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darthzero22 · 3 years

Text

Taking care of you

Crosshair x Neutral Reader

In the mission you ended up with a shot in the right foot, nothing serious, but it was hard to walk. All day you were mostly sitting and hoped that the next day your foot would be better.

You woke up an hour before the time everyone usually wakes up, you confirmed it with your holopad that you had on a metal box next to your bed because you were using it as a nightstand. The first thing that came with waking up was the little stabbing pain in your foot, and you were already cursing it in your head. The worst thing is that because of the position in which you slept, in order to make your foot as comfortable as possible, your right leg fell asleep causing you to barely move it. You definitely started the day in the best possible way, and that was sarcasm.

Well, there was one good thing about your horrible awakening and that was to see Crosshair sleeping next to you, and he looked so peaceful that it was a great comfort to you. He was lying on his side, facing you, and so you could see his face in more detail. You weren't going to wake him up, of course not. In those moments you thought about how damn attractive he was and you gently caress his face.

Thanks to one of those caresses Crosshair begins to move a little, as if he was waking up, in fact he first mumbles in his sleep and then wrinkles his nose. In spite of that he doesn't wake up, he was still sleeping, and maybe it was because the little caresses that you were giving him were relaxing for him.

You straighten your back, then hiss when you feel pain in your foot again, as you moved your leg a little in an attempt to wake it up. At least the pain was bearable, unlike yesterday. You wanted to get up to reach your datapad that you clumsily left on the table last night, and you were about to move out of bed. Unfortunately your foot didn't cooperate at all and so when you put it against the floor, the pain got worse and this time you didn't hiss, you groaned. You tried to be as quiet as possible, but Crosshair heard you and that's why he woke up.

“What…?” he sees you sitting with your injured foot on top of the bed and a grimace of pain on your face. “Y/N”

Crosshair had straightened his back to stand next to you and see you better. You could tell by the look on your face that your foot was making your morning difficult, and so he moves closer to you to rest his hand on your right leg and start stroking it in an attempt to reassure you.

“Hey, Cross… I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you”

“That doesn't matter now. What did you do now?”

“I was clumsy and... I put my foot on the floor”

Crosshair sighs, he was going to tell you something, but first he gives you a kiss on your temple, something that relaxes you more.

“Even with an injured foot you are still stubborn”, he said.

“Well, I guess I learned that from this squad” you laugh lightly and close your eyes tightly from the pain. “The worst thing... is that my leg fell asleep, I can't feel it completely”

“Is that so?” he squeezes your right thigh in a gently way.

“I barely felt that, so yeah.... My leg is numb. I just need to lose a toe and with that I will win a bad luck award”

What you said made Crosshair laugh without opening his mouth, but then he shakes his head slightly.

“I know I exaggerated a little…” you start to say.

“Just a little?”

“It's just... I know I was a little clumsy on the mission, but I think I got the message when I got shot in the foot by a damn droid”

You sigh and lean to the side to lean on Crosshair, specifically your head on his shoulder. You rub your face against it a little, as if you were a cat giving affection.

“And I know Tech said it would take a few days for my foot to recover...”

“All the more reason for you not to be stubborn. If you want to go back to doing the missions, worry about your foot”

“I know… Are you upset because I woke you up?”

“No, I'm not. I'm worried actually”

“Sorry for worrying you then”

“That's what I get for loving you” he rests his chin on your head.

“And that's bad for you, right?” you joked and then smile.

“Well, you said it, not me”

You knew he was playing along with your joke, so you give him a gentle tap on his chest.

“Now seriously speaking, I don't want to be a nuisance to anyone, least of all you”

“Don’t start”

“I want to start trying to walk and not sit in a chair all the time. Yesterday I didn't do anything useful for the team, but today I want to do at least something”

“Are you serious? You got the shot yesterday, Y/N. If you don't want to rest for you, fine, but do it for me then”

You'd do anything for Crosshair, so you pull away from his shoulder and look at him to nod your head. He squeezes your right thigh again and this time you did feel it, so it meant that your leg was no longer numb.

“Oh, I felt that” you said.

“That's progress”

“And now comes the tingling in the leg.... Damn it!”

You look sideways at Crosshair and see that he had a smirk on his face.

“Don't make fun of me!”

“Me? I would never do that” he said, acting a voice of indignation.

“Oh, right. I totally believe you, dummy” you said with sarcasm, and with affection. “You know what's even funnier? I have to go to the bathroom”

Crosshair's smile disappeared when he heard you say that and now you're the one smiling.

“That means...”

“I need help to get there, your help” you rest your index finger on his chest and then bring it up to give him a playful poke on the nose with it.

Crosshair wrinkles his nose and then sighs in annoyance, then you see him get off the bed.

“Let's do it quickly” he said, and he offers you both hands to help you up.

“Oh, I'll take my time” you put a smirk.

“Why did I open my mouth?”

You grab his hands and with his help you get up from the bed, avoiding placing your right foot on the floor at first, and once you are standing you slowly place it on the floor. You hiss a little, but it was a slight pain thankfully. Now leaning on him, you walk to the bathroom and manage to get there without a problem. He waits for you outside, hoping nothing happens to you inside.

“Everything all right in there?” he asked.

“Yeah, yeah. Everything is fine”

You take a few moments in the bathroom and when you're done you open the door, but you gently rest a hand on Crosshair's chest to stop him when he tried to help you.

“Y/N”

“I want to try, Cross”

Crosshair, unsure, nods his head and lets you walk alone to the room, but he followed closely behind in case you stumbled or lost your balance. Since the ship used to be a mess at times, you trip over a small box, but Crosshair caught you just in time, and he was never so fast in his life.

“Wow! Where did that box come from?” you asked with your two hands on his chest, since you were so close to his body.

“I don’t know. But I'm going to kill Wrecker. I told him to clean up this mess” he had one hand on your back and the other on your waist.

“You know he doesn't listen to you” you smile.

“Now he will listen to me”

“Hey, relax, Cross. Nothing happened to me and luckily I didn't hit my right foot”

“Are you sure you're okay?”

“I am now” you give him a kiss on the corner of his lips.

You slowly separate from him to start walking again and he follows close behind, now resting a hand on your back. As you sat up in your bed, you see Crosshair leave the room for a moment to return with what appeared to be an injection, it was the same type as the one Tech gave you to relieve your pain yesterday.

“Hey, are you sure… that's necessary?” you get a little nervous.

“Although you can walk decently, I'm not going to risk it. Tech told me to give you this in case I can see that your foot is giving you a lot of trouble”

“I… Fine, fine”

“Don't move”

Before you knew it, he gave you that injection and you complain because it hurt just a little. You knew that with that your pain would be more acceptable, and in a way you liked watching Crosshair take care of you. He was always so serious, so disinterested in most things that seeing him like that made you feel lucky to have him.

“See? It wasn't that bad” he said.

“Yeah… Actually, you were more careful than Tech”

“Because it's you”

You get out of bed, so Crosshair raises an eyebrow, and you move a little closer to hug him, resting your face on his shoulder.

“Did you get out of bed just to hug me?”

“Yes” you were smiling.

“It wasn't necessary"

“It is for me. I may have been unlucky yesterday and today in terms of my foot, but I'm actually very lucky and it's because I have you”

“You are more sentimental every day, or does this hug have another intention?”

“... No. What makes you think that?“

"I don't know, maybe because you have your hands resting on my ass?”

Indeed in the hug you had both your hands resting on Crosshair's butt.

“Hey, you did the same thing before when you caught me from falling to the floor. And you thought you were subtle” you said.

“Ha. Who said I wanted to be subtle?”

Crosshair's eyes widen for a moment when you give his ass a squeeze, and he clearly blushes. You break away with an amused smile and chuckle a little at the look on his face.

“I'm not subtle either" you said.

“Uh-huh. You are worse than me” he runs a hand over his butt, since you gave it a hard squeeze.

“I learned from the best"

You were about to sit on the bed again, but Crosshair stopped you by grabbing your waist and forces you closer to him to finally kiss you. You obviously reciprocate and rest your hands on his shoulders. Your foot luckily didn't hurt at all, so you continued kissing him, and you smile in the middle of the kiss when you feel his hands now resting on your butt.

“Never change, Cross” you told him after breaking away from the kiss.

“Very well. But don't regret saying that later” he smiles.

You laugh and kiss him again. When you break away from the kiss to catch your breath, you force Crosshair to lie on his back on the bed, and you climb on top of him so that you can kiss again, now with more passion.

#crosshair x reader #crosshair x you #crosshair bad batch #crosshair the bad batch #tbb crosshair x reader #tbb crosshair #tbb crosshair x you #tbb #the bad batch #clone force 99 #crosshair x y/n

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mystery-star · 3 years

Text

Wherever you go – Spock

Pairing: Spock x reader (gender neutral)

Warnings: mentions of blood and injury

Words: 3943

A/N: I had to write this after discussing the quick idea of it with @elysiansith

Please do not repost my work on other sites or platforms.

“No, I’ll do anything but that” you insisted, shaking your head

“Come on, you lost the bet, you agreed to this beforehand”

“It was agreed that I would do something that involved Spock”

“And I didn’t tell you what exactly so you’ve gotta do it”

“Come on, search something else. Make me spill a drink on him, sing a song in front of his quarter but not this”

“Nah, that won’t be as funny”

“No please” you begged

“Oh come on, he’ll ask you right away. I don’t think he likes it if people are following him around” you sighed

“But what do you mean with everywhere? I can’t go to his quarters if he doesn’t invite me in. What if he’s on the toilet?”

“Okay well that are exceptions”

“What is while I’m on my shift? I can’t just get up and leave the bridge whenever the Commander does”

“Fine, then you’ll need to say that you need to do something and then go to the toilet or something. Or just ask if you can go with him” you shook your head

“No please choose something else, this is ridiculous. Besides, when he does ask me why I’m following him, what am I supposed to say? He won’t understand the bet thing”

“Then tell him the truth”

“No”

“I bet he’ll find your declaration of love logical”

“Yeah sure. But what if someone else asks why I’m following Spock everywhere?”

“That doesn’t count. You’re not relieved then”

“Oh come on! You know exactly that Spock won’t address the matter until some days later”

“I know. Which’ll make it funnier for me”

“You’re the worst”

“I know”

As you had agreed with your friend, you would start with following Spock as soon as your shift started on the next day. But before you could start, the Captain came to you and said there was something he had to discuss with you.

“Am I in trouble?” you asked after the doors of the turbolift closed

“No, not at all. Just wanted to say that your friend informed be about the betting debt you have to honor”

“Oh God please no. I’d rather be in trouble”

“Well anyway, I just wanted to say that you’re free to leave whenever Spock goes. I might even send you with him from the start”

“What crime did I commit?”

“Now come on, Lieutenant. Almost everyone on this ship knows about your crush on Mr Pointy. Except for him but he doesn’t notice anything that has to do with others and their feelings. But something tells me, he cares for you too in a way that is more than just a professional relationship”

“Great and I just thought this couldn’t get any worse” the lift stopped and the Captain ordered to bring you to the bridge again.

“Oi, others would be happy to hear such news. Considering it’s Spock it’s almost as good as a ‘he loves you too’” you let out a groan.

“Just great” you repeated and the Captain only chuckled “I hope I die from embarrassment”

“Now come on, maybe it will quite alright”

“Yeah and you surely believe in the Easter bunny and Santa Clause?”

“Most did as a kid” you shook your head. When you finally were back on the bridge you were more or less pulled to the First Officer’s station “Mr Spock”

“Captain, Lieutenant (Y/L/N)” he greeted back.

“You know, I’ve been thinking about how you could use help sometimes”

“I doubt I have ever addressed such a matter and I do not know what could have given you the impression I would…”

“That is why I decided to name (Y/N) as your assistant”

“No” you moaned

“So I think it would be great if the two of you could get to know each other a bit and spend time together”

“No” you groaned, knowing that it meant it would only prolong your betting debt because it would deter the Vulcan from asking you why you followed him

“Very well” Spock answered after having eyed you “Please have a seat, Lieutenant” he slightly nodded his head to the vacant chair that was at an empty console.

“You know I wouldn’t mind if we collided with an asteroid today” you muttered to yourself as you sank down in the chair. It kinda looked like maybe you had to follow him to the toilet anyway to have him ask what you were doing.

As he had announced, the Captain kept sending you after Spock whenever he left the bridge and although Spock kept insisting that it was not necessary you followed him, Kirk too insisted on you accompanying him since he could also make it an order. So in a way, you were glad when your shift was over. Since Spock stayed a little longer, you too wanted to do this so that you could go with him but then you remembered that you only had to follow him, it had never been said that you had to wait for him to move. So you said goodbye and wished him a nice evening after five minutes and returned to your quarters. Of course your friend called you to hear how it was going and was delighted when you mentioned what the Captain was doing.

Also the following day was quite the same but fortunately this time Spock only had to leave once. But this evening he left with all of you and since you found it would be creepy to just follow him you took a deep breath you asked him if he would like to have dinner with you. To your surprise he agreed. But it also relieved you because otherwise you’d still have to follow him, which would have made it even more awkward. On the other hand, then he probably would have asked you about the meaning of it.

“I’m sorry by the way. For being around you all the time. But we don’t have a choice during work and I think it would make sense if we got used to it. Maybe it would help to get to know each other better” you gave a shrug

“You do not need to apologize”

“But… don’t you wonder why?”

“You mean if I wish to learn the reason that you decided to spend time with me?”

“Yes”

“No. After all you have just explained your reasoning” shit. That meant he probably wouldn’t ask you for the reason that. Of course unless you passed boundaries in a way. Which was something you were not willing to do. Not only because he was a superior officer and a colleague but also because you didn’t want him to think negatively of you “If you want, you can search a suitable table while I get food from the replicator”

“Hm” he had allowed you to leave but the rules of the lost bet said that you had to ignore that and still stay with him “Or what if we both got food and then search a place together? I don’t know maybe you have something like a favorite table or you find that there are seats that are better than others” he raised an eyebrow

“Having a preference towards a seat seems illogical but I agree to your suggestion”

“Great” you smiled.

For some reason, a part of you was surprised that you had a very nice evening with Spock and that you enjoyed it more than you thought. Of course you had to accompany him to his quarters afterwards and he had only said that you did not need to do this and but you had just insisted that you hadn’t noticed and thought it wouldn’t make sense to turn around now. But what surprised you most was that he thanked you for spending the evening with him, even though you had asked him to do so. Maybe your friend and the Captain were right. Maybe all of this wasn’t so bad. Which didn’t mean you were happy about it.

On the following day, however, you were quite glad about the fact that you were following Spock around. He was scheduled to go on a planet mission and or course Captain Kirk insisted that you went with him, as his assistant. A part of you wondered what would happen once the whole betting debt was resolved. If you would still be his assistant then. Maybe you should talk to Kirk about this. Because somehow you didn’t know if that was what you wanted. What if it meant you would be promoted? It didn’t feel right if that would just happen because of a bet. But it would be cool and a great way to pay your friend back in a way. Once you arrived on the planet, Spock started to put you into small groups in which you should explore the planet. And in the end, you were left but all teams of two were already formed so he just told you to join one of the groups

“Actually…” you said “Since I was made your assistant, I thought I could go with you?” right now you didn’t even know if you just wanted to be around him or if you just did it because of your bet. Your stupid friend had been right that you would enjoy following him at times

“Very well, Lieutenant, you may come with me” you gave a nod and took out your tricorder to get started with work. On your little tour, you finally came to a cave. While Spock stayed away from it you went closer and closer, curious to see what was inside. “Are you certain you wish to go inside?” he asked

“I just want to have a look inside. I won’t even go in far. Maybe there is something really interesting inside” he gave a nod and came closer, walking past you and entered the cave

“It actually was my cave” you muttered but followed him. He kept walking and walking until you reached a huge kind of hall “Okay wow that is awesome” you breathed as you started to make even more recordings while Spock must have seen something else. It turned out to be a nest with five big, turquoise eggs. Your superior had to squat down and started to examine them while you were not so happy anymore. What if suddenly the parents came and got mad? You doubted it ever was a good idea to get to close to animal’s babies. But the Vulcan didn’t seem to worry at all and he even touched one of the eggs with his palm. Shaking your head you walked away and started slapping the cold stone, trying to get a tricorder reading on them to determine the material. Suddenly you felt Spock look at you “Something wrong?”

“Can you try not to make any sounds?”

“Why that? Is something…”

“Shh” you were surprised that he actually shushed you. But it made you react and you were quiet, trying to listen to what he could have been hearing. Then you finally did hear something and you did not like it. It sounded like something screeching and rather loud thumps

“Maybe we should leave?” you asked Spock who gave a nod and you were trying to get back to the tunnel you had been coming from but it was blocked by a huge grey-brown animal that looked a lot like a pterosaur. “Okay I suppose Mommy is back home. And she’s blocking our only way out”

“We cannot be certain if it is a female” the animal screeched at you and started coming at you

“But we can be certain that it is mad” you growled as you jumped aside and regretted that you had no phaser with you.

“As soon as it unblocks the entrance you need to run”

“And leave you behind with this Pteranodon? It looks like it could swallow you whole”

“Judging by its size I suppose that the term Quetzalcaotlus would be more fitting”

“This or that, it’s mad and you don’t stand a chance” luckily, he took out his phaser and tried to shoot the alien but it didn’t seem to deter it a lot “Just great” you muttered as it came closer to Spock and when he tried to dive away under it, the being still managed to dig his claws into his back. When the animal moved away you saw that it had torn quite a piece of Spock’s uniform and his back was quickly covered in green blood. Unfortunately, the animal didn’t seem done and tried to pick at the Vulcan with it’s long beak, only narrowly missing him because he had rolled onto his back and then back to his stomach and was trying to get up. Not knowing what to do, you ran towards the nest and heaved one of the eggs out of it, kicking it away from it. Of course that caught the alien animal’s attention and it was slowly coming closer to you after it used it’s beak to stop the rolling egg. Quickly, you took another egg and rolled it into the other direction and then a third one in yet another direction. As it seemed the being decided that the eggs were more important than you and went after them so that you hurried over to Spock, pulling him back to his feet. He didn’t seem to be in best form, so you draped his arm over your shoulders, trying to support him

“Leaving me behind would increase your changes of escape and survival by 76.2…”

“Shh” you said “It was my idea to go in there and we both will get out. Now come on” you started pulling him back to the tunnel and he complied. Much to your luck, the alien was not following you anymore and you hoped it would stay like this and that not a second one of them would come. Shortly before you reached the exit of the cave, your superior took out his communicator, drumming up the rest of the landing party but you just snatched it out of his hand and then contacted the ship, telling them to beam Spock up right now because he was injured. “And don’t you dare saying something like ‘it’s just a scratch. I can do this’”

“Seeing that the being has hit me with three of his claws it would be incorrect to claim that I only obtained one scratch” you rolled your eyes when you felt the transporter beam and then were back on the Enterprise with him.

“Dear God, what happened?” the man behind the console asked

“We got attacked by an angry Mommy pterosaur”

“Well shit but the fact that it was a dinosaur is cool”

“I doubt it was a real dinosaur”

“Yeah whatever. All I hope is that this being wasn’t poisonous somehow because that looks quite bad like this already” you didn’t even dare to throw a glance to his back, knowing you’d regret it. You shifted your hold on him a little and wanted to bring him to sick bay when you met some doctors and nurses that probably had been on their way to you. Of course they were taking over for you and started asking questions about what had happened while they ran scanners over the two of you. Finally, you reached Medbay and one of the nurses told you that you couldn’t come in but much to your surprise Spock said that it was okay if you stayed with him. Needless to say that it flattered you and made you happy. Of course you couldn’t be in their way as they treated his injuries but afterwards you were allowed to move closer and looked down at him, not sure what to say. “Does it hurt?”

“No, the medication I received is still effective” you gave a nod

“Do you think they’ll give you more?”

“Should I request for some, yes” you gave a nod and were not so sure what else to say but luckily he continued “(Y/N)”

“Yes?”

“While your choice to help me escape as well was not entirely logical since it endangered your own life, I still appreciate your actions” you chuckled

“I suppose this is your way of saying thank you?”

“No. I merely wanted to tell you that I appreciated what you did. However, I do thank you for helping me”

“You’re welcome. And I’m sorry I even wanted to go inside this cave. If I hadn’t, this wouldn’t have happened”

“As you surely know, I have taken the lead upon entering the cave therefore you do not need to feel responsible for what has occurred for it is not your fallacy in any way” you gave a nod “I would have explored the cavern even if you had not been with me”

“So a good thing I started following you around, huh?” you chuckled. Maybe you should thank your friend anyway.

“I suppose so”

“And you still don’t wonder why?”

“I do. However, the Captain has asked me not to inquire the reason”

“He did what?”

“He requested I did not ask you for the reason that you are following me around”

“That idiot” you muttered

“Why does this bother you?”

“Uhm… just because”

“Perhaps it has to do with the fact that you wish to be around me as much as you can due to your affection for me”

“My what?!”

“Is it not true that you hold romantic affection for me?”

“I-I…. How the hell did you know that?”

“Dr McCoy has informed me about it three months, two weeks and five days ago when he has been intoxicated”

“Wait you knew for almost four months and never said a word?”

“I was thinking you would wish to tell me about it yourself”

“Fuck that’s embarrassing”

“Why do you think so?”

“Well uh, here you are, telling me you knew and you don’t even seem to care. Because you surely don’t like me the same way”

“Your statement is correct” you stood there like struck by a lightning. Of course you had suggested it but hearing it like this, in such words, made it even worse. You really had to ask your friend to stop the stupid betting debt because it did not have the effect as you both wished. “Yet I have considered the information in an attempt to determine what you mean to me. I have come to the conclusion that I care about you in a way I have never cared about another but I cannot say if this is what humans would consider as loving someone, which is why I have found it better to not tell you since it could disappoint you”

“So you say you care about me? But why would this disappoint me?”

“While I am not certain which answer humans expect after the confess their feelings, I do believe that what I have just said is not it”

“Well it wouldn’t be nice to hear this from a human but from a Vulcan it is different. I-I mean I probably have already known you would not ‘love’ me. Or well maybe you do but you would suppress it. I mean… I didn’t even know what I was expecting when I was thinking about telling you how I feel. I never really thought as far as your answer, you know. My mind just always kinda skipped that part”

“If you say that you have skipped my answer, might I inquire the outcome you have imagined?”

“Well there were different scenarios of course. In most of them we just decided to be friends, sometimes we came together as a couple and sometimes it just ended in the most logical way”

“If you would clarify, which is the most logical way?”

“Okay good back then I thought that you’d just tell me you feel nothing for me…. but now you told me that you care for me, whatever exactly that means. So maybe I was right about the friends vision one” you gave a shrug and let out a sigh

“(Y/N)?” he said after some seconds

“Yes”

“I personally would prefer one of the scenarios where we start courting” you stare at him in disbelief.

“But… what if it turns out that you don’t love me or something?”

