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jeonfiles · 3 years

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better left unsaid - jjk

genre: angst, rebounds

pairings: jungkook x reader (ft. namjoon)

warnings: arguing, alcohol, profanity, break ups, light smut, use of drugs, jungkook is a fucking dick, jungkook has major attachment issues, toxic relationships, oc cries a lot, namjoon has a heart of gold, unrequited love

synopsis: you knew you shouldnt have given him that second chance, not the third or the fourth either. no matter how much you try he always slithers his way underneath your sheets, arms wrapped around you.

word count: 2.7k

music: into your arms, so it ends?, you will fade, thinkin bout you, julia, my insecurities not yours, fuck u, goodluck, my dear i will think of you

note: uhh ive never written a y/n fic so bare with me, if u listen to the music you’ll be able to feel the story a lot more so yeah if u have time u should, not proof read

Light coming through the cracks of the blinds, making you squint your eyes when the daylight beams into your eyes, head resting on the kitchen island Looking up, you saw the clock ticking on the wall, 11:32 am.

You had stayed up till 5 am, waiting for him to come home, but seemingly, he never did. Reaching for your phone, you saw 4 missed calls from the one and only,

Jeon Jungkook, saved in your phone as “Koo <3″, Rows of messages too, all from the same contact.

Koo <3 [05:34 am]

baby pkck me up pleseee

im so wsated

Koo <3 [06.46am]

dont be mad at me jsut pick me up

i dont knw hewere the fuck i am

i love you

Koo <3 [07:31 am]

i got a rde home i’ll be home by 12

i need to talk to someone frsit

im sorry if i woke ypu dont be worried

You took a few moments to collect your thoughts, but there wasn’t much to collect. This whole thing, was a routine by now.

Standing up to make yourself a cup of coffee, you could literally not feel your own backside, you were so sore from the barstool you had been sitting on all night, and it made you groan in pain.

Two coffee cups right beside the kitchen sink, which you couldn’t bring yourself to clean up, because it was from the last time you had coffee together, which was 2 weeks ago.

The inside of the cup had a coffee crust at the top, and both your lip tint marks on the outside.

When you finish your cup of coffee while watching a bad telenovela, you go sit in your favorite chair and pull out a few books from the backpack hanging on the chair next to you, getting ready to get some studying done.

For a few seconds you imagine Jungkook hanging over your shoulder laughing at the way you write your A-s and R-s, or the way you always sign your homework at the bottom of the page.

And when you open them, there’s no one there. The only sound is from the refrigerator, making refrigerator noises.

You had met Jungkook 3 years ago, when you were at college orientation, senior year of high school. He also wanted to attend Yonsei, just like you.

And when he whispered to you about how bored he was, you couldn’t help but giggle, and then you got yelled at.

It was worth it though, because everyone was jealous of you afterwards,the Jeon Jungkook had talked to you.

Jungkook was an all-rounder as they called it; great physique, intelligent, charismatic and great at sports.

And god, he had a beautiful face, and such a filthy mouth, and it didn’t go long before you gave in to his seductive ways and slept with him. The morning after, he wasn’t in bed with you, and your heart sank.

Luckily, he was in the kitchen making you breakfast.

It was all bliss from there, showering you with love, gifts and kisses for two years, and you even ended up moving in together.

And now? You barely remember what he sounds like, smells like and is like.

A distant memory, just as distant as him.

Your train of thought was suddenly interrupted as you heard 3 knocks on your door. The exact same way he had always knocked when he had forgotten (or lost) his keys.

And even though you should have let him suffer a little, you rushed to the door to open it, and in front of you, was your biggest nightmare.

It was your love, crying his eyes out, bleeding from one of many cuts on his face, looking nearly dead. He collapsed into your arms, and you could only utter a few words, along the lines of:

“How could you do this to us?”

As he was laying curled up in a ball on the couch, face plastered up, ice bag on his knee, wrapped up in a blanket, you realized. this was your que to cry.

So, you did. You cried in silence, sitting across the room from him. You weren’t mad at him for coming home late, or getting in another fight, probably the 5th just these past months, you had gotten used to that by now.

There was a whole other reason that made you cry.

He smelled like Victorias Secret Bombshell, you recognized the scent because it used to be your favorite, however, now you’ve moved onto something less sweet, and more elegant, like Caroline Herrera.

He smelled like someone who wasn’t you, his girlfriend.

He smelled like another girl.

It didn’t hurt as much as you thought it would. Maybe because the Jungkook that had come home to you that morning wasn’t your Jungkook.

Your Jungkook was varsity jackets, star of the american football team (which your school was known for), selfless and humorous, and he would always take care of you.

Your Jungkook was not ungroomed hair, cigarettes and worsening grades. He was not cold and lifeless, and he would never make you cry.

Despite this, you were carding your fingers though his hair, thumb wiping away the blood on his lips while he was sound asleep as you slowly fell asleep next to him.

Maybe it was time to let him go.

Maybe.

You woke a few hours later from your phone vibrating.

Kim Namjoon (school) [07:01 pm]

Hey Y/N! Have you started working on the statistics assignment?

If you haven’t, would you be interested in meeting at the library tomorrow? You’re really smart and i’m kinda struggling ://

You [07:03 pm]

i finished it yesterday, but if you buy me coffee i’ll come help you hehe

Kim Namjoon (school) [07:04 pm]

You’re the best, I’ll bring you a machiatto!! :D

Maybe it would be nice for you to get out of the house, even though you hate the thought of it, and you would much rather just swim in your own sorrow.

But you did go out the next day, and you helped Namjoon get a decent grade, enough to pass with good margines, he thanked you by taking you out for ramen at a convenial store not too far away.

You thanked him for the ramen with a trip to the museum, and he thanked you for the museum trip with a picnic in the park at night, which led you to crying over Jungkook in his embrace, telling him every single little detail.

He made you realize it was time to let Jungkook go and make room for new people to enter your life.

You went home that night, and you found Jungkook passed out on the couch, and you could genuienly feel your chest tighten. Soft features which stood out under the moonlight glow, disheveled brown locks which hung down in his eyes.

He was gorgeous, until you saw the credit card on the table next to three bottles of soju and an empty beer can on the floor. And you knew what he had used the credit card for, though you didn’t want to say it out loud.

You cleaned everything up, and you threw the residue of the white powder right in the trash can, and you recycled his bottles and cans before finally, nudging him to wake up.

“Jungkook, wake up.” You spat coldly, or at least you attempted to.

He groaned, rubbing his eyes before opening his eyes, and s huge smile on his face. “Y/N, you’re home!” He reached to kiss you, but you backed away.

“Y/N?” Jungkook questioned, he didn’t quite understand what your intentions were.

“Don’t try anything Jungkook. This was your last chance, and you fucked it up, again.” The room turned ice cold. “I’m getting you help Jungkook, you need help. And then...”

He understood what kind of help you meant, and since he had now sobered up, he agreed, nodding. “And then...?”

“And then.” Your words were ludged in your throat.��“And then I’m leaving you.”

His whole face dropped, smile turned into the frowniest frown you had ever seen, and it was all silent before his lower lip starts trembling, and his eyes start turning glassy.

“It’s alright. Sorry for burdening you.” Was all he could say before tears rushed down his cheeks, and he started shaking.

So you did what you always had done, and you wrapped your arms around him, head resting on your chest as he sobbed.

“Is there anyone else?” he cried out before another wave of sobs hit him.

This exact question made your stomach hurt, and your throat burn. You really had no idea.

Or you did, but you didn’t want to.

You loved Jungkook so much, but you couldn’t be with him in this state. So you did what every rational person would do in this situation.

“Yeah.”

You lied.

“Oh ok. I don’t have the right to be mad do I?”

You shake your head no.

“I love you Y/N. I’m sorry I’m so messed up.”

“It’s ok.” was all he said before he fell asleep in your arms again.

That night you slither your way out of his embrace and you pack your suitcase in the dark, bringing all your essentials, trying to be as quiet as possible so you didn’t wake Jungkook.

Packing enough for two weeks or so, you make the bed and leave your t-shirt “accidentally” in the bathroom, and you make sure all his clothes are folded, and then you sort his pencil case, throwing out old pens and worn out erasers.

You leave a grocery list on the counter, and you tuck him in good under the blankets after you took his jeans and socks off so he could sleep comfortably.

You placed his vitamins and medicine by the refrigerator so he’ll see it when he goes to grab something to eat.

Puffed up pillows, a pair of sweatpants, t-shirt and underwear is now placed neatly on his bed. Then you walk into the kitchen again, and you see Jungkook still sound asleep, sniffling a little still.

There’s one last thing, and it makes you cry. It makes you sob so loud you cover your mouth and muffle the sound you make. Sinking to the floor, your whole body is in contact with the cold tiles.

Only a year ago you could never imagine yourself even shedding a single tear over something as small as this, but here you were, on the edge of a panic attack.

Two worn out, matching couple mugs still placed by the counter. one if the first things you two had bought together, as well as the necklace hanging around your neck.

Finally, you stopped crying and started cleaning the mugs, lip trembling as you dried them and placed them in the back of the cabinet.

You unhooked your necklace and laid it down on the counter, and the biggest lump formed in your throat.

Actually, there’s a little detail you forget.

You kiss Jungkook on the forehead and leave a note on the coffee table.

“Dear Jungkook,

If you want to make this up to me (this does not mean a new chance!!) you call the number at the bottom of the page. No matter what happens, I’ll always have room for you in my heart. You even have your own little VIP lobby in there. And - if it’s urgent, call. I still care for you, and I always have. You were the best boyfriend I’ve had, but good things always come to and end, don’t they? Anyways, I’m tired so this letter fucking sucks, but deep down you know how much I love you. Remember to get groceries, shower, get fresh air and study. If I forgot something you can keep it, as long as you call the number and tell them you’re my friend. They’ll help you love. Try and get a part time job too, your student loan and your dad’s money won’t last forever. Good luck Koo. Hwaiting!!

-L/N Y/N <33″

You cringe when you think of the letter’s contents, before you roll out your suitcase out of the front door, whispering a faint “Goodnight Love.” as you close and lock the door behind you.

Standing by the elevator, you cry again. This time, louder, but you still reach for your phone and type out a text to the newly edited contact in your phone.

You [02:13 am]

coming outside now, im a crying mess and im super cold, is your car heated?

sorry for making you wait btw :((

Joonie <3 [02:13 am]

dont worry about the crying part, i’ll hold you. and yeah car is heated, so waiting here wasnt all that bad. you ready for this?

You [02:14 am]

i have no idea but i cant stay here any longer and i trust you sooo

lets start our new chapter. eh?

4 months later...

He had been good to you, great even.

You had been on expensive dates, picnics, had heart to heart conversations, and he’d been so understanding.

Today, it was your 2 month anniversary, and he had asked you on a magnificent date, which he had planned every second of.

At the end of the day, you told him how you don’t love him. He said it was alright. Namjoon loved you, so much, yet he understood you needed time.

You went to sleep that day, warm in Namjoon’s embrace, wondering how Jungkook was doing.

You felt bad, but you missed Jungkook.

You were both with someone new now, and you knew he was in good hands with someone stable enough to care for him.

Before your eyes closed shut, you shed a few quiet tears and hoped that you’d fall in love with Namjoon soon, and deep down you knew you would.

#jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #namjoon smut #jungkook ff #bts ff #bts imagines #bts scenarios #namjoon ff #bangtan smut #jungkook #jeon jeongguk #jeongguk ff

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calenheniel · 4 years

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Queen of the Ashes, a frozen fanfic | Part IV

Frozen | Alternate Universe | Hans x Elsa | Romance, Drama | T+

They met as children, each with a secret. Plagued by tragedy, their paths meet again many years later, and their secrets are unraveled.

Part I | Part II | Part III | Updates: #QueenoftheAshesFrozen

Author’s Note: This fic is probably going to end up being 7-8 parts in total in draft form. I may then go back and re-edit to have it published in 4-5 longer chapters. Anyway, I don’t want to say anything else. Happy quarantine reading!

»»————-　❈　————-««

IV.

She awoke the next morning to a vicious headache, groaning at the sunlight streaming through her window.

Every scene from the night before came into clear focus, and she swore at herself for refusing to drink, wishing that she could forget certain conversations.

I wouldn’t joke about something like this.

She rolled over, stuffing her face in her pillows, trying to block out the sound of his voice.

I wanted to be honest with you, Elsa.

She raised herself up on her hands in a huff, marching over to her closet and throwing the doors open with a burst of wintry wind. She regretted it as soon as she saw her clothes covered in a dusting of snow, and brushed it off while muttering to herself, the headache unabating.

Just as she finished changing, a knock on the door made her jump, and her newly-made crown nearly fell from her hands.

