissed the crown of your head. “Of course.”
——————————
Kai didn’t understand how he went two and a half months without kissing you, because now that he had (and not for show this time) it was all he wanted to do. Every time he met you at your front door so you could walk to school together he was filled with an overwhelming urge to feel your lips against his.
“Daeseong and Daehyun love the plushies,” you told him on Monday morning. He’d let both of them pick their favourites from his collection and take them home the night of the storm. As you were showing him pictures of your brothers with their new toys, he caught a glimpse of the polaroid he gave you in your phone case.
His friends had asked him more than once why he never invited you over before then, or why the two of you were so much less physical than he normally was with other people. He usually just brushed it off with a comment about commute times or your shyness and left it at that, as unbothered and nonchalant as ever.
But when another soccer player in the year above him asked him if you were as good in bed as you were at flirting, Kai punched him in the face and got sent home early. No one ever mentioned the subject again.
“What’s with 53? Why does he keep glaring at me?” you asked Taehyun one day when he came to the bleachers for a water break.
Taehyun turned around. “Who, Hangil? Kai almost broke his nose. Didn’t he tell you?”
“What? No. Why?” you asked. Kai didn’t have a violent bone in his body; he hardly ever raised his voice, let alone a hand. Taehyun just grinned cryptically and returned to the field.
For the last two weeks, Kai hadn’t been able to get that night out of his head. The way you’d rushed to hug him after your brothers fell asleep, the sleepiness in your voice when you declared you wanted to kiss him, how naturally you nestled into his side as you slept.
If someone had told him a year ago that he’d be perfectly happy to go three months without getting laid just because of a fake relationship with someone he barely knew, he would never have believed them.
You continued coming to his soccer practices when you could, spending your afternoons doing homework by the field until you absolutely had to leave, and he continued coming over to your house for dinner to hang out with you and your brothers.
But something had changed, and you were acting differently.
He realised that when he kissed you in the bleachers after his practice on Friday. You were kissing him back, your hands in his hair like you didn’t mind his after-practice grossness (you never did), but he could tell you were distracted.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, pulling away and reaching for your hands.
“You need to stop kissing me like that, Kai,” you sighed, staring down at your intertwined hands, at his thumb running soothingly over your knuckles. “I can’t- I can’t keep doing this.”
His heart sank. He stayed silent, not knowing what to say.
“I can’t tell what’s real and what’s not anymore. You say this is just for your friends, but you put my brothers to bed and have photos of us up on your bedroom wall,” you mumbled, your voice so soft he could barely hear you. “I know I shouldn’t have kissed you that night, but at least at the start I could tell when you were pretending. I can’t anymore, and if we keep going like this I’ll break my own heart.”
His thumb stopped. “I- I like spending time with you,” he said hesitantly, his heart pounding in his chest.
That was the understatement of the century and he fucking knew it, but he couldn’t bring himself to say what he refused to admit was true.
“That’s not an answer, Kai. Either we date for real or we break it off. I won’t be mad no matter what you choose,” you promised, shaking your head and pulling your hands out of his grasp. Your fingers were trembling. “But not knowing hurts too much. I’m sorry.”
The thought of you hurting, hurting because of him, sent a stab of pain through his heart. He didn’t know either. He didn’t even know what you were apologising for.
“Can we at least get to our 100 day anniversary?” he asked, his face twisting at his own demand before he’d finished his sentence like he was already aware he was being selfish. You stayed silent and reached for your bag.
His friends were right; he was immature. He wasn’t ready for this. He wanted nothing more than to grab you, hug you, and tell you he loved you. But he couldn’t.
What he ended up saying was, “Can I walk you home, please?”
An agonising few seconds passed of you looking at him without saying a word. He couldn’t read your expression, but it was the same one you’d had on at his championship game when he chose not to kiss you.
Finally, you spoke. “Yeah. Let’s go.”
He walked you home in silence. Your hands kept brushing accidentally as you walked side-by-side on the narrow pavement, neither of you daring to hold the other’s. Normally when you reached your house he’d give you a kiss goodbye. This time, you headed inside without even so much as a glance in his direction.
——————————
That was just about the last conversation Kai wanted to have with his friends before he talked to you.
After your fight (it felt wrong to call it a fight when neither of you had even raised your voices, but he didn’t know how else to describe it) on Friday, he hadn’t spoken to you at all over the weekend.
But he still picked you up from your front door on Monday and you both showed up at school together as if nothing had happened. In front of your friends he still wrapped his arm around your waist, and you still laughed at all of his jokes.
He pulled you aside at the earliest possible opportunity.
“Can we talk? Please?” he asked in a whisper, half-expecting you to just walk away.
You didn’t. “When?”
“After my practice today.”
Although you agreed then, you didn’t show up after school. He kept glancing over at the bleachers searching for you, trying to spot your trademark Rick Astley QR code laptop sticker throughout his practice. Unsurprisingly, he wasn’t playing very well.
“Kai! Get your act together or get off the field!” his captain shouted the second their third practice game ended as everyone else scattered for a quick break.
Kai gritted his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut to keep his sweat from dripping into them, and bowed in apology before scurrying away.
“Why are you so out of it today?” Taehyun asked, frowning as he handed Kai his water bottle.
“I have a stitch,” Kai lied, pretending to double over in pain.
His captain’s call-out worked. Once he was convinced you weren’t going to come, he stayed focused enough on the game to not be singled out again. He wasn’t looking over at the bleachers at all, fighting every urge in his being not to think about you.
So he didn’t notice you when you turned up right when his practice ended until Beomgyu pointed you out.
“Where’s your stuff?” Kai asked as he jogged over to you. Really? That was the riveting question he was opening with?
“I went home first to get dinner ready,” you replied, explaining your lack of school bag and binder.
You had left and come all the way back to school just for him. For some reason, that made him feel worse. He sat down beside you, dabbing at the sweat on his forehead, still breathing heavily from practice. He couldn’t tell if you were angry or not.
“Uh- wait.”
He fumbled for his phone and opened his Notes app, looking for the two paragraph-long sappy idiotic stream of consciousness he’d written the previous night. His eyes glossed over it, and he understood then why his teachers were always yelling at him for not proofreading his essays.
“Kai,” you called, watching him stare at his phone screen. “I thought you wanted to talk.”
“Fuck. Yeah. I-” he looked at your face, then back at his phone. You didn’t seem angry or nervous or upset, just calm. Your hands were folded patiently in your lap, not fidgeting at all. He wanted to hold them.
I feel the same way. Why was that so hard for him to spit out?
“You’re right,” he forced out instead through gritted teeth. “Let’s break things off.”
You closed your eyes and turned away. I take it back, he screamed at you in his head.
“Why were you so nice to me?” you asked after a few seconds of silence, your voice starting to shake. “You did things you didn’t have to, things no one else was privy to. What was the point of all of that?”
Down on the field, his teammates were all packing up their things and getting ready to head home. Beomgyu stood around watching you and Kai talk, but Taehyun eventually managed to drag him away.
He glanced back down at your hands, now curled into loose fists in your lap, so he wouldn’t have to look at your expression.
“I’m really sorry, Y/N, but I’m not sure what else you expected out of this,” he said, his heart beating so fast he felt physically ill. “I hope we can still be friends.”
All he could think about was the pancake doodles on your calendar. When you took that photo of him at the botanical gardens. How you hummed quietly under your breath as you washed dishes together. Like you’d said, things no one else was privy to. The moments belonged only to you and him.
“I really liked you, you know,” you mumbled, picking at your nails and trying not to cry. “Before all of this started.”
It hit him like a freight train. You liked him? More worryingly, did he on some level know that in his subconscious? Had that been the reason he’d chosen to ask you, of all people, to pretend to date him? Had he used you?
“What-”
“I spent the last three months trying to figure out if you felt the same,” you told him, turning your phone over in your hand and unintentionally flashing him the polaroid in your phone case. He made the mistake of glancing down at it, at the smile on your face immortalised in the flimsy frame. How you looked at him with stars in your eyes.
“I guess I don’t have to wonder anymore,” you muttered.
It wasn’t like him to be speechless, but for all the words he was screaming at you in his head, he couldn’t get his vocal cords to cooperate.
He watched in silence as you strode across the field, taking long, brisk steps like you couldn’t get away from him fast enough. It was a cold night and you were just in your school uniform, and he wanted nothing more than to give you his jacket.
You had granted him a second chance and he tore it apart right in front of you. Why? All because he was too afraid to admit he liked you back?
——————————
thanks for reading!
-minastras <3
#txt#tomorrow x together#hueningkai#kai kamal huening#hueningkai x reader#hueningkai fluff#hueningkai angst#txt x reader#txt fluff#txt angst#txt series
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Fluffy Feb Day 6- Coffee Order
Warnings: platonic relationship (if I had another 2k in me they would have fucked in the broom closet though), BAU reader, mentions of arson case
Pairing: Hotch x blank slate Fem!Reader (no use of y/n)
Word Count: 665
When you’re on a case, you require caffeine. It’s a plain and simple fact, akin to how oxygen is required for breathing. That means that whenever necessary, any member of the team is ready to make a pot of bitter precinct coffee that you all have to swallow down. No matter how awful it tastes, you’ve always reasoned that caffeine is caffeine.
At least, that was your reasoning until a series of arsons lands you in Kansas at a precinct with some of the worst coffee you’ve ever tasted in your life. “It’s like drinking tar,” you had complained to Emily on the first day, your voice lowered so as not to insult any LEOs.
She had smirked at you and tipped her mug in your direction. “Tar tastes better than this,” she joked, and that was the end of the conversation.
For all your work in body language and human behaviour, you don’t work hard to have a poker face when it seems like no one is watching. The next few days contain countless cups of coffee lifted to your lips, each swig followed by a grimace. How can the officers stomach this stuff?
You don’t figure it out. On day four, you’re at the precinct with Spencer going over the geographical profile to work in the location of the newest fire while everyone else is spread between the morgue and the crime scenes. Your colleague is stirring his tea, mumbling something under his breath about equidistance while you scroll through police reports of interest that Garcia has sent your way.
“How is it going?” Hotch’s voice enters the room before he does, commanding attention before his presence can. When he steps through the doorway, your mouth waters at the sight of the Starbucks cup clutched in his left hand.
“It’s going well, actually. We found two points of intersection between the fires that could be a potential hideout or location of significance to our unsub, and if we cross-reference that with our profile…” You love Spencer, but you’ve been stuck in this room with him for two out of the four days you’ve been in this city and you’re half a ramble away from losing your mind, so you close your eyes and try to tune him out momentarily.
They don’t reopen until Spencer has fallen silent and Hotch speaks up to ask him a question. The Starbucks cup is sitting on the table in front of you now, your precinct mug nowhere to be seen. ‘Aaron’ is scrawled on the cup, but familiar handwriting has drawn a neat line through that and written your name underneath.
You’re hesitant, but Hotch catches your eye and gives you a nod midsentence so you reach out to wrap a hand around the cup. It’s warm, the perfect temperature for a Wichita November drink.
When you take the first sip, you tip your head back and allow the flavour of the coffee to sit on your tongue. It’s the same thing you order every time someone goes on a real coffee run, but Hotch is never the person collecting that information. How did he know?
Paying no heed to the conversation between the two men, you butt in with one hand raising the coffee. “You didn’t have to do this, Hotch. How much do I owe you?”
He shakes his head, sparing you a quick glance. Hotch never looks at you for longer than a moment at a time; as far as the members of his team go, you’ve been operating under the assumption that you fly under his radar for the most part.
Apparently, that’s not true. “Nothing. I can’t have one of my best agents drinking tar on the field, can I?” He shoots you a wink that’s just between the two of you, completely missed by Spencer as the younger agent turns back toward his profile.
In turn, you smile at him and bring the cup to your lips. Under his radar, indeed.
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Fluffy Feb tags: @doctorsteths-fluffyfeb @iammirrorball @hausofwhores @allthefandomstogether @myweepingangel @hotched @spacecowboyhotch @chibsytelford @honeybrowne @formulapierre (send me a dm or ask to be tagged!)
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The True Story of the Villareal Family [2.3]
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The Villareal children were in for a treat they didn’t want.
They arrived home from school, already feeling collectively below-average. Hugo staggered in like a zombie, having barely slept. Luna kept checking her phone and sulking because a certain someone wasn’t texting her. And Max – actually, Max felt ok. Maybe a little bored.
But none were in the mood for another attempted Family Fun Day, even though their father had spent the entire day preparing for it.
───────────────✦───────────────
While the children were at school, Jacques Villareal had taken the day off from doing nothing to redo the pool.
"There, much better."
“Come, offspring!” He called out to his children, cackling to himself. “I remodeled the pool. Let’s have a Family Fun Day pool party!”
“You remodeled the pool?” said Hugo. “It doesn’t look any different to me.”
“Well, it is,” said Jacques. “Now get in.”
Meanwhile, Luna was still anxiously checking her phone,
but there were no new messages. Anguish welled in her chest.
You ok? she typed woefully. Did I do something wrong? What’s going on? I miss talking to you.
There had been no response all day from her mystery knight about why they never showed up to their rendezvous, but maybe this 127th text in a row would finally do the trick.
She put her phone back and resisted the urge to pull it out immediately again. After all, she didn’t want to come off as desperate.
“Do we have to go swimming right now, Dad?”
Hugo threw up his hands in exasperation. “I’m so tired. I slept like two hours on a bench outside the Von Haunt Estate because you forgot about me and left me there yesterday.”
His father rolled his eyes. “Of course I didn’t forget about you, Hugo. I ignored your calls on purpose. Now quit complaining and. Get. In.”
Hugo groaned. Fine. He was too tired to argue. He teetered from exhaustion as he headed towards the diving platform.
Jacques turned around and set up a chair at the edge of the pool. “You kids go first. I’ll join later.”
The kids changed into their bathing suits and lined up. Hugo was first.
“You’re doing swell, Hugo,” said Jacques in a rare moment of paternal encouragement. “Luna, you’re next!”
“Ugh, whatever, Dad.” She didn’t care about anything anymore.
Little Max was last to cannonball in, and he was the only one who was having fun. Besides Jacques, that is. Jacques was still chuckling to himself, watching his children swim in circles.
Hugo’s arms started to feel very heavy, as did his eyelids. He relaxed his muscles, his head lolling for a moment, just a moment, and rested his eyes for a moment, just a moment, when
his eyes suddenly snapped back open.
Whoa! Almost fell asleep there, big guy. It was definitely nap time for him, one way or another.
Hugo swam to the edge of the pool and grasped the ledge to pull himself out.
“What are you doing?” asked Jacques, shocked.
“I’m going to bed,” said Hugo. “I’m so tired–"
“No, I mean, how did you get out of the pool?”
“… by pulling myself out over the ledge? Look Dad, I just really wanna sleep–"
But Hugo didn’t get a chance to finish, because Jacques suddenly broke into a scowl and stood up furiously, slamming his chair into the ground, mumbling under his breath.
“Guess they don’t make pools like they used to.”
And Jacques stormed off into the house, livid, leaving behind his three bewildered kids.
Hugo was baffled. What was up with Dad? He had gone real quick from being excited about the pool to having a full-blown conniption.
“Aw, does this mean Family Fun Day is canceled again?” said Max behind him, disappointed.
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#thesims4#simlit#sims4#windenburg#luna villareal#villareal#get together#the true story of the villareal family#hugo villareal#jacques villareal#max villareal#ts4#the sims 4#sims story#ts4 story#tTSotVF
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broken | c.s (06)
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pairing: choi san x reader
word count: 8.6k
warning: suggestive, idk what else but do lmk if i missed sum!
"so, want to play a few frames?" jongho asks.
though you considered the idea, you still weren't one-hundred percent sure about this 'double date', having told yuna you still needed some time, but she managed to drag you to the local bowling alley, squeezing you into the tightest dress she owns.
it feels like you're being suffocated because not is it only incredibly tight, but also a size too small.
"we could, but, i've never played before."
"oh, thank goodness," he says in relief, "me neither. but you know, protocols and whatnot."
a nervous smile emerges from him and you giggle in response, attention quickly batting to yuna and minhyuk by one of the lanes all flirty smiles and heart eyes, trying to act like they're interested in the game but you know it's the last thing on their mind.
when you first saw minhyuk, his sharp eyes and prominent features were the first thing you noticed.
he's handsome, in an overly intimidating way that probably has fathers pointing fingers and telling their daughters this is the kind of guy they need to stray far from.
which is why you expected his friend to be equally as alarming, only for the softest looking boy you've ever seen to pop out from behind him in parted black hair and puppy-like visual.
he's also an entire grade younger than you.
"you have a boyfriend, or?" his sudden question catching you offguard, unable to help the laughter that slips off.
"i don't," you reply casually. it might be because he's younger that allows for you to relax a little and not feel so tense around someone new and unfamiliar.
"ah, okay. just trying to minimize the risks of possibly getting a black eye, if i, by any chance, happen to hit on you."
another laughter pours at the silly comment.
"if i had a boyfriend, i wouldn't be here."
"oh, true. in that case, i hope you're ready to hear all the bad pick-up lines i've been waiting to use."
you roll your eyes, trying the very best to reframe from breaking out into an amused smile at the boy's attempt. the stark contrast to the one you're used to, because it's so innocent and it doesn't make you feel a little sick afterward.
his silly antics continues to entertain you, a giggle finally leaving along with a big smile plastered on your lips, you wouldn't even think of the possibility of someone watching a little too closely.
but san having arrived long enough to catch the exchange and occupying a booth far in the back, leans into the ear of the girl he came with, spewing a combination of words that brings out a smirk in her before really excusing himself.
"ok, you tell me which one sounds lamer--" jongho is rambling on when a figure comes into his peripheral vision, pausing midway to glare out of curiosity, one eyebrow raising at the person standing before him.
"san? you asshole, is that you?"
your breathing cuts short, head turning around so fast at the name that makes your heartbeat multiply. because it couldn't possibly be your san, right?
but lo and behold, there he is in all flesh and bones--it's those lips you kissed a couple days ago, and he's perfect just as you remember, going on to take a seat beside jongho while nudging him playfully to make space.
"i knew it was this fucker as soon as i stepped foot into the place," san says, a smile too warm on his lips.
jongho snickers and scoots over a little.
"what gave it away? my incredibly handsome look?"
san returns a snicker but with more edge. "the violence i suddenly felt at seeing your annoying face."
"real funny, choi number one. considering you came all the way over here, i'd say you even missed me a little."
"wrong. i came here for y/n."
the way your smile drops from their small banter when san immediately looks your direction is not even funny.
you want to comment on what a small world it is, that your blind date happens to know san, but the only thing that comes out is you in a stuttering mess and muttering out such a rhetorical question.
"y-you guys know each other?" stupid. of course they do.
san looks like he's going to say something but the younger boy beats him to it.
"he attended the same high school."
"right," san adds, "and jongho here, had a thing for playing hero and making my life all more difficult."
jongho chuckles it off and leans back, crossing his arms.
"i was on the school committee. i mean, i still am," he states almost too proudly, "and i was the one who busted this asshole for vaping on school ground."
san quirks his lips to the side with a shrug.
"student life was stressful," is all he says.
"yeah yeah. and somehow i became choi number two just because he's older."
"also because you're a little bitch that got me put on community service my last year of high school. an enemy situation throughout."
jongho stands back up to straighten his posture.
"i object. more like a little enemies turned friends, no? i think we got along fine during the last few weeks of school."
"that's only because i was tolerating your ass and school was ending."
a scoff accompanies jongho as he turns to you.
"somewhere in that cold heart of his, i know he has a soft spot for me." he smiles and you can't help but giggle, missing the way san quickly scans the amount of skin you're showing, along with the kind of dress he thinks you should wear more often.
"so, from what i'm hearing, we're all acquaintances here?" jongho continues.
san has to pry his eyes away while yours shoot to him when he hums out a low note in response.
"well, maybe you and y/n are. but i'm sure i mean more to her than that."
he delivers you a look, something so playful but with a hidden mystery to them that is all more attractive because of a smirk at the corner of his lips.
you don't know what all of it means but he just might be trying to get the upper hand against the younger boy who's even more clueless than you are.
"definitely not her boyfriend, at least. she told me she doesn't have one."
a light pink blush crawls onto your cheeks, growing shy from something that is as a matter of factly, true; having only made it known not even that long ago to said boy.
san chuckles at the sight, the smirk that was there before turning into an amused smile that's just a little addicted to the flush on your face.
"oh, did she now?" he mumbles; an edge to his voice the same time his lips quirk to the side so handsomely.
but jongho doesn't miss a single thing. not the look in san's eyes--a familiar one he's seen far too many times, and definitely not the lovesick symptom on your cheeks.