“(Y/N), as I have already assured you I care about you. And it is a different way of affection than the one I hold for my mother or Jim. Which is why I am certain that it must be a romantic affection”

“Oh” you looked down, then started smiling “Well that sounds awesome” you said “But you don’t even know what I have planned in all my scenarios” he raised an eyebrow

“I am certain you will let me know and I am willing to try out different things since I do not know much of human courtship. Maybe I can use the time I spend on sick leave to carry out some research on the topic” you chuckled

“Only if you want. After all, you live the Vulcan way and I could do some research on that as well. And maybe it’s best if we just do whatever we both are fine with”

“That sounds agreeable” you gave a nod and considered if it was appropriate if you took his hand but then you just decided to do it and see how he reacted. It seemed, like he was a little surprised but then squeezed your hand back, making you smile.

“I suppose that dissolves my betting debt as well”

“Which betting debt?”

“Oh… well” you chuckled, not sure if you should tell him but then grinned “I’m gonna tell you the real reason I followed you around. I lost a bet and because of it, I had to follow you around until you asked me why. But since the Captain heard of it, he made sure to give me a logical reason to follow you around by making me your assistant and asking you not to ask me why I’m following you” he raised his eyebrow again

“Please remind me to offer my thanks to him and your friend”

“No that would be so embarrassing!” you protested “But that doesn’t mean I’m fired?”

“Fire?”

“Well, I only was made your assistant because of the bet”

“I would not have agreed to the proposition if I did not believe you were suitable for the position. If you prefer your previous occupation, however, I will…””

“No! I mean I like it but working with you is fun too. I just thought you would be fed up with me or what do I know. Or that you would not want me as your assistant after I told you the reason why I became it in the first place”

“I have believed humans would enjoy to work with their partner if possible?”

“Well yes, but you’re Vulcan”

“I am also half-human” you chuckled

“So you’ll half enjoy working with me?”

“No, I suppose I will fully enjoy it” you smiled at him

“I’m just asking for my own safety” you heard McCoy call suddenly “Are you two decent so I can let Jim in? Or he’ll rip off my head”

“No you may allow him to come” Spock said “There is something that I and (Y/N) must inform him about” he added with a look to you that could be described as soft. At least for his standards. Well Spock probably was right about one point: you owed your friend a big thank you.

Taglist: @softsapphicideals

#spock #spock imagine #spock x reader #spock x you

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mossflowermouse · 3 years

Text

This is a gift for @ah-nakin as part of the @starwarssecretsanta exchange - I hope you like it! Massive thanks to @lilhawkeye3 for organizing this, it’s been so much fun <3

(1.5k. In which Obi-Wan’s padawan and grandpadawan kids decide he needs a rest, pretty much everyone agrees with them, and nobody in this lineage is capable of doing anything without being Dramatic about it.)

Anakin and Ahsoka have been plotting something.

Not that there’s any real proof of it, mind you – they’ve become far too careful with their schemes lately to actually risk him overhearing anything – but Obi-Wan’s seen them trading glances, and he knows that look. At the very least, it means mischief. At its worst, well, quite a few officials are still scratching their heads over how anyone had managed to divert two-thirds of a parade plus cheering onlookers through the middle of the Temple last Republic Day. Although in fairness to the two of them, that one hadn’t been entirely their fault. It would have been resolved far more quickly had Master Yoda not chosen to interpret “please help” as “please help Anakin and Ahsoka” and gone to assure a bemused steward that of course this was the correct route for the parade, keep going you should, enjoying it the younglings are.

(Mace had eyed Obi-Wan a little suspiciously when he’d informed the Council of that part. Obi-Wan had given his friend his most innocent I’m-a-responsible-Jedi-Master look in return; after all, his intention in going to Master Yoda had been to get the misunderstanding cleared up. And if it hadn’t been, Mace can’t prove it.)

Now, though, his padawans seem to be taking steps to avoid including him in their newest plot. Which means he’s almost certainly the target.

Ah well. Whatever it is will most likely be a nuisance, but a harmless one. There’s no point worrying about it now. Obi-Wan has more pressing matters to address, like the stack of paperwork he really ought to make a start on before the Council meeting at noon, and then there are a few odds and ends to check with Anakin about, and then –

There’s a knock at the door. He knows before answering it that Anakin and Ahsoka are standing outside, their familiar Force signatures bright with amusement. Well then. Perhaps he won’t have to wait that long to find out what they’re up to after all.

The first thing Obi-Wan sees as the door slides open is Anakin’s grin, which more or less confirms his hunch; Ahsoka is out of sight.

“Anakin. I wasn’t expecting to see you up this early. What brings you here?”

Anakin smiles innocently at him, which is never a good sign. “Well, Ahsoka and I were talking, and we think you should take more days off. Starting today. Take a break, Master, it’ll be good for you.”

Obi-Wan wonders, a little guiltily, if he’s misjudged his padawan’s intentions. “I appreciate the thought, Anakin, but I really can’t take today off. There’s an awful lot to sort out while we’re still on Coruscant, so…”

He trails off, suspicions returning in full force as Anakin’s smile widens. “Oh, don’t worry, Master. We’ve got everything planned out.” This is definitely what they’ve been scheming about, then. Obi-Wan wonders if he ought to have a bad feeling about it.

And speaking of we – Obi-Wan narrows his eyes. “Anakin, why is Ahsoka hiding in the corridor? We all know I know she’s there.”

Anakin steps back from the door and gestures to his left, inviting Obi-Wan to take a look. He does. Standing in the corridor and trying desperately to look serious is Ahsoka, wearing a set of Obi-Wan’s robes and a cloak that trails on the floor and a – he squints at the piece of orange fabric stuck to her chin – is that meant to be his beard? It’s awfully scruffy. And rather hastily made, from the looks of it. He blinks a few times in confusion.

“I’m going to be you for the day!” Ahsoka announces. “So you can rest and you don’t have to worry about missing anything.”

Obi-Wan really doesn’t think that’s how this works, but he’s prevented from saying so by Anakin chiming in again. “That’s right. Look, Master, the resemblance is striking. Nobody will even know the difference.”

Obi-Wan stares pointedly at Ahsoka’s montrals and terrible fake beard, then raises an eyebrow at Anakin, who just snickers a little. Before Obi-Wan can rebuke him, though, Ahsoka fixes Anakin with a look of mild disapproval, rubs her temples wearily, and says “Anakin” in an uncannily precise imitation of Obi-Wan’s Coruscanti accent. If he’s being honest, it’s a little surreal.

“Now, Snips, don’t tease Obi-Wan,” Anakin chides. Obi-Wan’s not sure he’s ever heard him sound less sincere. “But she’s right, you know, Master. We can handle everything.”

This is a little ridiculous. “Anakin, I have a Council meeting today - ”

“Don’t worry, Master, we already knew about it,” Anakin interrupts cheerfully. “Ahsoka can manage.”

Ahsoka, who if Obi-Wan recalls correctly was complaining about having to attend so many long briefings just last Taungsday, nods confidently and gives him a reassuring smile. “We’ve got this, Master Kenobi. Just relax!”

“Ahsoka will be there right on time for the meeting, won’t you, Snips?”

Obi-Wan can’t believe this. They can’t be serious.

He looks at them again and sighs internally. No, they are.

***

“ – and I checked with Cody and he told me you didn’t have anything urgent to sort out for the 212th while everyone is on shore leave, and that just leaves your meeting, and we’ve already got that sorted out, trust me, so – ”

“Anakin. I believe you. And I already said I’ll take the day to relax, you don’t have to keep trying to convince me.” It’s…mostly true, though Obi-Wan’s still planning to get a little of that paperwork done once they’ve left to go and cause chaos.

Anakin beams, basking in the success of a plan well executed. “That’s great, Master. Oh, I almost forgot! One other thing before we go – Ahsoka, that cloak’s way too long, you’d better leave it here.”

Ahsoka’s face lights up; clearly this part was planned, because right on cue, she shrugs out of the cloak with a level of exaggerated melodrama that rivals her grandmaster. Obi-Wan’s honestly a little proud to see it.

Anakin picks up the discarded cloak, wraps it around Obi-Wan’s shoulders with a flourish, and steers him firmly back into his room. On his way out, he calls over his shoulder, “By the way, Cody took your ‘pad earlier, so you’re not wriggling out of a day off by doing paperwork either. Relax, Master!”

So even Cody has joined the conspiracy against him. Obi-Wan will admit the betrayal stings a little. He sinks into a chair and resigns himself to a day of doing nothing in particular.

Two and a half cups of tea and half an hour of meditation later, Obi-Wan’s decided this might not be so bad after all. Though he ought to comm someone to explain. Yoda perhaps. Or – no, Yoda will just laugh, better to speak to Mace. And maybe make sure Anakin and Ahsoka don’t cause too much of a disturbance in his absence.

***

“Good morning, Padawan Tano,” holo-Mace says, completely deadpan. “Can I help you with anything?”

Obi-Wan resists the urge to turn the comm back off and throw it across the room; instead, he settles for giving his friend a deeply unimpressed look almost uniquely reserved for Anakin at his most irresponsible. “Mace. If this is meant as revenge for helping them with Republic Day…”

The corner of Mace’s mouth twitches, subtle enough that most would pass it off as a flicker of the holo without a second thought. “Certainly not, padawan.” Yes, it absolutely is. “You seem frustrated. Is there a problem?”

Obi-Wan huffs with exaggerated displeasure that entirely fails to make Mace look even a little bit sorry. “I was planning to explain my absence from the meeting and apologize in advance for anything Ahsoka and Anakin might get up to, but it seems there’s no need. Just how many people did they rope into this, Mace?”

Mace chuckles, dropping the act. “The rest of the Council, Skywalker’s droids, and I expect half your battalion will be in on it too by the end of the day. If you insist on working through every spare minute you shouldn’t be surprised when people notice it, Obi-Wan. They’re only trying to make sure you look after yourself.”

“This seems like far too much effort just to get me to take a day off. You could have just asked.”

“Perhaps,” Mace admits. “But it was funnier to see what Tano and Skywalker would come up with. Although I may regret saying that in a few hours.”

Obi-Wan shakes his head, smiling fondly.

The same smile returns early that evening when his padawans drop in, Ahsoka now sporting an even more ridiculous fake beard and Anakin carefully balancing three cups of tea. Obi-Wan invites them both to sit down and gently straightens Ahsoka’s new beard – made by Quinlan this time, apparently, and it covers half her face and is longer than her lekku and honestly, where did Quinlan even get the time to make this? – before taking a seat again himself. As Anakin passes out the tea and Ahsoka excitedly begins to tell him about what Master Plo said to her in the Council meeting, Obi-Wan realises he’s quite intrigued by the inevitably chaotic details of their day. Particularly since with the rest of the Council enabling them this time, nobody can falsely claim he’s responsible for any of it.

He takes a sip of his tea and settles in to listen.

#star wars #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #ahsoka tano #mace windu #swsecretsanta2020 #ft. obi-wan mentally referring to both of them as his padawans because lbr raising ahsoka is a joint effort #chaos lineage #sw secret santa #izzy writes #anakin and ahsoka: we've got an idea to make obi-wan take a day off but it might be a bit much #the entire jedi council simultaneously: well we agree he needs to rest more. be as unnecessarily over-the-top as you want

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aceofspadegrass · 3 years

Note

Hey hey hey! Haven't been requesting for quiet a while.

Remember the chishiya kitty and Niragi kitty ya know pre-border kitties!

Yeah can I have a part 2 where *inhales* NIJIRO CAN'T FIND A HOME FOR THE BOTH OF THE KITTIES SO HE ADOPTED CHISHIYA WHILE DORI ADOPTED NIRAGI AND THEY BOTH TAKE THE BOTH OF THEM TO WORK IN THEIR STUDIO WHILE FILMING (yes fanta is there too, and the other doggies) AND WHEN IT WAS TIME FOR DORI TO SHOOT THE FLASHBACK SCENE WHERE NIRAGI GETS...ya know..I AM SAD OF THAT SCENE OKAY!? HE GOT BRUISES AND ALL-

and after that scene Dori comes looking for kitty Niragi and saw the kitten all shaking beneath the black chair that say's the word 'NIRAGI' in the back, ya know those chairs right? (Fanta is there right next to the kitten licking it's head in reassurance what good pupper! He is trained so well-)

The rest is up to you!

Pre-BorderKitties, Now with a Baseball

Characters: Sakurada Dori, Murakami Nijiro, Yanagi Shuntaro (Mentioned), Niragi Suguru (Technically), Chishiya Shuntaro (Technically and also only mentioned)

Genre: Fluff with a little angst. Just a tad. Poor kitty Niragi, he saw baseball season.

1.5k words

Well here you go buddy! It was fun to write, but poor kitty Niragi, he saw something he wasn't supposed to. I like to imagine Niragi later got to hang out at the 'Beach' in a separate room as they filmed the rest, without seeing the fate of his owner wearing the future human version of him. ✨

(Also I'm reusing the liner from the other one because it's nice.)

The next few days turned into weeks, much longer than the either were expecting.

Murakami came by every day to help Sakurada with the kittens faithfully, as he promised. Since then, the kittens have warmed up a little to them, and by the end of the month they ended up adopting a kitten each. Murakami thought it would be more funnier to take the cat after their character, so now Sakurada had a little dark grey kitten as well as his precious dog. Niragi was still pretty much the same as he was the first day Sakurada met him, skittish and wary of everything, but now a little more willing to cuddle next to Sakurada.

Today was filming day for Alice in Borderland, Sakurada driving over to the site where they were filming one of the scenes, Fanta happily chilling in the backseat with Niragi sitting next to the pupper, the both safely fastened to the car so they couldn’t get thrown around if something happened. Fanta was using a leash while Niragi was just huddled in a little cloth that was attached to a smaller strap, but it was effective enough.

Sakurada parks by the rest of the cars and gets out, opening the door and releasing his pets from the car, Fanta hopping down to walk besides Sakurada. Niragi was carried out instead, the three heading over to where the others where, Sakurada waving at the others there as he passed by and went to the dressing trailer they set up. Later on in the day they’d be shooting the other parts of the Beach episodes, and he didn’t need to be staying in his Pre-Borderland outfit for that long, so it was just a quick change here instead of coming already dressed. He spots Murakami not that far away, the man there despite not filming any scenes until much later in the day, Chishiya cradled in his arms and apparently sleeping.

“ Hi Sakurada!” Murakami waves to Sakurada from a distance, then comes closer and bows properly. “ Good luck during filming today!”

“ Thanks Murakami. What are you doing here?” Sakurada asked, Murakami smiling at him as he straightens up, Chishiya still fast asleep despite the brief squishing he just endured.

“ Well, I just came by to watch! That and I heard you were bringing your pets to work, so I wanted to see them too!” Murakami chirps, Sakurada chuckling. He gestures to Fanta, who was still by his feet, Murakami bending down and petting the pupper. Fanta gives a soft bark and wags his little tail, happy to be getting attention without having to do much. Murakami stands up again and waves to Niragi as well, who was curled up in Sakurada’s arm.

“ Well, I better get going now. Talk to you later!”

“ Okay, I will!”

Sakurada goes to gets dressed and heads out once he finished, placing kitty Niragi down on the chair with his name on it. The kitten mews up at him the moment Niragi left Sakurada’s warm hands. Sakurada smiles at Niragi and gently pets the kitten, which earns him the tiniest of purrs and a loafed bean when he lifts his hand up. “ You stay here and rest for a bit, okay Niragi? I need to go work for a little bit~”

Niragi only stays here and watches as Sakurada heads towards the bridge where the scene would be, not far from where everything else was. Sakurada could see Fanta happily playing with Yanagi’s dog Merry not that far away. Sakurada appreciated that Yanagi came by just to hang out with Fanta once he heard that Sakurada was taking his dog to the site so that when they were released until later on they could just hang out and do normal people things. Maybe they could walk the dogs together, that’d be fun.

The scene itself was thankfully taken within a few shots so Sakurada didn’t have to worry about any real bruising on his beautiful face. The hits weren’t as hard as it looked, they made sure to use softballs and not apply as much pressure as it was depicted to prevent any real damage, but the acting (and extra makeup they applied to make it more realistic) still had to make it seem they were the real deal. Sakurada congratulated everyone for the good job, the others even coming over to check to assure he was perfectly alright before they broke for a break and moved locations to film some more scenes at the ‘Beach’ indoors, the nighttime outdoor scenes taking much later in the day.

Sakurada heads back to the break area, but pauses when he notices something wrong, Murakami wandering around with worry on his face.

“ Murakami? Murakami, what’s wrong?” Sakurada jogged over to his friend, Murakami looking up at Sakurada.

“ I can’t find Niragi.” “ Huh? What do you mean?”

Murakami looks at the ground, eyes flicking around to try to spot the kitten. “ Well, I thought it’d be a good idea to let the kitten roam around a little, under my supervision on course! So I took him off the chair you left him on. But….”

Sakurada raised an eyebrow as he waited for Murakami to finish, although panic was already seeping into his bones. “ But…?”

“ Well, I think Niragi saw you guys acting out that scene, and he suddenly ran off. I don’t know where he went. Goodness, I hope he didn’t run far…”

Sakurada frowns, then nods. “ Let’s look for him. Go see if Yanagi spotted him too.”

Murakami nods in return, and they part, Sakurada looking around to see if he could find the skittish kitten, including underneath places a kitten could’ve been. He shouldn’t have ran far, but since this was a fairly open area…. Sakurada shivered at the thought of what could happen. He even called out the kitten’s name a few times and asked the others if they saw where Niragi had scampered off too, but no results.

Sakurada was about ready to start looking outside the area where they had all been in when he felt paws against his shoe. Sakurada looks down to Merry, who barks and runs off almost immediately, Sakurada following after the dog.

“ What is it Merry?” Sakurada asked, the pupper stopping in front of the black chair where he last had left the kitten. “ Wait, is he….?” Merry barks in response and wags her tail, the trots off after apparently having completing the mission the dog set out to do.

Sakurada lets out a small chuckle at the dog’s antics, then finally checks underneath the chair, finally getting his prize of finding his kitten. Niragi was curled up right underneath the shade of the chair, easily fading into the shadows with how dark and small he was. Sakurada reaches out for the kitten, and the moment his fingers grazed the kitten he felt the poor thing shaking, and a short mew erupted from Niragi, full of fear. Sakurada instantly started hushing the heightened kitten, staying still and reassuring Niragi that he was alright..

“ Oh, did I scare you? I’m sorry Niragi, I didn’t mean to. I’m alright, see? Nothing’s gonna hurt you either you little vanilla bean, oh I’m so sorry if that scared you….” Sakurada says in a soft tone, the kitten mewing again while he continued to shake, fur puffed up all over and resembling a dust bunny.

The sad mews seemed to have caught Fanta’s attention as well, the dog padding over and laying next to Niragi, licking the kitten as if he knew the best way to calm a crying bean.

The two laid there underneath the chair comforting the kitten for a while, and while others did come by to see if everything was okay, Sakurada always politely sent them on their way to reduce Niragi’s stress. Eventually he could scoop the kitten up, getting into a sitting position as the kitten trembled against his chest, a paw moving to press against his chest, which was still in the school uniform he was supposed to wear.

“ It’s alright now Niragi, I’m here. I’m here.” Sakurada continued to soothe, cradling the kitten as he heads to the trailer. After all, he still needed to change out and get the makeup wiped off so he could head to the other location for more filming.

Afterwards, he gets up and heads to his car, grabbing the little cloth pouch with the strap. Thankfully, it also functioned as a sort of carrier, Sakurada tying it around himself and settling the kitten to rest within, right up to his heart so the kitten could listen to his perfectly alright heart. Within seconds the kitten began to quietly purr, curling up safely in the comfort of Sakurada. Sakurada nods in satisfaction, and he heads to where Yanagi was, the man offering the extra leash he brought so they could walk their dogs together, Sakurada quickly thanking him. He calls his dog over, Fanta trotting over and letting Sakurada clip the leash to him. Hopefully Fanta would walk for a fair distance, knowing how much more he preferred to just flop and become a fried dumpling instead, the two setting off for a nice brisk walk until they had to head down for the rest of filming.

Niragi, at the very least, was safe and comfortable, the best way Sakurada preferred him to be after that harrowing experience for the kitten.

#aib #alice in borderland #sakurada dori #murakami nijiro #yanagi shuntaro #chishiya shuntaro #niragi suguru #pre niragi kitty is trying his best to interact but people spooky~#poor baby saw his owner get smacked as his human version :(#also kitty chishiya is just sleeping because he simply isn't bothered #good thing kitty niragi didn't run off too far that'd be disasterous #i haven't the slightest of clue of the order they filmed everything so i made it as i went #maybe kitty niragi learns the gremlin behaviour from watching sakurada play as niragi at the beach :0 such a smart kitty #fanta is so precious~#so is merry :D #ask

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regicidal-defenestration · 3 years

Text

Ringing in the Year of the Beleaguered Badger

In which Nobby and Colon celebrate the new year with an odd wooden companion

"It's looking at me all menacingly, sarge."

"Its not looking at anything, its eyes are painted on."

"Yeah, painted on menacingly."

Nobby and Colon considered the figure in front of them. It was certainly odd - a life sized wooden person, a wide grin and two bright blue eyes painted on its face, wearing an equally bright red uniform, with the occasional brown splotch that Colon was doing his best to not think about.

But it wasn't menacing, Colon was sure about that. It was just a toy owned by some rich nob, or else some sort of art display that pole rats (he was unsure of the exact term) like him weren't supposed to understand. Nothing menacing in the slightest.

Even so, Colon was glad of the window separating him from it.

"It just blinked!" Nobby yelped, hitting Colon in his alarm.

Colon scowled at him. Well - half scowled. Well - shared what may well have been a scared glance with his friend. But there was nothing to be scared of, not at all. It was just a bit creepy.

"You and your imagination, Nobby."

"It did!"

Nobby sounded genuinely shaken, which was worrying. Usually, when someone suddenly moved when they should have been still, it meant an opportunity for Nobby to sell back what he'd just nicked from their pockets. Not… whatever this reaction was.

Turning very deliberately away, Fred leaned against the building's wall. He imagined that he was sat back at his nice warm desk, making plans to go out and celebrate the new year properly, not out on patrol all because Vimes had insisted they go back to their roots as regular old officers. It was-

"It just waved at me Fred."

Colon's thoughts came to a screeching halt.

"How about," he said slowly, "we go back to our roots somewhere else?"

Nobby sagged in relief. And as the two of them made their way down the street, they ignored extremely hard the sound of shattering glass.

It was a nice, well lit, and most importantly, empty street, not a weird toy soldier in sight. Colon took his bell - a proper old Watch one, gods this probably hadn't been used in years - and rang it out once, twice, three times.

"Twelve o'clock and all is well!" he called over the loud clangs.

Nobby frowned.

"No it's not."

"Are you disrespecting a superior officer, Nobby?"

"Wouldn't dream of it, sarge. It's just that," he paused to allow Colon to raise an eyebrow, "it's not midnight yet, is it?. It's only half eleven."

Colon paused, took a moment to count on his fingers, then nodded in grudging acknowledgement. He swung the bell again.

"Half past eleven - yes alright no need to look so smug Nobby - and all is still well!"

"No it Isn't!" a third voice piped up, the capitalisation clearly audible.

The two men screamed, grabbing each other instinctively. They then spent an awkwardly silent few minutes trying to pretend like they hadn't just screamed and grabbed each other, and had, in fact, carried off the whole situation with a cool, calm, and collected air. It very nearly worked too.