“Your Majesty? It’s Gerda,” said the voice of a servant on the other side. “Breakfast is ready for you. The princess is already at the table.”

The queen almost dropped the crown again, blinking. “Anna is… at breakfast? Already?”

The older woman creaked the door open a little to smile at her queen. “Yes, Your Majesty. With one of your guests, I believe.”

She turned red from her face down to her hands, still uncovered, and her mouth dropped open, then shut again, before she could manage to reply. “I see. Thank you for telling me,” she said, and quickly slid on her gloves. With trembling hands, she secured her crown atop her head. “I’ll be down shortly.”

“I’ll let them know,” the servant said, curtsying and closing the door.

The queen leaned against her bedpost, shaking her head. A frown spread across her features and remained there even as she left the room, taking long and angry – but still outwardly composed – strides through the hall and down the staircase.

She stopped just before the entryway to the private dining room, and took a deep breath, knowing what waited for her if she turned the corner.

I can promise you that it’s not Anna I’m after.

She shifted her frown into a neutral expression with some effort, swallowing, and stepped forward.

Her headache was gone.

»» —— ««

“Elsa! We’ve been here for a while. I thought maybe you decided to sleep in, for once.”

Her sister’s exclamation forced the queen to present a smile, though her nose wrinkled as she did. “Yes,” she replied dryly. She ignored the other person in the room even as he rose and bowed to acknowledge her entrance. “How the tables have turned.”

Her sister laughed at the remark until she snorted, and the prince sat down again. “She’s saying that because I’m never up this early,” the princess explained to their guest, grinning. “Elsa’s always back at work by the time I make it downstairs.”

Her smile dipped a little at this last comment, though the prince was quick to reply: “Is she?” He looked up at the young queen, who was taking her seat at the head of the table when their eyes finally met. “I can see that.”

She stared daggers back at him until he turned away. “I feel very fortunate to have been invited to a private breakfast with you two,” he continued, bowing his head. “It’s been a long time since I shared a meal with family,” he said, smiling sadly, “or something like family.”

Her lip twitched at the comment, and she could barely restrain a scowl as her sister pressed a sympathetic hand to his. “Well you have us, now,” the princess assured him, “and you can join us for breakfast or for any other meal whenever you like.”

Irritation crackled through the queen’s spine. “Anna…” she said, “I don’t think—”

“Don’t worry, Elsa,” her sister interrupted. “I already told Hans he’s welcome to stay with us in the castle as long as he likes, so he doesn’t have to go back home so soon.”

Her mouth went limp. “As long as he likes,” she repeated, oblivious to the servants placing her meal down in front of her.

“Yep,” her sister said, smiling. “Won’t it be great to have him around? Up until yesterday, we haven’t had anyone else here in the longest time,” she said, adding in a gentler way: “I know it’ll be a change from what we’re used to, but… isn’t change good, sometimes, too?”

She gripped her silverware hard enough to feel them start to ice over, and then she exhaled, compelling herself to nod politely in agreement. “It can be,” she forced the words out, and then looked at the prince, her gaze hollow. “And has our guest agreed to stay?”

He matched the princess’s smile. “Yes, at least for the next two weeks of festivities,” he replied, standing to bow. “Or as long as you’ll both have me.”

She gestured for him to sit again, and turned to her sister. “We should talk about this later,” she said. “Anyway, please keep eating, or the food will get cold.”

The princess pouted but went back to buttering her toast, eyeing her sister with caution in the silence.

The queen refused to meet the look, finding her gaze torn between her breakfast – which she had no appetite for – and the prince, who ate his meal with patient precision, his utensils hardly making noise as they touched the plate.

At length, she cleared her throat to get his attention. “So,” she began, tapping her nails against her glass of water, “what were you two talking about, before I arrived?”

“I was just—”

“We were mostly just talking about that time he visited when we were kids,” her sister interjected, looking relieved to be speaking again. “He was reminding me about a lot that I had forgotten.”

She swallowed, her stomach turning just as it had the night before. “Did he?” she asked. “And what did you remind her of, Hans?”

“Just the games we used to play together—or rather,” he corrected himself, “of the games I used to watch the two of you play, while I skulked off to the corner.” He chuckled. “I was really so unfriendly back then. It’s a wonder you two were still so kind to me in spite of it.”

Suspicion laced her stare as her sister giggled at the memory. “Yeah, you were a little on the antisocial side. But you did help us with those puzzle sets that I hated, and I almost got to dress you up in one of Elsa’s gowns that one time, before you ran away.”

As they laughed, the queen watched their exchange between small bites of her meal. Observing how her sister’s sunny, bright disposition was unflinching throughout, she wondered if her deeper fears were unfounded.

“But you told us that really good story that one time, about a kid who could… make fire? Or something like that.” The princess shook her head with a smile. “You had a good imagination for such a sourpuss.”

He looked embarrassed at the comment. “Oh, that? I’m surprised you remember it,” he replied. “I just made it up on the spot, actually. It wasn’t from a book, or anything like that.”

“I knew it!” the princess proclaimed, clapping her hands together. “Even as a kid. I mean, I don’t really remember it that well, but…” She trailed off, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “I think I was upset because you didn’t give us a good ending, or something like that.”

His smile flinched for a second. “No, I didn’t.” He sat up taller. “But enough about me. What about you two? Are you still getting into any trouble, these days?”

“Us? Trouble?” the princess replied. “No. Not really.” She forked a morsel of smoked salmon over to the side of her plate. “Not in a while.”

The two sisters exchanged a long look at this, and the elder coughed to break it. “Not for a long time,” she agreed, and took another sip of water. She shot the prince a dark look. “We can’t afford to get into trouble.”

“Well, Elsa can’t, anyway, now that she’s queen. Me, on the other hand? I do all sorts of crazy stuff,” her sister said in a conspiratorial way, smirking. She added in just above a whisper: “I just do it behind the scenes, you know? So it’s not obvious.”

“Right,” said her older sister, her blonde brow rising. “It’s not obvious at all when you’re riding a bicycle in the hallway, whooping as you go.”

“Okay, well, a little obvious.”

The two shared a genuine laugh at this, which lasted until the queen remembered the presence of a third party at the table. She cleaned her lips self-consciously with a delicate dab from her napkin, and when she looked up, she noticed him staring at her.

Her face flushed. “I should be going now,” she said suddenly, “as I have some work to attend to.” She forced her head to turn towards her sister. “And I believe you have a meeting with the French ambassador and his party starting in a few minutes, don’t you?”

The princess slid down in her chair with a groan. “I forgot about that,” she sighed. “Can’t we take the day off? Your coronation was only yesterday, and—”

“No, Anna, we can’t,” she cut in with a stern tone, though her skin was still tinged red, feeling his eyes on her. “And besides,” she continued, “it’ll be an opportunity to put your French lessons to good use. Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted?”

“I guess,” her sister muttered, crossing her arms and sliding down the chair further. “If I have to.”

The queen held in a chuckle, her attention finally returning to the prince. “And you…” she paused, uneasy.

He glanced down at the napkin on the table next to her plate, and then back up at her. “I’ll find some way to occupy myself, I’m sure,” he offered, smiling in the same, unnerving way he had all morning. “Should you deign to have me at another meal, I would be honored to join.”

“The library,” she said suddenly, wearing a thin smile. “We have an extensive collection; I think you might like it in there.” After a beat, she explained: “If I recall, you were quite the bookworm when we were children.”

He nodded, a little taken aback. “Yes, and still am,” he said. “I’ll go there, then. Thank you, Your Majesty.”

She did not like his manners –the overtness of his looks, the presumption of another invitation to dinner, the use of her formal title – but, for her sister’s sake, she smiled and nodded as she rose from the table. The prince and princess followed, curtsying and bowing to her as she left.

As she reached and then ascended the staircase, her heart pounded so loudly in her ribcage that she could hear little else.

»» —— ««

The presence of the dignitaries at court meant that the queen could not avoid in-person meetings as before, and her morning was soon occupied by one foreign sycophant after the other. Each was more eager than the last to make an impression on the mysterious young queen, with more than one unsubtle mention of marriage prospects and suitable candidates.

Forced to endure their suggestions, she was at pains to smile through the conversations, and often tried to change topics to trade, politics, architecture, or really anything else. She snuck a curious glance in the direction of the library whenever she got a chance, and her nose would wrinkle a little each time she did, remembering who was inside.

When the last meeting with the Spanish ambassador had drawn to a close – she ended it early after the words “Prince Diego, a fine young man” had left his lips – she took a small lunch in her bedroom and walked directly to her guest’s place of temporary exile, finding that her feet were leading her there before her head could protest.

She was unsurprised to find her sister with the prince, sitting at a table with a large book of maps open between them. He pointed at locations while the princess commented between bites of her sandwich; his handkerchief being empty, the queen surmised that he had eaten his already.

“Ahem,” she said to announce her entrance, and the prince leapt up from his seat, bowing.

Her sister merely waved, gesturing for her to come over with a mouth full of food. “Elsa! Come and look at this. Hans has been showing me where he’s traveled with the Navy.”

She frowned a little as she approached them. “You know you’re not supposed to eat in here,” she scolded.

“Sorry,” the princess apologized, grinning sheepishly, and stuffed the remainder of the sandwich in her face.

This earned her an eye-roll from the queen, who nonetheless took a seat next to her, staring at the prince with feigned interest. “So you’ve traveled,” she said.

“Yes,” he replied, smiling as he took his seat. He smoothed his bare hands out over the pages, pointing at the North Sea. “I was just telling the princess about my last trip to Scotland on duty, some years ago. We were out on a naval exercise and got caught in a bad storm with crazy winds. I was lucky to—”

He paused when he noticed that both sisters looked uncomfortable at his tale, their gazes turned down. Realizing his faux pas, he sat back with an embarrassed look. “I’m so sorry,” he said, “I didn’t think—”

“It’s fine,” the queen snapped, eyeing her sister with some worry. When the princess nodded back, she repeated in a calmer way: “It’s fine. You were saying?”

He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter,” he said, “it wasn’t a good story, anyway.”

A silence settled upon the group until the princess broke it, remarking: “But his other trips sounded wonderful! He mentioned one to France, where he stayed out so late he missed his cleaning duties the next morning on the ship.”

She giggled, and he chuckled in return. “It wasn’t funny at the time, when I was sure I’d be whipped,” he commented, “but I was able to squeeze out of that scrape, fortunately.”

The queen smiled. “It’s good to be a prince, isn’t it?” she remarked, a hint of smugness in her tone. At his furrowed brow, she peeked at the grandfather clock in the corner of the room behind him. Seeing the time, her eyes lifted. “Oh, Anna,” she said to her sister, “isn’t it time for your music lesson?”

The princess blinked, following the queen’s eyes to the clock, and then sighed. “Yeah, it is,” she admitted, dragging herself up from the table with a frown. She patted down her dress, and looked at her older sister with pleading eyes. “Can this be the last of it today? I told Hans we could have tea together later.”

She inhaled, and then relented. “Fine,” she agreed, then added more gently: “You’ve been very helpful these last few weeks, Anna. Thank you.”

The princess beamed at this praise, nodding. “Of course, Elsa. I just want to help where I can.”

The two sisters curtsied to one another, and just before the younger one left the room, she grinned at their guest. “I’ll see you later, Hans. But don’t you dare eat any of the chocolate eclairs without me!”

He smiled back at her. “I’ll try not to, Your Highness.”

She flashed him a suspicious look before finally exiting, and he laughed a little when the door closed after her, eyeing the queen with a curious stare. “Does she really have a lesson,” he asked, “or was that just an excuse to get her out of the room?”

She frowned. “She always has music lessons on Mondays at one. Not everyone has ulterior motives like you, Hans.” Her gaze narrowed at him before turning to the table, and she brushed off the remaining crumbs from her sister’s sandwich into her palm with a sigh. “She brought you lunch, I presume?”

He folded the handkerchief, calmly following her lead. “I thought I’d made my motives quite clear last night,” he replied, “and yes. She was kind enough to bring it to me.” After they had both finished cleaning the table, he shut the book and placed it under his arm, meeting her eyes with one raised eyebrow. “I’m surprised you haven’t sent me away yet.”

She gestured for him to lead them as he walked to the original location of the book, following him with a straight and stiff posture. “I wanted to, when I heard you were at breakfast with her, but…” She swallowed. “Then I saw how you two were getting along this morning, plus just now, and I—well, I couldn’t just throw you out of the castle in front of her.” Her frown returned. “But you knew that would happen, didn’t you?”