"you sly mother fucker," he hisses, shaking his head.
"you see, y/n. this is the kind of guy you stay away from."
san laughs, dimissing the boy's remark and playing it off as something lighthearted though it was said with just the smallest kind of cautious undertone like a warning.
"while guys like minhyuk, they might look like they got some shady shit going on, but let me tell you, that guy donates to the animal shelters a few times a year."
you swipe another glance at your roommate and her date from the comment, a smile so wide on minhyuk's face when yuna scores a strike.
"pfft," san blows with a faint eye roll, you turning back to stare at the two in front. "and what kind of guy would you be?" sarcasm in his delivery.
jongho sneers, a confident smile on his expression.
"exactly the kind y/n over here would love to get to know."
san laughs loud and amused, the sound so harmonious to your ear, you wouldn't mind hearing it every single day if given the chance.
your stomach still flutters a little at jongho's words, the silliness that was present before seemingly fading out replaced by a more stern tone that overtakes him.
"i'm sure y/n doesn't date little kids," san snarks, a smirk on him from beating down the younger boy.
"only a couple more months and i'll be of legal age, i'm sure she doesn't mind the wait."
the snicker that escapes you can't be helped, flattered by his attempts but still unable to take him seriously just because he's younger and might just be doing it to piss san off.
"and when is that, if you don't mind me asking," you bring up, genuinely wanting to know and not just because you'll wait for him.
"october the 12th!"
"ah," you softly mumble. "i'll be sure to write it down."
jongho looks to be in awe, haven't really thought that you would take it so literally.
"really?"
you nod, a thin smile drawing on your lips.
"in that case, i should ask for yours, too. when is your birthday, y/n?"
san watches the exchange the entire time with intrigued ears and eyes, at first annoyed by the younger boy who always know how to ruffle a few feathers, but what takes his breath away is how relaxed you are when conversing with jongho.
a side of you he's only seen when you're with your friends; something more lively and carefree, a complete contrast to how tense you always are around him.
but when jongho asks that question, it's the sinking realization that he doesn't know it, too. not just your birthday, but also anything else about you besides your body.
he doesn't remember a single time he's asked you any questions if it wasn't for his own personal benefits.
so why, why the fuck is he suddenly having this crisis and mulling over not knowing enough about you just because you're nosy and want to know more about him. especially when it's something so small and stupid like birthdays.
even when you tell jongho with such a shy smile on your face, uttering the month and day, he knows it will fly over his head later. he's never been good at remembering these kind of things anyways.
"i am going to be sure to remember it!" jongho states with determination, san being unfazed and knowing for sure the boy will because if there's one thing to know about him, it's that he has an annoyingly good memory.
"but say, y/n, you're having a birthday party, would you rather it be at the park or at your grandparents' house?"
"now, why the fuck would you do it at your grandparents' house?" san finally speaks up, his comment earning a low chuckle from you.
jongho groans in agreement. "that's what i told my mom!"
"i guess i'm with the both of you," you say softly, "though i probably don't have the best judgment. i-i don't really celebrate birthdays."
jongho's eyes stills as they keep open, the atmosphere dropping silent until he subtly starts talking again, "oh? how come?"
you never even knew birthdays were deemed such a special occasion; it being celebrated with friends and families all around, happy for that one day that you grow a year older.
the only birthdays you knew of wasn't anything special at all.
it wasn't until mingi invited you to a party of his that freshman year of high school that you learned birthdays aren't supposed to be spent in the small space of your tiny room alone, or trying to guess which parent you'll end up being shipped to next year.
"just something my family never did much, i guess," you simplify, and jongho nods along with an understanding hum.
"they're really not all that," san chips in, both yours and jongho's heads snapping his direction. "waste of money and time."
jongho takes offense, his expression twisting in response.
"okay there, edgelord. someone obviously never got invited to birthday parties as a kid."
"like hell i'd go," san snarks.
jongho rolls his eyes and moves his focus back to you.
"anyways. i will be taking the college entrance exam later this year, and if i don't get into yonsei, you just might see me around after i become of age," he announces somewhat jokingly but with the smallest chance that he means it.
san's husky and unbelievable laughter bursts from beside him, wanting to roll his eyes all the way to the back of his head, knowing the younger boy is playing it up.
"isn't it past your curfew," he remarks, totally out of topic but just eager to take a jab at the innapropriateness of it all considering jongho's age.
jongho furrows his eyebrows and actually checks his phone, an annoyed look on him once he registers the blow.
"you liar. it's only nine."
san scoffs, a little satisfied smirk at the corner of his lips.
"my curfew is at ten, i will tell you!"
the boys continues to make small, harmless insults to one up one another while you watch on the side, officially becoming a third wheel but the sight is too endearing for a subtle smile to not crack.
eventually, you have to use the restroom; sparing one last glance at yuna before excusing yourself to ask one of the workers.
this one is a little bigger; a few stalls at least and has two sinks. but while washing your hands, all you're able to think about is san back there and how it was the most you've gotten to know about him without having to ask.
maybe it's the magic of jongho and his more childish, laidback persona that allowed for not just you, but san as well, to show a more playful side of him. nothing like the man you've become accustomed to who's a little more calculating in his nature.
having watched as he fooled with the younger boy, wrestling and tickling him with a certain competitiveness that brings out a cute giggle that makes him look so approachable, exactly the kind of guy you think your aunt and uncle would approve of.
from a mere glance, no one would be able to tell this is the guy currently breaking your heart; the one having planted so many doubts in your head, he doesn't even bother to call or text anymore after having made clear what this is between you and him.
because unless you seek him out first, you won't hear from him. and it's been three days since the last time you were at his place, breathing underneath him and feeling so much pleasure, only to regret it later, swearing on your life this is the worst feeling ever and you're not sure if you can do it again.
you just didn't think, especially during a time where you're supposed to be forgetting about him--your face full of makeup products you usually wouldn't wear and a dress too tight hugging your body, that he'd show up so handsome and charming; all kinds of reminder why you returned the two times before and why it won't be the last.
about ready to go back, you're only a few inches out the door when a pair of hand latches onto your shoulders, pushing you back in against the counter, your eyes looking up into the one person capable of cornering you like this.
"hey," san utters, a coy smile on his lips as his hands releases from your shoulders and settles on the counter, trapping you inbetween.
you tense up a little, shifting in your spot and managing to reply through your trembling voice.
"h-hey."
he quirks an eyebrow before a smaller laughter bubbles out, one hand going to move the strands covering your eyes the way he always does.
"what's the matter? i haven't seen you in three days." his chest relaxes a little and his shoulders drop, inching even closer to you.
it's like once he really got that out of the way, everything starts leaking to the surface as well. everything about who this man really is and how he's nothing alike to the sweet, considerate boy you bumped into back at the party who helped you.
it's an awful discovery.
but what's worse is whenever you look at him, beyond his exterior and closed-off nature, you think there's a person underneath that you would love to know.
someone who has a story of his own; a story you would love to listen to if given the chance.
but that's always been your downfall. because when you love, you love hard. and maybe you didn't completely love junseo, but when someone is yours and you're theirs, you give them your entire heart.
and someone like san, someone so unattainable with his coy eyes and dimply smiles that always turn you a few shade redder, you think it would be nice if he was yours and you were his... because you would undoubtly love him wholeheartedly.
"i was busy," you tell him, swallowing down the pit that is both nervous but excited at whatever's about to come.
"that's fine," he dismisses it along with a low buzz under his breath, eyes quick to drool over the amount of exposed skin he's been dying to touch all night.
he's never seen you in this kind of outfit before. you were usually covered in three layers of clothing that was always annoying to take off.
"how did you know it was me?" you ask, playing dumb to the sight of his bottom lip in between his teeth.
he has to rip his attention away to meet your stoic eyes at the question, murmuring, "huh?"
"you told jongho you came over because of me, or was that--" a lie, too?
"--no, no, beautiful." he shakes his head, both hands caressing over your cheeks. "of course i was telling the truth. i knew from the hair and from the mole on your right shoulder."
san might not know a lot of things about you. not even the basics of your favorite movie or your dream, and he's not even sure if he remembers your birthday although you just told them not even that long ago, but he knows your body and all the ins and outs of it.
how your lips taste like, how pretty your boobs are, and how exactly to get you to cum. he knows all the faces you make during sex, and what to say and how to say it just so he can see that color on your cheeks that he likes a little too much.
and he definitely could spot that soft, silky texture of hair that had a big likelihood of it being yours.
he was only maybe seventy-percent confident at first, but the closer he got to the table, catching that mole on your shoulder he's gotten used to seeing, he knew it was you for sure.
"oh..." you say defeatedly, unable to wrap your head around the fact that san can actually recall something about you.
"what's wrong? you're not actually thinking about waiting for jongho and disappointed that i showed?"
your lips forms a pout, shaking your head.
"no. it's not that."
he chuckles, always having enjoyed backing you into a corner as if that's ever been hard to do.
"good. because he already left. his mommy called."
"oh..."
"yeah," he repeats, a tone so satisfied about the fact he's the only person for you at the moment. no chances of anyone else stealing your attention away; not even a pestering high schooler who lives to annoy him but also has the possibility of developing the smallest crush on you.
one of his hands suddenly snakes to your hip, settling on it with a light squeeze that makes you jolt up; the closer he leans in, the more your back presses against the edge of the counter.
"you look so fucking hot like this," he hisses, eyes once again unashamedly checking you out.
"it's yuna's dress."
"well, you should wear yuna's dresses more often."
his hand at your hip fumbles with the material, bottom lip caught in between his teeth again when it comes over just how perfect it fits over your figure.
silence eats up the air until he looks up and catches your gaze in his, staring at him like you're just waiting to be wrecked the same way he's always done it. a smirk crawls onto him and with one lift of your chin, you're both kissing and making out like it'll be the last time.
your arms are thrown around his neck immediately, and he's come to love the fact that you're starting to strip away that shy, hesitated act the more these sessions happen.
his hands that were on your hips are now all over your body as he nearly backs your head into the mirror, barely able to plant a kiss on your jawline when the sound of distant footsteps outside pries him away, staring into your horrified eyes at the thought of being caught in this position.
he shushes you, index finger to his lips and drags you away to the nearest stall, his back against the door and you breathing hard on his chest.
a pair of female voices echoes through the room, a conversation you don't really catch because your waist is wrapped around by one of san's arms while his other one travels down the bare of your skin, landing on your ass and squeezing it with a sadistic smirk on his lips.
you would've yelped if not for the current situation, in turn settling for a soft push to his chest that brings out that smile you so much despise because you hate how adorable it is and how dangerous it is on a man like san.
all you hear is the sink running and a few pops like something opening, maybe to reapply their makeups but is it drowned out by san's lips on yours and you at first unsure about making out in a restroom stall, but soon enough, you're gripping at his shirt and forgetting about all consequences.
you don't even realize the two are gone until san pulls away and the quietness of it all confirms it's only you and him again.
"let's take it back to the dorm?"
and you would've impulsively said yes, if not for your conscious serving as a reminder of the existence of your roommate who you came with.
"i want to, but, i came with yuna..."
"i'm sure she'll understand."
you used jongho as an excuse; your partner having gone home and all leaving there nothing to do. yuna didn't seem to mind, head occupied and infatuated with her date.
as soon as you're both off the elevator, his lips is on yours and your hands are running through his black hair, grateful for the late hours that has less students running around the building.
because it would truly be shameful if someone is to catch you two in this state, so high drunk off of lust, the key in your hold struggling to fit from your shaken hand.
but once you get it to open, you're both in immediately and the door behind is slammed shut, your back already touching the sheet of your bed and he's hovering on top once again diving down to kiss you.
his hand is fast to make an appearance under the skirt of your dress, kneading the soft skin of your thighs and traveling to the top of your underwear. you made sure to wear one alike to safety shorts.
while he works your undergarment, you pull at his shirt that rides up his toned abs, but you only make it about halfway before a sound in the pocket of his pants go off.
he ignores it the first time, but then comes the second.
a groan loosely escapes the tip of his tongue, having to break the kiss to stand on his knees, one hand rummaging his pockets.
you sit up with elbows planting the mattress and watch as his once annoyed expression dissipates at whatever is on the screen, his eyes even swelling a bit.
clearing his throat and shoving it back where he got it from, you can sense the change of demeanor, his body language giving away that he now wants to be out of here.
climbing off your bed as you stare with a disappointed sadness in your eyes, he finally speaks the dreaded words.
"hey, beautiful, i uhm... i gotta go." he awkwardly fidgets in his spot when telling you that, looking so out of place.
"oh..." you voice lowly, sitting up and scooting until your legs are hanging off the side of the bed, not bothering to hide the disappointment.
he attempts to put on a smile; try to make all of this hurt a little less, walking forward and placing a kiss on your forehead.
"i'll call you."
and when he leaves, you don't feel any better or any worse. the feeling is always the same; a deep hollow pain in your chest that makes you feel like an empty shell of a person.
why do you keep subjecting yourself to this kind of treatment? a part of you aware to the great possibility that the only reason he asked to come to your place was for this exact reason.
saying he has to go or that something came up is easier to lie about than straight kicking you out. and someone like san always know how to play his cards so he can lessen the blow.
so perhaps it's his adorable smile; the way your heart always flutter at the sight of him, and whenever he talks, you want to listen to him forever.
that stupid ounce of hope you so foolishly hang onto, wishing one day he'll come around because you're even more stupid to have faith in him.
facts about choi san.
1. birthday: july 10th
2. favorite color: purple
3. major cat lover
4. deathly afraid of bugs
5. was on community service senior year of high school
when san called earlier, asking if you can come to his place some time in the late morning, you know it's a bad idea.
you have already set a time and place to meet with yeosang at noon because the second exam is approaching fast, and shortly after, you have to leave for work, your schedule having been moved up the one weekday you don't have any class because your supervisor wants you to experience an actual classroom setting instead of the after school kids you've been watching.
the job proved to be a lot more than just being a teacher's aide, granted you told them you couldn't really work mornings because of being a college student and all.
but you haven't seen him since that night, and his promise of calling having came true filling you with that temporary feeling of joy and excitement, convincing yourself it doesn't hurt to see him for a bit as you rush over to his place.
but when you arrive at the scene, the new sight of his door left slightly opened along with what sounds like feet shuffling around tells you you're not going to get to see san today.
"no, because you're literally always fucking like this!"
you flinch at the sudden high volume of a voice you recognize as it fills san's apartment.
"you bring your shit into my house and i'm always the one who has to clean it up."
and though you've only met him a few times, you know it belongs to wooyoung.
"well, how was i supposed to know that she's friends with yunho and mingi and that you would end up liking them so much?"
the sink in your chest is heavy and the beating of your heart is loud; it's an awful revelation that the topic of conversation is... you.
"you don't. no matter who she's friends with or related to, you don't look at someone and think they're the next pretty little thing you're going to ruin."
you listen in closely, a silence that gauges the air making your breath catch inside your throat at the suspense.
you know it's wrong, but turning back doesn't seem to be much of an option especially when it's about you. it's only a given you'd be nosy.
following the silence is a heaved sigh before there's another round of feet walking in place.
"i don't know what you want me to do? if she didn't want it as well, i wouldn't be doing it."
it's san's voice, shortly followed by a sarcastic, dry laughter from wooyoung.
"that's what you always say, choi. that it's their fault; they knew what they were getting into, when you know damn well what you're fucking doing."
he pauses to catch his breath, not done just yet.
"so either get your shit sorted or stop messing with the girl because the last thing i want is a room full of death stares and resentment because my friend is a grade a asshole. i did this shit for you in high school but i'm starting to get real tired of it."
you don't get the chance to process the whirls of emotion attacking all at once, the direction of the footsteps sounding like they're headed for the door and you just assume the worst--that it's wooyoung leaving, scuttling away before you can be seen.
~
when you return to the dorm, the first thing you do is text san with an excuse that something came up. you wouldn't tell him you overheard a conversation that makes you sick to the stomach, so many conflicted thoughts running loose.
surely wooyoung would have suspected something (it's not like you guys were that good at hiding it), but you're also not close to him like that, which leads you to believe the outburst had more to do with yunho and mingi than you.
"well, how was i supposed to know that she's friends with yunho and mingi and that you would end up liking them so much?"
and you're not sure what's worse; having one of your friends tattletale to wooyoung to get san off your back, or that one (if not both) of them knew this whole time.
all those excuses and attempts at being discreet probably looked pathetic to whoever knew it was just so you can fall into the arms of a boy who doesn't care for you in the slightest; who lies to your face and messes with your head.
"i don't know what you want me to do? if she didn't want it as well, i wouldn't be doing it."
~
you're still not in a good headspace by the time you have to meet yeosang, which is literally just an hour after you were supposed to be seeing san.
he's in the far back of the cafe, eyes and nose stuck to a textbook and looking like he's absolutely going to ace this upcoming test.
you on the other hand, is absolutely pissed off your mind the more you keep lingering on it, coupled with the fact that there wasn't even enough time to actually get over it beforehand.
but why couldn't they just talk it out with you first? why did it have to jump straight into telling wooyoung about your business?
and also why the fuck are you not more upset at san? you should be. you need to be. it's evident he planned it all from the start and never really had any good intentions with you.
it's funny how you found all of this out while at his doorstep; maybe the only good thing to have came from it is you didn't end up in his bed (today at least).
but you suppose san being a walking red flag you should stay away from is the equivalent of beating a dead horse at this rate.
the tension is written all over your face when you take a seat across from yeosang, him looking up to quirk an eyebrow.
"hey?"
"hey."
"you sure you don't want to come over here?"
you briefly recall how anal he was about it last time when you sat across, so without further protests, you stand up to go plop down next to him, an irritated sigh departing without much thoughts but it doesn't go unnoticed by him.
"well... okay," he mutters under his breath, wondering who or what managed to tick you off knowing it's not him this time. he's only said a few words so far.
quick to dismiss it because of the limited time, he pulls the neglected laptop into his view, navigating to the school site.
"he made a study guide, we can go over that."
and he really is trying; this being the second time, even gave you somewhat of a proper greeting without any snarks or additional comments, but what bothers him more than your already less than stellar arrival, is your lack of participation.
eyes and ears not even following along and head entirely elsewhere.
mind you, he had to push his schedule back just to come here.
"something wrong? if there's anything bothering you or you have somewhere to be, you can tell me."
"it's nothing."
"sure looks like something because i doubt you heard a single thing."
you knit your brows together, arms crossing over one another as you glare at him.
"blade server: type of server that exists in the form of a single circuit board," you repeat the last term he was going over, even slightly imitating the way he said it.
he chuckles wryly.
"well, you heard one of them at least," he says; some kind of satisfaction that graces the corner of his lips with a faint smirk.
you roll your eyes, moving your attention to one of the paintings hanging on the wall, trying to reframe from bursting because you're still not over what you just heard not even that long ago.
"isn't it tiring?"
your head snaps back to him, confusion overtaking your expression.
"what is?"
"this shy, reserved act of yours whenever you're with others. with your friends, with that guy, san. do they know you're this overbearing in actuality?"
"excuse me?" your voice high in disbelief.
he cocks his head a little.
"or perhaps, that's what it is. you only act like that around guys like san, but someone like me, you're not trying to impress so you don't give jackshit about how you come off."
red on your face, red in your veins, and red under your breath.
"and you don't have an act of your own?" you fire back, somehow managing to find the girl in you who has a voice and definitely some guts, but she who goes missing when it comes to telling san to fuck off.
"pretending to be this nice guy around yunho and mingi, like you're doing a favor by helping their friend when all you do is insult me behind their back."
you stand up furiously, grabbing at your things and sparing him one last glance (that you hope will intimidate him).
"you won't ever have to worry about wasting your time on someone like me ever again."
you don't need mingi or yunho (or both) shielding you like you're an infant still in a cradle, and you definitely do not need kang yeosang blowing up on you when you're just starting to realize how much you hate this fucking computer class and all this technical junk; when everything's already going to shit.
but your whole life has been a load of shit one after another so you suppose it's not entirely out of place.
which is why you ultimately decided that if it's going to turn to shit, it should all just be on the table at this point.
when you show at mingi's door just a few minutes right after you get off work, you know wooyoung is not there. he usually never is. he's always either at his own parties or at one of the five other properties under his parents name.
between the two options, you're more willing to bet it's the one person who actually shares a living space with wooyoung, squeezing yourself in and slamming the door behind before mingi could even get out a simple 'hey'.
he's stunned by the sudden cornering, as expected.
"woah there, missy," mingi coos, that lighthearted tone in his voice you recognize whenever he jokes around--completely disregarding the more serious look on your face.
"did you... by any chance, said something to wooyoung?"
you try to keep vague, for all you know, you just might be overstepping the boundaries and giving your friends too little credits.
wooyoung could've done it even without the push from one of them, but it's best to confirm before digging your own grave.
mingi pulls his brows into confusion.