Nobby was the fastest to regain a sense of composure.

"What d'you mean No it Isn't?" He looked around suspiciously. "Is that a threat?" There didn't look to be hosts of heavily armed thugs waiting in the shadows, but you never knew with these things.

"Oh no, mot At All! What I mean Is, All's not well Because we're Here!"

The painted smile seemed to broaden.

A pause.

"We?" Colon asked, pointing between him and Nobby.

The Toy Soldier hummed for a good minute. Colon couldn't tell if the consideration on its face was faked, or if it was just Like That.

"Hmm, No, but I Do like your spirit! I'm Talking about Me and my Crew!"

Colon leaned in close to Nobby.

"Let me handle this, eh? Matters of diplomacy like this happen to be my four-tay, you know."

Nobby gave him a Look which was, in his (Colon's) view, was neither nice, nor sufficiently respecting of his (Nobby's) commanding officer.

"And would you, fine citiz- nutcra- erm-" Colon paused as he scrabbled for a suitably diplomatic term, ignoring Nobby's snickers, "fine being, care to explain who the crew in question is?"

"And are you plannin' any funny business?" Nobby added, not willing to let go of his suspicion yet.

"Well, there's Me! There's Jonny, who is currently Beheaded, Nastya, who has Refused to Set foot on the Disc for Moral Reasons, Raph And Ivy, who are Helping Marius ask that man Vimes out to Dinne-"

"Well your Marius won't have much luck with that," Colon interrupted, undiplomatically. "Sam doesn't swing that way."

There was a moment of silence.

"Fred," Nobby began, putting on his best 'telling a figure of relative authority that they are, actually, spouting ideas that are even more incorrect than that time Aunt June got drunk at the Hogswatch party and began claiming that the world wasn't flat' voice.

"Mr Vimes'as been out for longer than I've known him. And you’ve know him longer than I have."

"But when I've gone about him being all strait-laced - you know how he gets - none of you bastards corrected me did you!"

Nobby was not a book-smart man. If asked what a thesaurus was, he'd probably say some sort of dead lizard. Whilst he didn't know his words though, he did know his friend.

"Fred," he said again, "d'you think strait-laced means a straight person who wears lace up boots?"

Colon opened and shut his mouth a few times, trying and failing to say something.

"Course I don't," he said at last, recovering admirably. "Just, keeping you on your toes."

Spinning to face the Toy Soldier and, he hoped, firmer conversational ground, he added: "Is Sybil aware of your Marius' advances on her husband?"

"Oh most Certainly! She has Even helped Plan Out his Speech!"

"Ah." Nobby nodded thoughtfully. "wuh-luh-wuh muh-luh-muh solidarity."

"Sybil likes women?"

"Course she does sarge. She was engaged to that lady nob, before Sam nat’rally, but they broke it off on account of her, the nob, not liking all them dragons."

"You know a lot of people, Nobby"

"Word gets around."

"Do you, er, have some sort of mailing list then?" Fred was capital-S Straight, but tried not to let that get in the way.

Nobby failed at holding in a snort of laughter.

“A mailing list? Blimey Fred, imagine me getting a Hogswatch card from Vetinari himself. An’ imagine all them just waiting eagerly to get my letter.”

Seeing Colon’s expression, he tried to school his face into a more serious expression, but it didn’t last long.

“Imagine- just imagine a letter showin’ up at the Watch House, well, multiple letters really, cause of the fact you’re the only straight an cis person I can name off the top of me head, after Archchancellor whass’name has an attack of the Genders last month, all them letters with their little rainbow wax sealing stamps-”

Colon cleared his throat loudly. He jerked his head over to where the Toy Soldier was standing, unmoving, unblinking. Creepy bugger, he thought, undimplomatically, but this time he didn’t say it out loud. Character development.

“I’m sure our... friend... here doesn’t need to know, eh, Nobby?”

“On the contrary, I Think it’s Marvellous! A Mailing list, what Fun! Oh, I Do so enjoy visiting you Silly little People, with your silly Little Ideas!”

The words themselves seemed insulting, but the Toy Soldier’s tone was still bright and cheerful. Although... three consecutive sentences ending with exclamation marks is never a good sign.

“Oh! It’s nearly Midnight now, If you Wanted to ring your Bell Again- oh!” It clapped its hands together excitedly. “Can I Ring it? And say the Thing?”

Without a complaint, Colon handed the bell over. There was probably a Rule about not doing that somewhere, but his mind was still stuck back on Vetinari. Everyone knew the Patrician wore that black ring on his middle finger, of course, but he hadn’t actually thought properly about th-

Nobby’s voice cut through his thoughts.

“You’re slightly staring at it, sarge.”

“Wha-? Yes, of course, go ahead and er, say the Thing, if you want.”

“Twelve O’clock And all is Wel-”

Its final word was drowned out as the city bells began chiming.

Midnight in Ankh-Morpork, and thus, the New Year, was determined largely by consensus, each of the bells chiming slightly out of time with each other. The first to ring belonged to the Fools’ Guild, because there is apparently nothing funnier than getting woken up in the dead of night. The fireworks began as the big brass gong at the Temple of Small Gods rang out, bangs and explosions adding to the chorus of dings, clangs, bongs and jingles. By the time the big rocket exploded purple and red over the sky it was impossible to tell the bells from each other, except for the tongueless and magical bell of Old Tom in the Unseen University clock tower, whose twelve even silences could be heard even over the din.

The high point of the display was, as usual, the Alchemists’ Guild blowing up, this time with an aesthetically pleasing blue fireball.

Nobby whistled in appreciation.

"Happy new year Fred."

"Happy new Nobby. Happy new year Toy Soldier who's still following us around."

"Happy New Year old Chums!"

#happy nearly nnew year anyway #discworld #the mechanisms #writing

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xomiri · 3 years

Text

Another Chapter? No Way!

Chapter 3, Baby. Decided to upload the whole thing this time idk.

A/N: Heyo! I'm super sorry for how long it took for this chapter to come out. I sometimes have motivational issues when it comes to doing things, and it impacts even the things I really enjoy doing. Nonetheless, Within time, I finally finished it, and it motivated me to keep going. So don't worry! hopefully the next chapters won't be as slow as this, but if they are, please bear with me! I don't want to give you sloppy writing, so I do so when I feel my best. Love you, and thank you for reading :)

"So finally, at the end of the interview, I tell him - Guess what I tell 'em?" Nick asked, snickering throughout the explanation of his joke.

The duo made their way down the hall, Judy trying not to murder the fox in cold blood. She entertained Nick as she scrambled her book-bag for her apartment keys.

"What'd you tell 'em Nick?"

she asked, almost, no, exactly like she'd been talking to a fourth grader.

"I told the guy that he didn't have the right Koala-fications! Eh? Eh?"

"Heheh.." She let out slowly, still rummaging through her book-bag.

Nick poked at her sides.

"Ah!" she flinched, swatting away at his paws.

"Yeah, yeah, it would've been funnier had this not be the fortieth time you've told me!"

They stopped at the end of the hall. Judy still shuffled through her bag, begging and pleading that she could find her keys, so she'd no longer have to tolerate his wisecracks.

"You wouldn't know comedy if it killed you."

He leaned against the doorway, and began to pick his claws.

"If it's your kind of humor, I hope it does." Judy mumbled, letting the jingle of her apartment keys mask the jab that she threw his way.

"I heard that." Nick nudged Judy's ear with his free elbow.

The creaking of the recently departed door welcomed them into the familiar darkness. Nick took Judy's bag, and turned to pick up his own. Judy walked into her safe haven, wiping the day off of her face. She looked around, not really knowing what she'd been looking for. It'd been a long day, so there'd be no surprise if she was daydreaming.

Her apartment had its own charm, convincing you to drop a memory each time you entered and exited. Some of her fondest memories were made here, even fonder ones to come.

Lights on.

Her home oddly contradicted her personality. You could see the months slowly engraving themselves into the bleak dark walls. The lavender undertones that emanated from her body, pervaded this new, cold air, making it as pungent as it's ever been before. It was intoxicating. This, along with a noticeable clean smell in the air. The way this cutesy rabbit made her bright, pastel mark upon the bleak, light grey space around her always made Nick smile. You truly couldn't miss it. Instances of magenta's and pastel blues, light pink's, yellows. Whether it be a notebook, a pillow or a shirt, it stood out, just like Judy; A blatant, yet unexpected aberrance. It was rewarding how much he could garner from something as simple as a color in her living room.

With a groan, Judy dragged herself to her room, unbuckling her utility belt.

Nick took the entirety of the home in. Although he'd been there before, these feelings could never escape him. She closed the door and left the rest of the space to Nick. The fact that she trusted him enough to leave her whole home to him for even a couple of seconds, made him feel warm inside. Someone finally looked at him for what he actually had been, rather than the species he'd been stuck with. The light ringing in his ears took over his thoughts, recovering him from his daze. Silence without Judy was silence he couldn't stand. He walked in and dropped the bags to his right, keeping eyes on the city-scape that made itself known through the wall-wide window on the far side of the room. As he inched forward, the notch of soft carpet that collided with his toes broke his concentration once more. His eyes flickered to the carpet, and back up to the window. Bedroom door, Kitchen, then the TV.

"Can't hurt."

He snatched the remote from the wood stained coffee table that sat close to him. He switched the TV on, allowing the incessant rambling of the news anchors on screen to fill the emptiness. Placing the remote on the arm of the couch, he let his head fall back and took a deep breath.

A door opening. His ears moved with the creak.

The bunny moved from the shadows of the room, entering the living room with her eyes closed, attempting to adjust to the abundance of light.

"Oh! Uh.."

Nick raced towards the light switch. He pressed it, and watched as the green dot danced up and down, as the lights began to dim.

"Better?"

The bunny did nothing but nod.

She made her way to the couch, light bouncing off of the folds of her flowy nightgown. She plopped down and slid her upper half sideways until her head eventually came in contact with the cushions of the couch. She let out a long sigh, that would soon be abruptly cut off by the sound of her remote hitting the ground.

The gong of the plastic remote resonated within the apartment walls, accompanied by yet another groan from the fluffy, agitated mass.

"I'll get it, my damsel in distress." Nick japed, before preening the kitchen of it's snacks and drinks.

Judy and Nick had the next day off. When they'd first become partners, Judy thought their friendship could blossom more than it had, in turn making their workflow easier to deal with. They'd been friends, even before Judy asked Nick to become her partner, so evidently, Judy wanted to do "friend things." Whatever that meant. This list included all the regular "friend things" that "friends" did. Walking in the park, visiting famous city monuments, going out to get food on select days of the week, and having movie nights. However, as time went on, and work became tougher to manage, some of these time consuming, albeit fun, activities came more and more scarce. Today had been one of those days. Usually, when both of them had the day off, they'd arrange a movie night. Scary movies, Comedies, Rom-Coms, Tragedies, you name it. Nick would come over, they'd laugh and joke, watch a couple of stupid movies, and he'd leave in the morning. Nothing more, nothing less. But this time was different. For the first time in a really long time, Nick felt...awkward. He didn't know if it'd genuinely been a long time since he'd been over, or if time just passed painfully slowly when he was alone. Time flew with Judy after all, there'd never be a dull moment.

"Nick. Please. Hurry.

She groaned, the gravel in her voice becoming more prominent.

"ZNN is on, and I can't stand to listen to this moose talk any longer."

"Whoa there, hot stuff, what's wrong with the news?"

He set two cups onto the counter, and turned to look into the fridge for a smoothie. Judy always made the same kind. It lasted from the beginning from the week until the weekend, and when the time came, she'd make another. With both hands, he slid the large glass container out of the fridge and onto the table. He held the container with one hand, the glass in the other, and leaned it just enough to where the smoothie came out ever so slightly..

"There's some pretty interesting stuff sometimes."

Judy rolled onto her back and shot her arm up.

"Riiight, 'cause who doesn't love listening to news anchors rub other people's tragedies in their face? Who doesn't love having the idea that someone is in danger right now shoved into conscience? I could be out there doing whatever I can to help the people in need, but my stupid brain wants to give me problems. God, I shouldn't have told Clawhauser my head hurt. Aah, That snitch!"

She clasped at the air before letting her arm drop onto her chest. Her eyes fell shut, hoping the sigh that she'd let out would drown out the voices that bombarded her ears, forever. Nick noticed the genuine distress in her voice. He looked up, with a furrow in his brow.

"Carrots..."

"Nick, we're police officers. That's what we do. We save people, not watch them get worse. If I can't do something to fix it, I don't wanna know about it."

She shuffled, turning to lay back onto her side.

A cold sensation reaching his fingers.

The cup is overflowing.

He quickly pulled the container away, and set it down. After drying his hands, he sidled over to the couch, picking up the remote on the way there.

Silence filled the air. An animated moose flung his arms around, detailing all sorts of presumably important things.

Nick sat down on his knees in front of her, Wishing he'd pay more heed to the headache medicine on the coffee table. Confused on how he didn't notice it beforehand, he gave the topic little thought. He dug his elbow into the space that she left over and let his head rest in his hand, while he let his other hand rest on her forehead.

"You're gonna get another headache." He rubbed his thumb back and forth on her temple.

Her eyes tightened. Nick stared at her, brows still furrowed. It was moments like these that confused him on how much she trusted him. He wanted to do as much as he could to make sure that she was comfortable. He wanted to do as much as she can so she can live her life as content as it possible could be. Being a police officer obviously didn't make it easy, but if he could make her smile even once, it showed promise for the future. A lot of mammals like to say to take things with a grain of rice, but Nick took every mannerism to heart. He couldn't help it. He really couldn't help it.

He kissed her on the forehead.

Judy's eyes fluttered open. She stared into Nick's eyes, shaking him down for everything he knew.

"You're so selfish, y'know that?"

"Nick, I-"

"You're right. We are police officers. But… He paused.

"But it's dumb to think you can save everyone." His words took the air out of her chest. Her eyes widened and her lips parted.

Nick moved Judy's ears in front of her eyes. Her eye contact made him nervous.

The hand he once had on her forehead, gravitated towards his lap.

"If you were expected to save everyone you come across, you'd be the only one on the job... I know how hard you work, God, everyone knows how hard you work. It's almost selfish to think that there aren't other people that work as hard as you do… It's okay to not…"

He paused. Would she understand what he was saying? He didn't want to make it seem like he was belittling her or downplaying her emotions, but he didn't want her to dwell on something that she couldn't fix. It didn't make any sense. Judy's overwhelming selflessness annoyed him. He wanted her to not care about things, like he did. Otherwise she'd be aching every day of her waking life. Even though he had everything laid out for her, It'd still been hard for him to tell her these things. What if she did understand? What if she understood a little too well, and decided to change completely? He wanted to convey the right message, without trying to force an entirely different mindset onto her.

His brow furrowed.

Judy sat up, bringing Nick back to attention. She grabbed his cheeks, and kissed him on the forehead.

She pulled away, looking at him with worry.

"You're gonna get another headache." Judy mocked him.

His ears drooped, but not out of sadness.

I get what you mean, it's just a little upsetting, is all. I promise I'm not freaking out over things I don't need to be."

He smiled.

She understood exactly what he meant. Deep down, he knew that she'd understand what he was saying. He knew that she was going to take everything he wanted to say the way he wanted her to. Although he knew she understood him better than anyone else did, there'd still always be this inkling of doubt. When it came to almost everything, there was always an inkling of doubt. Sometimes he reprimanded himself for not being as open with Judy as she had been with him.

How can you call her selfish, when you're more selfish than she is?

His newfound thoughts rattled his brain, but he decided to push them away. For another time...always for another time.

Their smiles shone. Judy booped his nose, but couldn't shake the tinge of worry from her face.

Once more in this scenario. Eye to eye, nose to nose. But this time, it was more comfortable. No sand brushing against the side of their ankles, no wind attempting to drown out the sounds of their hearts. It was an ever growing and shrinking silence. A silence that spoke softly and nonchalantly. A silence that seeped from the walls and echoed throughout the rooms. A silence that made its way through all the creases and crevices of the floors.

"Thank you for your work today, Nick."

She met her forehead with his.

"You know me. Always here for ya." He spoke with a smoky tone.

Judy broke contact and pushed him, knocking him backwards.

"Aah!" He caught himself with his elbows.

"My favorite."

Judy scoffed, stepping around him and making her way to the kitchen.

Nick couldn't help but stare, the way her hips swayed ever so slightly when she walked. He could feel his heart begin to beat throughout his entire body. Her hourglass figure, made prominent by the kitchen light that bathed her. He thought of her every feature. The curves, the dips, the arches. But most evident, her eyes. He fell in love with those faux apathetic eyes. Although her half lidded eyes had usually been to mock Nick, sometimes she used them to her own volition. He couldn't stand it. Those eyes, attached to a mind that he couldn't read. Residing within a body he couldn't explore.

Nick stood and brushed himself off, attempting not to lose himself in thought. He shook his head, and made his way to the bar.

"You aren't very slick, Slick."

She began to clean the smoothie spill.

"Who's to say?"

She couldn't help but giggle at the finger guns he shot at her. She folded the towel she used over the handle of the oven, and began to rummage through her fridge, no longer letting hunger get the best of her. The squeak of the bar-stool Nick sat in, prompted her to turn back around, to which he whisked his head in a random direction, until he found a focal point. He began filing through a cookbook her mother gave her before she moved to the city. As expected, nothing but carrot recipes.

"Staring again?."

"Gasp! Me? No way! Whatever could you mean?"

He let the book cover his face, and after a a millisecond, slowly moved the book down to see if she'd still been facing him. Once his eyes met hers, he shot the book back up in front of his face.

Judy shook her head, a sly grin on her face.

"What's for dinner, Slick?" She asked, leaning onto the counter and pulling down on the book. The movement of the book moving Nick away from the nothingness he'd been staring at for the past minute.

He thought out loud.

"Well...We've been picking up lots of fast food on breaks, so how 'bout something healthy?"

"My, My! Look at you wanting to be healthy! Good for you, Nick!"

Judy gestured for a high five, but when the fox went for it, she swiped her hand away, turning to get to work on the food. A turn of a knob here, and the filling of a pot there. She'd been so tired, but within seconds, it seemed as if it all went away. Maybe the meds were finally kicking in. Nick watched her cover up her struggle with a hum, dancing atop a step stool as she set the carrots into a pot with water. She was so quick to assume responsibility when it came to just about anything. It just goes to show that she'll never really learn, even after that semi-serious conversation that they'd had a couple minutes ago.

Nick hopped off of the stool he'd been swiveling back and forth in, and made his way to the kitchen. He stood behind Judy, and lifted her to where she could place the carrots into the pot with ease.

"Oh! Thanks!"

"Nothin' to it. Just… hurry up, I ain't got all night."

"Way to ruin the moment." Judy scoffed.

"Hey, it's what I do best."

After a tedious couple minutes of swapping between holding her up and grabbing seasonings that might not have been supposed to be there, he set her down and grabbed the carrot she'd been holding, out of her hand.

"I'll take it from here. All that "headaching" you've been going through all day must have you begging for some rest, huh?"

"Oh...yeah…"

Judy hopped off of the stool, and made her way back to the couch, She sat, and began to flip through the channels, separating interest and disinterest in mere seconds. Time passed. Not too fast, but not too slow. Nick didn't want to take too much time making food. To be completely honest, he wasn't hungry, but that wasn't going to stop him from making sure she was comfortable. The tapering scrape of cooking utensils, along with the short lived syllables of different voices that shot out of the TV, made for an oddly peaceful environment as it fought the tranquil silence that previously filled the room. After what she deemed too much flipping, Judy decided to switch to a pre-recorded soap opera that she'd reminded herself to watch earlier.

"Oh boy, pawgliacci? Nick muttered.

"What? It's good!"

"That's what they all say, until you get about forty-five minutes in.."

The food, prepared, and the mammals hungry,

Nick dished out the food as quickly as he could, speaking in an obnoxious French accent.

He imitated,

"Ahh yes, cahrraht noodles weeth speecy zai peanut sauce fahr ze

beauteeful bunny!

Giggling, she took the bowl. There wasn't anything better than hearing her giggle. Hearing her laugh made his heart flutter, he wouldn't even begin to explain what her smile did to him.

He flashed her a smile, and a little giggle of his own. He turned back to the kitchen and announced as he walked.

"Eef you dahn't like eet, mahney bahck! Guarahntee!"

Through snickers and chuckles, they'd finally been together on the couch, attempting to watch the soap opera that'd been on for about twenty minutes already. It hadn't necessarily mattered, considering how they'd been chatting the whole time, paying little to no mind to the TV.

"What were you saying about the history of your farm, was it farm or family? Something like that."

"What are you even- Oh! I don't even remember, how'd you pick up on that?

"Well I was curious, so I kept it in the back of my mind. Nothing this big brain can't handle.."

He rubbed the back of his neck. He wasn't nervous, but quite the opposite. He'd been way more comfortable that he was in a long time. A tick, maybe?

"Well, I appreciate it, but it'd take way too long to go into detail about."

"That's just fine, I like long stories anyway." He gazed at the invisible watch on his wrist.

"I've got just about…. All night."

He smirked before setting his bowl down on the small table to his left.

Leaning into the couch, He tucked one leg underneath him, and laid his head into his fist. He wasn't going anywhere, anytime soon.

Judy smiled, but the smile faded slowly. Not because of his smug attitude, but because of how much he cared for her and the things she cared about. She loved and hated how he'd be satisfied just being around her. Why couldn't he be a lowlife, apathetic narcissist through and through? It was only once you got to know him that you found out he was so much more than that. It was only then did you find out that he actually is more than some dumb fox. He had character…substance. He cared about things.

Although, deep down, she wanted much more than to watch this movie, she knew that that'd probably been what he was there for. Nothing more, nothing less.

She continued,

"You said you didn't have all night when we were in the kitchen. What happened now?"

"Eh, my arms were tired. a life of hustlin' cute fuzzy-wuzzy bunnies takes a lot out of y- Ow!" Another strike, landing clean on his arm.

Judy cleared her throat.

"Well…"

She trailed off about the history of her family and the farm she grew up on. The different types of crops and botanical "this's" and "that's", her family tree, and surprisingly, the names of every single one of her siblings. All...275 of them… Big brain for a little bunny.

Judy stretched her arms, letting out the sigh she'd been holding in for who knows how long. She grabbed both bowls and made her way to the kitchen.

Nick's eyes followed her until she'd been out of his peripheral. His eyes then meandered until they came across the carrot charm she'd recently added to her phone case. He fiddled with the charm, then spoke up.

"With a nickname like Carrots, I would've expected you to eat more than two bites."

"Hey, Hey! Keep your eyes on your own food! I can eat this later, Okay? I like to savour my food. Not wolf it down like some savage beast." She mocked him.

"Woah, woah! Be careful, this savage beast is still hungry, and rabbit would be delicious right about now!"

"Then come and get it." She teased. Setting the plates down into the sink. She walked to the edge of the counter and leaned onto it with one hand, sinking into her hip. She dropped her head slightly, letting her eyes fixate on him. Letting him know that she was nothing short of serious.

Nick chuckled. She gave him permission. Nothing more, nothing less. He wasn't sure what she'd been hinting at, but he wasn't going to give up this opportunity, not just yet. He strolled over to her.