He paused in their travels to turn around and look at her, his smile cautious enough to invite suspicion, but not confirm it. “You really don’t trust me at all, do you?” he asked. “I can’t say I blame you; I haven’t really earned it yet.” He didn’t aver his eyes from hers. “I was prepared to leave this morning, but Anna insisted I join her. And, remembering that you wanted to tell her yourself that I was leaving, well…” He shrugged and turned back around, continuing his walk between the library’s endless, tall shelves. “I didn’t want to disobey your orders, Elsa.”

She stood stunned for a moment, and then stomped after him, her arms crossed. “How convenient for you,” she hissed as she caught up to him, and then added with a crinkled brow: “And where did you find that book? I haven’t seen it before.”

He stifled a laugh. “The stacks at the end,” he informed her. “Reminds me of the library at home.” He continued after a beat: “I spent a lot of time in there, growing up.”

In spite of her reservations, the queen replied: “I did too, in here.”

He peeked at her over his shoulder, tapping the volume under his arm. “Then I’m surprised you didn’t recognize this.”

She glared at him. “I haven’t read every book in here—just most of them,” she retorted. “Nautical maps weren’t exactly my favorite.”

They arrived at their destination a moment later, and he smiled at her as he slipped the book back into place. “Then what is it that the Queen of Arendelle likes to read?”

She reddened. “History of architecture, mostly,” she mumbled, her arms relaxing a little, “and fiction, from time to time. Everything else I read out of boredom, or because—”

“You were told to?” he finished, and she frowned. “Yes, I’m familiar with that kind of reading, too.”

Their gazes met in the pause that followed, and her cheeks grew redder upon realizing how closely they were standing to each other. “Anyway,” she began, stepping back from him, “I… I’m not going to ask you to leave. Not yet.”

He blinked. “Oh?”

She pursed her lips. “Not because I want you to stay, of course,” she continued. “It’s for Anna. She hasn’t had anyone to talk to in a long time outside of me, and I’m not exactly the most thrilling company.” The redness in her features had not abated, though her face softened as she admitted: “I haven’t seen her this happy in a while, and I don’t want to take that away from her.”

Before he could chime in, she continued: “She does seem taken with you, to be sure, but… knowing Anna, if she liked you in that way, she’d have told me so already, and probably in dramatic fashion.” Something in-between a smile and a cringe touched her expression. “Thankfully, that hasn’t happened yet, so I’m inclined to believe that the connection you two share is… innocent, for lack of a better word.” Her gaze was penetrating as she added: “And it must remain so.”

He bowed his head. “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he assured her. “I’m just grateful to know that you’re starting to believe me when I say as much.”

Reminded of what he had told her the night prior, she sucked in a breath, her stare still wary. “Right,” she rejoined. “Because your designs are on me, not Anna.”

“‘Designs’ makes it sound so… villainous,” he remarked, sighing.

“Is that so?” she scoffed. “Then which term, exactly, would you prefer me to use?”

“Just…” he started, and then leaned his elbow against the shelf, his hand brushing against a divider. His gaze grew more focused on her. “Interest.”

“Interest,” she repeated. She glanced at his hand dangling a few feet away from her, his bare skin unnerving her again. “The kind of interest that leads you to sit on the throne, I presume.”

“It’s not about that,” he replied so quickly as to catch her off-guard. “You said it yourself last night: if I really wanted a crown and nothing else, I could’ve had that already.”

“Then what is it, Hans?” she asked. “What makes your ‘interest’ in me so different from all of that?”

He looked down at her crossed arms, and she followed his stare; when she realized the meaning in it, her skin flushed anew, and she aligned her hands to her sides.

“You know, I thought it was strange, at first,” he began, cocking his head to the side, “how Anna never mentioned anything, in all our conversations over the last two days. I would’ve thought that she’d speak of nothing else, remembering how enthusiastic she was about it when we were children.” He stared at her in a thoughtful way. “Not to mention that shock of white hair she has now, which I can’t recall her having before.”

At her silence, he resumed his speech. “But then I remembered the news of how the castle in Arendelle had suddenly been closed off, and how, for years afterwards, no one had seen either of you in person. I thought at the time that it might’ve been related to what I saw here, as a boy, but I couldn’t be sure, and I…” He shifted in his stance. “Well, I had my own problems to deal with back then, and couldn’t spend as much time theorizing about it as I would’ve liked to.” He paused. “Talking to Anna, and then seeing you again, all those old ideas came back to me. I tried to bring it up with her in a roundabout way last night when we were in the gallery, after almost an hour of discussing our favorite kinds of sandwiches and chocolates, but she just gave me an odd look.”

She swallowed. “What did you ask her, exactly?”

“If you two were still building snowmen in there,” he answered, and her shoulders rose nearly to her ears. “She said, ‘how could we build them indoors?’ So I didn’t pry further.” He studied her red face and trembling hands. “I thought perhaps she was protecting you, but… given how chatty she is about everything else, I guessed that wasn’t it, either.”

His tone was calm but directed as he continued: “Then, I saw it at breakfast – when you were gripping your fork and knife – and when she didn’t even notice it, that confirmed for me that whatever is going on, I wasn’t going to find out from her.”

She bit her lip to keep it from quivering, but did not reply, staring at the ground.

“So I’ve been wondering, Elsa: what happened?”

She watched him take one step closer, and sucked in a breath, her head snapping up. Tears stung at her eyes. “I—” she started to say, but her reply was cut short by her own, erratic breathing. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

His gaze softened. “It’s all right. You can tell me.”

She shook her head. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me,” he offered. “I might understand it better than you think.”

“How could you?” she shot back at him, a deep frown etching itself onto her lips. “You don’t know what it was like to be alone for all these years, to have to lie to your only sister, to not even be able to hug your own mother and father before they—”

She cut off her speech before she could finish, placing her face in her hands.

“Elsa.”

A familiar voice and a warm hand on her shoulder roused her from her misery, and she looked up, half-expecting to see her father again.

Instead, she was greeted by a pale-faced prince who held her steady with his hands on her arms, and when she had gathered her senses about her, she stepped back out of his grasp, faintly aware of the traces of snowflakes still stuck to her dress.

She passed a gloved hand over her face. “I hurt her, Hans,” she said in a small, quiet voice. “I hurt her.”

“How?”

Her hand dropped to her side, though she still would not look at him. “It happened a couple years after you visited,” she murmured. “I struck her in the head by accident while we were playing, and… everything changed, after that.” Her jaw tensed. “By some strange creature’s magic, she was made to forget what happened—not just on that night, but on all the other nights before. Anything related to my—”

She could not bring herself to say it, her voice coming out as a croak when she next spoke. “She thinks she was born with that streak of white hair.” She touched the spines of some of the books on the shelf next to them with shaking fingers. “She doesn’t know, because she doesn’t remember. But I do.”

He was quiet for a long while, venturing to speak only when the temperature had become more bearable. “It’s not just your powers that she doesn’t remember, Elsa.”

At his comment, she finally looked at him, bemused. “What do you mean?”

He brushed a snowflake from his shoulder, and watched it melt in the air before looking back at her.

“If she was made to forget who you were,” he replied, “then how can she know who you are, now?”

#helsa #frozen #frozen fanfiction #QueenoftheAshesFrozen #iceburns

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mxbitters · 4 years

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Can you post photos of the stuffed animals? 🥺 Or at least your favorites?

bro you’re in luck you get to see ALL OF THEM(or at least everything i can see without getting out of bed yet). this is gonna be EXTENSIVE. names if applicable and lore will be under the photos :)

simba!! this dudes 10 years older than me but he’s just vibing, this dudes probably the oldest stuffed animal i have and like the longest time ive had one but it never occurred to me til now!

i’ll go left to right top to bottom here.

1. batman aka the only dude i ever won at an amusement park. it was six flags and that game where you spray water at the target by the way

2. you can’t see him but he’s a panda my friend got me two years ago, he doesn’t have a name yet because im bad at names. you wouldn’t think he’s newer though because i hug that one a lot so he’s been very loved :)

3. this dude’s name is applefur :’) i’ll just leave it at i lowkey had a warrior cats phase as a kid. he’s one of the dudes i had back when like. i was a kid playing with toys,, he has a very happy personality i love him very much

4. (first on bottom) patti, a mysterious friend of mysterious origins. no seriously i can’t remember where i got them. a thrift store maybe????? they’re a friend though. what i like about beanie babies (and certain webkinz like applefur) is that they can fit in a big pocket so you can take them on adventures :)

5. bucky!!! we went on vacation to new hampshire one year, everybody hated it except me! i’d pick new england mountains over any fuckin beach any day. i love it. anyway that being said his name was in honor of a different vacation moment. last summer we went to virginia, this specific place was like crawling with deer (which was wonderful!!! the only thing i liked!! well ok the arcade too but..) and i had a moment getting really close to a deer. like within a few feet.. i heard someone yell and thought i was in trouble but the dude gave me a carrot. this deer’s name was bucky and he was a regular, people just fed the dude. of course i had to put it on the ground for him to pick up but it was still super nice :) bucky is a good friend

6. i don’t think this dude has a name?? i’m pretty sure he too was a thrift friend. mysterious lad but another pocket adventurer if i’m wearing my super big denim jacket :)

same arrangement as last?? i guess??

1. i’ll sometimes call this dude mumble like in happy feet but i don’t think any name’s specifically stuck?? they’re such a joyful penguin though.. :) 🖤

2. i. i don’t know their name. an insurance company gave my middle school a bunch of stuffed dogs with their logo on it so i just. got two? i don’t know where the other dude went.. :( my edgy “i hate everything and i don’t respect stuffed animals” phase was in 7th/8th grade and i am not fucking proud of it. he’ll turn up though..

3. ehh since they’re so tall LOLA! my slightly possessed friend here makes an excellent pocket buddy and they’re v soft like a lil kitten and sometimes i will just. deadass talk to them as i go through my thought processes which is fun.. i love lola :)

4. this friend i believe was a gift from my gramma, she’s got a big hole near her foot though so i need to patch that up :(

5. he doesn’t have a name either (y’all are welcome to suggest names for my nameless friends by the way!!!) but was a gift from my sister a few years back :)

6. tracker! i literally do NOT know where he came from he just turned up in the house one day and nobody claimed him so of course i adopted the lad,, sometimes i still wonder though,,,,,

this is a really bad picture but everybody was falling!!!

1. sammy! like samson because the wild was a movie i really liked growing up, i’m,,,,using him like a pillow as i do this :’)

2. (horse friend) i think i started calling him rusty because of this horse i met who was lovely handsome and stepped on my foot once?? wait shit my writing teacher named him....oh fuck i forgot the name i’ll get back to this......this dude was totally my stuffed unicorns boyfriend.. where is that unicorn i gotta find them so they can reunite 🖤

3. beagle hidden behind everyone! i sometimes would call her jessie because growing up i had a beagle named jessie and she was like a mama dog,, she’d always look out for me. but like i don’t think they should have the same names so bear with me and offer suggestions if you want I guess??

4. chip! a lovely cat friend with those ghibli cat ears ☺️ i can almost guarantee she’s a thrift friend

5. (polar bear 1) fritz! my writing teacher named him, he’s just vibing out man,, v good pocket friend as well

6. (polar bear 2?) never named them, they got a heart they’re holding though and were a gift in a middle school secret santa from a friend who i guess might have liked me?????? we were weird kids who knows

7. scooby doo but you can’t see him :’) his origin is another mystery on our hands

8. (another horse friend) i guess his names oklahoma?? my dad used to go on a lot of business trips so would sometimes get souvenirs for us. this dude was mine,, he held my phone while watching the g interview yesterday, he’s nice :)

9. cinders! fell in love w him at a fair once and couldn’t leave without him his face is the epitome of joy!!!!

(pardon my homosexual posters)

easily we got cheer bear, who was collectors edition but too soft to keep in the box, and funshine! funshine here was based off this movie which in retrospect was slightly traumatizing, he can still sing a song from the movie if i turn his box thing on though! it’s called “all i wanna do is make ‘em laugh” or something like that!! the full movies on youtube if you want that experience

the owl doesn’t have a name, i’ve only had them for like 5 months (short time when the days fly by ok??) but they’re a generous defender. then there’s swiftheart rabbit but they’re my mom’s and i don’t want to damage them even though it hurts :( oh! also g masterfully displaying his creation— jumba style!!!

this pug friend doesn’t have a name, he was also a gift from my sister though! he barks if you squeeze him! it’s given me many heart attacks at night. and then this reindeer lad.. his name miiight be dasher which is a nod to my emotional support gerard way song??? but i can’t remember and don’t wanna guess..

OH also rainbow dash :)

—

anyway that’s everyone i can see right now but i hope you weren’t bored to death i enjoyed this almost hour talking about these friends and will proceed to actually get up now :D thank you for asking!!!!!!