"like?"
you clear your throat, swallowing down a knot, loathing how much harder he's making this, or if he's just really good at burying his own dirts. it's not exactly out of character for him.
"like--"
the abrupt knock at the door from behind cuts you short, your breath fuming before turning around to open it; the thinning patience not allowing you to consider even for a second who it might be, a small jump in your body when you see it's the other suspect. how convenient.
yunho doesn't say anything and neither does you or mingi. he awkwardly clears the block in his throat and walks himself in through the small space until he's standing tall in front of you.
after you close the door, it's the longest silence you've ever endured in the presence of the two, all your eyes bouncing from one to another before yunho finally speaks.
"did i miss an invitation?"
mingi chuckles, seemingly already relaxed.
"you're not the only one. miss y/n just busted into my room to interrogate me."
you shoot lasers at him and mutters something inaudible under your breath. it could be yunho, but he's usually the wiser of the two and mingi hasn't exactly done anything that makes him less likely--
"it was me," yunho deadpan, both you and mingi shooting his direction so fast.
mingi having no idea what's going on, switches his gaze between the expressionless boy next to him and the enraged look on you.
"why?" you say, so short and simple but the tone is everything but that.
"because i can't bear to watch you keep doing this to yourself. my intuition was right, and--"
"and you couldn't just talk to me?"
"wait, is this about san?" mingi ask, his voice such a contrast to the bubbling tension.
"and if i talked to you, would you have even listened?"
"well, i wouldn't know because you didn't even talk to me. you just went straight into airing my business to his friend."
"it's definitely about san," mingi mutters to himself, his presence completely ignored.
"i just thought that maybe san might listen to wooyoung since they're friends. and that if he stays away, you'll reframe from seeking him out."
it's quiet after that but the air is thick as you two stare into each other with something unpleasant brewing in your chest.
"h-how did you know?"
a low exhale departs yunho before he answers, "it was only a suspicion at first, but then i saw san walking back with you to the dorm that night. and well... you're kind of awful at being discreet."
an eyebrow raise at the confession, your face eventually twisting into distaste.
"you were spying on me?!"
"i wasn't spying on you. it was a coincidence, ask mingi. me and him were coming back from the library because of the campus job i was telling you about."
so... mingi saw it, too.
"yunho... i appreciate your concerns, but, i can make my own choices."
a dry, almost mocking laughter leaves him as he takes a seat at the edge of mingi's bed and stares you down.
yunho isn't an intimidating person; the boy always so nice and easy to talk to, any fights or arguments you guys ever had up till this point has never been this bad. but his gaze right now does make you feel a little small.
"and what is that going to be?" he throws his hands up. "returning to the same person who you know is emotionally unavailable? who won't ever love you the way you really want him to?"
"you talk as if you know him personally..."
you know you shouldn't have said it; defending someone who doesn't deserve it, and well aware there's not a single bone in yunho's body that is capable of harms, but you're so tired of the coddling.
so tired of being looked at as someone breakable.
"no. but i know people like him; guys like him. i know that they will never just magically come around, and most of all, i know that this isn't what you want. you're sticking to him in hope that he'll change his mind, no matter how much you want to deny it."
you've always hated how observant he is...
"then... why do you guys hang with wooyoung, and why is he friends with san? wooyoung is a good person, right? so shouldn't san be, too?"
you're deflecting; it's awful, but it does catches yunho offguard, and even mingi. yunho who was so sure before now mouth clasped tight, because yunho's an honest man, and as an honest man, he doesn't know either.
the couple of times he's met wooyoung, he's aways been pleasant to be around; welcoming of his presence with opened arms and always with a smile on his face to make sure yunho was never left out.
the question asked--more for wooyoung himself than yunho.
"i'm not sure if i can answer that, but, can you promise me at least? that you'll stay away? if not for me, do it for yourself."
you're quiet, shifting to look down at the floor and tracing the pattern when a groan falls from yunho.
"fine." he stands up, his towering height and cold eyes making you feel all sorts.
"call me whenever you actually consider our friendship these last four years instead of whatever you're having with a guy that you just met this semester."
"yunho..." mingi mumbles, disapproval in his tone.
yunho doesn't say anything else, only rushing for the door as he brushes past you before it is slammed shut.
"he didn't mean it." mingi glares at you.
"i know he didn't."
you limp to his bed, taking the seat where yunho was sitting before, still able to feel the warmth he had left behind.
mingi sighs, shaking his head and eventually sitting down with you.
"and i know you don't want to hear this again, but he's right."
as a friend, mingi cares for you. of course he does. but as the boy who found you under that oak tree when you were fourteen years old; as someone who knew you before yunho, before anyone else, he also understands the curiosity you hold for the world; for what else is out there.
you have been deprived of these things almost your entire life, he thinks it's ony natural. so he never tries to be too hard on you when he sees your eyes wander and your nose perked.
he's just always sitting back and watching; observing. yunho and him the perfect contrast to one another because though he may be loud and obnoxious, he tries to stir away from possibly upsetting you. whereas yunho can be a bit overprotective despite his quietness on a surface level.
"i know..." you say, "i just... wish he'd have a little bit more faith in me. i-i can handle it." even you're failing to convince yourself.
mingi breathes out a pitiful look in his eyes, taking your hands into his and locks gaze with you. he's about to get sentimental and you know it. his silly and laidback personality a perfect combination to his more vulnerable side he lets loose once in a while.
"remember the last time you fought with yunho?"
you wouldn't really call it a fight, it was barely an argument, maybe more of a disagreement but aside from this one, that was definitely the most heated you two ever got.
you nod, mumbling in a low volume, "yeah."
"and how angry you were at him?"
"yeah, because he was acting without thinking and i was worried about him."
it was a fight between yunho and minji, at first over something so small but eventually escalating into something bigger.
"i was afraid he was gonna do something he'd regret later."
yunho had spent most of his high school years crushing on minji, always so shy and unconfident, until he finally mustered up the courage to ask the girl out to which she said yes (obviously). and he was gonna throw it all away for something that he probably wouldn't even think about a week from then.
"exactly. because you were looking out for him, and he's just looking out for you, too."
your hands stiffen in mingi's grasp, a sullen look on your face. you also know that.
"look," he says, scooting closer. "i poke my nose in everything, and it's only because i live to annoy you, but in all honestly, i wouldn't ever intrude on your personal affairs. but some days, i still think about how he treated you back at the party."
he goes on, "i was happy at first, him being wooyoung's friend and all. he was also okay when we went out to dinner, but someone who genuinely likes you would not sideline you the way he did."
your mind briefly flashes back to the party, thinking about how hopeful and stupid you looked with that jacket on like a little lost puppy.
thinking about the smirk so fittingly as it rested on his lips when he flirted with your unknowing roommate, using her as leverage to achieve whatever end result he was getting at.
thinking about how you foolishly believed his lie at the time, but overtime seeing for yourself nothing is accidental or coincidental especially in the face of a man like san.
everything is done intentionally and with the purpose to gain; getting you a job and definitely messing with you at the party. he might've even lied on that date with jongho, too.
"and i never asked for anything from you before, but i'm just asking this one time, if you can... please listen to yunho and keep a distance from san."
mingi squeezes your hand, his stance desperate as he awaits your answer.
it takes longer this time around for you to say something, but when you finally do, mingi could've swear he heard it wrong when a quiet "fine" falls from your lips.
"r-really?" his eyes grow in incredulity.
you nod. "if you and yunho are this worried, then i'll stop seeing him."
his chest exhales in relief, the once uneasy expression on him dropping, wondering what prompted the sudden change of mind or if he's really just that good at giving overall sappy speeches.
"oh dear, you got me so scared."
you giggle at his comment, the first time today you're allowed to smile.
he releases the hold on you, backing up a little but gaze having never left, a slight tense in his body language that you know he's going to act on.
"okay, but, can i ask something? and bitch you better not lie to me. we tell each other everything, remember?"
you swallow the knot in your throat, afraid of what he's going to ask and with a feeling it's going to knock your breath away.
"right," you hesitantly answer.
and well... you hate to be correct.
"have you slept with him?"
you almost choked on your own saliva.
"mingi..." you hiss.
"you heard me, bitch. did you guys do the devil's tango?"
you roll your eyes, kicking at his leg lightly and exasperating out loud.
"oh my god, why the hell are you calling it that?"
"oh, whatever. you know what i mean. did. you. guys. fucked?" he crosses his arms.
he can be so sweet and understanding, and then at the same time, go and ask questions like this.
he squints his eyes.
"you know, silence is incriminating. hesitation is damaging, and something tells me you slept with him. not once. not twice."
a small surge of panic rushes in, grabbing at the pillow nearby and smacking him in the face with it.
he winces in exaggerated pain and you toss the pillow back, shooting daggers at him.
"i swear, if you rip that, you're paying for a new one."
"worth it to shut that big ass mouth of yours."
it's a couple seconds before he breaks out into laughter and you follow along with a simple giggle.
"okay but please... can you promise me you won't tell yunho?"
he shrugs, lips quirked to the side.
"what makes you think he doesn't suspect it as well? but sure, i guess. you should really talk to him, though. after this."
mingi plays it cool, a smile on his face and burying that feeling aside that he's just the littlest bit of sad your first time went to someone who doesn't love you.
granted, he's never really cared too much for such thing, always having joked around his parents will end up with no grandkids because he doesn't plan on adopting, either.
but he's always thought that if you were to have it, he'd want your first time to be special. with someone you love, and who loves you the same; your heart always so big and with so much to give.
not someone like san who lures you in with his handsome look and butterflies-alarming words, knowing he never planned to give anything in return except to add to the list of your miseries.
he can't help but feel it is his fault--for leaving you at the party and for ever introducing wooyoung.
but at least now, you will stay away and spare yourself an inevitable heartbreak... he hopes.
~
you approach the door of yunho's room with cautious steps, hesitation in your appearance because of the one person he shares the space with.
you knock lightly, proceeding to wait and it doesn't take long before it creaks open and yunho is standing before you.
he doesn't look surprised by it, if anything, he looks like he was expecting you to show up at one point. it's just so in character.
you take this chance to sneak a glance past his shoulders, seeing it's in the clear.
"may i come in?" you ask sweetly.
he nods, a hum under his breath and steps aside to let you in.
"i'm sorry," you say, turning to him as his back is to the door. "sorry for acting like a bitch earlier, i know you were just looking out for me. and... i talked to mingi, and i already promised him i-i'll stay away from san."
rather than a sudden change of mind, it was more the realization that you don't need whispered sweet lies or kisses from a boy who doesn't even like you; who always have made you feel so shitty about yourself.
your friends matter, and you're going to listen to them.
that the next time choi san calls or texts, no matter what emojis he uses or what words he will say to get you to come to his place, you're going to ignore him.
next // series m.list
taglist: @sorryimananti-romantic @revehosh @cookiechristie @avantalem @atiny68 @belletiny @shibera @mochibabycakes @justineasian @eastleighsblog @baguette-atiny @crimson-mia @yeosxxx @m4rsluv @sleepychimm @atz-diary @diorwoo @naiify @becauseiloveyunho @damagelove @softie00 @s-nsanshine @atinytinaa @moonseonghwa @lemontreefantasy @wooyoung4eva @yeosangsbiceps @likexaxdaydream @knucklesdeepmingi @barbielibra @tmtxtf @brown88 @harusoraa
#the amount of times i write about someone's eyes#or them smiling#ateez angst#san x reader#choi san angst#choi san x reader#ateez x reader#ateez series#san angst#fic: broken
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Budding Romance | Ch. 10
Love and Deepspace | Jeremiah x MC / slow-burn / friends-to-lovers
warnings: none
Multi-chapter | A03 link
Beginning | <- Prev | Next ->
"Deflection"
Quiet schemes and pranks
Xavier and his huntress partner walked mostly in comfortable silence until they began to near the flower shop, then he turned to her, a sparkle of mischief in his eye.
“I have an idea. Do you want to help me prank him?"
She smiled excitedly. “Yes."
Without another word, he wrapped his arms around her waist. Immediately as she braced, he teleported them to land squarely in front of Jeremiah who had just stepped outside his greenhouse behind the building. The curly haired brunet jumped back with a yelp and proceeded to raise his voice.
“XAVIER! I told you to use the damn door!"
Xavier put on an innocent expression, as if it was the first time he’d ever been spoken to in that tone. ”Oh. I'm sorry."
Blonde eyebrows knit together as he set the girl down, it was the type of face anyone would have trouble yelling at, like a little kid who's deeply hurt by your tone. Jeremiah made no indication of being affected by it, clearly used to the antics.
"I swear to God-" He stopped short, having finally noticed her and froze. Clearing his throat to recover, he glanced at his friend then back to her, eyebrows still bearing together in annoyance.
"You? You let him drag you around like that?”
She suddenly felt like she made exactly the right decision and tried to throw on a sweet smile. “I thought you might have missed me.”
Both boys stared at her for a moment, greatly puzzled, then at each other, and Jeremiah bore a wide grin.
“You don’t say! It’s like we're connected! I was just thinking-" Immediately cutting him off was a wet spritz from a nearby spray bottle of water. All he could do was flinch back and attempt to swat at it.
”Ah! I mean-” He stammered, still trying to grab it, “I was just about to close up.”
"Sorry!" She says, hoping they wouldn’t start bickering and that he wouldn’t be too mad. "I was just going to buy something real quick, actually. I was wondering if you had any air plants?”
He finally grabbed the spray bottle and set it outside on the little table behind the shop, adjacent a few other larger tools on hooks. “Oh, actually, I just sold out of those today. Sorry! Let’s see what else I have?”
He moved to guide her with his hand but quickly drew his hand back as the blonde was suddenly shoving between them. Jeremiah put his arms up and let the man hold the door for her instead, but not without a teasing glance.
Jeremiah was cautious with Xavier around, knowing he could tease, but only so much. The man had a short limit of what he would tolerate, and Xavier was a jealous, jealous man.
In spite of this, he tried to remind himself that she was his friend to, and he had every right to be around her, and close to her.
While he showed her a few options that would suit her desk, he found himself wondering what she had done throughout the week. Small talk was kept light, but it felt too light. He was struggling to find a tone of familiarity, especially with seering blue eyes burning holes in him.
"You keeping your plants alive lately?" He asked.
"She's not." Xavier answered for her.
She didn’t seem to mind, laughing a little. “Not true! I’m doing much better, thanks to Jer’s help. I’m starting to have more faith in myself. That’s why I want one for my desk too! I want to show people what I’m capable of.”
“See, Xavier? If you had half this determination with your cooking skills, you'd be a bigger hit with the ladies. Or, maybe you just need a private tutor.”
Maybe it was a little too suggestive. The blonde put himself between the pretending to examining the forget-me-nots that were recently put on display. ”No… I'm practicing plenty on my own. And I'm watching cooking channels too as of late.”
She snorted, moving around him, a little closer to Jeremiah to examine the shelf he was working on.
"You say that,” she continued in response to him, "but I always smell stuff burning from upstairs.”
"Well..." he scratched his head, "Practice makes perfect?”
Jeremiah snorted. "He needs help. Maybe you outta-" A sharp hit to the arm by the back of Xavier’s fist quieted him. In confusion Jeremiah squinted, rubbing the sore spot, unsure why the sudden denial.
Maybe he's trying to... surprise her? was all he could think.
In his mind, all he was doing was trying to help bring them closer. He couldn't imagine why it wouldn't be a good opportunity, or what was going on in Xavier’s head.
Or... maybe he's struggling too? Because she's different?
He glanced over and saw her closely examining the star shaped merch that Xavier had insisted upon carrying in the store.
Maybe he doesn’t see what I’ve been seeing
As if sensing his eyes on her, she met his gaze, eyes darting away, smiling brightly as if embarrassed.
He didn't think much of it.
A small leafy pot caught her attention and she held it up to Xavier, asking “What do you think of this one?” To Jeremiah, even such a small gesture as wanting his opinion made sense. For as long as he had known them, they'd only had eyes for each other. That was all it ever was.
“Well,” Xavier was contemplating, “It’s a little much for your desk, don’t you think? It’ll end up spilling over to mine.”
A sigh. “You’re right. But maybe somewhere in my house then.”
Once she’d decided made up her mind, Jeremiah rang her up and sent them on their way, mildly suggesting to Xavier to walk her home. This time, the man agreed.
As he cleaned up and locked everything away, he couldn’t help but smile to himself about the whole interaction. There was definitely something warmer about her. It was endearing. There was a small wish in his heart that she’d come alone. He suppressed it, trying to be proud of himself for actually getting Xavier to take action. After all, different universe or not, they belonged together, didn’t they?
--
That night, she ate her dinner and headed out into the night, eager to arrive at her local grocery before closing time. There at the front of the store stood a sorry shelf of wilting florals of various sorts, all marked down so low that even a child could afford them.
She picked up one that allegedly was once supposed to be pretty azaleas and headed to the self checkout where by now the attendants all knew her name.
A gruff older woman laughed, viewing the wilted plant in the process of being purchase. ”You some kind of florist, hon? You’ve made a habit of clearing out the dead ones."
She laughed. "Not yet! I'm learning though!"
With that, she left happily into the night.
#jeremiah x mc#lnds jeremiah#love and deepspace jeremiah#jeremiah love and deepspace#love and deepspace xavier#lnds fic#l&ds#l&ds jeremiah#l&ds mc#love and deepspace#lnds mc#love and deepspace mc#budding romance#madi writes#:) this one was one of my faves to write cause of the ending lol
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helllooo could i rq hu tao & tartaglia w creator reader who's been having rly rly vivid night terrors from their prev life ?? if that makes sense , if not im so sorry lol😭😭
Genshin x Creator nightmares
A/N: I actually love this idea very very much so I really hope that I did it justice! Thank you so much for requesting! But honestly you can request whenever! I adore all ideas hehe I looooove creator reader content!! But can you tell I'm a Childe simp?👀
Summary: You're having bad nightmares about your Previous life, you have your acolytes to pull you out of them though.
Characters: Hu Tao & Tartaglia. (Separate.)
Vivid Loss.
No. Not again. That alarm... You're usually just woken by one of your acolytes, so why is that dreaded sound of the alarm blaring through your sleep induced haze?
Opening your eyes, your old room came into view with genshin playing on a screen across from you. Dread rapidly filled you, hands clutching onto the soft sheets laid against you. It's happening again, you're back to that absolute hell. Standing up, you moved over to the screen that held genshin within - trying to log in. Why wouldn't it let you in? It was a dream, wasn't it? Where you were free.
Free from education and work, free from your past horrors and current ones. Where was Venti when you needed him? Couldn't he make this horrible place as free as Mondstat? Shutting your eyes tightly, everything swirled in your mind. All of the horrible responsibilities and situations you were in, all of the horrible feelings returned tenfold. This was it, wasn't it? You were 'home'. That horrible ringing began once again - pitchy and annoying. The signal of always waking up forcefully day after day to endure utter hell. You couldn't do this anymore. You couldn't do it -
"Take me back." Your voice was but a whisper clawing against your throat daring to turn itself into a scream.
"Take me BACK!"
"... -ace." Sounds… so familiar.
Hu Tao.
"Your Grace!" Feels too real. So real. A hand was soon upon your shoulder, shaking you ever so gently. The words continued to spill from their mouth, concern etched upon their face. Yes… they used to call you that when you were there. When you were within your true home. Wait, this is your home. Is that… them?
//
"Hu Tao?" She instantly sighed in relief, helping you sit up against the mountain of pillows you had obtained within your adobe.
"Finally! I kept trying to wake you, Your Grace." She smiled widely at you, oh how you missed that smile of hers. That twinkle in her eyes always warmed your soul, you knew she adored you. "You were having another nightmare! It's not good to have so many, you know." Sighing and shaking your head a little, your eyes gazed around the room trying to once again gain stability. During the silence she shuffled herself to sit beside you, a curious gaze in her eyes. "Sometimes it helps to talk about it - would you wanna?" It wouldn't hurt to talk about it, would it? Even if it's just a little, maybe it'll help the dreams subside and all connections of your past will leave you to your new life in Teyvat.
Gently you took her hand within your own and her lighter attitude soon turned into a more serious one. She adores you after all and promises to always listen.
"My dreams have been plagued by the time I spent in the life before this one; just the thought alone is enough to make me feel sick. Thinking I'm there again without you fills me with more dread than I can even begin to express. Please don't leave me…" She stayed silent for a moment, eyes wide before she regained her usual composure. Taking a light breath in, she began to speak.
Tartaglia.