"Hehe, y'know you surprise me sometimes Carrots. I never seem to know what's going on in your head. One second you're all tired and brazen, and the next, you're…"

He swooped her up in his arms before speaking, but the bunny cut him off.

"I can be as brazen as I want."

She pulled on his collar, her breath flirting with the fur on his neck and ears.

"Scratch tired of the list, then?

He whispered in her ear.

"Hm, my arms were just tired."

"Hm.."

A contagious smile grew between the both of them. The passing of time fell short and unnoticeable. They once again slipped into the same void of space, filled with a calm, pleasing silence, neither of them daring to interrupt. Until they did.

Seemingly at the same time, their lips imitated magnets, and slowly but surely, they met.

ff account :)

here

#zootopia #zootopia fanfiction #eeriiee #fanfiction #romance #friendship #suspense #nick wilde #judy hopps #wildehopps #znn #zootopia comics

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cynicalrainbows · 4 years

Note

Hey! I’ve got a fix request if that’s ok! After a long day at the theatre everyone’s tired but during the megasix Anne goes into sensory overload?

So I should preface this with the fact that I don’t actually know what a sensory overload feels like. So it’s more ‘Anne gets overwhelmed with all the noise etc’ which is something I can write about.

Anyway, enjoy!

It’s been a long week, one of those weeks where everything seems determined to go wrong in as many ways as possible, often at the most inopportune moments.

Because of this, everyone is more on edge than usual, everyone is irritable: Catalina snaps and Kitty sulks. Jane puts things down with more force than is strictly necessary and Cathy holds her book up in front of her eyes to discourage attempts at communication and flicks pages obnoxiously loudly.

Even Anna, far and away the calmest and least rufflable of them all, has started to feel the strain and by Thursday is far gone enough that she actually snaps at Kitty for taking her clothes without asking and then at Jane for taking Kitty’s side. The difference of course is that Anna at least has an excuse because that same evening, she comes down with what is officially called A Cold but that feels (she assures Anne) rather an awful lot like the pneumonic Plague.

Anne is glad for Anna’s sake when she finally agrees to take a couple of days off to recover properly but she also can't help but feel a bit abandoned too. The dressing room isn’t the same without Anna to diffuse the tension and while she normally enjoys Catalina’s company, it scarcely counts as company when all the two do is snap at one another. Anna is like a balm- she smooths out rough edges, she can diffuse almost anything with a joke or a comment. Without her, everything feels ever so slightly off balance.

As bad as the snapping is though, the silence in the dressing room once Anna finally gives in and goes home to bed is worse. Anne knows Catalina isn’t angry with her specifically, that the woman is just not really in the mood to talk and is staying quiet to avoid starting off yet another disagreement, but it still makes things uncomfortably tense.

Even when Saturday rolls around, it isn’t much comfort to think about the fact that Sunday is just around the corner because Saturday is always the hardest day of the week- the biggest workload, just when everyone is least prepared for it, the rowdiest audiences just when everyone is at their lowest ebb, the most hours spent waiting around at the theatre when really all anyone wants is to go home and take a nap.

Sometimes the exhaustion works in their favour, on the days that the tiredness makes everything somehow seem that bit funnier. Tired-drunk, Cathay calls it, when one or other of the queens finds themselves giggling half hysterically over something that in the cold light of a Monday morning would really seem not that amusing at all. At least they get some good social media videos out of it.

Mostly though, being tired just makes everyone shorter and snappier and more prone to storming out of the dressing room to sulk- or cry or walk around angrily slamming doors or lurk in corridors muttering darkly about how much better things will be when they got their book deal and cam write full time.

Nobody is sleeping well, nobody can be bothered to eat proper meals, let alone actually cook them, and they all feel like they haven’t seen the sun in months.

In short, they are in dire need of a day off.

By Saturday’s second show, Anne is almost counting the seconds til she can go home.

She feels like her shoes are made of lead, her head is pounding, her costume is sticking to her uncomfortably and she is bitterly regretting the energy drink she’d downed in lieu of lunch on Cathy's perhaps slightly misguided advice. Not that she can blame Cathy- it’s her own fault for taking advice from a woman who not only occasionally substitutes coffee for milk on her cereal but actually professes to prefer it.

The discomfort distracts her and makes her come rather too close- unpleasantly close, dangerously close- to missing a couple of cues during Ex Wives. It’s nothing the audience will have noticed, even if they have seen the show before, and perhaps even the other queens won't pick up on it, but she knows and the thought gives her a horrible flustered feeling, like she’s falling behind and needs to catch up to something.

Except there is no chance to catch up. Sometimes the lack of interval doesn’t bother her at all- they’re all rather glad of it at times because it does away with having to worry about recapturing the audience's attention and goodwill after twenty minutes of all 200 of them getting irritated over overpriced wine and tiny-tubbed ice cream- but now she would kill for five minutes to sit down for a moment and collect herself.

Even the show gets harder as it continues- she's unsettled by having someone who isn't Anna in Anna's place, the songs get longer, the dialogues get more heated and shouty, and Haus of Holbein...well, Haus of Holbein just exists.

She has never been less prepared for the flashing lights and pounding bass, and even when it’s over, she can feel the tension building up inside herself, the feeling of her last threads of control beginning to dry out, stretch thin and snap.

Finally, finally, they strike their ending poses, fists thrust in the air. Anne can feel her arm trembling slightly and hopes that no one else will notice. She doesn’t feel like fielding questions off stage.

Although she’s been hoping for a moment to collect herself, the split second of reprieve granted before the music starts again and the Megasix begins, if anything, make her feel more overwhelmed rather than less, as if her body, having tasted peace and quiet for a moment, is protesting bitterly by making everything that much louder.

The dancing- not even really being able to rely on muscle memory because it’s apparently important that they keep an informality to the Megasix that can only be achieved by insisting that everybody dance freestyle- begins to feel like a rather unusual and exquisite form of torture.

And then the confetti starts and it’s in her face and under her feet and god someone's going to break their neck one of these days and the front row fans are screaming particularly loudly- not just screaming but screaming words too, and as much as she knows they are most likely positive things, the words are lapping over one another like waves coming too quickly on the beach, sucking away her control, and the effort of keeping a smile on her face as she tries to focus on different parts of the audience so that everyone, even those people in further back seats feel included, are making her face hurt and her costume is prickling with sweat and god she just wants to rip it off and someone must have decided now was a good time to give themselves a quick douse of perfume in the front few rows because now it’s tickling her nose, it’s far too strong, and it’s all too loud, too bright, too much, too much for her to deal with all in one go, and in the midst of it all, she feels herself left as small and pink and vulnerable as an oyster, pried open and squirted with lemon juice, cringing in the remains of its broken shell.

When the last note sounds and the stage goes mercifully dark and the curtain comes down, she can't move from her final pose. At last, at last, at last she can breathe for a second- but Kitty is already pulling on her arm and telling her to hurry up, come on, get changed so we can get to the pub- and maybe it’s Kitty shrieking in her ear, and maybe it’s the very sensation of being pulled and maybe it’s the thought of having to endure yet another noisy, bright, crowded space after everything, but to her mild surprise, Anne finds that rather than just pushing Kitty away like she would have had no problem doing normally, she’s wrenching herself away with such force that Kitty lets out a squeak of surprise and then she’s curling up right there on the confetti-strewn stage with her hands clasped so tightly over her ears it hurts and her eyes screwed shut so that she can almost see stars, folded up tightly to protect the very very tiny fragile hold on reality that she still has left.

‘Anne?’

‘Anne are you alright?’

The others crowd round her immediately.

‘What’s the matter, are you hurt?’

She can't find the words to ask them to be quiet- but when Cathy’s concerned hand presses the scratchy material of her costume harder against her shoulder, she squirms and whines unhappily, cringing away. She’d be embarrassed, she thinks distantly, if she had any space in her head for anything other than panic.

‘…..can’t stay here.’

‘You can’t be thinking of moving her.’

‘It’s horrible to move her if she doesn't want to-’

‘Look she won’t want to stay here either, she’ll calm down quicker if she’s somewhere quiet-’

After a minute or two of bickering, Catalina effectively ends the argument by scooping Anne into her arms and bearing her off to the dressing room.

The added contact, the spikiness of Catalina’s costume, the noise the other queens are making makes her wriggle unhappily in Catalina’s arms but she doesn’t fight too hard, not really.

She isn’t sure what she’d do if Catalina DID put her down. Curl back up into a ball until things got quieter, probably.

In the dressing room, Catalina sets her gently on the carpet- or starts too. When Anne cringes away at the scratchy nylon, Jane spreads Kitty’s hoody and her own coat on the floor.

‘There, that’s better-’

‘What should we do…?’

‘I don't think we should all stay-’

‘Should we leave her alone?’

Their voices are piling up again and it hurts, they hurt, muddling her already overburdened mind, and she’s just beginning to feel a scream tickling the back of her throat when Catalina holds up a hand.

‘Can't we have this conversation in the corridor?’

Cathy nods; Kitty opens the door, casting worried looks back at Anne even as Jane tugs her outside.

And then they are all out into the corridor.

Cathy makes a brief return to flick off the lights….and then she too withdraws, and Anne is left in peace.

She curls up on her side in the welcome darkness. Her hands are still over her ears but slightly less tightly now.

Breath. Breathe. Breathe.

She's still shaking, shaking even harder than before. Her teeth are chattering.

Sweat dries on her skin.

The tremors make her arms and legs ache but the pain is almost soothing- something else to focus on, at least.

Slowly, slowly, she begins to relax her tensed-tight muscles, one by one.

At least now it’s quiet.

They leave her alone for as long as they can- although really she can’t say how much time has passed- and then the door opens. Light spills in from the corridor.

‘Anne?’

It’s Catalina.

‘Mija, it’s time to go home.’

She curls up tighter and Catalina comes properly into the room, holding the door open with her foot.

‘Anne, it’s getting late. You’ll be more comfortable at home where you can rest.’

She’s afraid that if she moves, all the light and noise of the theatre will engulf her again, flood her and suck her down; she’s feeling better now, she doesn't want to take the risk of moving.

But Catalina doesn’t move. Her face is anguished- she looks pained, unhappy. She doesn't want to be the one having to make Anne move, and it gives her no pleasure when Anne eventually gets shakily to her feet.

On the way to the car, she keeps her distance, gives her breathing room. She asks quietly if Anne would like help when she stumbles and when she shakes her head, she can see how that bothers Catalina too.

She’s not used to not being able to give comfort, she’s used to having to almost peel Cathy off, she’s used to Jane trailing around after her like a shadow. She’s used to being able to help.

But she doesn’t press it and Anne is grateful.

When they get home, the others are awake and clustered in the living room but the hum of conversation falls silent when the front door opens and closes.

Jane pops into the hall to say that she's welcome to join them if she’d like but that they completely understand if Anne would rather have some time on her own.

She nods but when she goes upstairs it's not her own door she stops at but Anna's.

She knocks, quietly, in case Anna is asleep- and then very gently nudges open the door. She's still shaking slightly.

Anna’s room is half lit from the open laptop on the floor by the bed. The laptop is silent, the darkness is soft and welcoming. All is quiet and calm. She takes her first proper breath in what feels like hours.

Anna herself is dozing- but opens her eyes just as Anne is making up her mind to resigning herself to going back to her own room.

‘Anne?’

She gives a shaky half smile.

‘What time is it?’

She nudges Anna's digital clock to face her: the lighted dial shows nearly 11pm.

She isn’t sure if the others have filled Anna in, if she knows anything at all. (She decides not to ask, she’d rather not know.)

‘Oh’. Anna rolls onto her back and takes some tissues to blow her nose. ‘Are you ok?’

She hesitates, trying to strip away the layers of meaning- she isn't sure whether to say yes or no, so after a minute she just shrugs.

Anna sits up a bit and pats the bed next to her, flipping back the duvet.

‘Want to come keep me company in my bed of sickness?’

She can't be sure but she feels like Anna is deliberately talking more softly than usual.

Suddenly she wants nothing more than to take refuge here, in the peaceful semi darkness, where she has Anna next to her to do her talking for her until she feels up to talking for herself.

She nods.

‘Come on then.’

She crosses the room and gets under the covers in the sweats and tshirt Catalina helped her change into before going to the car.

Under the duvet, she burrows into Anna's side: it's warm and dark, it feels like a good place to recover.

Anna lies down next to her, fitting her body around Anne's and wrapping an arm around her.

It feels heavy, in the best way. Grounding.

There's no way she’ll be able to float off into her own head with Anna here.

‘I missed you.’

It’s quieter than a whisper, almost a breath, but Anna hears because she always does.

‘Missed you too, babes.’

Anna’s arm tightens around her; her breath tickles Anne’s neck but it doesn’t bother her as much as it would have done an hour or two earlier. It’s a nice reminder that she isn’t alone.

She closes her eyes, counts her breaths- in and out, like she’s learned to do at times like this- and waits to readjust to the world outside.

#six #six the musical #six the musical fanfiction #six fanfiction

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ijustwant2write · 4 years

Text

My Beliefs-Aziraphale x Reader x Crowley

(GIF credit to @uuuhshiny)

Masterlist

Anonymous requested: ‘Hi, can i request an imagine with Crowley and Aziraphale with an Ex-Jehovas witness that’s now atheist as their s/o? And like their s/o freaks out a bit because did they really Get disowned just to find out that god is real? Preferably Poly but write whatever you’re comfortable with!’

Characters: Aziraphale x Reader (platonic), Crowley x Reader (platonic)

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: Mentions of religion/faiths, disbelief/atheist, some swearing

(A/N: I didn’t write them as a relationship and also I try not to mention beliefs within these religions, as I myself am not religious and do not know enough to write about them)

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Aziraphale?” (Y/N) called out in the book shop, seeing as there were no customers.

“Yes?” his voice was muffled, due to being stuck behind a pile of books in his hands.

(Y/N) walked out from behind the bookshelf, seeing her friend in need of some assistance. She quickly took half of the books before they could topple out of his hands. He smiled, thanking her with a sigh of relief before going back to what he was doing.

“I don’t want to sound too...well, forward when I ask this. But how are you so amendment that God is real?”

Aziraphale was surprised by his friend’s question, especially since they had not spoken for a half hour.“I suppose I believe in His mysterious ways. There have been times where I feel as if God has been by my side, He has guided me through hard times.”

“Hm.” (Y/N) hummed, thinking over his answer.

“And why would you ask that?”

“I saw my friends the other day. I haven’t really spoken to them since I stopped believing in my faith, which isn’t right, I know. And it just got me thinking...I used to be such a strong believer, and then suddenly someone I love dies...all those things they tell you, it didn’t happen. I didn’t feel anything, I didn’t feel that God was beside me, or at least watching me.”

Aziraphale felt his body stiffen, a slight tension rising in the room; not because she didn’t believe in a religion, but he knew it had been a difficult time when she expressed her true feelings. She wanted it all to be true, however, death was too much, it was cruel. Why hadn’t God (or anyone up there) helped her through the grief? Aziraphale had seen this too many times, and it saddened him that his Lord was no longer inspiring the people on Earth, He made them question everything.

“I’m sorry.” (Y/N) waved her free hand, dismissing the conversation.“It was a very sudden and topical question, I shouldn’t have asked you that.”

“No, no, no.” Aziraphale kindly smiled at her, placing down his books and removing the pile from hers.“My dear, I understand how you feel, and you shouldn’t beat yourself up about it either.”

“I’ve spent my whole life like that. Then last year it all changed. I don’t know why I’ve been thinking about it recently.”

“You’ve settled into a routine, you’re mind is at ease to think about whatever it wants. And at this moment, it wants to gain knowledge as to why you left that part of your life.”

“It would be nice to have a sign, from a religious side or not, to see if it is real you know? Finally bring peace to my thoughts.”

Aziraphale shared one last smile as (Y/N) walked away, going back to organising the books. It quickly disappeared as he thought about his friend’s words. He was an angel, he was full proof that there was a God. Yet cruel irony forbid him to reveal himself. What if she took it the wrong way? Perhaps (Y/N) would think it was all a joke, or she would freak out, accuse him of keeping such a secret. Religion was a huge thing, it had started wars for God’s sake. But (Y/N) wasn’t herself, and the fact that Aziraphale could help her (though shouldn’t) gave him a headache thinking about it.

As he tried to come up with a plan, the door was loudly opened, a striking Crowley sauntering in. He lowered his glasses, revealing the yellow snake eyes for just a few seconds before he pushed them back up his nose. No one was here, but best not risk it.

“Angel! Business does not seem to be booming.” He loudly announced himself.

Aziraphale jumped at the sound of his voice, frantically looking around for (Y/N) as he made his way to the front of the shop. He shushed his demon friend as he scurried towards him.

“This isn’t a library Aziraphale, people can make noise in here.”

“It’s not that, there’s someone else here.”

“Ah, right. Woops.”

“It’s (Y/N). I need to speak to you about her.”

“Didn’t tale you as one for having crushes.”

Aziraphale fluttered his hands about.“No! Nothing like that. It’s about her religion.”

“Ooo, that could be a touchy subject. Haven’t had a serious conversation in a while.”

He gestured for Crowley to follow him, tucked away at the back of the bookshop. Crowley wasn’t nearly as skittish as his angel companion, enjoying the shenanigans that was about to pursue.

“Did she catch you speaking with upstairs then?” Crowley smirked, knowing he would get under Aziraphale’s feathers.

“(Y/N) asked me why I think God is real.”

“How did you go about that then?”

“I told her how I felt.”

“You don’t mean-”

“No, I didn’t tell her who I am, who we are! But-”

“Ah, there’s a but.”

“But,” Aziraphale clenched his hands together, almost in a prayer-like fashion,“would it be so bad just to tell her?”

“Why would you do that?”

“She’s lost her way Crowley, (Y/N) is different than she used to be.”

“I suppose she has been sadder as of late.”

“I don’t think I’ve seen her smile for two weeks.”

They both glanced at their friend, who hadn’t noticed them yet. Her shoulders slumped, eyes not as bright as they used to be, and although she still dressed nicely, it wasn’t as immaculate as her usual outfit; small signs others wouldn’t notice, but Aziraphale and Crowley did. Crowley quietly groaned, knowing that neither of them should be doing this, though at the same time he wanted to. Not only to piss off those down below, he had a soft spot for (Y/N). She had never questioned them when they rushed off suddenly, she never asked questions as to where they had been, or when they had returned tried and stressed. All she had done was be there for them. It was only right they do the same.

“Right, come on, let’s do this.” Crowley stated, already making his way towards (Y/N).

“W-wait, Crowley! We need to come up with a plan.” Aziraphale attempted to pull him back, huffing when that failed.

(Y/N) felt someone watching her, and she flinched back when she saw Crowley storming towards her. She smiled, relieved some creep hadn’t just walked in (it was surprising how many of those you got in a book shop, like the man who announced he was buying pornography to everyone), greeting her friend. He looked mischievous, he was at his best that way. It still baffled her how two different people such as themselves were friends. You know what they say, opposites attract.

“(Y/N), we would like to have a word with you, a serious one.” Crowley said, leaning against the bookshelf beside her.

“Good morning Crowley, that was a very abrupt statement. What would you like to speak about?”

“Aziraphale just informed me that leaving your faith has been bothering you.”

Aziraphale held up a finger, butting in.“Ah, I did not mean that in vain, it was just a concern of mine.”

(Y/N) sighed.“It’s alright. It’s actually sweet.”

“Well, we want to help.”

“That’s really OK guys. It would be nice to get back into believing again, I just don’t know what will convince me to do so.”

Crowley looked at Aziraphale, smiling at his worried expression. The angel could see that he was going to do this without a plan, without discussing how they were going to go about it. Before Aziraphale could even open his mouth to object, Crowley had dived into the deep end.

“Aziraphale and I want to tell you something.”

“Yes?”

“I am a demon and he is an angel.”

Aziraphale’s eyes widened, nerves building as he watched for (Y/N)’s reaction. She chuckled, unsure of the game Crowley was playing. Were they just trying to cheer her up? It was an odd way to go about it, but so were these gentlemen she called her friends.

“Um...OK. Is this supposed to be a joke, cause I’m not getting it?”

“Ignore him (Y/N),” Aziraphale pushed Crowley back, standing where he just was,“he thinks he’s funnier than he really is.”

“Excuse you-”

“Not now Crowley!”

“Why are you so worked up over this? Did you guys argue before this?” (Y/N) asked, wondering why Aziraphale was so tense.

“No, we’re being serious, it’s a serious situation, that’s why he’s so....seriously tense.” Crowley explained, though it made no sense to (Y/N).

“Right....I still don’t see the point of this.”

“Come on,” Crowley briskly picked up his friend’s coats from the rack, carelessly throwing it at them,“it’s much easier to show her than tell her.”

“You’re going to show me that you’re an angel and a demon?” (Y/N) scoffed.

“Precisely. Chop chop.”

They scrambled after Crowley, Aziraphale having to lock up with lightening speed. Crowley was already in his Bentley, (Y/N) being shoved in the back as the men were in the front. She noticed Aziraphale’s worrisome glances at Crowley, who seemed perfectly relaxed as he drove like a crazy man. With her fingers gripping into the seats, (Y/N) thought about what had been said. Neither one of them would joke about religion, especially to her. So what was this all about? Where were they taking her? She had never had any bad or threatened thoughts about them, but they seemed to be getting deeper into the forest, and for some reason it unnerved her.

Crowley slammed on the brakes, nearly giving Aziraphale and (Y/N) a heart attack. He casually got out the car, already walking away, off the road and into the forest. (Y/N) shrugged at Aziraphale, following after them. Nothing was said as they caught up with each other, both of them staring at Crowley when he stopped walking. Still in silence, they waited for someone to say something, though it seemed no one knew where to go from there.

“Well?” Crowley spread him arms out.

“Well what? You’re the one who drove us out here.” (Y/N) said.

“Stand here Aziraphale.”

The angel sighed, reluctantly doing as he said. (Y/N) crossed her arms over her chest, she couldn’t wait to see what they had up their sleeves. They had stood quite far back, arguing with each other under their breaths. She laughed, thinking that this might be a surprise they planned to cheer her up; she wouldn’t get her hopes up too soon. Just as (Y/N) was about to yell out to them, telling them to ‘hurry up’, the men stood slightly further apart, their eyes on her.

“OK, let’s see it then.” She called out, starting to get cold.

She waited to see what they were going to do, not having any as to what it could be. The breeze was picking up, rustling the leaves that were hanging onto the tree as winter arrived, it was almost as if an atmosphere was building; (Y/N) scoffed at that idea.

“Just...prepare yourself, my dear. It may be a shock.” Aziraphale shouted.

(Y/N) held out a thumbs up, nodding her head.“Don’t worry, I think I’m ready for this.”

Whatever the hell this might be.

Her eyes were glued on them, waiting to see what was about to happen. The men glanced one last time at each other, seeming focused, in their own zone for a few seconds. Emerging elegantly from their shoulder blades were a pair of wings, your stereotypical angel wings, feathers and everything. (Y/N) gasped loudly, stumbling back and tripping over her own feet. With a thud to the ground, she laid there for a moment, staring up at the sky peeking through the trees.

What. The. Fuck.