#anyone: h #me: NGJCDIWKKCNFKWKJS*infodumps*#long post

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splendidlyimperfect · 5 years

Link

Sting’s life has been a mess ever since he was eleven years old and Rogue told when he’d promised to keep a secret. Now Sting is an adult, and the only way he knows how to cope is by getting drunk and forgetting the world. When drinking nearly kills him, he gets a chance to turn his life around, and maybe become the kind of man that Rogue deserves to love.

Chapter Summary: Sting moves in with Uncle Wes.

Chapters (6/?): 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Rogue Cheney/Sting Eucliffe, Natsu Dragneel/Gray Fullbuster, Sting Eucliffe & Natsu Dragneel, Sting Eucliffe & Weisslogia Characters: Sting Eucliffe, Natsu Dragneel, Rogue Cheney, Gray Fullbuster, Weisslogia Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Past Child Abuse, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Trans Character, Trans Sting, Friendship, Childhood Friends, Sting-focused story, Sting is a disaster, Natsu’s a great friend, Rogue tries to do what’s right, Tumblr: FTLGBTales Series: Part 2 of i’m still standing

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ca·su·al·ty | \ ˈka-zhəl-tē noun : a person or thing injured, lost, or destroyed

iv summer age eleven

When Sting wakes up the first day after the hospital, he stays in bed under the blanket for a long time before sitting up and rubbing his eyes. The room is dark, and when he looks down and sees the teddy next to his pillow, he scowls and throws it on the floor.

Sting curls up again and drifts in and out of sleep until there’s a quiet knock on the door. He blinks at the clock – it’s 10:37 a.m.

“Abbey, would you like breakfast?”

Uncle Wes’ voice is gentle – Sting remembers him as being loud and booming, but Sting’s never been scared of him. Now, he’s not sure. Uncle Wes is bigger than Dad, and stronger, but Sting feels safe with him.

“Abbey?”

Sting pushes himself slowly out of the bed and wobbles, catching himself on the side table as a wave of dizziness washes over him. The alarm clock cord catches on his fingers and it falls to the floor with a bang.

No, no, no.

The door flies open and Sting flinches, falling backward onto the floor and bringing up his arms to cover his face. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, tensing in anticipation of a loud voice or angry hands.

Instead, Uncle Wes crouches down next to Sting and says, “it’s okay, it was an accident,” in a gentle voice. “I’m sorry,” he adds. “I didn’t mean to scare you – I thought you’d fallen.”

“I’ll fix it,” Sting says, peeking up at Uncle Wes. He doesn’t look angry, but Sting’s not completely convinced. Maybe he’s saving it for later.

Continue reading on AO3

“It’s not broken,” Uncle Wes says, picking up the clock and examining it, then setting it back on the side table. “And even if it was, it’s okay. Are you hurt?”

Uncle Wes reaches out a hand and Sting hesitantly accepts it, letting Uncle Wes pull him to his feet. His arm aches and his head pounds, sharp throbs that slam against the inside of his temples. Other things hurt, too – a scrape on his back, a bruise on his shin, the bottoms of his feet where he’d run over the rocks on his way home from Rogue’s house.

Rogue, he thinks, squeezing his eyes shut. Hurt and anger fill his chest, and he holds his breath to keep himself from crying.

“You must be hungry,” Uncle Wes says, interrupting Sting’s angry, confused thoughts. “Most of my cereal is boring old-man stuff, but I think I’ve got some Reese Puffs hidden in the back of the pantry.”

Sting looks up, not saying anything but following Uncle Wes out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. A bright beam of sunlight falls across the room, making it seem warm and inviting. Sting lets Uncle Wes help him up onto one of the bar stools next to the counter. He winces – everything hurts, and it’s harder than he expected to do things with a broken arm.

Sting’s eyes roam over the pictures on the fridge while Uncle Wes gets the cereal from the pantry. There’s a photo of Sting in grade one with chipped teeth and freckles and curly hair. There’s another of Grammie sitting with Wes and Dad when they were little boys – Sting looks away from that one quickly.

Most of the other photos are of Uncle Wes with a man in a wheelchair that Sting doesn’t recognize. He’s got short black hair and dark brown skin, and a soft, kind smile. In one picture, Uncle Wes is kissing him.

Something funny flips in Sting’s stomach.

“That’s Muhammad,” Uncle Wes says, setting down a bowl of cereal in front of Sting. It’s followed by a glass of orange juice, and when Sting looks down at Uncle Wes’ hand, he sees a wedding ring.

“Is he your husband?” Sting asks. Yukino has two moms, and a lot of the kids in their classes teased her about it. Sting had told them to shut up, once, and they’d called him names too.

“He was,” Uncle Wes says in a soft, sad voice. “He died last year.”

“Oh,” Sting says quietly. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Uncle Wes says, squeezing Sting’s shoulder and sitting down across from him. His bowl of cereal is twice the size of Sting’s, and he digs into it right away. “Muhammad had a sickness that made his heart very weak.” He looks fondly back at the picture. “We spent a good few years together – I’m glad we had what time we did.”

“I didn’t know,” Sting says softly, poking at his cereal. “Dad didn’t…”

“Your father didn’t approve,” Uncle Wes explains. He takes a sip of his coffee and studies Sting over the top of the mug. It takes Sting a minute to realize that it’s a silent question.

“I do,” he says quickly, looking down at his bowl. “I mean, it’s… fine, I don’t…” He scowls at his spoon, trying to figure out why he suddenly wants to tell Uncle Wes. He’s about to say, I think I like boys too, when he realizes that Uncle Wes thinks he’s a girl.

Sting has never told anybody that he’s a boy – not even Rogue, who was his best friend.

Uncle Wes sits up, reaching over and grabbing the bottle of Tylenol from the counter. “How’s your arm?” he asks, and as soon as it had appeared, the tension in the room is gone. Sting shrugs, staring down at the cast. They’d asked him what color he’d wanted, but he’d been too overwhelmed to answer, so it’s pink.

He doesn’t answer the question, but he takes the pills from Uncle Wes and swallows them down with his orange juice. After a minute, he asks, “is dad going to jail?”

Uncle Wes sighs, and it almost feels like he’s going to take Sting’s hand but decides against it. “I don’t know yet,” he admits. “Officer Kelly is going to come by in a couple days to ask you some more questions, but your father is being held by the police right now.”

Sting doesn’t say anything. His feet don’t touch the ground, so he kicks his legs back and forth.

“Did he do this to you?” Uncle Wes asks gently. Sting keeps his eyes on the table, but he knows Uncle Wes is talking about his arm and his head.

He wants so badly to say no, to tell them that they’re all wrong because his dad loves him. But yesterday was the worst it had ever been, and Sting’s still terrified.

He nods.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Uncle Wes says, sighing sadly. “I’m so sorry. I wish I could have been there.”

Sting shrugs.

The kitchen is quiet for a few minutes as they finish eating. Uncle Wes takes their dishes and piles them in the sink, wordlessly offering Sting more juice before putting it back in the fridge. Sting stares out the window – there’s a planter outside full of bright flowers, and an apple tree beyond that.

“I’m not going back?” Sting asks after a while. Uncle Wes settles down across from him again, leaning forward on his arms, but Sting doesn’t look at him. “To dad,” Sting clarifies. “I can’t go back to live with him.”

Uncle Wes shakes his head. “No,” he says gently. “I know this is overwhelming, but you’re going to be staying here now. Officer Kelly is working with someone called a social worker – do you know what that is?”

Sting shakes his head.

“It’s someone who helps people – and families – solve problems,” Uncle Wes says. “They’re going to help us with lots of things, and one of those things is figuring out if you’re going to be staying here for good.”

“Do I have to go to a new school?”

“Probably.”

“Oh.” Sting thinks he should be angry about that, but the space where he’s usually mad or sad is filled with nothing right now. He rubs his face, then looks up at Uncle Wes.

“It’s a lot to think about,” Uncle Wes says gently. “Officer Kelly will explain more when she comes to visit, okay?”

Sting doesn’t want to cry again, but he can feel his throat doing that funny thing that he hates where he can’t quite breathe. None of this seems real, and he can’t tell if he’s angry or scared or relieved. Maybe all of them at the same time.

“I need to go to the grocery store,” Uncle Wes says, pulling Sting out of his thoughts. “Do you want to come with me? I’m not sure what kind of food you like, so maybe you can help me pick out some things.”

Sting chews his lip uncertainly, looking back down the hallway to the guest bedroom.

“If you’d rather stay here, that’s okay,” Uncle Wes reassures him. “We don’t have to go anywhere. I can ask Helen next door to pick us up some things, or we can go later when you’re feeling better.”

“Yeah,” Sting says quietly. He still doesn’t quite feel real, and leaving the house seems like too much. If he goes outside, he’ll see the rest of the world going on like nothing happened, and he’s not sure he can handle that quite yet.

“Okay,” Uncle Wes says. “Why don’t you have a shower, and then we can find a movie or a TV show to watch?”

Showering is hard because Sting can’t get the bandage on his stitches wet, so he ends up wetting his hair in the sink and rinsing it with a cup instead. Standing under the hot water feels nice, though, as long as he keeps the plastic bag wrapped around his cast.

Eventually he’s clean and dressed in a set of pajamas that are size too big for him. Sting curls up in the corner of the couch and wraps a knitted blanket around him, watching as Uncle Wes flips through channels on the TV. Eventually he hands the remote to Sting.

“I have no idea what kind of shows you like,” he admits.

Sting flicks to the cartoon channel and eventually finds an episode of Pokémon. He’s seen it before, but when the theme song starts to play, it relaxes a little bit of the anger and confusion in his chest.

After a few minutes, Sting realizes that Uncle Wes is still sitting on the couch with him. He’s far enough away that he couldn’t reach Sting without standing up, but he’s still there, leaning back with his arms behind his head and watching the show.

“You don’t have to stay,” Sting says, looking back at the TV. Guilt washes over him, suddenly – Uncle Wes probably has better things to do than sit with Sting and watch some stupid TV show.

Uncle Wes looks over at him. “I want to,” he says simply.

Sting frowns but doesn’t say anything else – just burrows into the blanket and listens to Team Rocket scheme about kidnapping Ash’s newest addition to his team.

#fairy tail #ftlgbtales #nbm2019 #nonbinary month #stingue #ftlgbtfics #sting eucliffe #rogue cheney #trans character #fanfic #update #new chapter #my fic

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boysinthecity · 6 years

Text

Reverse Heroine | IV

parts: ➳ 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 / ?

a supposedly only 2 part fic ft. fuckboy!jungkook x reader

summary: because platonic love is underrated

genre: college au, fluff/angst

word count: 5.4k

a/n: its been too long. but i’m finally back to writing! that’s if anyone is still up for reading this 👼🏻 anyways, please let me know how u feel about this chapter! also i didn’t proofread.

“Hey-”

“Hey!”

You stop in your footsteps when you feel a hand land on your shoulder, meeting eyes with Jungkook – who’s catching his breath when he calls your name. With a small smile on your lips, you pull your earphones out of your ear.

“Sorry, I – uh -” You gestured at the white earbuds, “couldn’t hear you.”

Jungkook flashes his signature bunny grin, giving you a brief shake of his head. “It’s fine.” He looks down on the floor for a short second, before meeting your gaze again. “So, um - you suddenly left yesterday-”

Memories from yesterday flood in. After the realization of your growing affections for the boy, it was painful to witness Jungkook look at Daeun like she was his world, his everything. You were getting ahead of yourself again, false expectations of something more. Jungkook has always seen you with a friend, he never did anything that made you believe otherwise. No, you couldn’t ruin your friendship with him like that, you couldn’t betray Jungkook.

“Oh – I got a text from Tae, saying he needed my help for something.” Words flow out smoothly as you lie without hesitation.

Jungkook’s eyes flashes with worry, “Did something bad happened?” He takes a step closer and a rush of guilt hits you for lying to his face. “Are you alright? Yo- you didn’t get hurt or anything, right?”

You quickly shake your head, dismissing any uneasiness that was lingering in his mind. “It was nothing important! He was just asking me about the-” You pause, quickly saying out the first thing that pops in your head “-physics assignment.” You start nod repeatedly, hoping that you can convince him more than you convinced yourself.

“I see…” Jungkook mumbles, looking away to quickly scan the walking crowds on campus grounds. You stall for a moment, scolding yourself that you have to stop acting so weird before Jungkook realises that something has changed.

“Are you okay, though?” You ask, sincere eyes peering at him. “Your talk with Daeun, I’m guessing that it all went well…?” It was hard to miss how Jungkook’s lips pull into a grin again, beaming with happiness. There was no doubt that the boy had been waiting to discuss about this topic with you. That’s what you are good for – when he had girl problems.