"Huh, so your remembrance of your past life really won't leave you be will it? I think it's about time we give it its own funeral - dont you? To finally put it to rest and to allow you to move to your life truly and fully here! A good idea, right?" Hu Tao grinned at you before continuing. "I'm here! If you need some assistance, I'm here to give it my all to the very end, your grace! Shall we do this?" With your approval, she's soon standing and grinning. "Well then, are you ready to say goodbye to it?"
//
"Ajax!" His name in the form of a scream ripped from your throat as you sat up breathing heaving and trembling beneath the covers. The door soon finally burst open and a worried Tartaglia stood there with his weapon gripped within his fist along with a Serious yet angry look etched upon his face. How dare something upset you? His love - his divine creator. Seeing no immediate threat, he rushed over to your side with a softer gaze within his eyes.
"My love - another nightmare?" Nodding softly, his fingertips found themselves brushing soft patterns against your hand to try and coax you to lessen your grip on the blankets. "That's okay, I'm here now." His voice was so soothing yet so grounding. However tears soon began to pool within your eyes and once your gaze met his own? Even though he too could practically hear his heart shatter, it took everything in him to not bring you into his arms right there and then. "May I hold you, my grace?" All it took was a gentle yes to be within his protective and warm embrace. "Nobody can take you away from me, my love. Nothing will ever take you away from this world or my arms." Sniffling, you buried your face against his neck.
"But what if it does? And... and then what if I wake up and this is just a dream?" You felt his grip tighten a little around you all whilst his heart hammered against his chest at the thought. These thoughts... How dare they upset you? He will do anything to help you and soothe your mind.
"Then I will tear Teyvat apart to get to you. I will destroy every realm and bring them to their knees if it means I could hold you safely once again." Exhale. "Don't you see, my love? There isn't anything that I won't do for you." A smile was soon upon your lips at his words and loyalty. "Let's try and sleep again my divine, you'll be right in my arms when you awake."
#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact#genshin#genshin impact fanfiction#genshin impact creator#genshin sagau#genshin isekai#Genshin Hu Tao x reader#Hu Tao x reader#Genshin Tartaglia x reader#Tartaglia x reader#Hu Tao#tartaglia
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Steven Grant-the lies we tell ourselves au
unironically, I fear these are only getting longer prev/next
steven is the most adjusted one of the moon knight system. that has happened purely because steven been kept from more of the damaging truths that could cause more maladaptive behavior. he's not perfect, in any way of course he's not. but because of that sheltering he's not prone to marc's doom spirals or jake's habit of shutting them all out. we see this in the show, his first instincts are healthy communication and understanding. I think because of this, some people tend to write steven without any flaws but we can see that this isn't true. he's also prone to anger and has a stubborn streak like all three of them leading to decisions that aren't well thought out.
I feel like I picture him as more calm than others do. he makes mistakes, but I don't think any of them are based in naivety. I tend to see steven being treated like a child who doesn't know what's going on. and I think that does him a great disservice to his character. it's possible to be a kind and forgiving character without wiping any negative traits out. I get that marc and jake, to an extent, kind of treat steven like a child but that doesn't mean that we have to as well.
from watching the show, marc learns to accept steven and stop hiding things from him. he is a full grown adult who can handle being treated like one. steven is tired of being told what to do and what he cannot handle and its fair to let him make him own decisions. in my au, I think that's an uphill battle that he's trying to fight marc and jake on. to no longer be babied and told what his boundaries are.
part of me thinks that steven is envious of marc. he has the name of the body and the most time with it, yet all he's doing is falling ass backwards into bad situations. this plays a part in his view of layla. you have this beautiful, intelligent, capable woman, and instead marc's spending all his time distancing himself? steven sees that as a waste. that maybe marc isn't appreciating her enough.
add in the opportunities that steven has missed out on due to marc and I could see him trying to endear himself to her. I don't think steven is maliciously thinking that he can treat layla better or purposely trying to steal marc's wife. but how many experiences does steven realistically have had? with someone like layla especially, someone who is as into his interests as he is and that he can keep a conversation with and not be treated like an inferior. I think he quickly latches on to this idea of her.
I've said it before, but steven doesn't really know layla at all. and this features into how he sees relationships in general. I think he'd be very all-in when it comes to relationships, platonic and otherwise. he's very loyal and if you can show that willingness to see him as an equal it's instant heart eyes. partly due to the lack of real life experiences he's had. he was so willing to go on that date with that woman despite knowing absolutely nothing about her-just that she was interested in him.
the point being that he's not really in love with layla-it's more what she represents to him. that he could be loved for who he is without being belittled similarly to how marc has treated him in the past (whether marc meant to or not) he does love her, but it's surface level. more of putting her on a pedestal, rather than a deep love of who she is as a person. that part can come later, and probably will but I'm not a huge fan of romance so that's not my focus in any capacity.
this au starts with the fact that layla has stayed in Cairo to be a superhero over there. and a way for her to give both the system and herself space to really process their feelings and relationship. those divorced papers still stay unsigned, but for all intents and purposes they aren't together. and I think this is crucial to steven's realization that he might not be as in love with her as he once thought. later, once marc and him have a real conversation about layla, he'll fully decide to let marc and layla find each other again without him muddying those waters. and learning who layla is as a person and as a friend.
when I think about the backstory, before the events of the show, steven has a lot of blanks. and he's both scared and so curious to know exactly what he's missing. his memories can't all be fake. there has to be good moments and things that are real. he gets into the habit of asking marc if it's real when he remembers something. occasionally, he'd forget what the reality of what their mother is since he has no memories of it. there'd been a couple times where he asked marc about their mother, but learned quickly to not broach that topic with marc.
the one thing that sticks with him, is that they didn't seem to have anybody in their corner. most of his memories are happy, yeah, but they are also alone. I think this loneliness bleeds into steven's adulthood also affecting how he views relationships. he might think he's better friends with people than he actually is. in my mind, steven does have memories of the time period that randall was still alive in, but randall isn't in them. like a family beach trip or something, but in his memory it's just their parents and him. like all mentions of randall were erased, so he didn't have to remember the fact their brother, their main friend was dead.
one person that steven would have memories of that marc wouldn't have is their babysitter. where their parents would go out weekly, maybe for dates or related to their father's Rabbi duties, and they couldn't leave their son alone. so they hired a babysitter. I imagine the first time steven asks to confirm if that was real or not, marc looks at him strangely.
marc doesn't remember these periods at all. and steven does but he doesn't remember anything bad but he knows by now that really means nothing. and it becomes something that steven can't let go of, because surely if some of his memories are fake that's marc. but if marc didn't give him this fake memory is it real? and they argue about it back and forth until steven drops it (for now)
when it comes to finding out about jake, steven loves the idea that they have a third. he ignores the implications that they'd been hurt more than they realized, but at least they aren't alone. they can have their own little family since they were denied that as children. the specific's of this will be left to be written but steven would love to get to know jake better, despite how difficult jake is making it.
I like to think is steven is more self-aware than others think. yes, he may be awkward at times. and he can have a one-track mind and get distracted easy but he's not stupid. he may play it to his advantage even knowing how he comes across. he may not have realized that he's well liked because he's used to people like donna who dismiss him immediately. but in general, he has this natural charisma and charm that draws people to him.
selfishness and stubborn ness is something that runs in the moon knight system. a link that connects their very different personalities. I don't think its as severe as marc's would be. he's self aware enough to recognize when what he's doing is counterproductive, as seen in the show. he wants the body and to not be fighting, but when he catches himself being injured or in the way he relinquishes easily enough. but he also knows when he's valid in those beliefs and will keep pushing. but still he knows when to take a step back.
and that makes him perfectly suited as an emotional protector and physical caretaker. emotionally, he knows what he can and cannot handle. he can continue even if something hurts, because he's relatively open emotionally. if things are too tough for marc to handle, steven can take over for him. give marc that chance to breathe and process as he needs to.
I feel likes he's less prone to emotional panic like marc. he gets overwhelmed, sure but he can compartmentalize in a healthy way. not just pushing it down to be forgotten and never spoken again like marc. he's not a perpetually bleeding wound. and I think he's better able to take care of their body when the needs arises. when it comes to groceries, showers, keeping routines. that's all steven. marc tries to an extent, I think jake would be the worst at it, not knowing where to even start.
their system needed gentleness when they were children, and this is what steven is. he's not immune to anger, but his empathetic nature allows him to recognize when he's fucked up and course-correct. but that doesn't mean he can be bulldozed. the stubbornness and kindness, making a perfect combination to be able to counter bullshit when he sees it. he knows when he's being talked down to, even if he isn't immediately calling it out. he knows when it's appropriate and when it would make things worse.
with the other two alters in this au, it makes him the perfect caretaker for the littles. the gentleness needed to handle children. the ability to compartmentalize (thinking about the type of shit they had to handle brings him to tears but they came later, it does nothing for them to watch him cry) for leo, who is more wild and a teenager, steven needs the ability to handle bullshit without wavering (thank marc for helping him develop that skill) and the gentleness needed for the timid younger rose.
he never learned to run or hide from his emotions. he never had to do that when he was young, that's not a skill he has. he can tackle them head on and come out better for it. I think he would still be a little exhausted and frustrated at being the one with the brain cell 80% of the time. and sometimes it might come out unintentionally. but he loves everyone in their system so deeply.
it boils down to steven being a man who values communication and honesty trying to work with a system that doesn't know how to do that. trying to balance that and the frustration that might grow from it. while also trying to come to terms with who he is under the fake truths that he'd been fed. his struggle is detangling it all and finding the truth in the middle. the calm in the storm that the system might need, but he might not want to be at all times.
the lies we tell ourselves au masterpost
#tlwto au#steven grant#marc spector#jake lockley#moon knight#moon knight system#moon knight thoughts#steven grant meta#current wip#my writing#writers on tumblr#moon knight fanfic
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Plastic Hearts - (26)
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It felt like a joke. The box feeling solid in your hands. This had been your destiny, a passed down doll that was now forgotten. But as sad as it was supposed to sound, to you, it held a different meaning.
The loneliness of being stuck here, the plastic box the only perimeter of your life, you tore out of it. Through the spell and your adventure, you were now someone of substance. But when you glanced at the doll next to yours, his pale hair swiped back in place, his face holding the same joy as you now missed. It wasn’t just you who had escaped, he did too.
He had found his freedom here, with you, however long that was supposed to last but those nights where he held you close, that was the happiest you had ever seen him.
The text on the outside was faded, the advertisement ringing in your ears but the plastic box looked flimsy. That advertisement you had heard about yourself couldn’t even hold true for the dolls present within. Against all odds, you and him were meant to break the matrix, to go against the tide.
It felt like a joke because you weren’t let to enjoy the fruit of your decisions. It all just felt a little premature. Your doll held her iconic frying pan in one hand and the other rested on his. There was no rush around you, so you stayed there in the dim warm light, admiring how her head rested on his chest. The smiles on their faces seemed more complete than a smile of your own. They existed in a world of their own, so much so you wanted to preserve it like a snow globe.
This was how your story should have gone. But maybe it was holding the box in your hand or just the fact that reality had not yet totally sunk it but you still felt tethered. That if you could close your eyes and breathe in, you could remember the smell of his cologne. His memories weren’t just memories, he was a part of you. That not even the ocean did justice to the colour of his eyes. There was only one Ken in your universe.
His doll had the surfboard he never used tucked by his side. He was in his beach clothes, it made you smile, he never liked wearing shorts in the real world, but the yearning to witness the sea was tangible in his eyes.
Can we go to the beach one day?
His question resounded in your ear. When he had whispered it in the middle of the night, as you both laid in the tent.
"Aren’t you afraid of the waves?", you had asked him then.
"Tell you’ll take me.", he had turned to you and you could understand that what he asked held a deeper meaning.
"I’ll take you", you said immediately without letting him wonder.
It was his hope, you were his hope and you had let him down. The turn of events too cruel to not get to say goodbye, to not get to tell him that his love was the one thing you can never recover from.
You held the box tighter, it was time to go back home, to the long days of trying to piece yourself back together. But now you could understand why this place had felt familiar. This had been your home in a way, that housed you and kept you safe over the years. You drew in a deep breath to let that feeling of familiarity wash over you. It was rare now. At least it was going to be.
Your world had been pulled off its axis, everything around you only felt new. You checked your watch to see the time only to note that it had only been five minutes since you had entered. It felt whimsical, it had surely felt longer but you heard the soft muffled sound of footsteps behind you. You turned to leave.
“So that proves you and I are meant to be?”
You froze, your breath hitched in your throat, the edges of your vision turning blurry. That voice. You had heard it in your dreams. You could recognize him anywhere. Your eyes settled on the man who stood next to you. His eyes lifting up to meet yours after spotting the box you carried.
Your words died on your tongue, your eyes searched his to then roam over his face, his injuries were no longer present, his hair fell elegantly over his forehead and his smile was full of life. He beamed with a freshness as though he had been revived. There was nothing you could bring yourself to say, there was nothing to question in this moment. All you knew was you needed his presence, so you reached for him like a woolen blanket in a wintry night. You buried your face in his chest as your hands wound across his torso and held him tight, like two magnets coming together. You never wanted to be separated, even if this wasn’t real. His hands wrapped around your body and you felt his warmth surround you.
You didn’t care for when the shop closed, you were going to stay here as long as you could. He didn’t peel away, he was gentle with you, holding you till you needed it, you weren’t willing to move, the rapid pace of your heart beat sobered.
“This is getting so bad now I’ve started hallucinating.”, you mumbled as you placed your cheek in line with his collar bone as you felt his finger hold you closer, as if this was just as much cathartic for him as it was for you.
“You’re not hallucinating.”, he told you softly but it was said with confidence. That you could take his word and believe that your life had changed this very second. As if it was a fairytale.
But was it?
“That’s what an hallucination will say.”, you chuckled sadly unwilling to believe his words as his hands cradled you, slowly swaying you as if this was your living room.
But to your statement, you felt the tender touch of his fingertips tilting your chin up, so you could see him as he dipped his head, for his lips to find yours.
You couldn’t make this up, his fingers slipped down to your neck and you lost yourself in the way the kiss brought you back to life. As if the past week had never happened, that he had just been late from work. He pulled away and your eyes fluttered open to see that he was still here. The feeling of his pulse thrum with new found energy as your hand caught his wrist was the clue to reveal that all this was real.
The mirror behind him captured his reflection, his eyes softened as he admired you, his thumb tracing your cheek as if he was coming to terms with the fact that you were real too.
Ken let you go but you didn’t step away too far. He didn’t either. His eyes didn’t stray away from your face and you couldn’t look at anything else too. He was a meteor shower and everything else was just dust. Your lips were flushed and blood rushed to your cheeks, your fingers traced over the last place his lips had been in unbelief.
He blinked as though he had remembered why he was here, to then pat down his jacket and slide his hands into a pocket. When he pulled it out, in his hand was a little velvet box. It could have been the light but his cheeks turned red as he softly held it out to you. Like a little boy who wanted to see the treasure he had found.
You took the object from his outstretched hand, it didn’t weight much as you held it. The brown velvet soft to the touch, you looked up at him to see the rise of anticipation in his eyes. He nudged his head forward, telling you to open it and so you did. The lid popped open and within it was a crystal that glimmered a mix of colours. It wasn’t a diamond but it was entirely ethereal.
The light made the crystal to light up or atleast allude to it, it had a calming white glow to it. But as a second passed, you could draw a connection between the object in your hands and the light that blinded you in Barbieland. Your eyes snapped to Ken’s just as he his lips parted as though he was about to tell you the reason behind his reappearance, because nothing was making sense so far.
“The blinding light.”, you stated to which he nodded his head. But that didn’t seem to answer any of the questions that lingered in your mind. You edged closer.
“How are you alive?”, you asked, your gaze flickering to where he had been hurt. But to your question, he reached out to hold your hands in his. His thumbs threading over your knuckles as he phrased his answer.
“You’re the hero of my story, Brie.”, he said quietly, his eyes reminiscing the last moment he had held you. A moment he never wished to ever witness. To have to send you away. He never wanted to lose you.
It was solemn, he meant it, everyone in Barbieland could have forgotten and the world could continue to revolve as if it wasn’t a few hours away from being destroyed, but he will always remember.
For so long he had no memories or hopes for the future that it was easy, to live like the rest in Barbieland. But once he got to make a few memories of his own, he couldn’t stop, coming to the verge of losing it all was unthinkable. So as his fingers fiddled with yours, to keep him rooted in the present, there was nothing else he had so surely wanted but to continue making memories with you.
That was all. And that was all he had in him to fight for the right to survive, because he now believed that he deserved it. A life of happiness.
“But how?”, you thought out loud. All you did was be sent back here, Ken was the one who took the step you couldn’t.
“The light from the crystal”, you piece it together. That was the only moment that you could vividly remember, you held the jewel box tighter.
“That protected you from the reset?”, you asked to which he softly shook his head. So if it wasn’t the gem you held, what was it?
“Not quite.”, he narrowed his eyes as a smile spread across his face.
He reached up to the collar of his shirt to pull it to the side. Around his neck was the necklace he had worn before, the one with the heart shaped pendant. But the crystal now looked lifeless and ordinary as compared to when you had seen it before.
“It was your love that was stored with the enchantment.”, he beamed and it took you back to that night, when it changed colours as you spoke into it.
“To remind me I will always be loved by you.”, his eyes softened and a soft gasp left your lips.
“It protected me and those who were near me from the reset. So Allan and weird Barbie still remember everything that happened.”, he explained.
“Wow”, you said almost breathlessly , you needed a moment. That all it took to save him wasn’t a grand gesture or the most valuable object you owned. It was what you had given freely.
So when he had closed his eyes, sure that he was at the end, his world lit up around him. Engulfing Allan and weird Barbie too as it covered the three of them with a pink sheer protection veil. But as he was in it, all he could feel was the depth of your love. Slow motion captures of the times you had thought of him, fast paced replays of the time he had spent with you and as he was there witnessing all of it, he could feel his wounds seal. His heart that had been shattered with the thought of losing you had been put back together.
When the blinding light faded, Barbieland was reset but he wasn’t. He still remembered the warmth of your lips against his and he fell back in relief.
All he wanted to do then was run back in search you that very instant.
“How long have you been here?”, you asked noting that he looked all dressed up.
“Got here a few hours ago.”, he told you.
“Wanted to help Allan settle into Weird Barbie’s dream house. I told them I’ll be back for Christmas with you. If you want to come that is.”, he raised his hands up defensively knowing that Barbieland had caused you enough hurt.
But Allan and weird Barbie were the closest to family you had before you met Melissa, so it wasn’t too hard thinking of visiting them.
But before you could say you would love to join him,
“Actually.”, he shook his head as though he had found the courage he needed.
“I came by your restaurant earlier and they told me you had quit.”, he tilted his head.
“I thought it was time I started my own place.”, you smiled and he inhaled deeply, his face lighting up with a sense of pride for you.
“Finally”, he raised his eye brows.
You held up the velvet box to him, waiting for him to tell you why he was giving it to you although you were now beginning to guess the reason.
“About that.”, he began looking at the box. He reached for you his hands effortlessly finding your waist again.
“I found it in the cave near the lake. It’s a love stone.”, he said.
“It’s shines the brightest when it finds the purest form of true love.”, he told you but the awe from this revelation filled you up with a happiness you could never describe.
Just when you had thought you had lost everything, you were actually receiving it all back. Now that you thought about it, it had glowed every time you were near him
“So our … love.”, you began softly.
“The purest form there is.”, he finished your sentence.
Maybe this was the moment you had been waiting for. That the wish for your dreams had come true.
You placed your hand on his chest, to smooth down the edge of his coat but it was only so that you didn’t breakdown thinking of how utterly hopeless you had felt a few minutes ago.
“I felt so alone the past week”, your voice broke but he pulled you closer, to place his chin on top of your head as he shushed you to calm you down.
“Which is why I wanted to ask if you would like to have me as your forever partner?”, he whispered against your ear.
“For your new business, to share your home with or to just be there to hold your hand whenever you wanted.”, he explained further as you pulled away to see him.
He waited for your answer. It all made sense and only proved you right as the edge of your lip tipped up, his sophisticated attire, the gelled back hair and the velvet box. He was a man on a mission.
There was no reason to think it through, or give it more thought because the answer was already on your lips.
“Yes.”, you say and watched as his eyes light up again.
“Yes, yes, yes, yes.”, you held the sides of his face as you kissed his cheeks, his forehead and his lips in happiness and that feeling doubled when you heard the sound of his laugh.
He set you down half heartedly after giving you another soft peck. He didn’t want to stop but now he had forever. So he intertwined his fingers with yours and walked back to the cashier.
The old man smiled at the two of you as though he knew or maybe he had heard everything. You placed the dolls on the counter and bought them. With one final look at the dolls in the box before you put them into your bag, you exited the store with your own Ken.