No. No this wasn’t happening. She didn’t believe in any of this. This couldn’t be true. Even if she did still believe, would she be seeing things like this? But what if this was the sign? The sign she had been waiting for, to let religion back into her life. Hold on, back to the two men she thought she knew.

Sitting up, she held up a finger before either could talk.“Guys, what...wh-what....I actually don’t know what to say.”

They slowly approached her, Crowley speaking first.“We did tell you.”

“OK, you know how crazy ‘I’m a demon, he’s an angel’ sounds right?”

“Yeah well...it’s true isn’t it?”

“Yes...I can see that.”

Aziraphale helped her stand, wings still spread.“I’m sorry that we couldn’t tell you sooner. But we aren’t really supposed to.”

“Yeah the people upstairs and downstairs probably won’t like it.”

“Upstairs and down...like, heaven and hell?”

“I know it’s a lot to take in,” Aziraphale had a calm tone to his voice,“but I thought it would help you with your faith. You seemed like you wanted to believe again, but don’t feel that this should be your reason why.”

“Plus, it was time for you to know.” Crowley added.

“That’s so kind of you. I mean, it’s a lot to get my head around.”

“Yes, the wings are a bit much.”

“No, they’re beautiful. It explains quite a bit actually.”

“I have an idea!” Crowley announced.“Let’s put the wings away, everyone can collect themselves, and we choose a fancy place for lunch.”

“That seems to be your solution for everything.” Aziraphale smiled.

“And it works every time!”

“Wait,” (Y/N) interrupted,“is that where you two disappear off to all the time.”

They shared a look before sighing, Crowley patting (Y/N)’s shoulder.“Oh, the things we have to tell you.”

#good omens #good omens imagine #good omens imagines #good omens one shot #good omens x reader #aziraphale #aziraphale imagine #aziraphale imagines #aziraphale one shot #aziraphale x reader #crowley #crowley imagine #crowley imagines #crowley one shot #crowley x reader

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antihero-writings · 4 years

Text

Blood and Mercury

Fandom: Pandora Hearts

Fic Summary: Symptoms of mercury poisoning may include: irritability, excitability, delirium, insomnia, vivid dreams, depression, and suicidal tendency.

There must have been a lot of mercury in Break's past for him to show so many symptoms.

|| A modern AU about Break's past struggle with drug abuse and suicidal thoughts, and his current struggle with the Mad Hatter's illness, and how much of that struggle he should tell Sharon about.

Character Focus: Break

Notes: 1. Warning! This fic deals with topics of suicide and drug abuse. Everything is described very subtly and poetically, and it's not explicit, but it is about that. However, although it's heavy for the first part, there's some definite comic relief at the end if you can get that far!!

2. This is a modern AU. Not the reincarnation AU, an actual modern AU, where the plot of the series happens in modern time. (I mean, I guess it could be a reincarnation AU if actual events repeat themselves...but I don't think they do). So, in case it's not clear, Break's sick from his second contract with the Mad Hatter, just like in the series. Although I do like the idea that it's actually mercury poisoning.... a) I didn't even think about that until I'd already written it, b) coughing up blood and stuff isn't a symptom of it, and c) that's a really cool idea that I'd rather focus on and do justice in another fic. (Let me know if you'd be interested in reading that!!) The time frame for this is meant to be towards the end of the series--around the time Break was teaching Oz sword fighting.

3. I've always headcanoned Break (or more Kevin) as being suicidal because of the "So...you wanna die?" line. I don't know if the line was actually supposed to mean he was directly suicidal, or if it just meant he was depressed and not doing well, and/or just didn't care about his life, but that's how I've viewed it. And even if he was suicidal, I don't know that he ever attempted it. It could just be that he was suicidal inside but never did anything with those thoughts. Regardless, I do think he wanted to die in some fashion, and to me it makes his story more impactful (especially when he ends up wanting to live at the end), and relatable if he was actually suicidal. So I really wanted to play with that idea in at least one fic (though I'd enjoy playing with it in the context of the actual series too).(You don't have to read this part if you don't want to XD I just wanted to put it up front)

This fic was inspired by the song "Colors" by Halsey!

If you enjoy this fic, I'd really really appreciate if you could leave a comment!! Even the shortest comments can truly make my week, and motivate me to keep writing!!

Chapter 1: The Candy Shop

Collapsing. Blackness. Scratches in his lungs. And the taste of blood.

He never complained but his blood tasted like ash, and regret, and the blackness that overtook his sight was far from empty; an abyss, the memory of one, engulfed his world before he even felt the ground.

The last thing he had heard was Sharon shouting his name, and at Oz to get the medicine—and do so quickly. She didn’t say why, but they all knew it was because every second they wasted was a second he no longer had to spend.

Sharon’s voice, doused with pain. All that hurt and care, and thinly veiled tears, crammed into a few words. He’d never tell her, but he could care less about the wasted seconds, if only she would promise never to cry like that again.

He had collapsed this time. That wasn’t exactly abnormal, still, little by little, line by line, every little sign, he was getting worse.

“Don’t push yourself, Xerx.”

Reim would scold him for not listening.

And maybe Break would laugh, say some quip about how he worried too much, how he needed to let loose. Or maybe he’d say nothing at all. But they both knew—words or no—at some point, this would be all that was left; a few laughs, a drink or two, and the words Xerxes, don’t throw your life away.

What a fool he was.

With Sharon it was different. Different because she was young, and she didn’t understand, not fully, not enough. Or because she understood too much, and everyone pretended she didn’t. He didn’t like to entertain the thought, but maybe that included herself; maybe when she told them to get the medicine, she was telling herself it would work.

Which was the scarier thought; that she didn’t understand? Or that she understood completely, and pretended not to?

What about before? When she was a child laced in light. Was it worse then, or better?

She was younger—so, so young…had they really known each other so long? Was he really so old?…little girls shouldn’t be forced to deal with the broken shards of someone like him.

They might get cut on the pieces.

She didn’t know. She didn’t need to pretend. Still, they tried to hide his pain from her young impressionable brain. And this was not easy, nor fun, but neither were the tears and the questions.

That all but went out the window when the little girl found him, collapsed on the bathroom floor, along with the desperate spill bottle of pills, meant to override the circuits in his brain. Salt thrown over his shoulder.

For good luck on the other side.

Shelly’s face. No anger. No disappointment. That kindness was in Sharon’s smile too, now—and did this kindness mean more if she knew the truth? If he’d known the capacity of their smiles, would he not have tried it?

Sharon had led her mother to him—her voice was desperate, shouting, crying, back then too…some things never change—laying there on the floor, on a date with death and a bottle whiskey and cyanide. As if toasting to the thought We are born drinking from bottles, why not die that way too? Instead of throwing them away he had tried to throw away his life instead.

Bottle up his life, slap a label on it, set it on the shelf. You can take it down on special occasions. Sell it, throw it away, it doesn’t matter. Throw away his life with the very thing that was meant to heal it. Not many murder weapons were once medicine. An overdose on ineffective salvation.

Hadn’t wrote a note either. Hadn’t given them a reason, hadn’t detailed his pain, or plan for revenge.

Just tried to leave without a trace, and left too many.

And when he woke up and, to his chagrin, was still alive—no heaven or hell, just here on an earth that was both—she hadn’t scolded him…well, not at first. She hadn’t demanded to know what he was thinking, or tried to ingrain within him him how much they cared, and how terrible it would all be if this plan of his had worked. She had just smiled, and spoke softly. And later, when she cleaned him up, she had said…

It was always the same. The same now. Black and white and red all over. Sharon’s cries, instead of choking down all the pain, forcing herself not to feel, like he did, she took that pain on her tongue and let it spill out into the open air.

Maybe that was all she could do. Shout his name, and pray her words would pull him from the beyond the veil, and try to discern if there was such a thing as medicine after all. Maybe she wanted to feel useful, because just sitting here, waiting for the end to come and grab him with teeth and claws, was more than she could bear. And in some way he was grateful, because he’d rather she pretend she could save him, than see the real pity, the hopelessness in her eyes when she realized she couldn’t. When she realized the Red Queen and the Black King had her Mad Hatter after all, and she couldn’t break him out of their dungeon.

One day, he was sure, it would all become too similar to a snowy night long ago—a night dressed in black; black cloak, black coffins, black sky, and black around those red eyes, which his own became indistinguishable from too quickly. Maybe Sharon would even say those words too: Break, please don’t leave me, because he’d never had the guts to tell her what his past was made of. And then…he would do just that.

He’d rather have her believe the lie he might live than say to her face I’m going to die and nothing can stop it.

He wasn’t afraid to die. We all die at some point. Some sooner than others. Why should he get more time when he wasted so much of it? Save your breaths. Save your tears. Save your lives, not mine. We all lose the fight eventually. He had spent his whole life fighting, maybe just once he could go quietly into that goodnight; meet death as a friend. He didn’t deserve more time than anyone else.

He just…wanted a few more minutes awake. A snooze button on life. Five more minutes. Ten. Twenty. A year or two? There were a few more things he needed to do. He wasn’t going to let death take him down easy.

All that talk, and not-talk, of medicine and death led him here, today, with a prescription container in his hand, and an ache in his head.

He swung open the lid to the cabinet, a mirror hanging limply out, glinting in the cold fluorescent light.

Why do they put mirrors on medicine cabinets? Like you need a second look to tell you—Yep, I’m crazy— before you pop the little capsules in your mouth, which promise This will make things better. And you tell yourself plastic and paperwork, lab coats whitewashed as their promises wouldn’t lie.

He lifted the container to put it back in its proper place in the cabinet, but paused, letting it rest on the tip his fingers, sliding into place in his palm. His arm dropped back down, eyes scanning over the label, darting to the rest of the contents of the cabinet, as if staring down an old foe.

White ones, and blue ones, red ones, yellow ones…like some candy store for the sick, the insane, and the empty. It wasn’t just pills either; powders, and needles, and glass that breathes fumes into your lungs and brain; a delusion’s kiss, that makes everything just a little bit better, just a little bit funnier. Needles that, needless to say, could take you a real wonderland if you shoved them in far enough.

He’d tried them all at some point in his life. And when they didn’t work, the stash sat dormant in his closet, his drawers, cabinets like this one, while new-fangled solutions took their place. He didn’t throw them away—you never know when one day you might need to fly—like he was keeping illegal souvenirs of a worse world.

There are worse things than bottled happiness. And ‘happiness’ can do more damage than a decent amount of sorrow sometimes.

They smelled like walls that someone puked on at one point, but they painted over rather than clean up, and you could still tell by the smell something was wrong, closer to the woodwork. But they were too easy to keep contained; to not smell, to not taste, too easy not to realize what they were really made of.

He wouldn’t be surprised if there was a few hundred, maybe thousand or more, dollars* here staring back at him in hollow color. The amount of money they cost only comparable to their unending ingredient lists—full of the names of chemicals he couldn’t pronounce, and titles that he could, but wouldn’t waste breath on. He didn’t care about the money, or what they were made of, or the warnings of how much more damage they would cause—asking you to decide between your brain and your liver. All promising happiness, and not-perfect-just-better, and a decent night’s sleep.

He tried not to care about much.

None of them worked. Not for him at least.

And, no, that wasn’t an exaggeration. Wasn’t just an excuse to get more, or him not trying hard enough. There came a point when his body just wouldn’t respond to their signals.

There came a point when too much of him was already too dead to respond to anything but mad scientists, calling upon lightning storms in old abandoned castles. Besides, the Mad Hatter’s malady wasn’t exactly something an ordinary doctor could fix, or even name.

In truth, he could handle the physical aspects of it; the blood in his lungs, the passing out, and the loss of vision—which would be more than a temporary side effect before long. But there was something else—what do they call it? The soul? The heart? Something like that. He’d forgotten long ago. Those parts, that pain, was harder to take, to tolerate, and rotted the longer he stuffed it down. Like he was barricading the door to the monster’s lair with the bodies of those monsters that had gone before, and he knew full well none of them were quite dead.

There was an old picture on the countertop. A woman with hazelnut hair and a sunflower smile, a man in turquoise with a begonia eye, tragedy woven into the petals. And a little girl who thought flowers were bandages.

He picked it up, brushing the dust off their faces, trying to smile, though it was stained as his eye back then.

People need hope. They need this thing to tell them to keep going, it’s not over yet, not to give up. It’s like the glue to the gingerbread house that is you. When you don’t have it, your life kind of…falls flat. Like soda that’s been left out; no longer bubbly, no longer worth drinking. When someone doesn’t have it, it doesn’t mean they can’t live anymore, that life is undrinkable, it just means this thing we called living, once, doesn’t have the same carbonation.

But hope is a funny thing, elusive, reclusive, and volatile. Picky about the things it can eat. Difficult to keep alive.

That’s why this candy store was so full, what its stockers promised to fix, to feed; that beast, hope. That’s what the dealers promised they could provide; something they all knew couldn’t be borrowed, or bartered, or manufactured.

Hope’s not something that can be bottled. We’re all like children, unaware fireflies, those pretty blinking lights, will die without air.

He set the picture back down, turning his gaze to the container still in his other hand.

The only reason he kept using them was for them. For Sharon, Sheryl, and Reim. For Oz and Gilbert, and the rest. As long as it didn’t hurt, or make it worse, if it gave them hope—(a hope he could never have)—for him to take the medicine, he’d do it.

Sheryl had been the one to suggest the medicinal path in the first place. It made sense; she had dealt with this sort of thing before. Shelly had been sickly all her life, and medicine helped—(Helped. Didn’t save her life. And Shelly would have argued she didn’t need it either, and had often refused them herself). But this wasn’t the same. This was deeper than skin or bone. Still, she was kind, and he respected her—or he came to…not to mention he didn’t want to cross her.

Reim had agreed; regiments and tangible, scientific solutions appealed to his personality. He liked when things were concrete, it was more promising to him than whimsy, and words.

They had yet to learn of the concrete things that were tea and sugar, which work a lot better at lifting the spirit than things you aren’t supposed to taste.

Life is about tasting. About watching, and listening, and really feeling. Life is about living. Not swallowing and trying not to taste. Not existing and trying not to live.

It was Shelley who had told him that. She had let them try out their methods, but she told him if he didn’t want them to work, that they wouldn’t. That he could try them, but they were useless without resolve to go with them. She told him that the ones the doctors give are from a factory, made of greed, and half-baked promises that rubbed too close to lies. Not belief, and real promises, and laughter—(which is, of course, the best medicine). And even the ones they don’t give you are too strong to grant you something you can call life. That maybe he oughtta just throw them away after all.

She told him a smile and a day in the sun was all he really needed. That they can’t bottle and sell hope and sunshine. That you can’t pull life out of death, and hope needs to come from something alive—from something free of charge, flickering in the air, that can’t be put in a jar, or tamed. She pointed to his chest and said that hope hails from there. The last thing in the box is always hope, you just have to really empty out the rest of the crap in the box first.

Shelly wasn’t someone you could hide these sorts of things from. She had this sixth sense; she could speak with the already-dead. One way or another, she’d find out—(even if she had to wring it out of you). But instead of sending you to the doctor, telling you that something was wrong with you, that you were crazy, she would smile. Like all you needed were a few kind words, and she’d send you back into the world, heart humming. She could be unbearably compassionate. When she talked about happiness, it was like she was speaking of an old friend of hers. She’d say that it doesn’t come in shots or smoke, it was more elusive, and can be found in a kind gesture, at amusement parks, and in sunsets, in a really good cup of tea, or a homemade cookie.

And when she’d cleaned him up, after finding him on the bathroom floor, she’d said:

“So, you want to die?”

Did he? Did he really want to die? Or was it something else? Something darker? something brighter?

He wanted to sleep. To rest. He knew that much. His sleep was always interrupted and irregular, and he had forgotten what real rest entailed.

Knives and blades rested comfortably in his hands, but he had broken the skin too often, of too many others, for it to provide any semblance of relief when used on himself. Besides, he didn’t want to die naked in a bathtub painted red. He didn’t want to lay in a coffin with stitches on his neck and flowers growing out of his wrists. He didn’t want the world to find him hanging from the ceiling like a criminal in town square. He didn’t want scars to tell his secrets, or his death to show him weak. Very little about his life had been elegant or dignified. So he wanted to die, at least, softly, with some measure of dignity. Make some music out of the cacophony. Without a scratch, or a word, or a second to spare. Something subtler would be his weapon of choice: the prick of needle, the taste of poison, the promise of happiness in a bottle—just enough happy to kill you.

Because that’s how it was, then—during that time when they had found him on the bathroom floor. That desire wasn’t flashy and boisterous. It wasn’t the rich smell of steel and iron, it was more insidious; the smallest pinprick of the soul, or something he may have swallowed at one time or another, that withered his insides slowly. It wasn’t something to parade around, or cry out to the town, and it wasn’t something he needed them to rescue him from. It was just there, nagging at the back of his heart, like a sore soul.

He didn’t cut, and he wouldn’t bruise or burn, and he wouldn’t ask for their help, or tell them a thing either.

His cries were veiled, veiled behind those times he shouted at them, or insulted them, even now still veiled behind his jokes. It wasn’t obvious. The pain was a shadow behind his words and actions, a demon behind him at all hours.

Back then, there had been days when he wouldn’t move from that windowsill, unless Shelly shoved him off.

Sometimes he felt like a shadow himself when he was around the living—like he wasn’t really there. Already dead, an imprint, a faded image of some past, some distant version of a self who may or may not have existed. He couldn’t share their happiness, or even their grief, because he wasn’t a real thing, here, now. He shouldn’t be here. Shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be here, with a new young mistress, a doll with his old mistress’s name, and a heart full of regrets. I mean, really, shouldn’t. Time had bent for him, and he feared the bends were becoming breaks.

“You wish to die…so you do not suffer anymore. You simply want to save yourself.”

Was that true? Was this not about death, or even rest, but about…salvation?

He wanted to live. And that’s why he tried so hard to die.

Sharon, Reim, Sheryl, Shelly, and…Oz.

He ran his hand through his hair, grimacing at the thought of Oz seeing all this. Sharon had assigned him the task of medicine-caddy after all. He imagined the boy saying to himself What does Break need all these for? Then backtracking in his mind Oh, right, which would either be followed by, Oh, right, he’s crazy or Oh, right, he said he wouldn’t last the year and take an extra few moments to find the right ones before running back.

Usually Reim was the one to do this. Reim knew about the whole not-working thing. He had told him to stop taking them, to tell Sharon that they didn’t work. To stop pretending they did, that he’d never know what more damage they were doing to his body by taking them. But he also didn’t force him to tell the truth. Perhaps protecting Sharon was for the best. They were like her older brothers—a little too protective at times. Neither of them wanted to see her cry.

He didn’t usually let anyone besides Reim look in this cabinet—best not let the world in on his little secret candy shop—but he hadn’t had his medicine on him at the moment he fell, and Reim had been busy running errands for the bird-brained duke at the time.

He tossed the still-full container into the trash, where it gave a satisfying swish and clang as it tumbled into bottom.

Such a simple action. Why had it taken him so long?

He should have listened to her earlier.

He rested his hands on the sink, closed his eyes again, blowing out a breath.

The yellow pills don’t contain happiness, in as much as the red ones don’t contain anger, or the blue ones sadness. The red pill and the blue pill don’t sit in the hands of the god of dreams, asking you if you want to wake up. We may be made out of dust, but some dust in a capsule can’t patch the rips in our souls.

Can’t fix the hole where his eye is meant to be. Can’t undo the brand on his chest.

Doctors can sew back the skin, but they don’t know how to stitch together a ripped mind. They try, they think they can plug the hole up. But you can’t come to them with the broken shards of your heart and say Hey doc, can I get a new one?. You can’t walk in with a messed-up mind and say Clean it for me, will ya?

There was nothing they could do about his eye, except give him one made of glass, and he had enough broken shards in his brain, and enough falsity in his smile. And they couldn’t rewind the clock burned on his chest. His time had already reached zero, so it made sense he was dying.

He could handle being broken, being Break. In fact, a little penance could do some good. He’d could handle pain.

It was the memories he wanted to tear to shreds and return to sender. But he was not granted the grace of amnesia, unlike little girls named Alice. Just bad dreams, and reminders on his broken body telling him he was less than worthless.

He didn’t want to go to the doctor, especially not a psychiatrist. And Shelly wouldn’t have made him go, until faced with Sharon’s eyes, blurred with tears, asking when he was going to get better.

He didn’t need a shrink to know he was crazy. What would he talk about anyway?

Well, let’s see here, I’ve killed a hundred and sixteen people, so that might be weighing on my conscience a bit.

Why? Because a demon told me I could change the past. To tell you the truth, I could, and I did, but you know what demons don’t tell you? You can change the past, but that change may mean the difference from bad to worse. I made it worse. And in my version of events; the changed past I sought so desperately, that one little girl who survived ended up feeding her family to another demon to save her sister, in the same way I wanted to save them.

I wasn’t there to stop her. And I know she failed. I am what success looks like.

And it’s my fault she’s dead. I killed her. I killed her. I killed that little girl—

Yeah, no diagnosis necessary.

Sometimes he wished he could be diagnosed with something normal. That they could say he had a disease, or a parasite that was slowly eating at his mind. But this wasn’t something that could be found in text books. It was closer to magic—things from the Abyss are not for doctors to diagnose. The blood he coughed up wasn’t from a disease, or pent up abuse or torture, it was something more mysterious; contracts, and scars, and mirrors. It’s not quite the same as an illness, not something they can just cure. They couldn’t explain the whole some of us-don’t-age-anymore thing, why would they be able to explain the blood, and the coughs and the dying just because it was more serious? There weren’t exactly Chain doctors. There are just doctors and either it’s in the books or it isn’t. And even if there were, it wasn’t exactly common for an illegal contractor to survive their trip the Abyss.

Besides, he didn’t ask for help, not even from those close to him, so why would he ask a doctor?

It was easier that way. It was easier to say it didn’t matter, easier to disappear, than to admit that he cared.

So the one time he did go to the whitewashed walls he told them something, some story that was only half based on a movie he’d seen, and they sent him away with a note to the one who bottled the happiness.

And that’s just the explanation for the prescribed ones.

The rest fit under the motto ‘Well, if you can’t beat the crazy, might as well join it.’ And those were the kind Shelly especially wanted him to throw away.

Crazy. Mad. Mad Hatter.

They say hatters used to go mad because their glue contained mercury, and the fumes polluted their brains. A mad hatter, with stitched up hands, ash-white skin, smoky eyes and a mercury turned brain…yeah, that sounded just about right.

If hope is life’s glue, then his contained mercury.

He looked up into the mirror, tilting his head to the side, and smiling wryly to himself at the thought;

There must have been a lot of mercury in his past for him to go this mad.

One day, they all stopped working. Like when he found out he couldn’t get drunk anymore. Two kinds of poisons, no longer effective, because he was already dying. No matter prescribed or uninscribed. Maybe that’s how it was with mercury poisoning; one day cures just stop curing, time stops ticking, hearts stop yearning.

Too crazy. Not crazy enough. And nothing works either way anymore. Maybe she was right, and he just throw them all away.

“Hey!”

Break started, turning to see Oz standing in the doorway.

“What’s up?” Oz leaned into the room, trying to catch a glimpse of the contents of the cabinet.