“I thought about it, Y/N. I really did.” He tells you, “From now on, I’m going to really focus on being her friend again – someone that she needs. And whatever feelings I have right now, I’m sure they’ll go away eventually, you know?”

“Right…they’ll go away…” Your voice echoes after Jungkook, telling yourself the same exact words. You need to pull yourself out of this tangled web of suppressed feelings before you sink in even deeper. “I’m happy for you, Kook. I really am.” A warm smile is playing on his lips when he hears your response, making you naturally returning the gesture. “By the way, we’re still on for tonight?”

His eyes widen, before muttering a curse under his breath.

“….and you forgot.”

A surge of panic flashes across Jungkook’s features, creating a little knit between his eyebrows. “It-it’s just that I promised Daeun yesterday that we’d do a movie night just like the old ti- I’m so, so, sorry, Y/N. You know how long it has been since we’ve – ”

It can’t be helped that you could only look away in slight disappointment, trying to focus on the scrambling students in the background rather than the boy in front of you. Jungkook seems to have sense your sudden change of mood, stopping himself immediately.

“Actually, I’ll just ask Daeun if we can do a raincheck. I promised you first, it’d be unfai-”

“It’s fine, Kook.” You interrupt him, suddenly feeling bad at how difficult you were making things for him. You told yourself to never be one of those girls, the ones that played mind games and guilt trip people around them. You’ve already decided that you are going to stick by his side as a good friend, and you should follow through. “You go have fun with Daeun, okay? We can just go to the new arcade another today.” A convincing smile plays at your lips, and Jungkook fails to hide the sudden look of relief on his face.

“You are seriously the best, Y/N.” He wraps his arms around you, so tightly that your laughs end up sounding like you were choking. “I’ll make it up to you next time – I swear. But for tonight, I think you should still go to the arcade, you deserve a break after your exams.” Jungkook suggests, a grin on his lips. “Besides, Taehyung would cry in happiness if he could go with you.”

“Tae? I thought you said that he was busy when I asked you to invite hi-”

Jungkook stifles a laugh, eyes shifting away from your gaze.

“-Jeon Jungkook! You didn’t invite him, again?” Your eyes narrow into slits, playfully slapping the boy on his arm. Jungkook backs away, eyes smiling so hard that you couldn’t even see them anymore. Before he runs away from your flaming wrath of fury, he shouts.

“I’ll tell Tae to meet you at 8:00!”

And it turns out that not only was your date late – but it was also different Kim that greeted you.

Kim Namjoon.

He was still catching his breath when you felt a tap on your shoulders, finding Namjoon standing before you. Even in a state of frenzy, he still manages to look strikingly handsome – expected no less from the boy who stole your heart in your high school days. He has a small dimpled smile on his lips when he shyly waves to you. You, on the other hand, did not look so pleased at the new visitor.

“Why are you here?” Your voice was cold, matching the stoic and emotionless expression on your face. “I was told that Taehyung would meet me instead.”

Namjoon frowns slightly, unable to hide his disappoint at the obvious distance that you’ve casted between the two of you. “Always the coldness, huh?” When he sees your lack of response at his comment, he quickly tries to gather your attention before you can turn your back on him. “I was beside Tae when Jungkook called him, and…kind of overheard about your plans on coming here tonight.” He pauses to take a look at whether you were actually listening or not. “Taehyung was supposed to be the one meeting you here tonight – but then he suddenly remembered about his Zoology midterm tomorrow and was kind of panicking because that kid has seriously not touched a single page of his material since school started but then he was afraid that if he told Jungkook he won’t get another chance to chill with you because Kook can be a little possessive piece of shit at tim-”

Namjoon halts when he notices your impatience ticking away – he appears to have gone off track, again. He quickly clears his throat, feeling a little jittery under your cold gaze and it’s just always been so entertaining to him how you – someone so small and endearing like you could always make him feel like a young boy with his first love. ‘Pull yourself together, Namjoon. It’s not the time to be reminiscing about how stupid you’ve been to have let this girl-“.

“I’m not here to listen about how much of a little shit Jungkook is, because I’m well aware of that already.” You calmly speak, interrupting his train of thought. There were no traces of humor on your face but Namjoon knew – that this was your way of telling a joke. It’s a little peculiar on how you expressed yourself at times but he could almost feel his heart tighten at how adorable you looked in this moment.

Namjoon chuckles softly before speaking again. “Pretty much, I watched Taehyung have a mini-mental breakdown and offered to go in his place, sincerely.”

You perch your lips. “Doesn’t seem that sincere considering that you were late for 20 minutes-”

A brown cup holder with 2 bubble teas appear within your vision, with a slightly flustered Namjoon in the back. “I wanted to surprise you with your favourite drink.” He pauses when he sees the glint in ur eyes and a hint of your smile. “And I already exchanged the tokens for the games.” You look down at his other hand and find a plastic bag with numerous silver coins.

Namjoon stands still in front of you, eyes glued on the floor - afraid to look up and face the possibility that you were already gone. Instead, a hand snatches one of the drinks and walks past him. Namjoon immediately turns around and finds you raising your eyebrows at him.

“Well, are you gonna come with? Or…” You take a sip of your drink, attempting to hide your smile.

“Y-Yeah!” Namjoon almost jumps up with enthusiasm as he follows you close behind.

By the end of the night, you’ve already lost count of how many times Joon has made you laugh so hard that you felt tears at the corners of your eyes. To his dismay, they were not intentional - most of them were attempts to be cool but all ended up being the opposite. And with only a few coins left, the both of you decided to try your luck at the claw machine.

Namjoon almost broke the glass when he walked straight into a machine that had these baby blue koala pillows. You walked towards the other side of the machine and almost squealed at how cute the koalas looked with a soft sleepy smile. You chuckle when you see that Namjoon is still staring at the dolls - cheeks squished against the glass and eyes gleaming.

Perhaps its moments like these when you remember why Namjoon is your first love.

“Okay move over, Joon. Let the master show you how its done.” You stretch dramatically and smugly jut your chin forward.

“W-wait! That’s not how it’s supposed to be! I’m supposed to be the one who-” Namjoon doesn’t even have a moment to react before you give him a light push to slide over. A finger lands on his lips, and he stares at you in mild surprise.

“Hush, young one.” You whisper under your breath, “I need to be in my zone.” In response, you receive soft laughter emitting from his lips that was soon silenced by your glare.

“It’s all yours.” He bows at you teasingly. Neither of you spoke another word when you moving the handle, with absolute silence in the background. Namjoon watches in tension as the claw starts moving towards the doll, coming down to pick at the ear-

And it misses.

“Argh!” You let out a frustrated grunt. “Stupid Kim Namjoon! You interrupted me with your loud stupid voice!” At this point, Namjoon could only look at you with a loving smile on his lips – he has realised that he was absolutely weak for you. It was unbearable for him to see how damn cute you are. The revelation bring him back to a conversation with Yoongi hyung back in his third year.

“Honestly, she is just batshit crazy!” Namjoon groans as he slams the door shut, causing a surprised Yoongi to flinch.

“I’m guessing you’re talking about Jessica?” He resumes munching on the pack of chips in his hands, eyes unfazed as he continues his Nolan marathon.

“It’s only been like – what, 2 weeks? – since we’ve started dating and she’s already throwing her temper at me!”

‘Damn, Anne Hathaway really does make a good catwoman’, Yoongi thinks.

Namjoon doesn’t notice Yoongi’s lack of attention so he continues anyways. “I was just asking my classmate, who just so happens to be a female, about our midterm and she gets so fucking jealous about it!” His voice thunders across the entire house, finally bringing Yoongi to cast a glance towards his direction. At this very moment, the new Alpha Sig recruits downstairs shudder in fear at the shouting above. A silent remainder to never piss of the VP Internal – the man is not the composed and friendly person he appears to be.

“Okay…but –”

“And the worst part? She does all this in the library where everyone is trying to study!” Namjoon flops onto Yoongi’s bed and groans, oblivious to his friend’s eyebrow twitch.

Yoongi finally puts his chips down and turns his chair to face the younger man, fingers adjusting his glasses upwards. “First of all,” He blinks, “Get. Off. My. Bed.”

It doesn’t take another word for Namjoon to quickly slide onto the floor – eyes looking up towards Yoongi, who then grunts in approval and goes back to his laptop screen.

“Second, you don’t seem to even like the chick that much. Why are you even dating her?”

“Uhh –” It takes a few moments before Namjoon speaks again. “she’s hot?” His tone sounds unconvincing to Yoongi. “Plus, Prez been telling me that Alpha Sig always goes for the hottest girls. And the Kappas, are the equivalent to hot girls.”

Yoongi laughs, not the sincere ones – but more of the single “Hah!” that he always does. “So you’re dating a bimbo – who can’t tell the difference between HIV and HPV, to show our equally intelligent President, that you got ‘game’.” Yoongi’s words drip in sarcasm. “Sounds about right, kid.”

Before Namjoon can further question his friend’s presence in the fraternity, Yoongi speaks up again to defend himself. “Like I said too many times, I’m only apart of this frat for the credentials and the singles room. Also, my fossil of a brother was like the President a few decades ago so I didn’t even need to go through hazing.”

“Didn’t Joonki sunbae-nim like graduate only two years ag–”

“As I was saying,” Yoongi interrupts him, “Look Namjoon, if the girl is someone that you truly like, then everything she does will only make you fall for her harder. Even when she’s roasting your head in flames– it’d be cute.”

Namjoon snaps out of his daze when he realises that there were no more tokens left. He sees you holding the last coin, eyes tightly shut and suddenly widening them. As you insert it into the machine, you’re mumbling some sort of good luck chant and Namjoon could finally understand what Yoongi meant.

“Yeah, definitely cute.” He whispers.

You snap your head to the left. “What did you say?” Your attention on Namjoon was short-lived because before he could respond with some lame, made-up answer, the happy tune starts playing from the machine again.

“One last time, I got this!”

A little more right…more…mor–perfect!

You clench your eyes shut to press the button, slightly hesistant to make the final move. And right before you press your finger down, Namjoon stealthily tilts the handle towards the left. Oblivious to the change, you bob your head excitedly along with the music as the the two of you watch the claw coming down and catches the koala right in the centre.

You let out a squeal that catches the attention of your neighbours, who consisted of other college students releasing their stress on a Wednesday night. Oh yeah, Namjoon was definitely getting some familiar stares. “Joon! I did it!” You jump up and down whilst slapping your hand against his arm. He happily grins at you in return.

“Yeah, you did.”

The impatience and excitement running in your blood makes you pick up the pillow before it is even released from the claw. And in your arms, the pillow feels exactly as soft as it looks. As you gently brush your hands against the plushie, you notice that the koala’s smile oddly reminds you of Namjoon himself. It takes a short moment before you remember to hand the prize towards Namjoon. “Here! For you.”

If you were trying to hide the fact that you really like the doll as well– you failed miserably. The president was not short of being called ignorant by other girls, but let’s just say that the ignorance was selective. Instead, he just playfully pinches your cheeks and softly shakes his head.

“No, you keep it.” Namjoon pushes the prize back towards you. “You’re the one who got it.”

“Yeah, but I said that I’d win it for yo-”

“I have a lot of stuffed animals in my bedroom already. Don’t worry about it.”

You look up towards Namjoon, “You sure?” He nods in reassurance, lips pulling into a wide grin when you jump up in happiness. If you weren’t so occupied with your newly prized possession, you would be able to see that Namjoon looks at you as if you were the galaxy itself.

“Come on, let’s go.” He nudges you on the shoulder. “I’ll walk you home.”

The walk back was calm with a comfortable silence between the two of you. The stars above twinkled in the clear sky. For the first time since forever, you feel as if you can face Namjoon with a smile again.

Everybody deserves a second chance– you think to yourself.

Sure, Namjoon is your first love, but he was also your friend and confidant before you let your feelings control the best of you. And whatever that happened in your first year, he already apologised. There shouldn’t be a reason for you to hold onto the past if it only makes you miserable.

Your thoughts are interrupted when Namjoon clears his throat.

“It’s your stop.” He tilts his head in the direction of your apartment building– with a smile that has never left his lips for the entire night.

“Oh, right. Sorry, I was totally dazing off-”

“Actually, I have something to tell you.” He speaks up again, unsure whether he should continue. But when you are looking at him without a hint of hostility in your eyes, he takes it as sign to keep going.

“I just– I want to properly apologise for what I did back then.” Namjoon’s eyes stay on your own, unwavering and focused. “I wish I had a good reason, but I really don’t. My judgement was clouded by my peers and– wait no– I shouldn’t blame it on someone else.” His gaze on you lowers, letting his bangs cover his eyes. “I became too engrossed at how others saw me– I wanted to fit in so badly.” A sigh escapes from Namjoon’s lips.