With your only Ken.
The city lights sparkled and the breeze felt sweeter than before. He turned to look at you and you knew that you were finally home.
---
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#barbie movie 2023#ken from barbie#ken barbie#barbie movie#barbie#ken carson#ryan!ken#ryan gosling#ryan gosling ken#ken x reader#ken x you#ken x y/n#ken fluff#ken fic#Spotify
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It's Always Been You
"I may not deserve you but after that I’m not going down without a fight, because it's always been you"
♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧
Summary: You had liked Seonghwa since the day you met but you never entertained the idea of being with him because you figured a popular guy like him would never date a girl your size. Coming to terms with this didn’t mean you’d stop defending him in a world full of ungrateful girls. So you reach your breaking point when you’re sick and tired of watching girls miss out on something that would be so good for them. Thing was, Seonghwa heard everything you had to say. He planed to prove you wrong.
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Paring: !non idol Seonghwa and Femreader (plus-size!)
Rating:
Teen And Up Audiences
Category:
F/M
Fandom:
ATEEZ (Band)
Relationships:
Park Seonghwa & ReaderAhn Hyejin | Hwasa/Park Seonghwa
Characters:
Ahn Hyejin | HwasaReaderPark Seonghwa
TW:
Fat Shaming, Body Image, Swearing, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff (if you squint)
Language: English
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I wrote this while being sick and thinking about a previous relationship I was in. We are all beautiful in our own ways. It might take a while to notice but it is true.
☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
“Looking good today HwaSa” you could practically see the smirk on Seonghwa’s face from the sound of his voice. Looking up you saw his eyes trained on the black haired girl beside you, who had yet to put returns you had finished rewinding back on the shelf, her nail file much to important.
Ahn Hye Jin or HwaSa as we called her, was everything you were not. Slim but thick, tall but not to tall, she was perfect. Seonghwa loved her for all of those things including her tiny waist. It had givenher that perfect hourglass look. You on the other hand hated her for all of those things. She wore dresses with lace flower patterns and you still wore the same tattered converse, ripped and worn in all the best ways. Your jeans and Motley Crue T-shirt didn’t and couldn't compare. You were just not the same.
“Thanks Seongie” you hated the nickname, especially how it brought a smile to the fluffy haired boy's face.
“I was wondering if you were free Friday night, I’m having a movie night with the kids and was wondering if you wanted to join?” you had lost count of all the attempts Seonghwa had made to ask the girl out. There had to of been a billion by now.
“Sorry Seongie that sounds pathetic spending Friday night with underage kids” she sneered, meanness dripping from her tone. Seonghwa's smile faltered only slightly and despite how much you hated him for still trying he was still your friend.
“Then what’s your ideal date HwaSa?” your tone was sharp, accusatory, and just plain angry that she couldn’t see how great a guy he was. Not that she deserved him anyway.
“A fancy dinner, wine, making out in a movie theater, third base in the back of a BMW. Nothing to do with babysitting” she responded promptly. Seonghwa hummed with satisfaction, a dopey grin on his face. The sentence immediately making him forget how rude she was in the first place. His mind now only in the backseat of a BMW.
“Classy” you quipped, and she offered a forced smile but knew you were judging her. Yet a girl like you didn’t really get under her skin. How could you when you guys weren’t even in the same league of girls.
“We could do something else, maybe a movie?” you didn’t hide the roll of your eyes as Seonghwa tried again.
“Maybe another time Seongie, I’m busy this weekend” a lie and you knew it, and maybe he did too. Finally picking up the stack of tapes you rewinded she moved off to place them on shelves.
“Get real Hwa ” you snipped, the moment she was out of ear shot.
“What’s your deal?” he asked and you shook your head, amused he couldn’t see how shitty she was.
“My deal is that Ahn Hye Jin sucks, you’ve got so much more going for you” you said pushing a new tape into the machine and hitting rewind. Hwa moved behind the counter, taking Ahn Hye Jin ’s previous spot.
“She doesn’t suck, she’s cool and hot. Hard to get but I don’t give up” he smirked as he crossed his arms and you groaned, annoyed that he was so blinded by her fake appearance. She was nothing more than a girl who peaked in high school and Seonghwa qwas so much more.
“She’s not cool nor is she hot. Don’t you ever think? If she actually had anything going for her she wouldn’t still be stuck here working in a video store” your anger caused the words to rattle out and Seonghwa's face dropped.
“Wonder what you think of me then?” you instantly realized your mistake and began shaking your head. You wished Yeosang or the rest of the boys wasn’t at school and was here to defend you.
“That’s not what I meant Seong-” but he was already shaking his head in offense and pushing himself off the counter.
“It’s exactly what you meant Y/N” he spoke harshly, hurt by his friend and the words you had spoke as he walked into the back room. Sighing you dropped your head on the counter, upset you pissed him off.
“What’s wrong? Did he deny you?” HwaSa chuckled as she returned to the counter now free of VHS tapes. HwaSa viewed life as a social ladder. She was on the top, Seonghwa was below her, which is why she never dated him, and you were all the way on the bottom. She was out of Seonghwa ’s reach but you were miles away.
“No HwaSa, thanks for having faith in me” sarcasm laced your tone as you lifted your head.
“How could I have faith in you, you’ve never had a date in your life” she chuckled, annoyed you gave her so much crap when she saw you as absolutely nothing. She didn’t even think Seonghwa should be talking to you.
“Shut up HwaSa ” you spoke, not wanting anymore shit, already angry enough.
“You want to know why you haven’t had a date Y/N?” HwaSa expression turned menacing as she moved towards you, mean girl genes firing through her bones. “Because you’re fat, short, and weird, and no guy is attracted to that”
“You know what?” normally HwaSa would get to you, break your heart and allow tears to pool in your eyes. But today was your breaking point. She could treat you as badly as she wanted but you were done with her treating Steve like that.
“What?” her amused expression didn’t falter as she waited for some lame comeback bound to fall from your mouth.
“You’re a bitch Ahn Hye Jin. Nothing more than a washed up high schoaol mean girl. You’re gonna spend the rest of your life in this God forsaken town, running though men like their a God damn marathon, until you end up stuck with some creepy old man who knocked you up, and you’ll never be anything more than that girl from high school absolutely everyone hated” HwaSa was shocked as you continued to raise your voice at her, and the use of her real name alerting Seonghwa from the back room.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about” HwaSa began to shake her head but you were beyond angry now, laughing as you approached her. Seonghwa moved to the door, listening to everything you both said.
“Yes I do, because everyday you treat Seonghwa like shit when he thinks you’re the best thing on earth. Do you know how crazy that is? Hwa is the greatest guy I know. He cares for so many people when he doesn’t even have to, including me and the guys, he even drives Woo's younger brother to school everyday even if he doesn’t have to be up for work, because he’s such a great guy. He’s the kind of guy who would treat you right and every day for no fucking reason you tell him no” HwaSa opened her mouth to speak but you quickly held up a hand, not done with your spiel.
“Not to say you deserve a guy like that because you don’t, and twenty years from now, while your holding your child on the porch of your trailer home, you’re gonna be wishing you said yes to him. Every day I hope he’s gonna walk through those doors and ask me out instead because I know what he’s worth. He may be way out of both our leagues but at least I appreciate him. The only reason he still asks you is because you are the skinny, pretty girl, and that fucking stings. Yet I guess that’s how this cruel world works. So leave us both the fuck alone from now on” heavy breaths left your mouth as you finished, Hwa having heard the whole thing, shocked to hear such passion come from you.
“Okay, I’m sorry” HwaSa muttered, before rushing from behind the counter. “I’m gonna take off, my shift is up anyway”
“Bye” you snipped, and she wore a guilty expression as she quickly collected her things and fled the building. You dropped your head back on the counter, now worked up from the drama. Seonghwa finally walked out the back room, knowing that se was gone.
“You think I ask her out because she’s prettier than you?” your shoulders tensed at his voice, not realizing he heard the whole thing. “Because you’re way prettier than her”
“Don’t lie to me right now Hwa, guys don’t date big girls like me” you looked up as you shook your head at him. Seonghwa didn’t care the enthuse the idea.
“I never asked you out because I thought you were too good for me” you furrowed your eyebrows as he continued to talk anyway. Seonghwa had always thought you were pretty and on top of that you were also the best person he knew.
“I’m nothing special and you’re kinda the coolest person I know. I ask HwaSa out because she’s the kinda girl I’m gonna end up with, not because of her looks compared to yours. I’m just not good enough for you” you scoffed, not believing a word because you truly had never heard kind words like this before. It was also hard to believe he could feel like same way you had all this time, used to people avoiding you because of your size.
“I’m not looking for the you’re not fat, you’re beautiful speech. You weren’t supposed to hear what I said. So can we just drop it” you said turning away from him, uninterested in this lame attempt at making you feel better. You had accepted your fate a long time ago.
“You are beautiful Y/N. Fuck, why can’t you see that? I never asked you out because you were the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen and I didn’t want to ruin that” tears pooled in your eyes because if you let yourself believe him and it wasn’t true you weren’t sure you’d ever recover.
“You’re a great guy Hwa, you wouldn’t ruin anything. I would” Seonghwa’s heart warmed because he heard how you had defended him like that. Not even he thought he was so great and apparently you noticed him more than he thought you did.
“Thank you for defending me, and it made me realize that I do deserve someone who would defend me like that. So go out with me Y/N, and not just because of this whole thing, because I’ve wanted to date you since the day we met” you shook your head, the tears now falling down your face.
“Seonghwa if you hurt me, I just can’t. I wouldn’t be able to handle it” Seonghwa felt his heart break as he looked at you. Really looked at you and he felt terrible he had never made you realize how amazing you were in the first place. He was selfish staying away because you deserved to be shown you were just as beautiful as any girl he had dated.
“Let me prove you wrong” he said gripping your arms and you looked up at him, tear filled eyes, and he felt the wind get knocked out of him from the look in your eyes. The fact he never realized you loved him back before was shocking because he could see it written all over your face.
“Okay” you muttered and before you could even react he tugged your lips against his. Arms gripping you for dear life and your eyes were wide as you realized what he had done. He had kissed you and you had never even expected it. Then you realized how soft his lips were, how he tasted like chocolate and cherries, and his warm mouth soothed every ache in your heart. Your hands gripped his shirt as you settled into the kiss, relaxation taking over you, eyes fluttering shut as he moved to wrap his arms around you. If you had known yelling at Ahn Hye Jin or HwaSa as you've call her would make Park Seonghwa kiss you like this you would’ve done it a lot sooner. You weren’t even fully sure you were supporting yourself anymore, knees weak from the fire he has ignited in your stomach.
“Holy shit” Seonghwa panted as he pulled away, a dopey smile on his face, because he had never felt like that from kissing a girl before.
“I know” you panted right along side him and he let out a giddy chuckle, moving to pull you back into his arms.
“I may not deserve you but after that I’m not going down without a fight, because it's always been you”
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Falling Away With You | Ch. 13
Sebastian x F!Reader and M. Rasmodius x F!Reader
Rating: Mature/Explicit
Chapter Summary: Dog boy and farmer girl make up!! :)
Author’s Note: TW // very brief mention of death and attempted suicide
Table of Contents + Work Summary
Check it out on ao3!
Prev | Next
Summer is here and it is hot. I’m not going outside today.
Since (reluctantly) getting myself dressed earlier, I’ve been just laying in bed, stuffed Eggy under one of my arms, playing video games. It’s been a while since I’ve just let myself lounge around for a whole day, and I’ve been hankering for some Legend of Lonk lately.
I wonder if anyone around here is into games. I know Abby is. Allegedly, she struggles so much with Prairie King because she’s more of an RPG type, which I can relate to. But who knows if I’ll ever be close enough with her to play games together?
Just when I’m about to finish up a cutscene, my phone vibrates. Probably a text. I decide to ignore it for now, until realizing it’s still going. Ughhhhh, I hate unprompted phone calls. I pause my game and set the console aside.
“Hello?”
“Hey, (y/n)…” fuck, it’s Sam. “Sorry to bother ya.”
“Oh, uh, not a bother at all. What’s up?” I sit up, repositioning Eggy to my lap and hugging her.
“Can we meet up somewhere? I wanna… you know. Talk about… uh. You know. Stuff. If you’re willing, of course. If not then don’t worry about it, it’s cool.”
I sigh, quietly. I do miss that puppy-man. And if I’ve been canoodling his best friend, then I should swallow my pride and stop avoiding this. For all of our sakes.
“Yeah, I’d like that actually. You wanna come over?”
He sighs too — a big, relieving one. I almost forgot how animated he is. “Yeah sure, when’s a good time?”
“Whenever you want, I’ll be around all day.” My overwhelmingly hospitable instincts kick in, “Just let me know when you’re headed over. I can make us some cocoa or lemonade or something, if you want.”
“It’s a little hot for hot chocolate,” he laughs, sorta shyly. “But it does sound good.”
“Fuck, true,” I mentally smack myself on the forehead. “I can make it cold,” I offer. “Or at least try to. Never done it before.”
“That would be great, it’s okay if you don’t feel like it though. I don’t wanna burden you too much,” he trails off.
“Sam, I wouldn’t have offered otherwise.”
I hear a nervous laugh on the other end. “Yeah, I guess. Alright. Uh. I guess I’ll head over in a few minutes?”
“Yeah, sounds good to me.”
“See ya in a bit then, (y/n).”
“See ya, Sam.”
Fuck, this is gonna be so uncomfortable. At least he seems as nervous as I feel.
Letting out a huge groan, I roll – literally roll, from mattress to floor – out of the bed to find a bra and some less bootylicious bottoms to put on.
Something tells me Seb’s talked to Sam about what we’re about to discuss, so I’m sure Sam knows by now I’m not interested in him the way he might’ve thought. I gotta stay cautious, though. Some dudes are fuckin’ creeps who’ll see a little bit of extra skin and think it's free real estate. Experienced that too much in the city.
I’d doubt Sam being like that if I knew him beyond the surface, but I’ve been so unsure of how to feel about that gumball since The Incident.
I pick out a pair of long gray bike shorts, and throw a sports bra underneath the white, grandpa-esque tourism tee from Ginger Island that I had on already. The ladies are staying hidden, today.
Now, the cocoa… I follow my usual routine, except I leave out the creamer and opt to put the mixture into a pitcher rather than mugs. If I put it in the freezer with some extra ice – better throw in some more mix, so it won’t get watered down – so it’ll hopefully be chilled enough by the time he’s here.
Aaand now we wait. I sit back on the bed, scooping Cannoli into my lap while my eyes dance around the room. I really need some more furniture in here. At least an extra chair, if I’m gonna keep having people over. Maybe a desk to work at?
Fuck, wait a sec! This would totally be big enough for a kotatsu if I put the table in the kitchen or outside instead. My weeb ass has always wanted one of those. I’m sure Cannoli would love it, too.
After a few more moments of interior design contemplation, I get up to pee. Naturally, the moment I sit down, I hear a knock at the door.
“Fuck…” I murmur. “Sorry, one second!” I yell as loud as I can muster. Hopefully he heard that.
I speed-run my little bathroom break and jog to the door, without drying my hands. Shit, what if he gets grossed out by how moist they are? I shake my head, then shake my hands a bit and pat ‘em on my shorts before opening up.
“Hey–” I’m cut off with a squeak from my own throat as Sam fucking engulfs my body into a hug.
“Dude you have no idea how bad I feel,” he word-vomits on me. “I’m so sorry!”
I stand there in shock for a moment. I expected more of a serious, awkward conversation. A weird business meeting, of sorts. Should’ve known that the big guy would do things differently. I’m still unsure of whether or not I can really trust him, but I'm willing to try.
“You big dummy...” I mumble into his boobs before squeezing him back. “I was so worried that you hated me.”
“I thought you’d hate me!”
“We’re both dummies.”
“For sure.”
Realizing I’m still talking into his big ol’ honkaroos, I tilt my head out for air. In a southern drawl, I declare, “We’ve got some stuff to discuss, pardner.”
“Mhm, mhm.” He pulls away, albeit still at arms-length and holding onto my shoulders.
“Pop a squat, I’ll grab the cold cocoa.”
“Cold-co?”
“Oooo I like that,” I shout from the kitchen.
I can’t help but smile at how easy this is so far. Sure, we’ve got some feelings to work out, but I’d let my anxiety get the best of me for the past few weeks for sure.
“Do you want a mug or a glass?”
“Do you have one of those fancy wine cups?” he asks. I peer back and he’s leaning over from the chair at the table. Cannoli missed him too – he’s already curled up in Sam’s lap.
“I’ll check.” I back up, peering around the cabinets, hoping the space gives me a better angle to see the top shelf with. Grandpa had to have had those… fuck, I don’t feel like climbing. “Actually,” I exhale, “can you check?”
Keeping Cannoli in his arms like a baby, Sam strolls in, looking confused. Then, the lightbulb goes off. He laughs at me and scruffs my hair, reassuring me with a jovial “Sure thing, little guy,” before easily spotting and taking a wine glass from the back of one of my higher shelves. Fucking tall people.
“Damn it.”
“I can carry you on my shoulders sometime,” he offers. “That way you can, you know…”
“I hate you.”
“Not that much, if you invited me over.”
“Whatever, fucko.”
He snickers, watching as I prepare our drinks. When I start pouring the creamer, he questions it.
“Trust me,” I assure. He just shrugs, letting me do my thing. “You want whip?”
“What do I look like, some sort of monster? Of course I want whip.”
“More of a big, fluffy beast than anything.”
Sam scoffs, “I’ll take it over a goblin or shadow brute.”
I hand off his drink, scooping up a pair of swirly straws. I am an adult. “Want a straw too, beast boy?” I offer while holding one out towards him.
Taking it from me, he responds, “See, I can get behind that! Makes me sound like a Teen Titan.”
“That show kicked ass,” I point out as we walk into the other room. “I used to have the fattest crush on Robin.”
We sit down on my bed, both of us cross-legged, both of our backs against the wall. Cannoli fills the space between us. Our mediator.
“I was down bad for Starfire, myself.” He takes a sip, and I inspect for the signature eye twinkle. Theeere it is! Another chocolate beverage well done. “Holy shit this is so good.”
“Told you to trust me!”
He playfully rolls his eyes. “Oh! And Blackfire fucked too.”
“Dude, she was so hot!”
“But so mean…”
“Yeah, and you’re saying you wouldn’t want her to be mean to you?”
He inhales dramatically, contemplating. Then Sam mutters, shrugging, “I’d thank her for beating me up,” before dejectedly sipping some more of his drink.
“Seeeee?”
“Shut up, jeez. I didn’t come here to be perceived.”
“Eh, you kinda did.”
A short silence. “Crud. You’re right.”
We both laugh, and it simmers into another silence.
“So.”
I turn towards him, leaning my shoulder onto the wall now. He mimics my movement, placing his already empty cup (?!) onto my nightstand and hugging my pillow to his chest. It looks like we’re having a slumber party. This is the best position for sharing some hot goss.
“So…” he sighs, his eyes roaming me. I blush as he either inspects me or checks me out – not sure which it is. “I’ve got some explaining to do, huh?”
I nod and shrug, “I guess.”
He gnaws at his bottom lip, looking down at the pillow, trying to decide on his next choice of words if I had to assume.
“Well, Sebastian told me that he already let you know I was catching feelings, so I don’t have to explain that.”
“Yeeeah… he fill you in on anything else?”
Sam nods. “I’m happy for you guys, by the way. Dunno what’s going on, but it’s cool you two are like… you know.”
“Thanks, Sam,” I shyly smile, scooping my plushie into my arms. God, Eggy takes up so much of me. It’s fine though. She is my protector. “I’m sorry that you kinda got fucked over. You’re really cool and you deserve to be with someone who makes you happy, but,” I shrug. “I just don’t feel the same that you do. I’m sorry.”
He shakes his head, “No, really, it’s all good. I’m usually better with the ladies anyway. It’s about time Seb has better luck than I do.”
“Pfft. All these Pelican Town girls really swoon for ya, don’t they?” I say that half-jokingly. He’s crazy good looking, and he’s nice, so I wouldn’t be surprised if he did well for himself around here.
“I mean, I thought I had a thing with Penny for a while, but that went nowhere.”
“Aw, really? That would be so cute!”
“Would’ve been cuter if she felt the same way I did.”
“Oof,” I scrunch my nose as I wince. “Unrequited?”
“Nah, she just wasn’t as into me as I was into her, I guess.” He sighs, “It’s starting to be a common theme for me.”
“Heh, whoops,” I apologize as I abandon my cup of coldco onto the floor and hug Eggy tighter, hiding further into her.