“That depends on if you’re sitting on the floor or the ceiling!” Emily sang.

Oz was used to his absurdity by now, and ignored it; “I was going to ask,”—he bounced on his tiptoes like a curious three-year-old—“what’s that green turd?”

Break tried not to laugh at his naiveté, and folded his arms over his chest, leaning against the cabinet, shutting it with his body.

“Sorry, Oz-kun,”—he smirked—“but there isn’t any children’s medicine in here, you’ll have to check elsewhere.”

Oz glared at him. He was known for being a pain in the ass…but Oz was known for being one too.

“Is it pot?” Oz continued his line of questioning, smiling like the cheeky brat he was…according to Break at least.

Break’s own smirk faltered, not realizing he was asking out of understanding rather than ignorance.

“I’ve always wanted to try it,” Oz mused out loud.

“Is that so?” The smirk was back on stage.

“Yeah!” He bounced on his toes again. “Seems like fun!”

“You know Gilbert-kun just might just kill you if he found out.” He said it like that would be a good show for a Saturday afternoon.

“You’re not gonna tell him, are you?” Oz pouted, his eyes narrowing.

“That depends.”

“On what?” Oz grunted.

“Maybe you and I could come to an agreement.” He inclined his head towards the cabinet.

“What’s there for me to tell? Are you upset I saw inside there?” He pointed with his thumb to the medicine cabinet. “It might be a little weird, but it’s not my place to judge…Honestly if you’re taking all that, it explains a lot.”

Break snickered. “You think too highly of yourself, Oz-kun; if I were upset, that would imply I care what you think.”

“Whatever.” Oz smiled; he had enough insanity of his own. “I know you love me.”

“Oh sure, the way a farmer loves the cute little rabbits eating his crops.”

Oz made to leave, but before he exited he spun in an attempt to get at the cabinet. In a flash, Break grabbed the broom from the corner, and tripped him with the end, sending him to the floor.

“Ow,” Oz rubbed at his head, which he had knocked against the doorframe.

Break didn’t apologize.

“You’ve been skimping on our lessons.” Break leaned on the broom.

“Why do I have to learn sword-fighting anyway? …It’s like you’re from another century”

“My, my.” He twirled it around so the end was at his pupil’s throat. “Just last week you were saying how excited you were to learn.”

“That was before I realized ‘go easy on him’ doesn’t register in your brain.”

“How else are you supposed to learn~?” Oz sat up, pushing the makeshift sword away from him.

He paused a moment before asking,

“They don’t work, do they?”

Break’s eye widened for a split second. He followed Oz’s emerald gaze to the medicine cabinet.

He gritted his teeth. “Cheeky little brat.”

Oz put on a sad but proud smile. “I knew it.”

“You really aren’t cute at all,” Break muttered under his breath.

“Does Sharon-chan know?”

Break looked away, pretending like he hadn’t heard the question.

“Why don’t you just tell her?”

Break laughed. “What kind of a gentleman would I be if I made my lady worry?”

“Come on, seriously. I mean, what good does letting her believe they work do?”

“There’s good to be found in even the strangest of situations.” Emily twittered.

“I’ll watch the twelve o’clock special later, thanks.”

“He doesn’t want to make her cry,” another voice broke in.

They looked up to see Reim in the doorway.

“Oh, Reim-san~! And we were just getting used to your absence!” Break joked.

Reim’s hand clenched into a fist.

“Spare me the pleasantries.”

Reim walked in to help Oz up, giving Break a reproachful look before saying, “I hope he isn’t causing you too much trouble.”

“Always. But I can handle myself. He’s just mad a saw inside his medicine cabinet.”

“Ah, yes, his little ‘candy shop.’ I have been telling him to just tell Sharon, and throw them out, for years.”

“Years? Break, you should really throw those out! Why don’t we help you?”

Break looked away. “Tch. You really think I need help from the likes of you?”

Oz got a mischievous look. “What if I tell her myself?”

“Then I’ll tell Gilbert-kun you want to take up smoking weed~?”

“Oz-sama!” Reim’s grabbed Oz by the shoulders. “You want to start smoking drugs?!” He shook him, before spinning him to Break as if presenting him. “Xerxes this is exactly the reason I tell you to throw them out! You’re polluting the young lord’s mind!” He shook Oz more.

“Eh.” Oz shrugged. “My mind was plenty polluted already.”

Before Reim could react to that, Break spoke,

“See?” Break put his hands behind his back and stepped up to Oz, leaning down so he was eye level. “That’s the mild version of the lecture Gilbert-kun would give you.”

Oz sighed managing to break free of Reim.

“Come on,” he spoke to Break, returning to the previous subject. “Do you really need to keep taking them if they don’t do anything? Seems like a waste of time and money if you ask me.”

“That’s what I keep telling him!”

“You should just tell Sharon-chan. She’s stronger than you think. I’m sure she’ll understand.”

“Well, boys,” Break patted them on the shoulders as he walked by, “not that this isn’t fun, but I have some serious work to catch up on.”

“You’re going to play video games again aren’t you?” Reim crossed his arms.

“Break!” Oz called.

Break sighed, eyes lidding, before turning to Oz.

“You don’t have to do this alone, you know.”

“He’s not alone!” Emily chittered, “he has me!”

Oz rolled his eyes, and Reim facepalmed.

******

Notes Cont.:

*I know this probably wouldn't be "dollars", but a) I don't remember them mentioning the name of their currency in the series, b) a more generic word like "money" didn't fit the sentence, and, c) as an American, something like "euros" (which, while probably closer to the correct term) didn't sound as natural to me.

I don't know if anyone will believe me, but I actually wrote this a VERY long time ago. I started it sometime around July 2018, before/right when I started posting my writing online. It was one of my very first PH fics, and has even informed some fics I've posted--(I got the name "Black and White and Red All Over" for my halloween fic last year from this fic. Well, I got it from the joke/expression, but this fic is what tied that phrase to Break in my mind). I would periodically work on it over the years, and I really enjoy the language, so it was fun to continually return to it.

The first part has been postable for a long time, the problem has always been the end. Lately I've been going through my old fics and making myself post them even if they're not perfect. Usually the way to do that is just to break them up earlier than I wanted to. I really wanted to add a heartfelt ending to this fic (still do!) but for some reason I had the toughest time transitioning to more of an actual scene at the end and actually writing it, so it ended up just getting stuck on my computer. The other issue is that I have zero experience with drug abuse, so I think I just felt like I was describing things wrong and got cold feet about posting it. If I got anything wrong, please kindly let me know!

Do you think I should write out the memory of Break’s suicide attempt in ch2? I kind of wanted to actually write it out but I wasn’t sure if it’d be too heavy...

Oz and Break's relationship is actually one of my favorites in the series, and I absolutely adore writing for it...but it seems I have trouble doing so. I have one more Break and Oz fic that I absolutely adore that's been stuck on my computer for about the same amount as time as this one, that I also got stuck on the middle/end. (I actually might have written it before this one, as I recognize some similarities XD) Hopefully I can break it up and post it soon too!

Thanks for reading!! Once again, if you could leave a comment, it would mean more to me than you know!!

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sourbat · 4 years

Text

A Discussion over Spoons

Characters: Toki Wartooth and Charles Offdensen

Words: 5470

Rating: T

Summary: After the events of Galatikon 2, the members of band are alive and in need of a place to offer them the care they need to heal. Charles is unconvinced that Magnus has what it takes to provide such a setting for Toki, and attempts to convince the latter with a discussion, using spoons.

Read it online on Ao3 (with added notes explaining spoon theory)

This is technically a Hammertooth! Magnus just isn’t a huge, active force in this one.

It was Salacia’s final curse that he bring down Dethklok with him, wiping each member off the face of the universe, reducing them to nothing, not even stardust. Though he failed in their literal destruction, the damage they received from saving the world assured Dethklok would never perform again, effectively “killing” the band, and dooming each member to a life of normalcy, and eventual obscurity. Before that though, there was the important question as to whom would be charged with looking after the injured heroes. There were ruptured vocal chords to consider, arms broken in several places, and crushed hands filled with splintered bones, and Mordhaus and its hospital had been burned to the ground. While most general hospitals were more than willing to accept a savior in their wing, the aftermath of their victory left most places understaffed and overwhelmed, and the injuries each man had received was nothing to scoff at. Bunching them together in one location was not possible.

Charles and the church immediately offered their support, and the band almost considered it, but then a call from the Explosions and Abigail had Nathan second-guessing, and Skwisgaar, despite being in far worse condition than the others, commented on wishing to go to regular hospital with a female staff.

They soon decided that all would go their separate ways for healing, taking refuge in whatever space they considered to be “home.” Nathan and Murderface would return to their respective families, and would visit the other whenever possible, to ensure the other’s sanity. Skwisgaar would go to whatever hospital was located within 15 miles of a sorority or a senior living community (he had no preference), and Charles would look after Pickles while simultaneously finding new ways to block the drummer’s mother from her insistent, passive-aggressive calls, demanding to know why her son didn’t think his family was “good enough” to look after him.

Toki didn’t have to think about where he would he go, because shortly after waking up from his coma he was told he’d always have a home if he needed one, and he’d never have to worry about paying rent or anything because he saved the world so it’s forever “on the house”–and then Toki groaned for more morphine–but even in his drugged-up haze he remembered Magnus going on and adding to a list of reasons why his place was always open to him. When Charles approached him, asking if he’d like to come along with him and Pickles, or maybe share a hospital room with Skwisgaar, Toki politely refused, instead slurring out Magnus’ address to his ex-manager, smiling at the fuzzy lights, the funny way Charles looked at him once he said it, and the even funnier way Charles pushed up his glasses, asking Toki if he was sure. Absolutely sure? Quite positive? Agreeable? And what about Nathan? Abigail? Murderface? Skwisgaar? Anyone else? Anyone in Norway he could rely on? Any friends? No, not Rockso, but someone else? Someone who can handle the stress?

Anyone, but Magnus?

---

Toki stared at the line of small, silver teaspoons laid out before him in the private office that had been set aside for this occasion. Across from him, Charles sat, hands cupped and covering a portion of his mouth as he glanced down at the same spoons, awaiting a specific command before making his move. Toki didn’t say it, but just knowing what Charles was going to do made him nervous, and he was hesitant to speak out of fear that their game would end sooner than later.

But he knew, no matter what, those eight spoons would vanish faster than he was prepared for.

“Well,” Charles sharply announced, eyes narrowing on Toki.

“Uhm, wells,” Toki replied, instinctually raising his right hand, only to writhe and lurch forward in his seat once the metal rods holding it together stabbed at his nerves with a complimentary reminder of their presence. Charles’s hand appeared in his peripheral, gently rubbing Toki’s side, distracting him from some of the pain that shot up and wracked his strained nerves and muscles with sharp contractions.

“Left hand,” Charles gently reminded Toki. “Don’t forget, you’re a lefty until further notice.”

“Keeps forgettin,” Toki complained.

“Feeling better?” Charles asked, expression unwavering as he observed Toki’s crushed hand. Even with the cast and added coverings, it was an unbecoming sight, and it seemed like no amount of prescription painkillers offered to any of the guitarists could completely rid of the pain they suffered. “I can get you something,” Charles said, knowing deep down the implications of such an empty promise.

Toki shook his left hand. “No, ams good.”

“You sure?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Well, then. That’s one,” Charles said, picking up a spoon and placing it aside as he settled back into his seat.

Toki blinked, mouth turning crookedly agape as he stared at the empty space where his eighth spoon once rested. “Buts I didn’t evens do anything,” he complained, raising his head up to Charles.

Charles sighed. “You’re in pain, Toki.”

Toki jerked in his seat. He winced, but wore that look that suggested a desire to kick something was there. Charles could tell a tantrum might be in order today, and kept that thought pinned high on the list of things he’d need to account for today. Medications. Moving things aside to make his home more wheelchair accessible. Toki having a fit.

“Yeah,” Toki angrily proclaimed, “buts you saids any actions I performs that affects Magnus–”

“And would your suffering not cause him to react?” Charles calmly interrupted, stopping Toki from raising his voice, possibly getting up from his seat too fast, or risking further injury. Charles waited for Toki’s shoulder to drop, and for him to sink back into the supportive cushion. “You saw me react. You claim to know Magnus better than I do, so I’ll let you decide whether you in pain would affect him in any negative manner?”

It would. Charles’ knew Magnus reacted to violence and suffering differently than others, regarding it with a unique peculiarity that Toki couldn’t relate to. It wasn’t that Toki lacked an understanding of the trauma. He did. In fact, based upon his own observations, Charles believed that Toki and Magnus, despite their unique ways of mishandling years of abuse or abandonment, shared enough similarities that realistically meant Toki suffered from the same, if not related, illnesses that Magnus did. Charles was almost willing to bet their trauma came from the same source, but never bothered looking too deep into Magnus’ past to determine if this was true. Charles took pride in understanding the boys better than themselves, and although Magnus was never one of his, he always kept a watchful eye on him ever since the kidnapping. He was that single anomaly, but also a gear in the clock that Charles was forced to acknowledge as being part of a greater plan, but never one who warranted the same respect or care as Toki. Even after completing his role, playing the song that woke Toki and summoned the remaining members from space, to the ocean, Charles could not allot Magnus the same trust he had with the other members of the prophecy.

And he did not trust Magnus with Toki.

Meanwhile, Toki fidgeted uncomfortably in his seat. His arm still smarted, and the back of his head still throbbed whenever the pains from the rest of his body added up too much. He didn’t get how so much body pain could make his brain hurt, only that it did. It was painfully, agonizingly unfair. Like this game.

How was he supposed to know any little thing would mean losing a spoon? Charles said he would only take away the spoons if it mattered a lot. Toki sniffed, sucking up the last bits of the hot, searing tingle that consumed his right side as he counted the remaining seven, and tried to think of a way to earn his eighth spoon back. Surely a little pain wasn’t enough to get Magnus upset? Toki remembered being in similar, albeit more emotional, pain in front of Magnus, and in those times, Magnus he’d out strong. True, they were during a darker, grim part of their shared lives, and Magnus was the one dishing the pain, but it was– it was …not going to work.

And as Toki came to this conclusion, he saw what would realistically happen. If Magnus was willing to argue, fight and threaten doctors for moving him too much, almost getting kicked out of the hospital and put on a “no returns'' list because he couldn’t stand the way they were treating him, and complained about long waits for test results and nurses who didn’t offer up enough codeine, morphine, water, time and empathy, then Magnus would definitely react once he was put in charge of his well being.

If anything, Charles had been kind to only remove one spoon. Toki wondered if Charles knew this, but was only keeping quiet so that the game would last longer.

“Fines,” Toki said with a hushed voice, pouting in dismay at how quickly things were turning against him. “Stupids game.”

“Not a game,” Charles reminded for the umpteenth time. “Again, this isn’t a game Toki, but a reflection of how Magnus’ mind works when off medication.” He saw Toki turn, already prepared to formulate his next argument, then promptly added, albeit callously, “and when faced with high amounts of stress.”

Toki tended to forget the minor details. Charles blamed a short attention span. Everyone in the band suffered from it, but Toki was up there with Murderface when it came to handling important information. To put it simply: if Toki didn’t care about the conversation just seconds prior to the information being let out, then he simply never absorbed it. Toki seemed to understand that Magnus required extra attention and monitoring because he was such a “special case,” but always seemed to forget just how permanent this situation was.

As cruel as it was, Charles needed Toki to understand this now, and in such a way he could easily comprehend. Before, Toki visited Magnus only a few days in a given month, and that number decreased the closer they got to the final hour. As training increased, klokateers revolted, and chaos ensued, those days together went up and down, and in every other direction, but never lasted much longer than a week. Now Toki was requesting to move in, stay with Magnus as a permanent roommate. Toki viewed it as the next big step in healing and quite possibly their relationship, but Charles saw the reality.

They were two glass cannons aimed at one another, each with fuses at various lengths already lit, waiting for that one trigger to set the other off, shattering both in the process.

“Magnus ams less stressed when we talks,” Toki responded, which threw Charles off-guard. He expected a line about medication, about long-term commitment and sobriety. He was prepared for Toki to tell him he wasn’t afraid of Magnus when he blew up, or that he could fend for himself should such an event arise.

For some reason, he didn’t account for communication.

“Very well,” Charles said, settling into a slow blink and navigating a new course through their conversation. “But consider that not all conversations will end with Magnus or you feeling any better. If anything, a conversation may result in additional loss of spoons.”

“That makes no senses?” Toki half-accused, partly questioned.

“Well, what if you insist you’re alright, but he thinks otherwise? Or, what if you tell him he’s doing a good job, but he doesn’t feel that way?” Charles asked, watching Toki squirm. Reading Toki’s mind was easy. Toki made it so easy. Once he showed a moment of weakness, or built a strong sense of trust, anyone with the right mind and wrong set of goals could get Toki to expose just about anything. It was another reason he couldn’t risk Toki leaving his care. Even if Toki claimed Magnus was currently at his best, all Charles could think of was the time Magnus was at his lowest and most desperate. He’d seen the damage Magnus laid out: the bruises, the corneal abrasion, emaciated form, atrophied muscles, and the poorly sewn and infected stab wound. It was a damn shame that Toki forgave it all away, sickening that Toki rekindled a friendship, only to then build something deeper between the two of them. It was a silent act of betrayal Charles never could have predicted, and even now, blamed himself for not being there to protect Toki. No, there wasn’t a single cell in his body that believed Pickles when he claimed Toki “started it,” Murderface when he declared “Magnus ain’t too bad these days,” or Nathan when word got out that “Toki’s definitely the lead,” and finally Skwisgaar’s sad attempt of an excuse when he said, “Toki cans just kills Magnus if he reallies wanted tos.” The boys were all under the impression this was all Toki’s doing, that Toki was in control, but Charles knew it was Magnus. Toki was simply too ignorant, out of control for his own good. Somehow, Magnus manipulated the situation, and he would continue to do so if he let Toki deeper into his life.

“Okays, but if Toki ams really, really honests with hims?” Toki suggested with a childish demeanor. “Maybes if he knows Toki ams in pain, but will be okays in a few minutes, he won’t gets so stressed outs?”

“Be prepared to lose a spoon,” Charles answered plainly, ignoring Toki’s miserable expression when he gave a stiff, hurtful nod as a response.

Charles pointed at the row of spoons. Frowning, Toki picked one up and offered it to Charles without looking in his direction. Despite the quiet act of defiance, Charles could make out the outlines of a frown, and a man who foolishly considered this all one big game that he desperately wanted to win.

“Tell me more about your day,” Charles began, watching Toki snap and return to the six remaining spoons resting on the table. He could see the stress already beginning to add up as Toki counted his dwindling spoons, slowly but surely realizing that Magnus couldn’t possibly look after him without either falling into a depressive state, breaking into a manic state of blind fury, or just completely shutting down.

Surely.

“I wakes up,” Toki begins, eyes darting up and cautiously waiting for approval. He waited, almost wondering if Charles was thinking up a way to steal another spoon, but he didn’t. Charles raised two fingers, then gave a small wave to let Toki know he was safe. A bit relieved, Toki continued. “I leaves the bed and puts on clothes.”

“You still need help dressing, correct?” Charles asked him.

“Yeps,” Toki replied, only to then realize the error in his honest reply.

“That’s another spoon.”

“Reallies?” Toki asked, voice hiking up and turning into a high-pitched whine once Charles took the third spoon from the line. Toki threw his good hand on the edge of the table. “Ams just clothes?” he loudly exclaimed.

“Continue with your day, Toki.”

“I eats breakfasts on my owns,” Toki replied with a nasty drop in his voice. “And I don’t needs helps getting’ ups or sittin’ downs, either.”

“What about the bathroom?”

“Charles, that ims privates.” Toki remained firm in his position, allowing the silence between them to stretch for some time before it became too awkward and overwhelming for him. “Fine, Toki needs helps with showers and toilets.”

Charles pointed at a spoon. Toki groaned, throwing his head back before taking a spoon with his left hand and carelessly tossing it at Charles. Charles made a remark about it, but Toki continued staring up in anger. Something in his stomach turned as he tried to figure a day and the number of trips to the bathroom he’d have to take. It was so stupid and so stressful, and it barely made any sense because Toki could do most of it on his own; he just needed helped taking off his clothes, or undoing the button on his pants. But this stupid hand of his! It just wasn’t fair that meant a whole spoon…

“Alright,” Charles said, rubbing his chin after encountering the tossed spoon. “We’ve concluded our morning rituals. With four spoons left, too.”

“Goings to keep playing until Toki loses all spoons?” Toki asked sarcastically.

“Not if you understand why I’m making you go through this,” Charles replied fluidly.

Toki dropped his head, frowning at Charles. As if it wasn’t so obvious why this was happening to him. “Because you don’ts like Magnus,” Toki answered, watching the bottom of Charles’ eye twitch.

“Because he cannot take care of you for the long term,” Charles said, stressing the word.

Toki leered back. It wasn’t like he totally disagreed with Charles’ reply, but he knew better than to assume that was the only case. He wasn’t going to pretend everyone up and forgave Magnus. Not even after the hellfire. The escape. The song. Like everything else in Toki’s life, some things just didn’t work out that way. But he at least had everyone’s support to give this whole thing a short. Everyone except Charles. Toki’s glare weakened as he continued to stare at Charles, wishing that the man would just believe in him.

“Toki, you just survived an impossible event,” Charles said, unblinking. “You and Skwisgaar will never be the same again, physically or mentally. You need months of rest, therapy, and other things that we won’t be able to account for until they start showing up.”

Blah, blah, blah. Toki glanced at the spoons. He only had four left, and there was still so much to be had. The game seemed rigged against him, but Toki figured there had to be a way to win. Some rule that Charles left out, either by accident or on purpose. Or maybe it was a riddle, and he was too hung up on the only rule presented?

“Charles?”

“Yes, Toki?” Charles replied.

Toki bit his inner cheek, a bit nervous to ask. He had no clue if Charles would answer honestly, or continue stealing spoons every time he did or said the wrong thing. “Magnus can gets spoons, rights?” he asked hesitantly.

“Well, in theory he can recover them,” Charles admitted, withholding another twitch of the eye once Toki’s eyes lit up with some hope, “mainly through rest, though hypothetically he can regain a spoon throughout the day if he has the right support system.”

Charles regretted the honesty, because as soon as he finished, Toki started to ponder. He didn’t have to guess the next question that he’d ask, and already papered his next line of attack.

“If I tells him I loves him even if he’s stressed, will he gets a spoon back?” Toki asked, anxiety now coupling oddly with gooey-eyed romantics. It was a strange, unsightly combination that made Charles nervous. “And sometimes I leaves him alones when he ams upsets about somethings. Does that counts as rests? Or whens Toki calls him funny names until he gets so happy his face gets all darks and lips all thins and scrambly?”

Charles watched Toki’s face continue to light up with ideas, then turn a bright shade of pink as he contemplated other options, ones Charles absolutely had no desire to humor.

“What if we…” Toki’s expression turned as conservative as it possibly could, “what if we rests togethers? Then we both gains spoons, rights?”

“Pardon?”

“Y’know,” Toki covered the bottom half of his face, looking somewhat embarrassed by the question. “When we…does se–”

“I’m referring to you gaining spoons,” Charles interrupted.