“Joon, it’s okay. I get it.” You walk towards the boy, fingers softly brushing the hair falling down on his face. “We all make mistakes-”

“No, Peanut, it’s not okay.” Namjoon gives himself a moment before continuing. “I wanted to be validated by people who wanted me to be someone I wasn’t. So I did things– things that I shouldn’t have done and…hurt the people that meant the world to me.” He takes a short breath in between. “No, they still mean the world to me.” The last part came out as a soft murmur and Namjoon regretted it instantly.

He needed to tell you how he truly feels about you– no more hiding and being afraid.

You suddenly feel warmth against your hand, finding Namjoon’s hand wrapped around your own, so tightly as if he was afraid that you would disappear. “I must right my wrongs. And this time, I won’t hesitate to chase after what I want.” His brown eyes pierce into yours and all the uneasiness was now determination.

“I won’t let you go– not this time.”

“Just come meet me at the frat house first! The guys miss you, especially Taehyung.” A voice blares through your phone, “I don’t get why you’re suddenly avoiding the place.”

You let out an unamused grunt across the line. “I just– I don’t wanna.” A few seconds of silence pass through before Jungkook speaks again.

“Did something happen?” His voice comes out to be a lot more serious, changing the atmosphere of the conversation immediately. “If one of the guys did anything to you, I swear– ”

“Nothing happened, Kook!” A surge of panic rushes through you, not wanting Jungkook to overreact. “Fine, I’ll come. Meet you in 10?” You can feel Jungkook beaming in victory across the other line.

“See you!” He exclaims before you hang up in him.

The walk to Alpha Sig took less than 10 minutes, but that was considering the fact that you walked in a rather brisk pace. Before you knew it, you find yourself in front of the familiar brown building with white pillars. Upon entering, Jin immediately gives you his warmest smile and greets you.

“Y/N! It’s been a while. Looking for Jungkook?”

A nervous smile casts upon your face, hoping not to dwell in the foyer for too long. Jin doesn’t fail to notice how your eyes were dodgy and looking around the house as if you were searching for someone.

“Or are you avoiding someone?” He teases.

“Maybe– both?” You reply sheepishly.

Jin chuckles to himself, amused to the ordeal that you were going through. “He just left like an hour ago, said something about writing his midterm paper.”

Relief rushes through you as you say thanks to Jin before running up the stairs and heads straight to Jungkook’s room.

As you close the door behind you, Jungkook bounces up from his bed and comes to you with his signature bunny grin. “You’re finally here!” He sings, “God, that 10 minutes felt like forever.”

You can’t help but chuckle at how adorable he was. Sometimes you wonder if Jeon Jungkook is the same infamous campus fuck boy that you first met him as – which brings to you realise, Jungkook hasn’t seem to be sleeping around lately. Not since the two of you have been practically seeing each other every single day. Although the past week has been a little different, with Jungkook sometimes cancelling on you or telling you that he wasn’t in the studio.

Nonetheless– he was still your good friend.

“So, Kook,” You walk to his desk chair and sit down. “What do you want to do today?”

“Actually, I kind of wanted to go to this new vegan place downtown. But I just checked the weather report and it’s going to rain soon.” Jungkook looks like a disappointed toddler who got his candy taken away when he mentions the forecast. “I really wanted to bring you there because I know how much you love that health conscious stuff.”

“It’s alright.” You reassure him, giving him a soft tickle on the chin. “You know I’d always be down for a movie and delivery.”

“But we always do that.” Jungkook furrows his eyebrows, “I want to do more– I don’t know– date stuff?” The last part comes out soft, as if he was shy about saying it.

“Date stuff?” Now this boy was just making you very confused.

Jungkook scratches his ear, looking a little perplexed. “I mean like, dates between friends.” He speaks quickly, unsure himself of where this conversation was heading.

“Jungkook, leave all the fun date ideas and whatnot for when you actually start dating someone that you like.” Your tone is laidback and playful. And for a moment, it almost looks like Jungkook’s eyes are brimming with hidden emotions. You quickly brush away any speculations though, because Jungkook would never– yeah, you definitely thought wrong.

“But when you’re with your good ol’ pal– me. You know I’d be good with just chilling and doing absolutely nothing.”

“But-”

“No buts.” You interrupt him, with a sneaky grin on your face. “Now quickly choose a movie and a place where we can stuff our faces with food from.”

Jungkook looks at you for a short moment before giving you a smile. “Yeah, okay.”

“I’m going to take a quick shower first, okay? The walk here made me kind of sweaty and gross.” When he gives you a brief nod, you walk into his closet to grab a clean towel. It never fails to amuse you how organised Jungkook was when it comes to doing his laundry. Perhaps you should make him start doing your dirty laundry for you. You grab the one with a giant pig nose print on it – that brat bought it especially for you to use – and head to the bathroom. “You better be done choosing when I’m finished!” You pressure the boy behind you, who just laughs and throws his clean t-shirt in your way.”

“Aye aye Captain.”

Stepping out of the bathtub, you pat yourself dry before slipping into Jungkook’s tee and your own sweats. Right before you were about to open the door, you notice that there were voices on the other side. “Is Hobi back?” You mumble to yourself but then realise that it was a female voice. It starts with quiet and unstable sobbing, gradually calming down before the girl whispers her next words.

“Kookie, help me forget. Please.”

There is something unsettling stirring inside of you that made you feel like that things are about to go wrong, very wrong.

Jungkook sighs softly on the other side. “I-I can’t. This is wrong.”

You didn’t want to intrude on Jungkook’s privacy so you decided that it was best to stay in the bathroom until the matter was solved. It wasn’t like you wanted to eavesdrop into their conversation but they were not exactly being discreet with their voices. Silence fills the air before someone speaks again.

“It didn’t stop you from the first time.” It was the girl again.

“Stop mentioning that.” His voice bursts in pain. “I deeply regret for making it happen.” The agony in Jungkook’s voice makes your own heart to ache. And there is only one person you can think of who could make Jungkook suffer like that. “We shouldn’t have done that to J-”

“Well guess what?” She pauses before screaming the next part. “Fuck Jimin!” You start to hear louder sobs on the other side. “I can’t do this anymore, I should have chosen you instead. You wouldn’t have treated me like this, right?”

Jimin? What the hell was going on? All the puzzle pieces come together when you realise that it must be Daeun who was speaking to Jungkook outside, but the conversation was just making you very confused. Your scattered thoughts keep you deeply bothered for a few long minutes, blocking on the noises from outside. You were unsure of when to step outside the bathroom, but you knew that you couldn’t stay in here forever.

Oh screw it. You turn the knob and push the door open.

Stepping out of the bathroom, you were definitely not prepared to see what was in front of you. Lee Daeun was sitting atop of Jungkook – the two of them half dressed and passionately making out and with obvious intentions to go even further.

So this is what Daeun meant by ‘making her forget’.

“What. The. Actual. Fuck.”

You don’t even try to conceal the amount of displeasure in your voice, immediately grabbing the attention of the two bodies on the bed. When Jungkook sees you in his vision– it was like he has woken up from a trance – his eyes widen as he cusses under his breath. Jungkook quickly pushes Daeun off of him and sit upright in attempt to gain whatever composure he had left.

“F-fuck. Y/N, I can explain.” He stutters, flustered and ashamed of whatever that was going on. Jungkook struggles to fix his pants as Daeun sits on the corner of his bed with her head down.

You were not proud of your bad temper, but at this moment it was really something that you couldn’t control.

“This really crosses the line, Jeon.” You hiss, no patience to listen to what he had to say. “I didn’t give a shit when you were just sleeping around, but ruining relationships? And atop of that, a relationship between your two close friends?” Stepping towards Jungkook, you refuse to break any eye contact before whispering your next words.

“Now that’s low.”

Your statement has undoubtedly stab Jungkook right where it hurts the most. He lowers his head in shame, unable to face you. Instead, it’s another voice that speaks up– one that you were not very fond of.

“Stop criticising when you have no idea what is going on!” Daeun glares at you from the corner of his bed, eyes red and swollen from the crying. “Kookie has just been helping me with my problems with Jimin.”

Now you know that it must be your bias speaking, but you just didn’t have the tolerance to deal with Daeun and her little victim act. Not right now.

“No offence, Daeun.” Your laugh was humourless. “But I wasn’t talking to you.” You seethe. Before she can retaliate, Jungkook shoots a glare at her way to make her quiet down.

A few moments of silence sits dangerously in the atmosphere. You feel like your mentality was going haywire with all the emotions running inside of you. Anger? Disappointment? Or was it heartbreak?

Right before you decided that you did not want to be in this room anymore, Jungkook speaks up. He runs his fingers through his hair, looking visibly distressed.

“Daeun, do you think you can go home first?” He says softly, “I need to talk to Y/N.”

She nods timidly as she dresses herself and makes her way to the door. Right before she exits, Daeun gives the two of you another glance and leaves.

When you are positive that she has left, you find yourself releasing a breath that you didn’t know you were holding. Energy strained and tired, you turn your back and start walking towards Hoseok’s bed to sit down.

To be completely honest, you had no idea how to face this situation. You aren’t sure of how you were supposed to feel in this situation.

‘You are his friend, nothing more.’ These words loops in your head before you start talking again.

“Jungkook, I can’t help you get over this heartbreak if you keep walking right into it.” You whisper. “Can’t you see that all of this is really unhealthy?”

Jungkook finally looks up and makes eye contact with you. His eyes are lost– so fragile as if they will shatter if you were not careful. “She said that she will leave Jimin soon. And-” He smiles weakly at you. “I really believe that-”

And that pisses you off – all your attempts to help Jungkook when he didn’t even want to be helped. It was frustrating to watch him put himself in this situation, he deserves so much better. You knew the next words would hurt him, but they were also necessary.

“If she had the intention of leaving Jimin, she would’ve done it before she start ‘this’ with you! She is using you for her own selfish reasons.” You don’t even realise how fervent your voice has gotten. “You are just her toy, Jungkook.”

The anger in his eyes almost frightens you, he has never looked at you with so much resentment. Jungkook’s fists are clenched as he starts walking in your direction, stopping when his face was right in front of yours.

“Why can’t you just be happy for me!” Jungkook has never raised his voice at you like this. “You know what?” He exasperates, “This is why I didn’t want to tell you. I knew you’d judge me like this.” A low growl sits in his throat. “Do you just want everyone to be miserable and pathetic like you?”

The moment that those words left from his lips, he could feel regret flowing through his veins.

“Fuck. I-I don’t mean it that wa-”

His hand reaches out to grab onto your wrists, but before he could – you had taken a step back and the look in your eyes make Jungkook feel disgusted at himself. He is struggling to put the words he actually meant to say together but when he searches for your eyes again, you had already left him alone in his room.

You slam the door shut behind you, skidding to a stop when you see the boys staring right at you. Jin tries to give you a hug but your hand gently brushes it away. No, you couldn’t break down right in front of them, not when Jungkook was just right behind. Without saying another word to them, you ignored their worried expressions and sprint down the stairs.

Jungkook was right, it was raining outside.

#how times does oc have to walk in on kook with another girl #i'm starting to support joonie as i write this #is my bias showing #r.heroine #jungkook angst #jungkook scenarios #jungkook scenario #btswriters #btsimagines #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #bts angst #bts fluff #bangtan boys #bts #bangtan #jungkook x reader

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austinpanda · 5 years

Text

Gallbladder Surgery, with Firefly

5:00 a.m. - Wake up, make coffee, then realize, “Shit, I can’t have anything to eat or drink.” And Zach won’t have any coffee, because he’s both empathetic, and nervous on my behalf, so a whole pot of coffee went to waste. I hate that.

6:05 a.m. - Stacy shows up! She’s going to do the driving. She has brought with her a gift for me, a plush gallbladder holding a handful of pretty stones it created. Basically my sister is the shit.

6:15 a.m. - Stacy, Zach and I head for Seton Southwest Hospital on FM 1826. That “FM” stands for “farm to market” which makes it sound like my hospital is in the middle of a cow pasture, but this is not so. It’s actually a pretty busy part of southwest Austin. They said there’d be plenty of parking, and they were right! Since it’s not yet 7:00 a.m. when we get there, we pretty much have the whole place to ourselves. And it’s not an emergency room, so the reception area has no one in it when we show up.

6:50 a.m. - The receptionist (who is almost certainly not called that, maybe she’s a nurse?) is curly-haired and ebullient, a bit too much for this early in the day, but it beats grumpy and curt, I suppose. She cheerfully takes my driver’s license, my insurance card and $1607.22. She prints about a hundred stickers with my name and barcodes on them. She isn’t shy about showing us the spiral notebook where she keeps all her passwords written down. Again, though, polite and cheerful!