“It worked out for the best. We had different dreams for the future, and whatever.”
“What about Abby?”
“I love her, but more like… as if she were my annoying little sister.” He laughs, “Besides, she’s obsessed with Sebastian. It would never happen even if I wanted to try.”
“Gotcha, gotcha. How’s she feel about me and him, uh…” I pause. Seb and I aren’t dating, per say. “Messing around?” I cringe at my own words. “Gross. Wait.”
Sam howls, “Yoba, you nasty girl.”
“Shut up! I don’t know what we are, we aren’t dating, exactly!”
“Yeah, yeah, I get you… Uhh. She hates you.”
We lock eyes. He’s wincing but I’m stone cold. “I expected nothing less,” I truthfully admit.
“She’ll come around.”
“I fucking hope so. I don’t exactly love the fact that one of the first people I tried to properly interact with here has made such an enemy out of me.”
“Abby’s young and dumb, but she’ll warm up to you eventually. If not when she’s over it, it’ll happen whenever she finds someone else to occupy her. She dated this chick Sophia once, that was the most tame I’d ever seen her.”
“Girl must be a frickin’ angel.”
“She really was so nice.”
“Was?”
“Well,” he clicks his tongue, “she was hospitalized for a suicide attempt last year. She lives over in Grampleton, so we never really saw her around here much in the first place. But none of us have seen her at all since that happened.”
“Holy shit, I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine, I’m sure she’ll be okay.” Sam repositions a little, petting Cannoli for emotional support. “She’s supposed to be inheriting her parents’ vineyard, past the beach, actually. Don’t know if she’ll ever be back to do it.”
“Oh, that’s what that place is?”
“Yeah, have you ever heard of Blue Moon?”
“Shit, I have! That brand is all over Zuzu. It belonged to her parents?”
Sam nods, sadness still washing over his features. “Yeah, but they died in a car crash. Happened a little before Sophia had to… ya know. Go away.”
I recoil a bit, thinking about how tough shit probably is for that poor girl. “I hope she ends up okay. That sucks so hard.”
“Yeah, me too.” He puts the pillow back behind him, and slaps his palms onto his thighs, keeping them there. “Anyway! I don’t like all this sad junk. Back to business.”
“So you were really gonna kiss me that night, huh?” I blurt out.
“Yeesh. Right to the point.”
“Sorry.” I apologetically shrug.
“You’re fine, uh… maybe I was?” We look at each other, silence filling the room. I lean over to finish my drink before placing the empty cup back on the ground, and then purse my lips, waiting for him to correct himself. “Fuck. Yes. Yes I was.”
“You know that would’ve been, like, crazy uncomfortable considering I didn’t want to kiss you back, right?”
“Yeah…”
“I don’t want to kiss you, Sam.”
Although, his lips are super nice…
No.
Stop it.
“Oh my god,” he giggles.
“Thanks for not kissing me.”
“Oh my god!”
“No, like, seriously, thank you.” I put my hand on his knee, chuckling. “You have no idea how much weirder I’d feel having you in my house right now, had that happened.”
“Yeah, no problem, whatever! I get it, you don’t like me! I’ll just pine for a… taken?” Sam tilts his head and squints an eye, thinking over the word. “Taken!” He nods, confidently. “A taken lady, for forever.”
“Come on, dude!” I playfully whine, swatting Eggy’s arms in his direction. He flaps his hand in unison with each fuzzy, stuffed paw slap. “To be fair, you’re totally hot. I’m sure if you asked that Victor dude to take you to a Zuzu bar, you’d get laid in no time.”
“You think I’m hot?”
I deadpan at Sam’s face to find him giggling and blushing like a fucking school girl. Sigh.
“Yeah, I do. You’re like, atrociously hot.” I roll my eyes, in spite of the smile on my face. I'm not lying - he really is, like, so fucking hot honestly. “Don’t make it weird.” I point at him, one of the plushie’s paws still in the same hand.
“That’s so cool oh my god,” he giddily exclaims.
I groan into the back of Eggy’s head. “Sammm!”
“Right, sorry!” he scratches the back of his neck. “Well, I don’t wanna just get laid. I have Palmela for that stuff.”
“Who the fuck is Palmela?”
Sam grins menacingly, waggling his fingers at me, not saying a word.
What?
...Oh.
OH.
Palmela! Seriously?!
“Dude, gross!” I cackle.
“Heheheheh.” He evilly taps his fingertips against those on the opposite hand. I give him a fake-dirty look. “But seriously, I want someone to cuddle, to go on dates with,” he sighs. “Anyone, I don’t even care about gender. I just want someone to care about and feel loved by.”
Aww. I frown. Everyone who wants that deserves it. Especially this fella. Wait… but if he’s not straight…
I excitedly snag one of his hands in both of mine. “So small,” he whispers, thoroughly inspecting my hands. I ignore that comment.
“Sam, have you ever had a crush on Sebastian?” Wide eyed and menacingly, I flash my teeth.
His own eyes widen. He looks down, then back up to my eyes, and then off to the side…and now he’s blushing!!!
“Sam, holy shit! You have!”
“We dated…” he whispers, twitching a brow. Ayo?!
“Samson Henry Johnson, you sly dog!”
“Dude, shut up! We were, like, kids basically, it’s no big deal.”
“What do you mean by kids? How long ago was it?”
“We were in high school.”
“Bro, that was only, what, a decade ago? Little longer maybe?”
“Sweet Yoba above…”
“Is it a forbidden topic, or do I have full permission to be nosy?”
“It’ll be forbidden if you keep being annoying about it!”
I pout. “Boo, you whore.”
“Wouldn’t not kissing and telling make me less of a whore?”
“Metaphorically speaking, yeah, but…” I shrug. Then, I have an epiphany. “Oh my god wait, did you guys, like, touch tips?!”
“Alright, it’s forbidden!”
“Fuck!”
__________________
I lied. I am going outside today.
After continuing to fill each other in on our previously failed love lives, Sam and I decided to take a walk up to his ex’s house to present the renewal of our friendship. Formally. Bells chime as we enter the gigantic cabin, announcing our arrival. Smells sawdusty – I guess Robin’s been busy.
“Hey, you two! If you’re looking for Sebby, he’s in his lair,” Robin advises.
“Thanks Robby,” I chirp, as my tall companion and I pass her station.
“Robby?” she laughs. “Gross.”
I crinkle my nose. “Ugh, yeah, sorry. Didn’t have as nice of a ring out loud as it did in my head.”
“You’re tellin’ me!” Robin shouts once we’re out of sight.
Continuing the assholery, as Sam raps on Seb’s door, I sing, “Sebbyyy.”
A loud groan echos on the other side. “Stop calling me that shit,” he voices as he nears the door. When he opens it, he does a double take. “Ah. I see The Conversation went well.”
“Hell yeah!” Sam boasts, tossing a strong arm around my shoulder and navigating me inside. “This little lady and I are good as new.”
“And you came here to celebrate? Of all places?” the hot, emo cave goblin inquires.
“Hell yeah!” Sam echos himself. “Swimmies and sippies season is here,” he chimes, waggling his eyebrows. “Are you down?”
“Can it wait until it’s cooler out?” Seb asks, returning to his desk and typing away. “Like, later tonight, maybe?”
“Absolutely! Who’s buying the sippies though?”
They both look at me, expectantly. I’ve been lost this entire time.
“What in the actual fuck is a swimmies and sippies?”
“Ahh, much to learn, young grasshopper,” Seb calmly states.
“Stop calling me that.”
He chuckles. “Every once in a while, we grab a bunch of drinks and go swimming at the bathhouse. You know, the one up by the train station,” he explains, as I nod. “Hence… swimmies and sippies.”
“I came up with the name!” Sam beams, as he sits on the couch. Of course he did, I think to myself. “Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”
I head pat him for a change. Feels good, man. “Of course it does.” Sam leans into my hand, so I continue rubbing his head. He’s literally a giant dog.
“I nominate you to buy,” Seb peers over at Sam. “Not fair to make the newbie do it.”
“You seemed on board with her getting the drinks a second ago!”
“Yeah, I also thought she knew what swimmies and sippies is at that point.”
I nod, happily, giving the blonde’s scalp another pat before seating myself in front of Seb’s other computer. “Your fault for not filling me in on your plans, buddy.”
“Man!” He whines. “Fine, I’ll go do that.” Sam gets up, stretching his arms up and behind his head as he makes his way to exit the room.
“Grab your cooler and some ice, too. There’s not much fridge space here.”
“Anything else, fuckers?”
“Snacks?” I add.
Sam looks to me and sighs, loud and exasperated. “Drinks, snacks, ice, cooler,” he counts on his fingers. “Got it.”
“Thank youuu~,” Seb calls as Sam leaves the room, flipping us off before swinging the door shut behind him.
Chin in hands, I lean my elbows on the desk.
“So… I’ve got a question for ya.”
“What’s up, baby?”
Yoba, my heart can’t take him giving me pet names. I blush and hide my face further into my hands. Fuckin’ loser.
“You guys were quite an item back in the day, yeah?”
He stops typing and snorts into a laugh. “Fuck. He told you about that?”
I hum and nod. “Did ya fuck?”
“Yeah,” he responds coolly, looking awfully tickled. He must not get to talk about this much.
“I knew it!” I practically screech. “That’s so precious. I wonder why he wouldn’t give me any deets.”
“Sam’s not as, uh,” Seb taps his nails onto the desk as he leans into the opposite hand. “In tune with his sexuality.”
“Ah. Explains why he forbade me from talking about it, too.”
“Look, ask me anything you want, and I’ll answer what I can. But keep it quiet, yeah? Lotta homophobes hidden around the valley.” Seb frowns. “And, Sam’s not homophobic towards other people by any means, but he’s still got some internalized shit to un-learn.”
“Ah. Lame, but understandable,” I nod, taking solace in knowing he at least is comfortable enough that he basically came out to me today. “My lips are sealed, sir.”
I motion as though I’m zipping my mouth, tossing away the “key” after, ‘cause I’m not a monster. In the meantime, Seb groans. I tilt my head inquisitively and he looks my way. His eyes are dark and intense, like he’s invading my fucking soul oh my god.
“Don’t call me that.”
“Why not?”
He continues to stare at me, eyes narrowed… Oh!
I gasp, “You naughty bastard! You like that, don’t you?”
“Guilty,” he shrugs, sipping his coffee.
Aaand, just like that, I’m activated. “Sebastian.”
“(Y/n).”
“How much work do you have right now?”
His eyes dance around the screen a bit before looking in my direction. “Enough. Why?”
“Ughhhhh.”
“Were you scheming, (y/l/n)?”
“Who, me?” I ask, flicking my wrist as I lilt out my words, all southernly-sounding. “Why I’d nevah!”
Except I totally would, and was. Was gonna like, I dunno… offer a dick suck? Or something. It's easy to forget with how long our tension has been going on that we haven't actually done anything like that, in person at least.
“You're a horrible liar, (y/n).” Sucking in through his teeth, Seb continues his typing. “If I didn’t have so much to catch up on before tonight I’d bend you over that desk right now.”
Ooooh my god please do, ~sir~. I squeak. Ugh.
“Is that a threat?”
“Sounds like you want it to be.”
He imitates a squeaky toy to prove his point. I (rightfully!) give his shin a kick, and he just laughs and flicks his foot back towards me.
He isn’t wrong though. I want nothing more than that, actually. But, like the little shit I am, I instead respond, “Bold of you to assume such a thing.”
“What, is it not romantic enough for our first time?” he jests. “Or are you just challenging me for fun, you little perv?”
“Classified information.” Quick (y/n), change the topic! “This thing still work?” I ask, tapping the monitor in front of me.
“Yeah, you wanna use it?”
“Fuck yeah, I do.” When he gives me a nod of approval, I stand up to reach the power button, pressing it and hoping for some RGB as it boots up. There are some — all red — and the poor thing sounds like it’s struggling. “When’s the last time this thing was turned on?”
“Years ago, don’t remember exactly when.”
I hum, and am met with a black screen and white writing. “Oof. Says something about an improper boot device?”
“Shit. Umm,” he stops typing to think for a second. “Turn it on again, and go to the boot menu, in the BIOS. The right one should be somewhere on the list.”
I follow his directions. “The Windows one, I’m assuming?”
He nods. “Good girl.”
MMMMMM. If I had a tail, it would totally be wagging right now.
I inhale sharply, trying to contain myself. “Fuck you.”
“Bad girl?” he suggests, raising one of his brows.
“I don’t like it, but sure, that’s better.”
The computer finally starts up, and I'm surprised to find that it’s not locked by a password. This thing looks empty, though. Must’ve moved all his games and junk to the PC he’s on right now… I do the only reasonable thing to do in a situation like this: open up a browser and download stuff. MapleStory, maybe?
“Hmm, you’re right. I don’t like it either.”
“Good! So don’t use it, forehead.”
“My forehead is beautiful, thank you,” he quips. “What if it was in a different context?”
“What, like,” I clear my throat, “Oh, you’re a bad girl…?” I recite, the attempted deep voice cracking as I speak.
Seb heartily laughs. Adorably. Ughhh. “Yeah, like that.”
“Dunno, never been called that in that way before.”
“Mmm, that’ll be a fun experiment.”
“There is no reason that should’ve been sexy, and yet…” I trail off.
He chuckles evilly, and I flick the scrunchie on my wrist at him.
Picking it up from his lap, he holds it up briefly and says, “Cool, thanks.”
Seb proceeds to (attempt to) put his hair up. Considering how choppy and uneven it is, it ends up being a wonky side-ponytail.
Unfortunately, he’s still hot.
#sebastian x reader#sebastian#sdv sebastian#sdv#sdv rasmodius#sve magnus#magnus rasmodius x reader#stardew valley rasmodius#sdv sebastian x reader#stardew sebastian#sebastian stardew#sebastian headcanons#stardew valley#stardew#sve#sebsatian sdv#sdv wizard#stardew wizard#magnus rasmodius#stardew valley fanfic#stardew valley sebastian x reader#wizard x reader
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[Vampire Knight] - If I'm to be reborn, I'll find you (again, again, again) - CHAPTER TWO: ruler of my heart (you outburn the sun)
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Summary: He hates her, he loves her, he hates her.
He misses her.
(The only place he can have her is in his dreams)
Note: Hopefully I'm getting better at this updating consistently thing but yeah zero's chapter. Next chapter is going to be kaname/yume focused again sorry zero or zeki enjoyers.
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He’s not the first one to hear of the news. In fact, he’s neither the second, nor third (and so on) recipient of the fact that Kuran Yuuki is dead. Zero doesn’t hear it from the Chairman, his teacher, Kaito, or even from one of the vampires. In hindsight, perhaps he should have been more suspicious, should have questioned the way paperwork always found its way to his desk unceasingly—leaving him with no time to focus on the outside world.
Zero simply hears of it in passing whilst heading out for lunch, through a conversation between two nameless hunters—discussing it like changes in the weather.
“Did you hear? Kuran Yuuki is dead.”
“Another pureblood gone, huh… Wonder if it was her brother that did her in?”
“The rapidly decreasing execution missions would likely clue you into the answer.”
“Right, right.”
It’s hysterically, laughably casual in the way such information comes to him.
(It can’t be real. It can’t be real. It can’t be real—)
The world seems to stop on its axis, and Zero wonders if he should’ve simply ignored his desire for shio ramen today. After all, it’s not like he has an appetite now. His stomach roils with discomfort at the thought of food, and his throat itches for a scant few seconds before it burns. A sandstorm swirls and tears at his flesh. Mind blank, Zero goes where his feet wish to travel, content to let his mind stay in a haze.
He ends up in the association bathrooms, throwing up nothing but paltry strings of bile and choking on his spit.
-
There is too much work to be done. The vampire world, for one, was going through a massive societal upheaval. Zero simply couldn't do anything more than throw up into an association toilet before being fed an ungodly amount of paperwork as if he were some humanoid paper shredder.
And maybe it's because more than four years ago, just over a year ago—with Ichiru dead in his arms—he's finally refined a true and tried method for every loss he's been through. Every thought of her is locked behind a glass vault, buried six feet under, the key left behind to collect dust. Zero works through papers and decimates his targets with the same ease. Every stroke of his pen is enforced with the explosive sound of his gun, of ashes in the wind. Rinse and repeat, his days all blur together in their sameness.
Months later, on a job just like any other, Zero walks into a department store and sees a long coat, hanging neatly from the racks. Stupidly, he thinks, ‘Yuuki would probably say I should get it if she saw it.’ And then, oh, how it hits him at that very moment.
Yuuki is dead.
Yuuki is dead.
Yuuki is dead.
-
Apparently, it had been the pureblood Shirabuki Sara. A pureblood through and through, she’d sent pawns to do her dirty work.
But she’d miscalculated the consequences of her actions, as all those high up on their thrones of arrogance were prone to doing so.
So she too, is dead, consumed by the pureblood king Kuran Kaname—he’s slaughtered more influential vampires than any hunter ever would in their lifetime. In the privacy of his thoughts, Zero thinks that had he the power and madness to do so, he would’ve too.
Sanity is both a blessing and a curse, because there is nothing else for Zero to turn to but his thoughts alone.
-
Roaring water fills his ears, and Zero sits, unmoving on the wet shower tiles. Steam fogs up the room, blurring his vision. He watches the water run down the drain for hours, washing the grime caked on his body until his fingers are all pruned and his skin is red with heat. His stomach is growling at him, and the water bill is for sure going to shoot up with this, but Zero can’t bring himself to care much about the future right now.
(Any second now, she might barge into the bathroom to demand usage of the shower, to dramatically proclaim that he’s spent too long hogging it, to threaten to turn off the hot water in a minute even if she never ends up doing it.
But this apartment houses only him, and is far away from that Academy, far away from all those precious yet painful memories. The tiles aren’t even the right colour, beige, off-white, and an intense white that could be comparable to that of a strobe light. The shampoo and body wash he’s bought—the same one she always used in the Academy, a subtle floral scent of roses—only serve to highlight all the differences he can find between his current bathroom and the one in his memories.)
The doorbell suddenly rings, insistent and unfaltering like a military march. Zero is sure it’s been modified because there’s no way a regular doorbell could be so annoyingly loud like the one he has. With the way it’s blaring in his ears every second, it’s clear that whoever’s behind the door won’t take his silent refusal as an answer.
The water continues to flow into the drain, taking with it the numerous dissolving blood tablets strewn across the wet floor.
For a moment, Zero allows himself to be deluded by the idea that it’s her behind the door—-she’d always been as stubborn as a mule when she put her mind to it. But it is the sound of the doorbell that echoes in his ears, not an annoyed rat-a-tat-tat followed by the creak of an opening door. What follows is sandy blond hair and the glint of spectacles. They stare at each other for a moment, the headmaster and him. Nearby, the water continues to flow.
Even now, Zero can never truly parse the emotion behind those glasses of his.
“You know she wouldn’t want to see you like this.”
And even now, the headmaster’s words are as precise as his killing blows. Hearing them, Zero flinches. They stab into him, tearing open wounds until the pain is nothing but white numbness. But the mention of her, as always, pushes him to move on the legs of a shambling corpse. His hand slams against the bathroom tiles; the force of it is always degrees lower than it could be.
“How do you know what she would’ve wanted?” His words are acrid, angry in a way he doesn’t want to explain. “She’s gone. She’s not coming back.” Zero grits his teeth, looking straight at Kaien Cross’s eyes before he spits out a final bout of venom. “She’s been dead ever since she became one of them.”
Yet like always, the headmaster’s calm never wavers. “You know, that it’s always been her. No matter if Yuuki,” the sound of her name, said aloud, led to the tiles cracking under his hands, “stayed human or not, She’ll always be Yuuki. Maybe she changed and grew up a little—faster than I would’ve wanted or liked—but at her core, she was always, always Yuuki. She didn’t die that day. You knew that fact as well as I did.” And here, Zero feels the weight of the executioner’s blade above him, about to drop. “Otherwise, why do you try so hard to keep them as separate entities, even now, when she’s truly dead and gone?”
Zero drops to his knees painfully, leaving marks of destruction behind on the walls. He covers part of his face with a hand, contemplating further denial with the truth laid out so plainly before him.
“I never…”
“You never told her your true feelings, and now she’s gone. Because it was easier to accept it if you felt as if you'd already mourned beforehand.” The headmaster’s voice is soft, almost as if reminiscing a similar scene. He crouches down and puts a hand on Zero’s shoulder. “Let it out, Zero. It’s only me and you now.”
There are no tears left for him to cry, but his throat tightens, and Zero hiccups out words all the same.
“I loved her. But she chose him.”
A ragged breath cuts his words short before Zero finds the strength to continue.
“I still loved her, even to the very end.”