“Oh, yeahs,” Toki replied, dropping his hands and recovering too quickly for Charles’ liking. He practically jumped on the question. “Wells, you said Magnus cans gains spoons if he rests, so I thoughts that means I cans also gets the spoons, rights?”

“Toki, why do you need spoons?”

“To helps Magnus when he ams out of spoons,” Toki answered, pointing at the four remaining spoons on the table.

Charles dragged his thumb and finger up the bridge of his nose. “You can’t give him your spoons, Toki.”

“Yeah, buts you said rests and supports will helps him gets new spoons,” Toki aptly replied, voice returning to its more natural state, but lacking the tinge of anger or annoyance. No, now Toki sounded calmer, almost informed. “If Magnus ams going to run out spoons before lunches, then that means Toki needs spoons to take care of Magnus when he ams out of spoons, right?”

Charles’ lips parted as his jaw threatened to drop at the question.

“Toki takes care of Magnus when his spoons are low,” Toki said, face continuing to ease and confidence building as he declared his newly hatched plan. “just like befores, when Magnus only hads two or three spoons before he yells at Toki to leave. Backs in the hospitals, after he stabs himself.”

Charles frowned. This was not happening. Did Toki really think this was some game where he could simply reset the number of attempts he had before Magnus snapped? Hurt him, or himself, or others around him? Did Toki forget he was no longer a god, but a mortal capable of dying if left under the wrong care?

Did Toki take nothing from the lesson? Did he not grasp the gravity of this situation? This wasn’t a visit. This wasn’t a weekend sleepover. A romp that ended with Toki taking a jet back to Mordhaus. This was several months of wearing a cast, having rods hold torn ligaments and broken bones together in an attempt not to lose a hand. This was potentially being told, several months down the line, that his hand and arm would never function the same again. Eventually, Toki would have to accept the cruel reality that he’d never play guitar again. What then? This was not accounting all the mental and emotional trauma. There were night terrors, Toki ceasing all conversation and withdrawing from everyone, and him breaking out into uncontrollable sobs at random. There was Toki feeling perpetual guilt over Nathan losing his voice, and him vocally wishing he’d been a better companion to Murderface and beating himself over it. It was Toki trying and failing miserably to cheer up Pickles and Skwisgaar, who had used music as a powerful means of escape, and hating that no joke or picture or board game could really make up for the loss of ability to play and perform.

“So if Magnus needs rests, Toki will gives him rests and use my spoons,” Toki concluded, ignoring Charles’ darkening expression. He could see Charles didn’t like what he said, even with his lips forming a straight line. It was impressive Charles could do that, though it meant it was hard for Toki to tell what he was thinking. Toki guessed he thought he was crazy. Maybe Toki was, and he just wanted to be crazy with Magnus. But after learning he spent so much time in the afterlife, or somewhere in between, and in a coma and now trapped in a hospital, Toki was sure he’d rather be crazy and counting spoons with someone who honest-to-god wanted to hang out with him. Only Magnus made that offer. Charles did too, but Magnus made it when he was sick and barely conscious, and kept making even after being told Toki would need extra care. Magnus still wanted him to stay, as beat down and exhausted as he was, possessing nothing but the few things he snuck out with him during the fire, and whatever empty awards that were handed to him after he woke up. He was broke, could barely walk from his bedroom to Nathan’s without feeling winded or needing support, and he’d never be able to make music or support himself through music, or even play the guitar…but Magnus’s invitation was still there.

Toki smiled, raising his arm midway before wincing terribly against the pain. He lowered his right arm, feeling tears starting to form, though it was hard to tell whether it was more a result of him forgetting his right arm was filled with rods, or because he knew that, between them, there was enough silverware to make it through the day. Tears fell as he recounted the spoons on the table, four plus the dozen or so Toki was sure he had, despite the agonizing pain that trumped his senses, and he knew there had to be several more he wasn’t seeing, because if Magnus could still bring himself to show up to his hospital bed and, with a smile, remind him the offer was still there, than that had to count for at least an additional spoon or two?

“Use… your spoons?” Charles murmured, bottom lids raising as Toki provided an eager nod, pushing out a pleased smile through his reddened eyes. “You will use your spoons on him…and yourself. While in a cast. Reliant on round the care supervision? “

Beaming through tears, Toki answered: “Yeps. I waits for his numbers to be high agains and asks for his helps while my spoons fixes back.” He blinked, bringing his good hand up and wiping the few tears that fell down his still gaunt cheeks. “So…does that means we wins and can stays togethers?”

Charles lowered his face into clasped fingers. His eyes closed as he wrangled control of his deepening frustration. “…is that all you took form this conversation?” he asked, unsurprised when he caught Toki shaking his head, still appearing as controlled as he could, given his obvious discomfort.

“Nopes.”

Charles raised an unconvinced brow. “Well, then, what else did you learn from this, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“That this ams not a game,” Toki answered, bringing his hand to rub his upper, right arm. Charles reached out to help, but Toki pushed his seat back with his legs, scooting away. Charles almost took it as the official lead-in to an argument or tantrum, but Toki stood up and, bringing his good hand down, picked up the four remaining spoons. “If it ams game, then Toki loses by lunchtimes. But Toki never does. Because Magnus ams not a game; he ams a person who tries.”

“You’re correct,” Charles said, with caution. “But you need to–”

“I knows it won’ts work all the times,” Toki added, fighting to have his voice heard. “And I knows there will be days when we ams both reallies low.”

“So you’re aware then–”

“But we wills figures somethings out,” Toki pushed through, successfully stopping Charles a second time. “We ams always good at thats. Maybes Magnus cans…” Toki stopped, breaking into a short fit of mad blinks. Charles waited, watched in growing discomfort as Toki’s eyes started to rain silent tears. He bit his inner lip, blinking repeatedly, struggling to say something that had been building up in him. “If Magnus cans learns to take cares of himself, even whens he hates himself, then so cans Toki,” Toki finished, and Charles’ eyes began to widen once he registered the absolution in Toki’s voice, the brutal honesty and recognition of his own, sorry state that Charles wasn’t aware the young man truly comprehended. “And, maybe if Toki is luckies, Magnus can teaches To…c-can teaches me to b-be okays, with alls of this…”

Still holding the spoons, Toki gestured at himself, using the small teaspoons to point at his ruined arm, his wasted and ruined form. Stuttering, Toki shut his eyes, upset at what was left of him, what he was stuck with for the rest of his life. Charles’ shut his own eyes, unmoving as he listened to sniffs and the sounds of spoons hitting the floor. So, Toki knew. Charles wondered just how much. He was afraid to ask. He wasn’t used to being wrong. The fact that it was Toki who pulled it off only made it harder to accept.

But, when it came to it, there was little he could do to convince the man to stay behind with him. Charles could tell Toki things would be alright, but that wasn’t the case. Charles had enough training in therapy, physical education and possessed enough background in kinesiology, but a gut sensation told him he lacked the ability to help pull Toki from the brink of despair. Mayhap in a few months, once he dealt with Pickles, planning and preparation for the onslaught of trouble to arise, but right now? Viewing Toki now, not as an overly gullible and childish man, but someone who fully accepted that this was it….that this was his reward for saving the planet, changed something. Suddenly, Charles wondered if he did have what it takes to help Pickles, and guide the other boys back on the path of the living.

“Okay, Toki,” Charles said, shaking his sinking head into spreading palms. Shame swept and blanketed his core as he heard Toki make another loud sniff, and he wondered just far Toki had fallen since waking up, and how deep Magnus would be willing to go to find him, offer a light, and pull him out from such a dark abyss. “You win.”

---

Toki wasn’t the first to leave (that would be Nathan and his family), but he departed at the opportune moment. Magnus arrived early, right after breakfast, and had Toki wheeled out shortly after he loudly declared his arrival to the hospital staff. The staff was effective at packing up Toki’s things, and a nurse already had a stack of files for Magnus to sign off.

The scene earned a chuckle from Skwisgaar, who, despite his pains, thought it appropriate that Magnus’ off-putting behaviors would result in an easy ticket out the door. Murderface wished Toki well, and promised to see him soon. Pickles hardly reacted, only providing a weak smile before withdrawing back into his wheelchair. The silent parting only made Charles less confident in his position, and offered some silent respect towards Toki for helping him take a step back and gain a better view of the challenges to come.

He hurried on ahead, while Magnus ordered for a nurse to carry Toki’s things. Magnus would obviously be the one to wheel Toki out.

From a distance, Charles waited outside of the hospital, and he witnessed the scene. Magnus pushed Toki towards his car, and the only talking Charles picked up on was the accompanying nurse’s, giving out a series of “does and don’ts” before dropping off their luggage by their small, barely adequate ride. Charles had to admit, Magnus did well to listen and never interrupt. He guessed Toki must have said something, but didn't see his lips move once during the one-sided discussion. In fact, aside from a few shared words between bandmates, Charles wasn't sure he heard Toki speak at all to himself or anyone else.

He remained outside the hospital, well after Magnus noticed his presence, but continued to observe, noting how much livelier Magnus was in comparison to Toki, how he held that false smile so well and was so animated with his movements. It was like staring at another man. Maybe that was the point.

He saw Magnus open the passenger door, say something to Toki with a slightly concerned look, and Toki nodded his head slowly, looking so exhausted but trusting. Charles nearly left his post when Magnus bent down, arms carefully wrapping around Toki before scooping him up and earning only a slight complaint that could barely be detected where Charles stood. Upset, he watched Toki’s good arm wrap around Magnus as he brought the two of them up, legs not shaking but head leaning to bump and rest against Toki’s, soothing whatever pain that wasn’t voiced.

What is that? One, two, three?

For a second, Charles wondered. He thought about everything he knew, and humored the idea of him possibly being wrong about Magnus, whether it be one thing, or everything adding up to this moment. After all, the prophecy was vague, and the messages translated to him had been proven wrong once before.

Maybe this was for the best. Maybe this would work out.

Silent and ever observant, Charles watched with a swelling, pained heart, Toki being lifted and carefully placed into the car by the man who stood behind his very shadow, his kidnapper and composure of the dethsong, his savior and friend. Charles let out a long exhale as the engine started up, and left his position to go back inside and look after the remaining members as Toki was whisked away, leaving behind all of his and Magnus’ titles, and moving on with whatever the fates had in store for them next.

#fanfic #toki wartooth #charles foster offdensen #magnus hammersmith #dethklok #mlt #metalocalypse #fanfiction #unbeta'd #tw: depression

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amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines · 5 years

Text

Steve//Boys Like You (part 2)

Request: Please do a part 2 to “Boys like you” ??!!!! The reader can end up with Billy ??

part 1 part 3

“Hey! Helloooo.” A finger snaps in front of your face and you jolt from your thoughts. Two weeks ago Steve and Nancy got back together and they’ve been the longest two weeks of your life. And you once went to summer camp with Carol.

“Huh? What?” You ask and look around. Stood beside you in none other that Billy Hargrove. The new kid in town and the king of Hawkins High. Taking over Steve pretty much as soon as he arrived.

“You’re stood in front of my locker.” He says and you look between him and the lockers you’re leaning on. Steve, Nancy, Carol and Tommy are talking about a double date they’re going on tomorrow and so you’ve been stuck on the outside. But then again, they were already talking before you arrived and you’re not entirely sure they’ve noticed you yet.

“Oh, sorry.” You mumble a quick apology and move out of his way. He nods before opening his locker.

“No problem.” He replies and starts to sort through the contents of his locker which is surprisingly quite clean. “Why’d you seem so shocked for me to be talking to you?” He asks and you look at him confused. Why is Billy Hargrove talking to you? You’d think you’d be the last person he’d talk to seeing as though your friends with Steve.

“Oh you know. Not a lot of people notice me, let alone involve me in conversation.” You shrug and start picking at your nails.

“Aren’t you best friends with Harrington? I thought that would be grounds for everyone to notice you.”

“Apparently not.”

“Hmmm.” He hums and you look at him expectantly.

“What?” You urge him to talk. He opens his mouth to speak but is cut off by Steve shouting your name, making his jaw clench. You smile slightly to yourself before looking at Steve.

“Yeah?” You ask, finally happy to be included in a conversation so you don’t have to talk to Billy anymore.

“Can I copy your English homework?” He asks and your face drops. You can tell Billy is watching the entire interaction, his gaze burning a hole into the side of your head and you can almost feel his smirk as he sees you be ignored by the former king.

“...yeah. Sure.” You force a smile and hand him the homework.

“Thanks! You’re the best. I’ll get it back to you later.” He says happily and shoves it in his pocket.

“You can give it back to me after school.” You tell him and he looks at you confused.“You know? When I come over?”

“Ohhhh, yeah about that. Me and Nancy are hanging out tonight. I totally meant to to tell. Sorry, but we’ll hang out soon I promise.” He apologizes and you sigh.

“Okay.” You nod and go back to leaning on the locker.

“Anyway so David-” He goes back to talking to Tommy and you almost forget that Billy is still stood beside you. Almost being the operative word.

“Ohhhhhh. I get it.”

“Get what?” You ask, your tone harsh as you turn to look at him.

“You’re in love with Harrington.” He teases and you roll your eyes.

“What! Are you out of your mind?” You argue but his smirk grows.

“No, but I think you are. Harrington? Really? He likes girls like Nancy Wheeler.” He replies and looks the pair of them up and down. “Like, really?”

“I’m kind of like Nancy Wheeler.” You shrug and look down at the floor.

“Exactly. So maybe you should think about what’s wrong with you. He likes the original model, not the knock-off brand.” He replies and your eyes widen.

“What the hell?” You spit, pushing yourself off the lockers so you can look at him properly. Your gaze is harsh as you stare at him, you’re basically shooting daggers at him, but he seems unfazed.

“Look, I didn’t mean it like that. All I’m saying is that you can do a hell of a lot better that Steve Harrington. Maybe you wanna take a look at yourself as to why you continue to be his second best. But in my opinion your much prettier than Nancy ‘priss’ Wheeler.” He explains making you scoff.

“I bet you say that to all the girls.” You roll your eyes.

“No, I tell them they’re prettier than whoever they’re second best to.” He replies sarcastically.

“Of course. It was lovely talking to you Billy, but I’ve got places to be and backgrounds to blend into.” You reply and start to walk away. You’re bored of being ignored by the people you don’t want to be, and taken notice of by the guy you’d rather not be.

“For what its worth, I don’t think you blend into the background.” He shouts after you and you walk quicker.

“Goodbye Billy!” You wave him off, not bothering to turn around.

“Just think about what I said.” He says and you roll your eyes. Yeah, like thats gonna happen.

-----

Turns out that did happen. All day you’d been thinking about what Billy said, and every time it seemed to sting more. Why didn’t Steve want you? You’ve known him for longer, you know basically everything about him. You have been through a hell of a lot together. And you’re kind of like Nancy. Just a cooler version. Ew, who calls themself cool? Not cool people apparently. No wonder Steve likes Nancy and not you. She’s the perfect girl next door, and you’re the actual girl next door.

“Pssst. Did you think anything more of what I said?” Billy’s voice makes you jump and you lift your head from the homework you’re doing to glare at him. Sitting in the library alone after school is supposed to mean you’re left alone. Not being bothered by some asshole who can’t keep it in his pants.

“No Billy. I have better things to do than think about whatever bullshit your spouting today.” You reply sweetly and his eyes widen at your tone.

“Ouch. Somebody really is butthurt about Harrington not loving them.”

“Shut up Hargrove.” You spit and he rolls his eyes.

“Oooo, resorting to last names now? You’ve got more fire than I thought Y/l/n.” He says with a playful tone in his voice and you fake gag.

“Jesus Christ, do you ever quit.”

“Hmmm. Nope.”

“Why are you doing this Billy? I already have enough boy drama I don’t need you sticking yourself into it.” You ask, eventually giving up on the homework in front of you.

“Believe it or not, I’m actually trying to be nice to you.” He says and you raise an eyebrow.

“Why? We’ve never had a conversation before this morning and now I feel like everywhere I turn you’re there with your stupid smirk and big hair.”

“Ooooo. Are you flirting?” He winks.

“Ew. No.” You argue. “Why are you being nice to me?”

“Because believe it or not. I was in a position similar to yours once.” He replies and a smirk spreads over your lips. He narrows his eyes at the look on your face while you lean into him.

“Awww, you like Harrington.”

“Was. Jesus Christ, maybe your less like Nancy and more like Steve.” He shakes his head while you laugh. “Back in Cali I had a friend who I thought I was in love with. We were best friends and neighbours and she helped me through some very difficult times. But when it came to actually noticing me, she always looked straight through me. Right to the cuter, funnier guys around me and I put up with it. I did her homework, I supported her when she needed me. Hell, I even cleaned up her messy breakups. Always there for her, but never really seen.” He starts to explain and you can see him become more and more uncomfortable.

“What happened?” You ask and rest a hand over his. He looks at your hand and then at you, and you send him a soft smile.

“She started dating my other best friend and I was pushed even more into the background. Although we did kiss, just once. After a party where her and her boyfriend had an argument and she came to my house. I told her everything would be okay and she kissed me on my sofa. Then the next day...she was back with him. And I had to deal with being in the background again.”

“Billy...I had no idea. I’m so sorry that happened to yo-Wait, did that actually happen?” You narrow your eyes.

“No! I can’t believe you fell for that.” He laughs loudly and tears start to prick at your eyes. “You really have to be careful about who you tell your secrets to...and who’s around to hear them.”

“You’re an ass!” You shout and grab your stuff.

“I was only teasing! Come on Y/n.” He grabs your arm, pulling you back to him. But you’ve had enough. Steve treats you like trash, like your only his back up plan. And Billy just thinks your some stupid little girl who’s problems are to be made fun of. Tommy and Carol only acknowledge you when they want someone to bully, and Nancy always looks at you like she’s wary of you. Like your some sort of femme fatale who’s gonna seduce her boyfriend right from under her nose. You should be so lucky.

“You know what Billy?” You start angrily, getting in his face. “You may walk around like your king of the school, but all you are in a lonely, pathetic little boy who thinks if he’s mean to enough people and sleeps with enough women he’ll manage to fill the void in his heart that he’s had since a child. But thats not how it works. Grow up Billy. Otherwise you’re gonna be left behind.” You shout before storming out. You’re almost out of the school when a hand on your upper arm pulls you back.

“Y/n? Y/n are you okay?” Steve’s worried voice makes you feel sick. Great, thats all I need.

“Go away Steve.” You sob.

“What?” He asks confused.

“I said leave me alone Steve! Go find Nancy or something.” You shout and push him away from you making him stumble a bit. You run out the school quickly, the doors swinging behind you and you can still hear Steve inside.

“Y/n?” He says confused.

“Y/n! Wait up.” Billy shouts from down the corridor as he runs after you.

“Hargrove? What did you do to her.” Steve asks, pushing Billy’s chest.

“Nothing worse than what you did.” He spits and Steve’s eyebrows knit together in confusion.

“What?!” He asks and Billy takes the opportunity to push past him and follow you.

“Y/n! Y/n, I’m sorry okay. I didn’t mean it. I just-I dunno. Sometimes I don’t think before I speak.” He shouts after you and you stop abruptly, making him walk into you.

“Sometimes?” You ask sarcastically as he steadies the two of you.

“Yeah. Why don’t I make it up to you?” He suggests, his expression softening. And you can almost see a smile appear, instead of that stupid smirk.

“How are you gonna do that.” You cross your arms looking away from him.

“Let me take you out?”

“Excuse me?” You ask, quickly looking at him.

“As an apology. We can go to that diner that everyone seems to go on about. And I’ll buy you whatever you want.”

“Is this a date? Because I’m not going on a date with you.” You narrow your eyes.

“No! Its an apology.” He replies. “It’ll could be date...depending on how it goes.” He winks making you roll your eyes. “Oh come onnnn. I know you don’t have anything better to do.”

“Fine. But any funny business and I will not hesitate to kick you where it hurts. Got it?” You warn.

“Got it.” He nods.

“Good. Now lets get out of here.”

“Don’t you need to tell Harrington.” He asks and you look at him like he’s got two heads.

“He doesn’t control me. And like he’d notice.” You say the last part sadly and Billy sighs.

“Thats my girl.”

“Your girl? Have you got short term memory loss?” You ask, your mood picking up again at the opportunity to tease him.

“Sorry. Thats...a girl?”

“Wow, Billy. You’re so good with words.” You tease and he laughs.

“Get in the damn car.” He shakes his head and you giggle softly. You’re about to get in the car when Steve shouting your name stops you.

“Y/n, I’m so glad I caught up with you. Nancy cancelled our plans so we can hang out again.” He jogs towards you.

“Sorry Steve. I have plans with Billy tonight. I’ll see you around.” You shrug and send him a small smile before getting in the car. He looks at Billy suspiciously, who’s just smirking at him.

“What’s your game Hargrove.” He asks.

“Nothing. Just treating a pretty girl to a nice night. Something you should have done a long time ago. But after tonight she’s gonna be so over you...and with a bit of luck, under me.” He replies with a wink before also getting into the car. Steve goes for him but it’s too late. He’s already driving off and now Steve starts to worry.

What if he ends up in the background of your life?

#steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #stranger things steve #steve stranger things #stranger things #stranger things imagine #billy hargrove #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x you #stranger things billy #billy stranger things #boys like you

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blurry-fics · 4 years

Text

Chasing Cars

Pairing: Josh Dun x Reader

Warnings: Profanity

Word Count: 1616

Request: Hey! May I request a Josh x Male reader where the reader is like in love with Josh since they're children but he's hesitant bc he's not sure that Josh will like him back and as TØP is getting more popular and this stop him too (It's quite messy I know I'm sorry 😅 But do whatever you want lol I just had this idea so I'm not sure if u want to do it fully but do whatever please you! 💕)

Author’s Note: Although this fic is named after Chasing Cars, it’s not really based on the song (although there’s a small reference at the end). I just listened to it while I was writing and thought it fit nicely. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this one! :) (picture credit)

Waves crashed in the distance as you sat on the beach, listening to your friends tell stories of what they had been up to lately. The fire in front of you illuminated their faces and kept everyone from getting too cold. It had been warm earlier in the day, but the breeze coming in off the shore made things feel that much colder. You pulled your sweatshirt sleeves a little further down your hands.

“Hey,” Darcy smiled, taking a seat next to you. She was holding two cups in her hands. “I brought you some soda.”

“Thanks,” you said, grabbing the cup from her hand. The condensation on the outside of it didn’t do much to help your cold hands.

“How are you doing? I feel like you’ve been off by yourself all night.”

You shrugged. Darcy was the one who organized these get-togethers for all of your friends, so you didn’t really want to disappoint her by saying you weren’t feeling very good. Your mind was just focused on other things tonight.

“I had a long week,” you said, sipping at a tiny amount of your drink. “I’m just tired.”

“Oh, come on.” Darcy nudged your shoulder. “You really think that I’m going to believe that? I’ve known you since we were six.”

“It’s stupid.”

She sighed and stood up, holding a hand out to you. “Come with me.”

You reluctantly grabbed her hand and allowed her to pull you up to a standing position. A couple of people looked your way as she dragged you off to a quieter area, out of earshot of anyone else.

“Is this about what I think it is?” she asked, still keeping her voice quiet.