7:00 a.m. - We take the elevator to the second floor and head for the Day Surgery area. We’re shown to a little three-sided cubbyhole room with the hospital bed, a couple of chairs, a TV and a crucifix on the wall, and stuff starts happening.

[At this point, I begin to lose track of what time things happened, so I’m giving up on that format. I blame the drugs they gave me. The sweet, sweet, wonderful drugs.]

Over the next 90 minutes, I’m seen by numerous people, completing many, many tasks. They put an IV in my left arm. Blood pressure cuff on my right arm, which is never removed until just before I’m discharged. I’m given socks. They have a name: Pillow Paws, and they’ve thoughtfully provided me the XXL-sized ones.

They got me a gown and said to get completely naked and put the gown on. “It ties in the back, so your hiney is going to be sticking out.” “Great.” Once I had it on, Zach advised it was inside out, so I did it again. Put the special socks on. Gave Zach my glasses, my watch, and my wedding ring. Everyone wanted to make sure I was comfortable and not too cold. Everyone was so kind!

They put this stuff that looked like green food coloring in my IV. It’s a dye called, no shit, Firefly. It’s something they can use to illuminate something inside me, for the purpose of making something they’re doing inside me easier to see.

They make a point of asking me the same questions repeatedly. What’s our date of birth? What’s your height? Who’s your surgeon today? And what procedure are we having done? I take great (and undoubtedly insufficiently concealed) pride in whipping out my special English Major Superpowers to give them the exact name of my procedure: Laparoscopic cholecystectomy, with robots and Firefly. (My English Major Superpower is that I took the time to look up the term and teach myself how to say it, because not knowing what my own surgery is officially called would bug the shit out of me.) They laugh. They say, “It not a bunch of robots or anything, just the one robot.”

I notice the same thing I noticed in the Emergency Room at St. David’s: Almost every woman there has a trim waist and a HUGE diamond wedding ring.

At one point, one of the women came into the room to give us The Talk About Pain. She went to great lengths to point out that, not gonna lie, it’s gonna hurt. You’re gonna have, you know, a big incision in your belly button, and that’s right at your core, so everything you do, every move you make, every breath you take, every leaf you rake, etc. is going to hurt a bit. I’m just saying, gotta be honest with you about this, we can do a lot to make the pain tolerable, but we can’t make it go away completely, so...yeah, there’s gonna be some pain. You’ll notice it especially when you sit down or stand up, or cough, or try to lift something, so don’t. The idea with the pain medications is to keep the pain from getting up to 8 by keeping it down at about a 3 or 4 proactively. She said: you’ll take your pain meds every six hours. Do not skip a dose because it’s in the middle of the night. You don’t want to wake up with the pain at an 8. Set an alarm and take the overnight dose, without fail.

The TV in the room just happened to be showing a movie I loved as a child, and hadn’t seen in decades: Halloween II. I used to watch this over and over when we first got cable TV as an adolescent. This movie was my introduction to the song, “Mr. Sandman,” which was its end theme. It honestly felt a little bit magical to be seeing Halloween II while waiting for my surgery. This may sound banal, but it gave me hope, when I hadn’t realized I needed some. Movies do that kind of thing to me.

More questions. Date of birth. Surgeon’s name. What’s the procedure? Laparoscopic cholecystectomy with one damn robot and Firefly juice. Am I a little bit loopy? Must be the Versed they gave me. Not sure why they give me this. The stated purpose is to relax me, but the unstated purpose seems to be that it gives you amnesia, so you don’t remember anything that happens next. Oh well. I was relaxed, and I don’t remember shit, so I guess it worked, and I guess I’m okay with it.

The surgeon came. He said, “Hey, how’s it going, just doing some paperwork here, we’ll get started soon, everything looks good, any questions, kay I’m outta here, see you the operating room, can someone get me a Campari and soda?” (I made up that last thing.) Then the anesthesiologist came, and while Stacy observed that he had a really rich, deep voice, I don’t remember that at all. All I remember was having to ask, “So...if I’m something of a professional-grade pot head, you know, is that going to interfere with--” He was already smiling and shaking his head before I finished the question. Normally I don’t like my questions being dismissed so glibly, but this was, in fact, the answer that I was hoping for. “No, it’s not going to cause any problems. You won’t wake up during the procedure.” Maybe I woke up lots of times, and the Versed made me forget them! Didn’t think of that, didja, tough guy?

Finally, it was time. As they wheeled me out, Zach (the guy I married) had them stop so he could give me a kiss. He said later that it felt weird, us being two big gay homosexuals, kissing in front of everybody, but it felt great that he did it. A couple of women took me to the operating room. I asked, “The boil-water restrictions just lifted yesterday...how did everybody scrub in for surgeries when that was happening?” I have no recollection of her answer at all.

In the emergency room, the first thought that hit me was, “Money, money, money. All the money. I’m surrounded by millions and millions of dollars worth of medical equipment.” Being lower middle class makes you conscious of when you’re sitting next to something that’s worth more money than you’ll make in your whole lifetime. Where does this happen? Museums and hospitals.

I scooted off my bed onto the surgery table while they laid me flat and started getting me ready. I assumed the (and this is the name of a Soundgarden song) Jesus Christ pose, with my arms outstretched, like I was being horizontally crucified. I looked right, saw my arm had a strap holding it to the arm rest, then looked left and saw the same thing.

They asked, “How we doin?” And I said, “I’m good! Except now that I know my arms are tied down, my nose itches.” So, and this is why I love nurses, they scratched my nose. I repaid them with happy sounds and a hearty, “THAAANK you!”

Then they put the breathing mask on. I didn’t sense that anything was coming out of it, and I didn’t get the result I’d anticipated, which was, “Count down from one hundred.” “Okay, ninety-zzzzzzzzzz.” What they said was, “Now take deep breaths, deep as you can...deep as you can. The last patient was able to take breaths about twice as deep.” And I thought, seriously? You’re going for my nuts at a time like this? And the other woman said, “Well, the last one was a meditation expert.” Fine. Whatever, dude. BIG DEEP BREATHS while I waited for the lights to go out. It wasn’t instantaneous, until it was. I took a deep breath, and woke up an hour or so later in the recovery room with a woman puttering around me.

Her name was Kathleen, and that’s about all I remember of her. I’m sure she told me things and I responded, but I don’t recall what was said. I wasn’t in pain, but I could feel that a few things weren’t like they were before. (Later I realized it was the stab wound in my belly button and the sore throat. More about that in a bit.) I remember being more comfortable than I’d ever been in a bed in my whole life. I knew my feet were sticking out the bottom of the bed, because I’m tall, and that felt great, too! I felt half weird, half great. Anesthesia is just the best.

The fog lifted, gradually. Kathleen puttered, made notes, talked to me, people walked by. Before long, Kathleen said I was recovering nicely and wheeled me back into the pre-op room, where Stacy and Zach were waiting. Apparently I was more alert and lucid than they anticipated. I attribute this to my life-long ah...efforts to appear alert and lucid while fucked up. They were paying off now, dangit! I was not hurting. I was pleased that it was over, because I knew it must have been boring for them to wait.

Over about another hour, they did all the things they do after the surgery. How are you feeling? You sound good. Want some water? (Ohmygod, yes. I’d been fasting since the previous midnight.) The surgery went well! You’re really recovering quickly! I seemed to be their ideal patient, and it was sweet of them to say so. It’s not that I was pleasant and funny, although they did really like the gallbladder plush, which I took with me. It’s that they liked how smoothly everything had gone, and how quickly and chipperly I seemed to be recovering.

The surgeon spoke with Stacy and Zach after the surgery, and gave them some pictures taken by the surgery robot. Apparently, my gallbladder did NOT look good. He could tell it had needed to come out for some time. He showed them pictures, and sent some on his phone to Zach, and then got Stacy’s number and texted her the pictures too, and showed them some of the pics he’d taken on his phone, just like he’d shown me in our first consultation visit. This guy really likes showing you pictures of gallbladders on his cell phone. I hope he’s not taking his dirty-ass cell phone into the operating room.

I marvel that my stomach has been shaved, and I’ve been covered with iodine, which has been cleaned off, leaving an orange stain. My hairless, orange tummy reminds everyone of the president.

Time to leave! IV out, bandaid on, blood pressure cuff off, backless gown off, clothes back on, and yep, just like the movies, they don’t let you walk out. They wheelchair your ass out. I could tell it was time when they said, “Who’s driving? Okay, you’re probably going to want to go now and get the car and pull it up front,” which Stacy did. I thanked the nice lady who wheeled me out for everyone’s hard work and kindness.

On the way home, Stacy said, “Want to get your pain pills from the pharmacy?” And I said, “Sure!” Then I did a body check: I was beginning to feel the stab wound in my belly button. I was really beginning to feel the sore throat, and it was getting unpleasant. So, despite my desire to make this easier for Stacy, since she was working so hard to make things easy for me, I said fuggit, “Um, can I go home instead?” After getting home, Stacy and Zach went to the pharmacy to pick up my Hydrocodones The charge for the 30 pills was just over a dollar. Sometimes insurance is so sweet, I could kiss it! Other times, like those $1607.22 times, not so much.

Now it’s Tuesday and the surgery is more than 24 hours in the past. My belly button hurts like a sonofabitch, but the hydrocodones and the ice pack are keeping it manageable. They make it so that it doesn’t actively hurt when I’m just sitting here; it only hurts when I stand up or sit down or cough.

Next pain pill in 42 minutes. Cautious optimism! :)

#gallbladder #cholosystectomy

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pixelpolaroid · 6 years

Text

All Curtains drawn- Chapter 5

(In case you missed it, yesterday I did a double upload since I missed Monday)

Late Drinks

Zach insisted on walking home with Marvin that night. Even though he told his brother he’d be fine, there was no changing his mind. In the end, the two arrived back at the apartment a little after 3 am, earlier than Marvin was used to.

The two stumbled into the apartment silently. Marvin pushed his brother off of him as he headed towards their shared bedroom, Zach muttered under his breath as he followed close behind.

“Marv, Marvin!” His brother ignored his gaze as he just threw off his shirt and fell into his blankets. Zach walked over and sat on the edge of his bed. “So when are you gonna start explaining things?”

Marvin said something into his pillow but it came out gargled. Zach let out an exasperated sigh and the two sat in silence for a minute. Marvin eventually lifted his head and looked at his brother. His eyes scanned over him as he pushed Zach off the edge of his bed. “Get off,” He murmured. Zach turned around when his butt hit the ground, but just sat against the bed frame.

Marvin rolled over on his back, eyes darting over to Zach every now and then. “I don’t know who she was,” He finally said. “I must have pissed her off at some point.”

“Pissing someone off doesn’t get a knife to the throat,” Zach retorted. “You obviously did something to provoke her.”

Marvin sat up and looked down at his brother. “She dragged me into our own staff lounge and tried to slit my throat. Look there was probably something wrong with her. We already reported it to our boss, so let’s just go to sleep,” Marvin turned over, pulling a blanket with him. Zach sat on the ground for another moment, just thinking.

Finally Marvin heard him get up and go to his own bed. “Goodnight,” Zach said, Marvin stayed silent. He waited for another half hour with his head hidden, listening for his brother’s breathing to slow down. Once he was sure Zach was out, he pulled the book out from under his pillow. When they got ready to leave the bar he stuffed it in the front of his jeans then hid it away from Zach, after his little encounter tonight, it seemed that this thing was more important than he realized.

Marvin tried being as quiet as possible as he stumbled back into the kitchen and started reading more of that book. He studied the sections more carefully. There are six sections that he hasn’t read. Marvin decides to actually inspect them a bit more thoroughly. Talk of deals, mention of mastering them, warnings, rules. He really should have read more of this.

The young bartender needed to find out about that woman, and whatever that thing in her arm was. He felt it beating, almost like a weaponized blood vessel, like a new appendage completely.

The index had seven sections. “I Law of the deal. II Signing of contracts. III The Seven deals. IV Mastering a contract. V The power of the deals. VI Power and fame. VII Deepest desires.” One of them had to have something about her.

His attention was brought specifically to the fifth section; Power of the contract. He read through it, again most of it seemed foreign to him, but after today, he was beyond doubting this anymore. After he was a good way through the passages, Marvin was sure that this woman had made a deal with someone and for some reason or other she wanted his book. Whether it was part of her deal or she wanted it to grow stronger, he didn’t care to find out. The book spoke of a special type of magic that enters the body like an infection and adapts to the person, giving them a special weapon embedded into their body. They called it a kagune, which sounded straight out of an movie. It flows through the body like a second stream of blood, but can solidify and be used for defense or offense.