-
The sky glows with a mix of different vibrant, brilliant colours—it’s an intensely beautiful scene, so much so that Zero wants to throw up. A cacophony of emotions welled up in him, knowing that such a view would be forever denied to the girl who was the most like the sun. He almost wishes that a storm would suddenly start, right at that moment.
But the sun continues to glow with a detestable radiance, and the days continue to go by relentlessly. The world does not wait for one man’s grief.
He goes back into his bedroom and sits on his bed. Afterwards, he brings out Bloody Rose.
A click, and he watches as the empty magazine drops to the ground with a heavy thunk. Mechanically, Zero goes through the familiar motions of reloading Bloody Rose. The gun hangs loose in his hands. When it’s done, still holding Bloody Rose, his arm raises, up, up. Its silver muzzle points under his exposed chin without even the slightest tremor, pressing firmly into the soft flesh.
He thinks about a girl, who, long ago, had rushed into a different room and wrenched this very gun out of his hands. Thinks of a life preserved for reasons he refused to believe was out of love. Thinks of a life, gone because it was loved so dearly.
The sunlight pierces through haphazardly closed curtains. A clock ticks in the background. He lets both the gun and himself fall on the bed.
His door is still closed.
(She’d wanted him to live)
-
Her blood still resides within him. But it lies, still, silent. Not a single iota of warmth flows in his body; it is ice in his veins in contrast to Kuran’s acidic poison. Were Zero to close his eyes and attempt to delude himself, he would simply fail from the get-go. Because Zero has always been faced with hard truths; so many times, he sees them over and over again—in the mirror, in the way he used to bite himself by accident and in the hunter’s bracelet on his desk.
She is gone and he must swallow down that bitter truth like the way he mindlessly consumes blood tablets.
(They scrape his throat, going down and making it uncomfortably dry; it tastes of overly sugared cough syrup; and he doesn’t want to, doesn’t wish to accept a world without her in it.
But her blood still lies.)
-
He dreams of her. Not always, but sometimes he does. On those days, when he wakes up, Zero can’t seem to muster up the strength to get out of bed. It’s easier to bask in the what-ifs and could-beens, or the has-beens and bygone halcyon days. Breathing is easier, living feels easier, being carried by fantasies and memories. He always has to stop himself from getting too carried away—because ultimately the world does not care. Time continues to march forward, the Earth continues to spin on its axis and around the sun.
Sometimes Zero wants to curse at her. Because no matter how easy it was at that moment, reality would always settle in as an infinite weight, caving his lungs beneath him. But he could never stay angry at her, no matter what she did, or what she became. Before, he had sworn to kill her—but really, he wouldn’t have minded had she put him to rest instead.
-
"Zero? Did you fall asleep in the stables again? Geez, what's with you always showing up late for the transition periods!" She punches him forcefully in the back a couple of times, unrelenting even in the face of his annoyance and mild pain. (He wouldn’t have it any other way)
“Ow, ow, ow, ow—! Oi, would you quit it already?” He turns to slap a large hand over her forehead, pushing her away from him with great resistance on her part. “I’m here now, aren’t I?” Zero doesn’t say it, but her puffed cheeks and flailing limbs make her look as ridiculous as she is cute, and he’s almost tempted to flick her in the forehead for good measure.
“Yes, yes, alright now stop pushing me!” She glares up at him, arms folded in annoyance. “Don’t forget that as the prefects, we have an important job to do—which means, stop being late!”
“By important job, you mean stopping a bunch of idiot classmates from throwing themselves into the slavering jaws of humanoid beasts?” Zero raises a wry eyebrow, watching her face gain a mildly exasperated look. When he turns to jab at the inevitable mass of lovesick, occasionally fanatic day-class students to further make a point, Zero finds that there’s no one there.
Right.
He turns back to look for her, but there’s no one there.
-
When Zero cooks breakfast for his birthday, he takes care to watch his food burn, forces it down his throat and makes sure it stays put. The eggs are rubbery, the toast is burnt, and the bacon is like chewing wood, but somehow he devours it with as much eagerness as a regular bowl of shio ramen.
She used to make such god-awful food.
(Zero finds vials of blood on his doorstep that day.
He practically guzzles the pills instead.)
-
"Hey Zero, I think this would look pretty good on you." She takes out the long coat with a flourish, holding it up next to him with a contemplative expression. Zero stares back blankly at her, knowing little about the intricacies of what was his “colour”, or what “went well with his eyes”. Sure, he has some preferences, but he finds that he doesn’t mind watching her pick out his clothes for it.
(It’s oddly domestic in that way, and he dreams of what could’ve been—had they been normal, had they not had destiny and duty looping around their necks like a noose)
The next day, he goes and buys himself another coat. Staring at its dark colours and its simple design, Zero wonders if this could’ve been something she would’ve chosen for him.
(He never wears it. Dust collects on the cloth, tints the fibres grey and overrides the fresh store-bought scent, but he never wears it.)
-
"Zero, we can stay together for the night, just like before—I’ll watch over your dreams, and you can watch over mine, ok?" Under the warm covers, she whispers this to him, and their fingers intertwine together. Her hands have always run colder than his, but even so, her hands are freezing—as cold as the dead.
When he wakes up, the space beside him on the bed is cold.
It has always been cold.
-
There is no grave, no stone marker, but he supposes that the Kuran Manor serves well enough as a reminder. The rumours don’t paint a pretty picture—the king of beasts, almost mad in his sobriety; the king of beasts, living only for memories and promises; the king of beasts, someone who’d crush you underfoot for his dreams without a second thought.
Standing in front of the tall, dark and rusting iron gates, Zero can almost choke on the overpowering scent of roses. They’re everywhere, in full bloom, mere buds, wilting or decayed. It’s a smell that only reminds him of what could have been, and what he let go of, of that fateful night in the academy.
Were it him, he would’ve planted sunflowers instead.
(Zero doesn’t enter. He knows how much Kuran hated him entering any space deemed as his own. It wouldn’t change now, half-mad as they both were.)
-
Violence is, perhaps, the only outlet that Zero knows will never let him down. There is release to be found when he hunts down level Es; there is no need for emotion, only cold, pure logic in which he can execute his duty as a protector (that he’d already failed so many times before). With every shot of his gun, every blast of the hunter’s sigil and every vampiric body blown apart into dust and ash, Zero puts to rest the grievances of so many others—but never his own.
Kaito no longer makes any sort of comment about such trips, only there to stop him from presumably losing his head and forcing the association to find yet another leader (or so he says, but they both know part of the association would be thrilled to find a reason to off him). Sure, Kaito mindlessly chatters about the surroundings and his day, but they both know that saying anything about her—no matter how sound his reasoning could be—would create a one-way ticket to the end of their friendship.
He tried, once. (“You can’t keep doing this to yourself. You have to accept the fact that she’s gone and that she didn’t choose you.” He’d paused then, reproach evident in his face before he continued. “She was a pureblood first.”
“She had been human.”
“Had.”
“And so had I been, once.”
“…Just don’t get yourself killed.”)
It’s nice to have someone stay. But he’ll never say it. People can’t stay simply because you want them to. Their decisions have always been their own.
-
Perhaps the universe had an ironic sense of humour if he was back to teach Cross Academy’s Day Class ethics of all things. The headmaster clearly made a mistake in forcing him to do what he flippantly called a “much-needed change of perspective”. Somehow Yagari, of all people, seemed to think that it’d be good for him to take up such a position in addition to his duties as both a hunter and the president of the hunter’s association.
“You’re a good kid, but you need a better head on your shoulders,” is all Yagari says on that matter, and off Zero goes into once more dealing with teenagers—this time as an adult rather than one of their peers. He half expects it to be just like before.
But it’s not.
Revealing the truth of the Night Class to the Day Class means that there are no more barriers between the vampires and humans of Cross Academy. Without the distance, there is not enough room for worship, and what is left are only two kinds of being, all simply trying to live in a new world.
Teaching ethics really means “filling in the gaps” so that vampire-human relations will go more smoothly. Unlike his mentor though, Zero thankfully doesn’t need to use either express or implied threats of violence to get his students to listen. And he finds that, with the truth revealed, the Day Class students now behave in much calmer ways—ironically, the truth had perhaps “humanised” the vampires for them.
They listen carefully to his teachings; Zero does his utmost to drill them into their heads, complete with drawings that are only marginally better than her toddler scribbles. He’s sure that when he’s out of sight and earshot, they laugh about it, just as they laugh alongside the vampires they’d once thought of as unreachable.
Watching it all from a distance, it almost feels unbearably nostalgic yet melancholic—because this had not been his world. Had she and Zero never been torn apart from the natural way of things, reborn and reforged in blood, they would have never met.
(He wonders if he would’ve dismissed her as nothing but a monster. If their old classmates would have thought of her as another pseudo-goddess to worship.)
Zero watches two worlds meld, and is not quite at peace, but at the very least, the memories, the “what ifs” here do not hurt.
However, it doesn’t take long for him to resign. In the end, Zero is better cut out for other things, rather than becoming another face in the crowd of the headmaster’s rampant eccentrics that he calls teachers. But, sometimes, seeing the world that she wished for, finally, slowly, starts to be created… The air is a little lighter, even as his throat aches. She would’ve liked to watch the two different classes fumble through cooking on their own.
Maybe he’ll make ginger pork stir fry tonight.
-
It’s years before he meets Wakaba Sayori again. Zero nearly forgets about her wedding, were it not for the Headmaster’s, and Kaito’s constant, unceasing reminders via letters and spoken words. The final nail in the coffin is the wedding invitation itself. If he doesn’t attend the wedding, he’s sure that someone will come to physically strong-arm him to the event.
The wedding itself is a rather small affair, given Sayori’s background and what he remembers of Aidou’s proclivity for dramatics. Maybe it was Sayori who’d wanted it. Or maybe it was a joint agreement. Zero doesn’t know either of them well enough to say, but he prefers it this way.
Staring at the happy couple—in the back of his mind—Zero morbidly wonders if death will also do them part earlier than expected. He’s quick to shut down that train of thought as soon as it appears. He wouldn’t wish such a feeling on anyone.
-
After the event, Zero keeps his copy of the wedding photo, keeping it safe with the other one that marked his first year of high school. Against the glossy sheen of the new photo, that one looks all the more faded; the new photo always feels as if it’s missing something.
She would’ve loved to see the wedding; would’ve been the maid of honour, lovely in gentle pinks and a happy blush on her cheeks.
He startles at the vision, dropping the photo book with an unceremonious thud.
-
The burn in his throat has never gone away since that fateful night of snow. But it’s now a familiar constant, easily relegated to the back of his mind. What does it mean? Zero doesn’t know, only watching as society changes, and as people grow to create a world where there could be true peace.
But it feels easier to breathe for himself, even as he continues to breathe for her. Zero isn’t sure if he’ll ever stop breathing—living—for her. It’s alright this way, and the dreams now leave him feeling more…fond rather than wanting.
-
It’s only a glimpse, but years and years later, Zero gets a chance to see how Kuran Kaname now fares in this still unfamiliar world. Despite his achievements and the iron-clad grip he has on the rest of the vampires—key in fostering the new partnership between humans and vampires—he rarely shows his face. Does the smell of roses, in its various stages of life, cling to him like a parasite? Or maybe it’s the other way around, with roses built within everything he owns, everything that he is.
As Zero contemplates, he thinks back to the regularly replaced sunflowers in his office and his flat.
When he sees him, Zero gets his answer.
Lounging on his throne, the smell of blood, dust and decay is attached to him like that of a rose with its thorns. Kaname Kuran stares emptily at everyone and nowhere, only occasionally opening his mouth to send orders. Within his hands is a resin-encased rose, looking worn and smooth from the years. His clothes don’t quite fit what he’s supposed to be, refined King of the Vampires. Rather, dressed in loose clothing, the apathy in his gaze, Kuran almost reminds him of—
(Zero tries not to think about it)
After so long, even hate will cool. They both loved, they both lost. It is a reality of the world that they live in. That she could not ever see the dream she wished for come to reality. In fact, looking at this sombre, cold, alone figure… He almost pities him. Kaname Kuran, top of the world but with no one left.
Could they see what Zero sees? The old Night Class no longer stands nearby, but at polite distances, looking almost weary. It was the kind of weariness that he was most familiar with.
After all, the hunter association had always looked at him this way.
Zero at least has the headmaster, has Kaito, has his teacher. Kuran has no one at all.
Even beasts could be pitiable.
(Yuuki knew that best, didn’t she)
-
Maybe it’s only fitting that he’ll die from protecting a child who looks so much like Yuuki. Not quite in the flesh, but more so in spirit—and wasn’t that the most important, most beautiful quality about her? Especially now, memory half-baked and succumbing to erosion over the years. In the face of time, it all crumbles to dust, just like his body is now; not even sure whether it is his or the bodies of mad vampires he’s slain.
Zero can see her crying, tears wetting his shirt, mixing with the dust in a way that he’d be mildly disgusted by were he not currently dying. “It’s alright,” he says, reaching out with hands that only smear more dust into her hair. Zero isn’t sure if the garbled sounds reaching his ears are truly words or not. Maybe the girl is speaking, maybe the girl is simply sobbing.
Or maybe he is already dead.
When he closes his eyes, Kiryuu Zero dies before a young girl’s eyes, leaving nothing but a pile of empty clothes and a silver gun.
-
The incessant ringing of an alarm is loud and annoying enough to cave metaphorically his skull in with its shrill noise alone. Grumbling, Zero burrows deeper into his blankets, covering himself fully in an attempt to block out the noise. It doesn’t fully work, but a partial solution is better than no solution at all, so Zero gets right back to falling asleep.
The heavyweight landing unceremoniously on top of his body puts an abrupt stop to that. “Zeeroo! We’re gonna be late for school again!” Ichiru whines, digging his pointy elbows right into Zero’s sides, knowing full well the exact location of his arms. He’s lucky that Zero loves him.
“Gerroff me, Ichiru,” he groans, the sound muffled by the blankets, gently shoving away at the incessant prodding. “We don’t even have to wake up until ten minutes later.”
“How do you even know that?” Questions Ichiru, switching up his tactics and physically smothering Zero in another attempt to force him out of bed.
“I pay attention in class rather than daydream about the divorced neighbour next door.”
Just as Ichiru is about to retaliate with a few choice words, the bedroom door bursts open to herald another arrival. “Zero! Get up, we're gonna be late!’ Kuran Yuuki rushes over to drag him out of bed with strength contrary to her small size. “Get up you lazy bum!” She promptly drops him on the ground, ignoring his affronted yell and Ichiru’s snickering in favour of rifling through his wardrobe.
“Good morning Yuuki!” Ichiru cheerily waves at her from Zero’s bed, delighting in the extra chaos and suffering added to his brother’s normal routine.
“Morning Ichiru!” She absent-mindedly chirps back, piling the different pieces of Zero’s uniform onto one arm. Halfway through, Yuuki looks back at Zero. “Oi, get up Zero! Aren’t you supposed to be the one with the best attendance record out of all of us?”
“I shouldn’t have messed with your alarm,” Zero grumpily mutters, not bothering to get up from the floor. From above, Ichiru barely attempts to stifle his laughter. “Stop laughing, Ichiru.”
Unfortunately for Zero, Yuuki could hear him perfectly well. Her body snaps around just in time for Yuuki to let out an outraged cry of, “You what?!”
At that, Zero groans, and Ichiru only laughs louder and harder.
(He wouldn’t trade this for anything else in the world)
#my writing#angst#vampire knight#fanfiction#zero kiryuu#kiryuu zero#tw grief#tw: suicidal thoughts#cw: suicidal ideation and an attempt#i really did not expect zero's part to get so long#but tbf this has been happening to my writing#i just keep thinking i could flesh out some parts more and then boom another couple hundred words or even 1k added with just one scene#radiant zeki#zero goes through it but it's arguably not as bad as with kaname because he has people to pull him back and tell him he's being dumb#and he knows it too#unlike kaname who literally has no one else who can tell him he's being stupid without fear of being killed
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to find promise of peace (and the solace of rest): a TMA fanfic
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Chapter 56: April 2017
“Statement ends.” Martin lowered the paper to the desk and held up his right hand in front of his face with a slight frown. It trembled slightly, in a way that usually only happened when he’d been in the tunnels for too long, or when he’d gone too long without eating. Never after reading a true statement. If anything, it was usually the opposite. “…Huh.”
He stared for a second longer, then shook his head minutely, took a deep breath, and flipped over the page with the research. Melanie’s handwriting. “Uh. We’ve been unable to make contact with Mr. Skinner, which is…disturbing, since this statement is barely more than two years old. His plumbing business is completely shuttered, his phone has been disconnected, and nobody seems to know where to find him. He is, or was, a real person, but he seems to have vanished off the face of the Earth immediately after giving his statement. And considering Gertrude was off on one of her ubiquitous trips at the time this statement was made, she probably never met him. Nothing in the folder indicates she was able to follow up with him either.”
He moved on to the next part of the research. “The woman identified only as ‘Megan’…well, she could be anybody, I guess, but Tim recalled that one of the victims of what we’re calling the ‘Anglerfish’ was named Megan Shaw. And considering two other names who went missing in the Old Fishmarket Close—Sarah Baldwin and Daniel Rawlings—have come up in other statements that belong to the Stranger, it’s a pretty good bet that this Megan is the same one. Obviously, the description of the other woman was so vague that there’s no real way to track her down, but from the sound of it, she’s not of the Stranger. In fact, I’d venture to say she was probably—hello, what’s this?”
In shifting the page to put it back in the file, he had dislodged a small scrap of paper. It wasn’t a sticky note, but it had obviously stuck to the back of the page; from the white flecks, he guessed it had somehow been brushed with correction fluid and adhered briefly to the research. It was still Melanie’s handwriting…and it had a name, a phone number, and a scribbled note that wouldn’t have made a lot of sense to most people. Martin, however, knew the cipher well because he’d helped Melanie come up with it almost twenty years previously.
He read it quickly, then blinked hard. Slowly, he said, “There…is one more possible lead we can track down on this one. I have a name and number of someone who…might have some additional information, and I’m going to meet with them as soon as I can, but for now, I think we’ve covered everything there is to cover. I just hope I never get the details of what happened to Mr. Skinner.”
He turned off the recorder and sat back in Jon’s chair, staring at the scrap of paper for a long moment. There was a prickling under his skin and behind his eyes he was very familiar with—a desire to know, to understand. And there were two ways he could satisfy that need. One was to go out into the Archives, figure out where Melanie was right now, put the note in front of her, and badger her into telling him what the fuck she was on about and why she hadn’t included it in the official research.
That would almost certainly put a serious strain on his relationship with his sister and make for an incredibly toxic work environment, so instead, Martin reached for his phone.
After making an appointment and concluding the call, Martin stared at the assortment of files on the desk in front of him. Most of them went beyond the Discredited section and well into the Crackpot realm—he didn’t even really need to read them to know that—and Mr. Skinner’s statement had been his one allotted real statement for the day. Part of him was tempted to go out and find another one to read. They didn’t even have to be finished with the research. Maybe he could grab one from the 1800s section, the ones that were too old to do any serious research into anyway, and get it on recording, just to…just to get the shaking under control. He didn’t exactly like recording the real statements, but they calmed him down a bit. Steadied his nerves, he supposed. Maybe they just gave him something to focus on that wasn’t his trauma and anxieties.
It hit him all at once that the line of logic he’d just trotted out was exactly the same one Gerry had used at age fifteen when Martin had challenged him about his smoking. With that in mind, he decided to see if it was low blood sugar after all and get something for lunch.
Food helped a little, but not much, and he knew he was a little tired and listless most of the afternoon. Still, he powered through the stack of statements to record. He was aware he wasn’t giving them as much care as he gave the real ones, or even that he usually gave this type of statement, but he hoped they were at least clear enough that they wouldn’t need to be redone later. And that someone wouldn’t fuss at him about them.
“Martin Blackwood, Archival Assistant at the Magnus Institute, recording statement number 0051612, statement of…oh, for fuck’s sake,” Martin sighed as his eyes fell on the part filled out by the statement-giver and recognized the handwriting, although not the name. “Statement of Private Rock Dunsel, given sixteenth December, 2005. Statement—”
The door opened just then and Tim poked his head in. “Oops, sorry, didn’t realize you were still recording.”
“It’s fine. It’s fake. Not even a good fake.” Martin flapped the statement in Tim’s direction. “I know this handwriting, it’s my brother’s. What’s up?”
Tim’s lips twitched like he wanted to smile, but his eyes were worried. “You okay, buddy? You look like you’re coming down with something.”
“I’m fine,” Martin lied. He wasn’t fine. Maybe he was coming down with something, but…he was pretty sure it was a bit more serious than that. He was pretty sure the statements were satisfying a hunger in him he hadn’t realized was there, and there wasn’t much he could do about it. He kept that to himself for the moment, though.