“Darcy, stop. We really don’t need to talk about-”

“Have you even talked to him?” She raised an eyebrow at you.

Your eyes roamed the dark beach until you saw Josh. He was running barefoot through the sand, throwing a frisbee around with some of your other friends. A small smile appeared on your lips.

“No,” you answered, turning back to her. “Look at him, he’s having fun with his friends. I don’t want to drag him away from that.”

“I really think you’re just making excuses not to tell him.”

“For good reason.” Darcy crossed her arms. “For starters, his band is starting to get really popular. Even if I did tell him how I felt, it’ll only be so long until he’s introduced to a whole world of people who are so much prettier, funnier, smarter, and more talented than me. Then there’s the problem with not knowing if he even likes guys which, you know, kind of poses an issue for me. And, on top of that, there’s the fact that I’ve liked him since we were like seven. Don’t you think something would have happened by now if he felt the same?”

Your chest was heaving by the time you finished your rant. Darcy was still staring you down, her arms crossed tightly across her chest. You two didn’t often fight about this subject, but after hearing the same things repeated in your head all night, you were frustrated with having to go over the list another time.

“The only reason nothing has happened is because both of you are too fucking scared to make the first move!” Her eyes went wide as she realized exactly what she had just confessed to you. “Shit, I told Josh that I wasn't going to get in the middle of this.”

“You knew he liked me?”

“Yes! Why do you think I always pushed so hard for you to tell him how you feel?”

“I thought you were just being supportive…”

“For good reason,” she smiled. “Now will you please go talk to him?”

You looked over your shoulder at Josh again. He was still playing frisbee. “I guess I have no reason not to.”

“Exactly. You’ve got this, Y/N.”

You took one more sip of your drink, passed your cup off to Darcy, and then made your way down the beach towards Josh. Your hands started to shake a little more with each step that you took in his direction.

“Josh!” you called as you got closer, not wanting to get in the line of fire of the frisbee. “Can you come over here for a second?”

“Yeah!”

He waved to his frisbee friends, letting them know he was out of the game for now, and then came jogging over to you. You wondered how he wasn’t freezing in just basketball shorts and a hoodie.

“Hey,” he smiled, putting his hands on his hips as he caught his breath. “What’s up?”

“I was wondering if we could talk? You know, catch up and stuff.”

“Yeah, totally,” he grinned. “Let’s go.”

The two of you started to walk along the beach, slowly getting closer to the water. Josh didn’t say anything, so you figured it was on you to get the conversation going. You wanted to dive right in to talking about your feelings but decided that wasn’t the best idea since you hadn’t seen him in a few months.

“How have you been?” you asked.

“I’ve been good,” he nodded. “Just working on the band and stuff. Touring. It takes up a surprising amount of my time. What about you?”

“Nothing quite that exciting. I’ve just been working and saving up so that I can do more traveling.”

You turned and finally got a good look at him. He had dyed his hair pink since the last time that you had seen him, although the color was starting to fade. Everything else about him still seemed the same, which was comforting. Part of you always worried that one day Josh would come back from tour completely different.

That is, if he ever came back at all.

“You should get a job on our crew or something. That way you could work and travel,” he smiled, turning to you. You quickly averted your eyes.

“I would love that, but I have my family and Darcy and everything. I don’t know if I would be able to be apart from them for that long.”

“Yeah, no, you’re right,” he nodded.

Shit. Wrong thing to say.

“But maybe I could come along for a month or something,” you added. Josh quickly started smiling again.

“I would like that. I miss you a lot when we’re on tour.”

I miss you a lot. Your stomach filled with butterflies.

“I miss you too.”

Josh didn’t say anything immediately after that, but you could have sworn that he was walking a little closer to you.

This was it. This was your chance.

“Hey, can I talk to you about something serious?”

Josh stopped walking and turned so that he was totally facing you. There couldn’t have been more than a foot of space between you.

“Yeah, what’s going on?”

You really hadn’t expected to get this far.

“There’s something that’s been on my mind for a long time and I feel like it’s past time that I tell you.”

“Ok.” His eyebrows raised slightly.

“So, um,” you started to fiddle with the strings of your sweatshirt, “I guess you could say that I have feelings for you. It’s been that way ever since we were kids, but I put it off for a long time for… well, a lot of reasons really. I spent a lot of nights worrying about what might happen if you found out I liked you. I didn’t know if you would think I was weird or shut me out and never speak to me again, so I kept it to myself for a long time. The reality is… I can’t hide it anymore, Josh. I’m in love with you.”

“You are?”

You nodded.

“I am too. In love with you, I mean.”

You stood still, taking in everything that you could about the moment: the distant crash of waves, the look on Josh’s face, the way that your heart was pounding in your rib cage. It was perfect.

“Can I kiss you?” you finally asked.

“Yeah,” he smiled.

You grabbed Josh’s face and pulled him towards you, crashing your lips into his. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you in until your chest was flush against his. Your lips fit perfectly together.

“You kind of taste like Dr. Pepper,” he whispered. You were close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from his face.

“Is that good or bad?” you laughed.

“Good. I like Dr. Pepper… and you.”

“I like you too.”

You kissed him again, reluctant to let him out of your arms. It seemed Josh felt the same, considering he hadn’t made any attempt to pull away from you.

“We should probably get back to everyone,” you whispered, slowly untangling yourself from Josh.

“Not yet,” he said, catching your arm. “I don’t think they’ll miss us for a little longer. Besides, you can see the stars really well without the light from the fire.”

“I can’t argue with that.”

You and Josh laid down in the sand. He made himself comfortable on your chest and you happily wrapped an arm around him, eager to steal more of his body heat. It didn’t take long for Josh to start naming off constellations and trying, but failing, to get you to see the patterns in them. You were just happy to spend the time with him.

“A shooting star!” Josh said, squeezing your hand a little tighter. “Make a wish.”

“Ok, I’ve got one,” you smiled, pressing a kiss to Josh’s forehead. He puckered his lips, prompting you to kiss him again.

You wished that you could lay here forever.

#josh dun #josh dun x reader #josh dun fluff #twenty one pilots #twenty one pilots fluff #josh dun imagine #josh dun drabble #josh dun fanfiction #twenty one pilots x reader #twenty one pilots imagine #twenty one pilots drabble #twenty one pilots fanfiction #fluff #tw; profanity #skeleton clique #blurry-fics

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parkeraul · 5 years

Photo

want it back | s.m

a/n: today’s q&a gave me the whole vibe for this dad!shawn blurb. enjoy i guess. warnings: dad!shawn and (i tried to) fluff.

“Dada!” Shawn hears that pitchy voice screaming and coming closer to where he is, sat down on the couch plucking the strings of his guitar. He widens his eyes and turns his head to the side, immediately capturing the sight of those tiny feet tumbling around after coming downstairs. “What did I tell you about running on the st—” “Look!” He can’t finish the sentence because she’s climbing his legs to sit on his lap. Struggling, she grabs the fabric of his white shirt to get impulse after he places the guitar aside, holding back a laughter because the cuteness of the view is too much: her chocolate hair is falling in front of her face and, although she’s having a hard time escalating his long legs, she doesn’t give up. Shawn holds her middle with both hands and rearranges his frame on the sofa, helping her to sit on top of him. She shows him a wide and forced smile, her lips all purple from the grape juice she was drinking and Shawn moves his head to all the sides, trying to find what’s wrong. “Look what, hun?” He asks, grabbing her little chin in between his fingers and tilting her face up. Her nose is scrunched and her eyes are squinting, due to the strength she’s putting to spread her smile even bigger. “My tooth!” “I see all of your teeth, darlin’.” “Noooo, dada,” She uses the tip of her forefinger to put on top of her front tooth. “This one!” “What’s the matter with it?” “It’s swaying back and forth,” Poking her tongue to move the little tooth repeatedly, she nearly shoves her own face onto his so he can finally identify the problem. In her imagination, the tooth is in a playground playing with the swing chairs — pretty much why she hadn’t freaked out yet.

“Swaying back and forth?” Shawn asks, slightly surprised. “You mean loose?” “Loose?” Her heart sinks a little and she sits back on his legs, looking at him kind of shocked. She doesn’t understand why he’s smiling so sweetly towards her when serious things are happening right now. “Yes, baby,” He tucks her hair behind her ears, unsuccessfully trying to clean the purple stains from the corner of her lips. “See, when we’re little it’s normal to—” “But I don’t wanna lose it, dada,” Her tone fails and she puts her finger back on her tooth, as if she’s got the control over it to make it stay in its place for as long as she wants it to. Shawn feels like melting, watching her hazel eyes watering like she’s about to lose a very important thing. It’s important for her, of course, so he doesn’t wash her over with an entire rational or scientific explanation. Instead, he pulls her closer and gives her hair a gentle rub, trying to comfort her heaving little chest. “Am I going to lose it?” “No, you’re not,” He freezes, noticing the biggest lie he just told his little girl without even thinking twice. Oh, she would be so mad at him. “I mean... Like... Well, what dada wants to say is...” Shawn is gesturing his hands crazily, looking up at the ceiling so he doesn’t need to feel her worried look slicing him in two. He tries to ramble and ends up defeated by his own thoughts. He had to be honest and sincere with her, that’s something he promised himself and promised to her as well. He chuckles under his breath, realising how serious he’s taking all of this. Maybe it’s the burning love that he feels for the little version of himself, sitting in front of him with her two thumbs and two forefingers pinching the loosened tooth unstoppably, bringing him to live intensely one of the most terrifying situations for a little child. “Yes, you’re going to lose it. Sorry I lied to you before. But don’t worry, sweets, it won’t hurt and dada is here to help you out, eh?” He stares at her, still looking at him with big puppy eyes — moistened by thin lines of tears as they brighten up due to that — with both hands up on her mouth. “This tooth, this one that’s swaying back and forth, has to leave because a stronger and prettier one is coming to replace it, okay?” He says, poking her hand lightly to refer at her tooth behind it. “But I want this one, dada.” “And you can keep it, darling,” Shawn says, a curl of his flopping down and a curl of hers does the same thing. “We’ll find another place for it.” “I don’t wanna be untoothed!” “You don’t wanna be what?” He laughs, feeling a little guilt tap his shoulder and tell him not to, because she’s probably very close to start crying. “Untoothed,” Her bottom lip juts out and she pouts, chin contorting and trembling as she fights back her own cry. The words are still muffled by her fingers — getting completely soaked from the long time they’ve been in her mouth — and somehow it’s even funnier for Shawn. Not fun because she’s in pain, of course not. It’s fun because she’s helplessly cute even this desperate, innocently trying to understand why the hell her beloved tooth has to leave. He feels the extreme urge to keep her in his pocket and carry her wherever he goes. “You won’t be, babe,” He cups her small face in his enormous palm. “Didn’t you listen to daddy? Another one will come out, you’re not gonna be untoothed.” “Promise?” He exhales deeply, closing his eyes for a moment and trying hard not to squeeze her petit body and tickle her endlessly. “I promise, bub,” Shawn pinches her cheek weakly, winking and smiling at her. “And don’t worry, ‘kay? When dada first lost a tooth, it felt the same way. I was scared, I feared that I’d be... untoothed, and turns out it’s totally alright. It doesn’t hurt at all and, although it takes some time for the new tooth to show up, it’s gonna happen. It really is—” “How long?” Her voice is no longer muffled by her hands, and he hears her tongue clicking against the roof of her mouth repetitively. “Not sure, love,” Shawn confesses. “Probably until Christmas it’ll be there, eh? I don’t know exactly, it really depends— DID YOU JUST PULL YOUR TOOTH OUT?” When he looks at her more attentively, his gaze drops down to her hands holding the little tooth while she maps the inside of her mouth with her tongue, trying to adapt herself to the new sensation of being... Untoothed. There’s a little bit of blood on top of the tooth, and a little bit on the hole that used to keep the tooth before and she can taste it, the reason why she’s been snapping her tongue relentlessly. She doesn’t quite realise until he says it out loud, and the panic takes over her slowly when she also looks at the tooth in between her wet fingers. “I did?” She asks more to herself than to her father, who’s now watching her half proud of her subconscious braveness and half concerned about her reactions that are yet to come. “I did! Dada, I did!” “There you go—” “I want it back!” She offers him the tooth and he takes it on his palm. Before he can analyse the little piece with more patience, she’s inching closer and opening her mouth to him. “Put it back, dada!” The squeaky tone of her shaky voice breaks his heart, wishing he could’ve recorded it all to show her when she’s older and to keep it to himself, just like he’s been doing with every single memorable moment of hers (and the not-so-memorable as well, if he’s honest). “We can’t put it back, baby,” Shawn uses the most calming tone he can, more than gentle to assure her that things are going to be just fine. “See?” He puts the tooth back in place and instantly opens his hand under it, seeing the tooth fall back onto his palm. “It won’t stay. But it’s okay, love. It’s alright. Look at me.” And so she does. “Just imagine that the Tooth Fairy will come over tonight, after dinner, and glue the new tooth so well that it’s never gonna fall off again, hm? Remember when we talked about her?” She nods along, eyes just like his scanning the living room like she’s searching for something. “But you’ll need to go to bed early and brush your teeth, so she can give you a new one. Alright?” “Promise?” He smiles, always softening up to the phase when she learned to make everyone promise her the things they say. He could promise to give her the entire world, because one day he probably will. “I promise, princess. Now c’mere,” She shifts next to him and he holds her close to his body, kissing the top of her head and caressing her back. “Dada loves you.”

Later that day, his little girl was still on her bedroom after their conversation. She bailed and told him she had some very important things to do — paraphrasing her own father, using the words he uses when he needs to work on new music instead of playing with her — and since then, she never left upstairs again.

“Where’s she?” Y/N asks, coming behind Shawn to embrace his middle. “She’s in her room, doing important stuff.” Grinning to himself, he says as he finishes setting up the dinner table. “I’ll go check on her, she’s been silent for a while.”

And just when he’s done, putting his phone out of his pocket to scroll through random social medias, a voice calls him out.

“What happened?” Y/N says nothing, just points to the room. The floor is painted with ribbons of white and the little table that his daughter uses to draw is dripping with ribbons of white as well, leading the way to the mirror on the wall where that tiny little frame is in front of. Sitting down with her mouth, hands and clothes stained with white glue, she switches looks between her mom and her dad. The little tooth is right there on her dirty hands, nearly lost in a pool of glue after her many failed attempts to get the damn tooth back in place. “She said she couldn’t wait until the fairy comes, neither the Christmas.” And he remembers about the terrible analogy he used before. Well, damn. “I think I can explain it.”

#IDK WHAT IT IS #I JUST FELT LIKE DOING IT #AND I HATE IT NGL #shawn mendes #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes imagines #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fanfics #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes blurbs #shawn mendes masterlist #mine #ficsofmine #it sounded better in my head

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gothighunicorntolerance · 4 years

Text

Save The Moment chapter 6

AO3

Patton impatiently tapped his foot as he counted down the minutes until he and Janus would be driving to his house to have a movie night and meet his parents. In the past two weeks he and Janus had been dating, he told his moms about Janus and they wouldn’t stop asking when they were going to come over- but tonight the teasing would be over, and his moms would see just how amazing Janus was!

Patton had noticed, when he saw Janus earlier, that they had chosen to wear a yellow button-up shirt and black slacks instead of their usual hoodie and jeans- though they kept their usual color scheme.

Then, finally, the bell rang, dismissing Patton into the halls to go find his wonderful, amazing, beautiful, funny, sweet- Patton was running out of adjectives- significant other. Before running out of the classroom, Patton checked to make sure his camera was around his neck. He didn’t want to misplace it again; once was enough!

“Janus!” Patton hugged them from behind as soon as he spotted them in front of the school.

“Hey, Pat.” they leaned backwards into Patton, smiling.

“Are you ready to watch the Disney movie with the best comedy of all time?”

“Sure, but I don’t know about the ‘best comedy of all time’ part. I think that would have to go to Lilo and Stitch. You can't get much funnier than an alien with a chainsaw.”

“Oh, I think you’ll find it can get MUCH funnier than that.”

“Prove it,” Janus smiled.

“Then let’s go,” Patton took Janus’s hand and the two of them headed to Patton’s car, Janus blushing the entire time at the hand-holding.

“Virgil is staying to watch Roman’s rehearsal again, I usually give him a ride. Sorry about the mess,” Patton explained as Janus moved a can of coke off the passenger seat.

“No, no. You’re fine,” Janus waved him off.

“Okay. Thanks. Your playlist or mine?” Patton changed the subject.

Janus thought for a moment. “Yours. Your playlist is always really happy, and I could probably use that,” they laughed nervously.

“Nervous?”

“Not at all,” Janus said nervously, tapping their fingers against their knee.

“You don’t have to be. My parents are great, and they’ll love you! We’re just having dinner and watching a movie. Relax, Janus, you’ll be alright. I mean really, what’s the worst that could happen?” Truthfully, Patton could think of several bad things that could happen, although most were extremely unrealistic. Shaking his head, Patton started the car and turned on his music. Out of the corner of his eye, Patton saw Janus reach a hand up to his face and cover his scar, sighing quietly.

***

When the two of them arrived at Patton’s house, Janus took a deep breath before stepping out of the car and walking with Patton up the steps to his house. Patton took out his house key and opened the door.

“Patton!”

“Hi, mom!” Patton turned to Janus. “Janus, this is my mom.”

His hand held out a hand to shake Janus’s.

“Hi, Mrs. Harte. I’m Janus, and-” Patton’s mom interrupted. “I know! I’ve heard so much about you!”

“Mom-” Patton groaned, but smiled. So far, everything was going smoothly. Patton had told his moms that they shouldn’t comment on Janus’s scar or vitiligo, as to not make things awkward or make Janus embarrassed.

“Well, come one in! My wife should be home soon, and I’ll order pizza. What do you want, Janus?”

“Oh, um, just cheese, thank you,” Janus replied, looking at Patton as they were ushered to the kitchen. Looking around, they saw that there were many frames hanging on the walls or propped on a counter, all holding beautiful pictures- Patton probably took all of them, with vibrant flowers or winding paths through the forest or a reflection of a boat on a still lake.

“Of course! Would you like something to drink? Water, soda…?”

“If you have Sprite that would be great, ma’am.”

“Patton, you didn’t tell me you were dating a gentle-them!” Mrs. Harte smiled.

Janus looked to Patton once again, who just shrugged and mouthed ‘go with it.’

After a small interrogation of Janus by Patton’s mom, Patton took Janus into the living room and turned on The Emperor’s New Groove.

The two of them started on different couch cushions, but found themselves moving closer until Janus was leaning on Patton’s shoulder, his arm around Janus’s shoulders.

Patton had taken the blanket that was draped on the back of the couch (which Janus assumes was handmade by Patton) and snuggled closer to Janus underneath it.

About halfway through the movie, Patton’s mom came in and announced that pizza was ready, failing to hide a smile as the two sprang apart, embarrassed.

“Hi, mom,” Patton said sheepishly as he and Janus were handed slices and a drink.

“Thank you, Mrs. Harte,” Janus suddenly found the carpet very interesting.

Patton’s mom smiled as the two of them turned back to the movie, Patton’s arm once again sliding around Janus’s shoulders when the pizza was finished.

After the movie, Janus turned to Patton, laughing. “Okay, I’ll concede. This was amazing! No regard to the fourth wall whatsoever!”

“I told you so!”

After Janus had introduced themself to both parents and had been thoroughly questioned by Patton’s moms, they had been judged “a keeper!” by Patton’s mom.

When it came time for Janus to leave, Patton's mom stopped them.

“Janus,” she started. “I don’t know what your parents know or think about being in the LGBT community, but just know that you’re welcome to stay here if you ever need to, okay? As long as you’re good to my son, you’re welcome here any time.”

Janus wasn’t quite sure what to say- they didn’t really have a supportive adult- only an alcoholic father with anger issues and judgemental homophobia stemming from religion- so they just nodded and said, “thank you, ma’am,” hoping they hid the crack in their voice and the tears that were welling up in their eyes.

“Of course, hon,” she put a comforting hand on Janus’s shoulder.

Patton appeared out of the kitchen. “I’ll drive you back,” he said, opening the door with Janus following. “Be back soon, mom!” Patton said over his shoulder

When the two of them were at the entrance to Janus’s neighborhood, Patton pulled over to one side of the street and turned to them and said, “I think they like you. I hope my mom didn’t give you too much trouble: it looked like kind of a serious talk that I interrupted.”

Janus shook their head. “It’s just…” they trailed off, not knowing how to word it. “My dad is- he’s not accepting. At all. I haven’t even told him anything. And your mom was offering me a place to stay if I needed.”

“Oh,” Patton frowned. “I’m sorry that your dad isn’t great. But you can definitely come over anytime you want! I’d love to be with you more.”

The tears Janus had tried to hold back suddenly came, and Patto looked over at them, concerned.

“No, it’s not you-” Janus said off of Patton’s look of worry. “It’s just.... My dad isn’t… he’s an asshole.”

Patton’s mouth opened into an ‘o,’ not quite believing someone would say that their parent was an asshole so blatantly.

“He is. He’s so bigoted and horrible. I’ve never even thought about coming out to him before I’m a legal adult and moved out.”

“Oh, Janus… I’m so sorry that you have to go through that. Gosh, if there’s anything I can do…”

Janus just shook their head. “The only thing I want right now is to be able to see you. Your moms are great, and you’re amazing. God, Patton, you’re the nicest person I’ve ever met. And you’re cute, and funny....”

Patton blushed, looking down at his lap, his eyes starting to water with Janus’s speech.

Janus’s tone suddenly became serious. “Patton? You should probably also know that you’re the first person I’ve ever dated. I’ve always been so afraid of my dad finding out, but I’m a good liar,” Janus laughed nervously. “I don’t know what you want, or- or expect from me. I just- I thought you should know. So your standards aren’t too high and you’re disappointed when I don’t meet them.” Janus let out a shaky breath, their cheeks becoming wet with salty tears.

“Janus… everyone dates for the first time. It doesn’t matter to me if I’m your first date or your hundredth, I just care that you’re happy. And since we’re doing some confessions, I should tell you that I’m asexual.”

Janus nodded. “Thank you for understanding,” they said as Patton started to drive again.

“Of course. Everyone is in that position at some point in their lives, and it isn’t fair to judge. If there are any boundaries you want to set, I’ll do my best to obey your wishes.”

Janus nodded as Patton pulled up to the front of their house. They sat in the car a moment longer, not wanting the night with Patton to end. So the two of them sat in the car just a little bit longer, their hands touching on the center console.

But, like all good things, it had to end. Janus sighed, opening the passenger side door. Before they stepped out, they leaned over to Patton, kissing him on the cheek. It had become the couple’s way of saying goodbye.

“Thank you again, Pat,” Janus smiled as they closed the door and walked up to their house.

Unlocking the door as quietly as they could, they tiptoed through the dark kitchen, snoring coming from the armchair in the living room. Making it silently to their room, they flopped onto their bed, grinning from ear to ear as they ran a hand over the stuffed snake Patton had given them.

#Thomas Sanders #sanders sides #sanders side fic #patton sanders #janus sanders #TS Patton #TS Janus #high school au #fanfic #writing #fanfiction #non binary janus #human au #tss fic

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