“We didn’t give you another Buried statement, did we?”
“No, it’s Stranger for sure. Maybe the Desolation got involved too? It’s the one about the Gwydir Forest.”
“Oh, yeah, that one.” Tim scanned Martin’s face for a moment. “I really don’t think you’re well, Martin. Look, it’s been a long week—hell, it’s been a long couple of months. There are three of us now, and you’ve already done the juicy one. The rest of these can wait. Take an early day. Go home and get some rest, yeah?”
Martin hesitated. He’d been planning to duck out early for his appointment anyway, had just been trying to figure out how and if to bring it up with the others, but…“I’ve gone home sick more often than the rest of you these last few weeks.”
Tim snorted. “I was in Venice for a week, remember? And I’m pretty sure Sasha’s been coming in later and later in the mornings. What’s Elias going to do, fire you?” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Don’t make me get Melanie involved.”
“What am I getting involved in?” Melanie’s voice floated from the direction of the desks.
“Nothing, Melanie,” Martin called back before Tim could answer. He leaned over and shut off the laptop. “Okay. Look, maybe I just…need some air or something. I’ve been down here all day, I guess I could use the break. I’m going to go take a walk, and if I still feel…wibbly, I’ll go home and make myself some soup, okay?”
Tim nodded. “I’ll call you later to see how you’re feeling. Or you call me. Either way, we’ll see you tomorrow.”
Martin managed a smile. “Sure. Thanks, Tim.”
He shrugged into his jacket, bumped his hip against Melanie’s shoulder, and said goodbye to Sasha, then stepped out into the chilly April afternoon.
The fresh air did help, a little—at the very least, it made his head a bit cooler—but Martin didn’t stay out in it long. He walked the length of the Thames for about twenty minutes, gave brief contemplation to skipping out of his appointment entirely, and knew he wasn’t going to do that. Instead, he turned and headed for the nearest Tube station.
It was a very straight shot from the Institute to his destination on the District line, but it did at least give him an opportunity to think. He wanted to consider what he was going to say, what exactly he wanted out of this interview, but instead he found himself asking, again, if he was sure this was a good idea.
Actually, screw that. He knew it was an objectively terrible idea. The actual question that needed to be answered was, which was the worse option—going through with it, or walking away?
Going through with it, said a voice in his mind that sounded very much like Gerry’s. Martin knew it was right. Gerry could—and did—resist his…patron or master or, or whatever Terminus was to him. It punished him for it, sometimes severely, but he still did it, he still walked away. Martin wasn’t quite that far along yet. If he walked away now…it wouldn’t be pleasant, probably, but it beat falling further into the clutches of the Eye. Even if he wasn’t going to use his powers, he was still seeking knowledge, of something probably better left alone, and just like when he’d poked into Carlos Vittery—or more accurately into the basement of the building, since he’d known even then it didn’t have anything to do with the statement—the consequences would be bad for him, and probably for everyone around him. Walking away would be the best option for him, no matter how much it hurt.
On the other hand…
Martin pulled out the scrap of paper again and studied it. The cipher naturally expanded and unfolded itself before his eyes so that he could read it as easily as if it was straightforward English. Still in Havering. Involved in Unknowing or just helping out? No connection to Trophy Room or Edinburgh.
If Melanie was looking into this, if she had this kind of information…then if Martin didn’t go, she would, or Jon would. Jon was in enough trouble as it was, and Melanie was still limping a bit from her trip to India. Setting aside the very high probability that one or both of them would get injured, again, if they acted on this information, the Ceaseless Watcher would deepen its hold on whichever of them went. Damn the consequences to himself. If the alternative was one or both of the people he cared about most in the world getting hurt, Martin would take the hit.
The train slowed down for his stop. Martin took a deep breath, tucked the paper back into his pocket, and exited onto the platform.
They had agreed to meet at a café a few blocks from the station. Martin glanced through the window, but didn’t see anyone meeting the description of the person he was supposed to see. That didn’t necessarily mean anything; she could have been hidden, or she could be in the back. For all he knew, she worked here. He was about to go in when he stopped and stepped to one side. He couldn’t walk away, but he didn’t have to be completely stupid.
Pulling out his phone, he hit one of the numbers on his speed dial and kept one eye on the street while he waited for his call to be picked up.
“Hey, Freckles, everything okay?” Tim’s voice sounded as cheerful as usual, but Martin caught the tiny note of worry.
“Yeah, I’m good,” Martin assured him. It wasn’t entirely a lie, but it wasn’t exactly the truth either. “Um, listen, I just…wanted to let you know. I’m meeting with someone mentioned in one of the statements—I made the appointment this morning. I, uh, I wasn’t going to say anything, but…”
“But you’ve decided not to be a total moron? I appreciate that. I take it it’s one of the real ones.”
Martin laughed, which surprised him. “It is, yeah. The one I recorded earlier today, actually. I should be done in an hour. If you haven’t heard from me by then, do me a favor and tell Melanie I’m following up on her lead. She should have some idea of where to storm looking for me.”
There was a long silence from the other end. “Okay. I won’t tell her what you’re up to until I’ve got your okay, either.”
“Thank you.”
“But you should.” Tim hung up before Martin could come up with a proper response to that.
Martin swore under his breath, put his phone back in his pocket, and headed inside to meet his appointment. She still wasn’t there, so he went to the counter to order, then sat down to wait.
It didn’t take long. It was as though she really had been hidden somewhere waiting for him, or maybe she’d just expected him to be late and would be startled to find him. Either way, he smelled her before he saw her—the scent of fire, but not like a bonfire or a candle or even a cigarette—not so much the smell of the smoke as of whatever was burning. Nobody else seemed to react, and it was gone quickly enough, but he turned his head and saw a short, squat woman with close-cropped dark hair push through the door and look around. Despite the chill of the early spring air, she wore a sleeveless top and didn’t seem to notice. Her eyes, too, were black, but even from where he sat, Martin could see the spark dancing in them, like smoldering coals.
And from the smirk that curled at her lips when she met his gaze, she knew him for what he was, too.
He didn’t bother standing as she approached. No amount of politeness was going to help him here, and no stretch of the imagination would have them on the same side. The best they could hope for was a cease—a temporary truce to have this conversation. “Jude Perry, I presume.”
Jude Perry, for there was no doubting who she was, stopped in front of him, hands on her hips. Her smirk deepened. “Well. You don’t look like much. So you’re the Archivist, are you?”
“I never said that. I only said I was from the Archives at the Magnus Institute.” Martin gestured to the seat opposite him. “I’m Martin Blackwood, I’m one of the assistants. Have a seat.”
Jude chuckled as she sat down, leaning back slightly and staring at him with those fire-filled eyes. She was obviously highly amused. Martin lifted an eyebrow briefly. “Something funny, Ms. Perry?”
At that, she cackled harder. “Uh, yeah.”
“Mmm. Well, I’m glad you’re amused,” Martin said dryly. He knew exactly what she thought was so funny, and he wasn’t going to rise to the bait. Two could play at that game. He nodded at the cup across from him. “Took the liberty of ordering for you. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Ah, and what is it? Hemlock tea?” Jude sneered, still laughing as she picked up the cup. The challenge in her face was clear, as was the triumph: whatever he had done, it seemed to say, it wouldn’t hurt her. She was beyond mundane means of death.
“One black coffee.” Martin took a sip of his own coffee—he rarely drank the stuff, but one look at this place and he’d known he wouldn’t trust the tea. “With room for milk.”
That fast, the smile dropped off Jude’s face, and the anger rose in her eyes. Had she been anyone else, the temperature would have dropped several degrees; as it was, it rose to an almost uncomfortable level. Martin kept his face neutral through long practice. “Tell me, have you had one since Agnes died?”
“Don’t you fucking mention her,” Jude snarled.
“Please. I’ve heard that before. And from things much scarier than you,” Martin shot back. “But sure, I’ll leave her out of this. I just have a few questions for you. You can answer them, or you can leave now, no harm done. Your call.”
“And if I choose to do neither?” Jude said softly. “If I set you and this whole place on fire?”
“You think I chose this place on accident? It’s a chain. One of six owned by the same man, a big shot who lives in a three point two million pound house in Kent. And it’s the least profitable of the six. You burn this place down and the owner gets a nice, fat insurance payoff for it. The barista’s been pulling doubles because she’s the only employee willing to work weekdays, she’s one bad shift away from a complete breakdown, so even if she doesn’t get injured on the job she still gets paid while the place is closed and has a chance to rest. The man closest to the door is at the lowest point he’s ever been. The woman over there hasn’t worked in three months and is about to be evicted. The couple in the back is on the verge of a breakup, and the person at the counter has been in the same nothing position at the same nothing company going nowhere fast for the last ten years. Your god won’t give a damn about any of this if you try to give it to him as an offering.” Martin took a quick breath, hoping it would look like he was stopping for air and not like he was trying to figure out where the fuck that had come from. “And killing me won’t do you any good, either. Gerard Keay calls me brother. So unless you want to find out what one of Terminus’ agents can do to you—and I think they’re the only ones beside the Hunt who might be able to do something to you—I suggest you chill.”
Jude growled. “That’s not funny.”
“I know.” Martin stared her down like he had nothing to lose. “So, do we have a truce?”
There was a long moment of silence, during which Martin could hear the liquid in Jude’s cup—and his own—start to boil. Finally, she growled, “Fine. Ask your questions.”
Martin set down his coffee. Thermodynamics meant it would probably cool down eventually, but laws of nature meant very little around the Fourteen, so he wasn’t going to risk it right now. “Did you burn down a section of Gwydir Forest last year?”
“Not alone, but yes.” Jude’s smirk returned, seemingly involuntarily. “You should have seen how devastated they were, such a loss.”
“I’ll bet. Why?”
Jude recoiled. “Stop that!” she snarled, although Martin wasn’t entirely sure what he’d done. “And it was because Nikola Orsinov asked us to. She was done with the place, and we’re always happy to help…when that help is destroying something someone loves.”
Martin knew that didn’t just involve places. Or people. “And of course you know exactly what that feels like.”
“I told you to leave her out of this.”
“Did I say a name? Did I say anyone’s name. I just said you know what that feels like.” Martin matched Jude’s glare with one of his own. “You don’t get as deep into this as you are without sacrificing something. Or having it taken from you. And really, if you thought It would let you keep anything you loved more than it, you’re even stupider than I thought.”
“That’s pretty rich coming from you,” Jude said.
“Yeah, I know, I’m an idiot, I walked right into your cunning trap, I work for the weakest and most powerless of the Fears, blah blah blah. Tell me something I haven’t heard a million times.” Martin threw up his hands, slightly exasperated. “Fine, whatever. I’m completely at your mercy. If you’re going to kill me, just…kill me already. Nobody actually knows where I am, and you’ve got—” He glanced at the clock on the wall. “Forty-seven minutes before anyone even starts worrying about where I am. If it’s so easy, and you’re just going to waste my time, just kill me.”
Jude actually looked impressed. Or maybe just pleased. “Now you’re starting to sound like an Archivist.”
“Which I’m not.”
She ignored him. “And now I’m obviously not going to kill you.”
Martin snorted. “Why, because I’m getting on your level?”
“Please.” Jude matched his snort with her own. “Consider it a favor.”
“Thanks,” Martin muttered.
“Not for you. For Elias.”
It was still warmer in the coffee shop—or at least this part of it—than it had any right to be, so the chill that ran down Martin’s spine probably wasn’t weather-related. “Why?”
“Rumor has it he killed Gertrude Robinson,” Jude said. “If so, I feel like I owe him. And he clearly wants you—excuse me, the new Archivist—alive, so…” She said that with a sneer.
Martin was about to ask, exasperated, why she seemed so convinced he was the Archivist, but then he stopped himself. If she believed it…it might keep Jon safe a little longer. At least from the Desolation. “Well…he did. Kill her, I mean.” He pursed his lips. “And I know she stopped your lot from bringing the Desolation through…but there’s more to it than that, isn’t there? Why did you—”
He broke off with a slight yelp as she half-leaned, half-lunged across the table, her finger hovering near enough to his mouth that if he’d had facial hair, it would have singed off. “Try to compel me again, and I’ll burn it out of your mouth.”
Shit. Had Martin…? No. No, that wasn’t his power, that—he couldn’t do that. Could he? It was suddenly hard for him to catch his breath, and he leaned back, feeling slightly dizzy as several recent events took on new context.
Jude, evidently satisfied, sat back and smiled cruelly. “Now you’re scared. Now you’re getting it. There’s no safety sitting on the sidelines watching. The audience is only safe when the story isn’t about them.”
“Look, I don’t know who you think I am, but I’ve probably been involved in this at least as long as you have,” Martin said, forcing himself back to reality. “Maybe longer. So thanks, but no thanks for the advice. All I wanted to know was why you were allying yourself with the Stranger, and what you knew about their plans, but if it was just an excuse for you to burn something, this has been a waste of time.” He started to push back from the table. “Enjoy your coffee.”
Jude narrowed her eyes at him, seeming to calculate, then said suddenly, “Wait.”
Martin paused, half in and half out of his seat. “What?”
“Well. If you’re really keen to get information from people who want to kill you, I might know someone. We’re not on great terms, he’s closer to your lot than mine, but I know where he…exists.”
Slowly, Martin sat back down. A lead was a lead, and if it was a he, that narrowed it down a bit. Exists, though, definitely meant it was an avatar of some kind, so he’d have to be careful. “Who…what is he?”
“Calls himself Mike.”
Martin stared at Jude. “Mike. Not the Distortion?”
“The what? Don’t think so.” Jude shrugged. “Pale, weird, got a big scar. Smells of, um…” She gestured vaguely.
And there was that dread creeping down his spine again. “Ozone?”
“Yeah, that’s the one. Hangs around with the Fairchilds sometimes.”
“Mike Crew.” They’d come across his name twice; Martin should have known they’d eventually cross paths with him.
Jude nodded once. “That’s him. I know where you can find him.”
“Mm-hm. And what do you want in exchange for that information?”
“Maybe I’m just a nice person.”
“Maybe I’m not actually as stupid as I look.” Martin crossed his arms over his chest and met her gaze as unflinchingly as he could. “How about this? You give me that information, and nobody from the Institute will ever bother you again. Better yet, you give me that information, and the minute I’m back in the Institute, I’ll burn Jack Baranabas’ statement. Paper, tape, and all. She won’t be one of our little stories any longer.”
Jude stared at him for a long moment, then nodded. “Deal.”
She held out her hand.
Martin knew he could probably, with a little effort, force her to give him the information. Doing so would bind him more to the Eye, but he could do it and ask Jon—and the others—for their forgiveness later. He could also walk away without it, turn the name over to the others, and try to figure a location out that way.
But he wouldn’t.
“Two seconds,” he said.
“Five,” Jude countered.
“Three. Take it or leave it.”
Jude snarled. “Fine.”
As he reached over to seal the bargain, Martin was extremely thankful that he was left-handed.
#ollie writes fanfic#tma fanfic#to find promise of peace (and the solace of rest)#martin blackwood#tim stoker#jude perry#Slight misuse of Beholding powers#mention of addiction#lying#threats#fire#burns
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‘Verse: Resistance
Story: Chewtoy AU, co-author @whump-sprite
Timeline: The Resistance have rescued Connor from the feds
Necessary Care
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Connor Thompson begs like Anders did, after Anders was saved from that woman’s nightmare basement. It’s a frantic rote repetition with no real thought behind it. His voice barely works, but it’s hard not to recognise “please, please, please.”
Once he’s still and in a bed, there are stretches when he’s quiet. Taryn has to listen – while she preps gauze and healing-infused ointment and more antibiotics – for the irregular gasp of his breathing to know he’s still alive.
He has at least stopped trying to scream, and stopped making those long cracking moans he was making before the morphine.
Cora would say something if he stopped breathing. Cora – grim and a little shell-shocked – sits with Connor’s head in her lap, one hand in his blood-clumped hair, and murmurs continuous soft reassurances.
The slightest thing sets him off begging again. He sees Taryn move towards him, and she has no idea whether or not he recognises her but his fogged gaze lights on her and his mouth moves to beg “please, sir, please, please” again.
“Can’t you give him more morphine?” Cora asks.
Taryn grimaces. “I think the stress response is the only thing keeping him alive.”
He’s only barely breathing enough as it is. Too much morphine and he’ll just… stop.
She doesn’t want to have to tell Ariadne that they lost him. Not after giving her hope.
“-- m-mercy –” Connor moans “-- ple - e- ease –”
“Shhh,” Cora tells him, laying a hand along his cheek.
“-- - e- eas–?” He’s looking at Taryn again – more or less.
“No need,” she tells him softly. “It’s over.”
It’s not entirely true. The next steps are going to hurt him. And his fever’s so high Taryn doubts he’s seeing reality – there’s no hope of him understanding an explanation.
“Are you going to call your brother?” Cora asks.
Not when but are you going to. They both know what the alternative is. He won’t survive without a healer.
He might not survive with one.
It breaks Alex a little inside every time he can’t save someone. When he does everything he can and still has to watch them die in front of him.
The cold, bitter math of pragmatism says that Taryn shouldn’t let him spend his magic like that – shouldn’t let anyone spend that much magic, although she doesn’t know what healer besides Alex she could ask to help an ex-fed – unless Connor has a chance of pulling through.
“Maybe…” Cora starts, and wavers. For a second she’s uncertain, and looks as young as she is. Then the fierce spark reasserts itself in her eyes. “Maybe we should give him too much morphine.” It’s almost a challenge to Taryn. “Maybe it would be kinder.”
Taryn can’t deny that she’s had the same thought.
“He can recover,” she declares, with more conviction than she feels. “I’ve seen it before.”
Not often. This is bad, even for 17. Whoever was responsible for this must have really had a grudge against the deserter.
But Anders recovered, and Connor can too.
“I’ll call Alex,” she decides, “but his magic will go further if we can get Connor stable first.”
And she’ll have to tell Milonas. She deserves to see him. And he needs to see a friendly face.
But… not yet. Milonas shouldn’t have to watch him scream.
“I’ll give him more morphine and make sure he keeps breathing,” Taryn continues. “But if I’m doing that I’ll need you to clean out his wounds and set as many bones as we can. Can you do that, if I walk you through it?”
Taryn didn’t miss Cora’s freeze back in 17. Not everyone’s cut out for the messy, brutal realities of doctoring. Cora’s a good fighter and she keeps her head under fire – that’s more than enough to be someone Taryn wants by her side. Taryn won’t judge her if she can’t handle this. She can get someone else to help her. Ross would do it – although she’d rather have Cora. Ross can be careless sometimes.
Cora swallows, taking her eyes off their patient’s face to look over his wounds. She does look a little green around the gills. But she nods and says, “I can do it.”
So Taryn measures out more morphine, and puts it into the IV until Connor’s eyes close and his face goes fully slack, and then a little more on top of that. It won’t fully protect him from the pain of what they’re about to do, but she doesn’t have the drugs for that. It’s the best she can do.
She watches the shuddering rise and fall of his chest get shallower, and when it slows too far, she uses magic to keep air moving in and out of his lungs.
It’s a delicate spell. Lungs are so fragile. It’s very easy to damage them with just a little too much pressure. She wouldn’t ask Cora to do this.
Taryn’s wrists ache. There’s a cold, insistent tugging just below her diaphragm telling her that she’s almost out of magic. It takes focus to keep the spell steady.
But she can spare enough attention to give directions. And Cora might be inexperienced but she can follow those instructions, and between them they can get Connor cleaned up.
They decide not to touch his hands and feet. There’s just too much damage. Cora knows the spells to immobilize them with magic.
They reseat his shoulders into the right shape. They set most of the other broken bones, Taryn instructing Cora carefully on which way to pull and how to know she has it right. They splint what they can, and Cora holds the rest with magic.
Most of the work – by time – is in cleaning the infection out of the hundreds of cuts left by the whip.
“Healing can’t do very much about infection,” Taryn explains, to distract from Connor’s twitching and moaning on the bed. “But the dead and dying tissues will soak up a lot of magic anyway. Once the wounds are clean, it’s much easier for Alex to spend his magic where it can do the most good.”
Cora doesn’t talk. She gets on with what needs to be done.
It takes a long time – debriding and washing, soaking dressings with ointment and laying them carefully across wounds, then wrapping every part of him over with bandages. Only when she’s finished, when she’s washed her hands for the last time, only then does Cora pause to wipe the tears from her cheeks.
“Pass my phone,” Taryn says. “I’ll call Alex. He can heal this, you’ll see. And… I’ll fetch the other one – she can come be with him, just as soon as he’s breathing on his own.”
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