What interested him the most was that this… weapon could go from liquid to solid form instantly. He wondered if that was what seeped into his skin. They did also increase healing abilities.

As much as he wanted to keep reading, Marvin knew he’d have to work again tomorrow, and he had the feeling that she would be back soon, so he’d have to keep his guard up. He marked the book and went back into his room, quietly tucking it under his pillow before drifting to sleep.

In his dreams, he saw the woman standing in a cramped office like room, but the office looked like it belonged to a witch doctor. Crystal balls lined the shelves along with bubbling jars and skulls. He saw a faceless man sitting before her with his chin resting on his hand. The woman’s demeanor was such a clash to how he’d seen her before. She actually looked… scared.

The woman spoke, but there were no words present. Marvin watched as the man before her shook his head, as though he were disappointed. She looked down muttering something shamefully. The man slammed his hand on the table between them, both her and even Marvin jumped at this sudden action. He said something, but as before, there was no sound, then he stood and the dream slowly faded away.

All throughout the working day, Marvin’s mind was stuck on that dream. It felt so authentic. What was she saying, and who was she even talking to? He wished there was some way he could know the answers.

As he was deep in thought, a man dressed in red with a black vest sat down at the bar. “S’cuse me? Barkeep!” He called Marvin. The young bartender wandered over, quietly greeting him. “Whiskey please,” He requested. Marvin nodded silently as he got the man his drink before going back to looking like he was busy. As he began to saunter away, the man called after him.

“What no prying question? No leaning down to wipe the counter, asking what brings a fellow like me into a bar on a night like this?” He said teasingly. Marvin just rolled his eyes, oh how he loved the cocky customers. “Not gonna ask for my life story?”

Marvin looked around, the bar was pretty empty and one guy was already starting to pass out. He just sighed and walked back to him. “Well considering I don’t really care about it, no, I’m not. But hey, if you really have no one else to tell it to but me then by all means, spout it away,” He threw a towel in front of the man and started wiping the counter off. “I’ll even put on my listening face.”

The man chuckled, leaning his elbow against the counter. “No, I’m not that pathetic.”

Marvin stood up straight again and threw the towel over his shoulder. “Really? Cause that didn’t sound like a cry for attention at all,” He retorted. Something about the man, Marvin could tell he was a character for a little sarcasm. Which was good, cause he was too.

The man took a sip of his whiskey, tapping the side with his nail. “Nope, just a guy looking for a drink and a distraction,” His eyes shot up a little. “Lady troubles.”

“I hear ya,” Marvin mumbled, although he guess that their situations weren’t exactly the same.

“Well,” He looked off in thought for a moment. “Probably not the same as what you’re thinkin’. Someone that works for me type of situation. Employees that can’t do their jobs.”

Oh. Well they were still different. “Hey I work with my brother. He knows that if he doesn’t do something right, he’s gonna hear it from me first hand,” Marvin shot a glance over to where Zach was collecting a tip off a table and stuffing it into his aprin.

“It’s always different when you work with family,” The man added. “I guess she’s technically family, although, sometimes family is more than just blood,” His eyes lingered on Marvin a little longer as he threw back the rest of his whiskey. Something about the way he said that Marvin really didn’t like.

He took care of a few other people at the bar before going on his break. He locked the door behind him so no one would walk in, as he sat in one of the chairs and flipped through his book. After reading over a page a few times, Marvin set it aside and closed his eyes, feeling his mind drift around, searching for the man at the bar.

AN: If you’ve ever seen Tokyo Ghoul, then imagine the kagunes from that as their weapons because this is going to come up again, I promise you. Also yes, I did take the name from that because I’m not creative enough to come up with something else.

#marvin the magnificent #zach c #phantom #all curtains drawn

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leluh · 6 years

Note

do all the unusual asks!!

o h mhy god…. thank you but i had to bust out my laptop bc no way in hell am i gonna type that all out formatted nicely on my phone….

Spotify, SoundCloud, or Pandora?

Spotify

is your room messy or clean?

Oh god it’s a fucking disaster

what color are your eyes?

i ask myself the same question often

do you like your name? why?

yeah! bc it has a lot of nickname options

what is your relationship status?

single

describe your personality in 3 words or less

emotional

gay

loud

what color hair do you have?

blue, red-purple, and an inbetween purple color in the middle.

what kind of car do you drive? color?

bold of you to assume i have a license or can afford a car

where do you shop?

bold of you to assume i have money to shop with

how would you describe your style?

Bad

favorite social media account

I use this one the most but i like the stickers on snapchat

what size bed do you have?

twin i think

any siblings?

Oh boy. oh howdy. im the oldest of five. i sure fucking do have siblings.

if you can live anywhere in the world where would it be? why?

on top of a really big tree bc it’d be cool babey!

favorite snapchat filter?

none of them

favorite makeup brand(s)

i dont pay enough attention to give a shit. i do have & occasionally wear makeup, tho

how many times a week do you shower?

every other day

favorite tv show?

um! FMA:B

shoe size?

women’s 9, men’s 6 i think

how tall are you?

5′8″

sandals or sneakers?

sneakers

do you go to the gym?

haha no

describe your dream date

anything, as long as im spending quality time with the person/people

how much money do you have in your wallet at the moment?

i have $5 in my jacket pocket I should put in my wallet, thanks for reminding me

what color socks are you wearing?

blue… orange….. white….

how many pillows do you sleep with?

3 rn. two for my head and one big one for my arms

do you have a job? what do you do?

ive never had a job

how many friends do you have?

a lot!!!! and i love them all and i hope they know this

whats the worst thing you have ever done?

don’t worry about it

whats your favorite candle scent?

vanilla….. also anything citrus

3 favorite boy names

3 favorite girl names

names dont have a gender also i dont have an opinion

favorite actor?

favorite actress?

no opinion

who is your celebrity crush?

they arent celebrities but i have a tiny “celeb crush” on everyone at Polygon

favorite movie?

anything studio ghibli does. Tales from Earthsea was good as fuck and underrated!

do you read a lot? whats your favorite book?

I dont read a lot but my favorite book is The Red Tent

money or brains?

paypal.me/leluh

do you have a nickname? what is it?

my baby siblings used to pronounce my family nickname “Lexi” as “Leluh” (hence the url) but i go by Lex

how many times have you been to the hospital?

i had to get rushed to the ER in an ambulance once bc I had a seizure in church. the stretchers are really comfortable, the glucose packet the paramedic gave me didn’t taste nearly as bad as he made it out to be, and IVs are the fucking worst

top 10 favorite songs

here’s my spotify playlist for this month

do you take any medications daily?

i’m supposed to take like, six vitamin pills for my POTs headaches but i uh. dont.

what is your skin type? (oily, dry, etc)

annoying

what is your biggest fear?

being replaced, easily forgettable, not meaning anything to anyone

how many kids do you want?

none right now but i like kids and i know how to handle a lot at once so it really depends on how my life goes in the future.

whats your go to hair style?

sideways

what type of house do you live in? (big, small, etc)

big enough for a family of eight

who is your role model?

who i want to be in the future

what was the last compliment you received?

some guy at the grocery store last night said he liked my hair

what was the last text you sent?

sent a photo to my mom

how old were you when you found out santa wasn’t real?

I don’t remember ever actually believing in santa

what is your dream car?

one that works

opinion on smoking?

mmmmmmmmmgross

do you go to college?

on the 27th

what is your dream job?

anything i enjoy that allows me a happy life. i’d love to work with plants, microbiology, astrobiology, or like…. bees

would you rather live in rural areas or the suburbs?

I don’t know! im pretty neutral

do you take shampoo and conditioner bottles from hotels?

oh hell yeah

do you have freckles?

i have a permanent patch of freckles on the side of my left shoulder and occasionally i get a few freckles on my face in the summer

do you smile for pictures?

depends on the context

how many pictures do you have on your phone?

a lot

have you ever peed in the woods?

yeah, my family used to go camping a lot when i was little

do you still watch cartoons?

yeah

do you prefer chicken nuggets from Wendy’s or McDonalds?

Wendy’s

Favorite dipping sauce?

honey mustard and ranch is a close second

what do you wear to bed?

T-shirt

have you ever won a spelling bee?

never been in one

what are your hobbies?

i can throw a flag pretty cool

can you draw?

do you play an instrument?

absolutely not, but it’s very cool and i have major respect for musicians

what was the last concert you saw?

I saw Maggie Rogers in concert a while back

tea or coffee?

tea! coffee is nasty

Starbucks or Dunkin Donuts?

neither

do you want to get married?

Depends, but im not against it at all

what is your crush’s first and last initial?

ahahahahahahaha um. i plead the fifth. also there’s two of them anyway

are you going to change your last name when you get married?

depends! also not against it

what color looks best on you?

dunno, but i wear a lot of denim and bright red

do you miss anyone right now?

hell yeah babey dont we all

do you sleep with your door open or closed?

closed dear god i have two cats and four siblings under the age of 10

do you believe in ghosts?

eh. not really. would looove to be proved wrong though

what is your biggest pet peeve?

problems that could have very easily been avoided with communication

last person you called?

my voicemail lmao

favorite ice cream flavor?

Vanilla………….

regular oreos or golden oreos?

regular!

chocolate or rainbow sprinkles?

rainbow cause im gay but otherwise i dont rlly like sprinkles

what shirt are you wearing?

pajama t-shirt. it’s from ACYC

what is your phone background?

my lockscreen is coke zero and my homescreen is a mother mother quote

are you outgoing or shy?

I try to be sorta outgoing but dear god do i get anxious easily

do you like it when people play with your hair?

not really…. leave it be :/

do you like your neighbors?

I don’t know them at all

do you wash your face? at night? in the morning?

whenever i feel like it

have you ever been high?

nope

have you ever been drunk?

nah

last thing you ate?

some knockoff Doritos

favorite lyrics right now

all of Infinitesimal by Mother Mother

summer or winter?

I hate being too hot but i do love alaska summers

day or night?

night…. love that second wind and sudden impulsive urges

dark, milk, or white chocolate?

white chocolate. i have a strong sweet tooth

favorite month?

no opinion

what is your zodiac sign

leluh.tumblr.com/zodiac

who was the last person you cried in front of?

Everyone in Drama during senior night lmao. last time i cried alone however??? yesterday afternoon sjkdfhaksjfh

#long post //#stimmystimmykokobop #ask

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birdiethebibliophile · 6 years

Text

{fic} That Old Sweet Feeling (part 31)

Fandom: The Adventure Zone: Commitment Rating: M Chapter Warnings: None Relationship: Nadiya Jones/Mary Word Count: 1,237

Here on AO3. Read the rest: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Part 30

Tagging @someone-called-f1nch, @voidfishkid, @mellowstarscape, and @jumpboy-rembrandt!

Holy shit, I can’t believe we’re finally here. It’s been eight months - almost exactly - in the making. The longest thing I’ve ever written, and the thing I’m (so far) most proud of. Thank you everyone for sticking with me, especially everybody from the TAZ Commitment Discord.

I love you all.

Chapter Summary: A soft epilogue.

__________________

“No, Mom, I’m fine. I’m talking to you. I couldn’t do that if I wasn’t fine.”

Nadiya glanced up at a soft tap on her door. There was Mary Sage, wearing a t-shirt and worn jean shorts and holding a potted plant. She waved.

Nadiya smiled and motioned her in. “I mean, yeah, you can fly out if you want. Aren’t England to California, like, literally as far from each other as physically possible, though?” She paused to give Mary Sage a careful, one-armed hug. “Okay, okay! Call me when you get in, okay? I can give you the hospital address.

“No, Dad isn’t coming. Yeah. He emailed me yesterday, you know how he doesn’t like to talk on the phone. Said he was in the middle of something, but if I needed him, he could – yeah, no. Mom, it’s fine. My friends are taking good care of me. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She smiled. “Yeah. Looking forward to seeing you. Love you too.”

Nadiya hung up and set the cell phone on the table by her hospital bed, next to where Mary Sage had put the plant. “Hey, Space Cadet.”

“Hey, Reed Richards.” Mary Sage kissed her on the cheek. “How ya feelin’?”

“Less like shit than I did yesterday,” Nadiya said. “Or the day before. So that’s progress. That plant’s not going to last a week – I’ve killed every plant I’ve ever had.”

“It’s the thought that counts,” Mary Sage said brightly, settling on the hospital bed with a slight bounce. “That was your mom?”

“Yeah. Apparently she saw the news and decided to fly halfway across the world to make sure I was all right. Good to know that something will make that happen, even if it had to be a life-threatening situation.” Nadiya rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help smiling again.

It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t going to be perfect, between them, but her mom was making an effort, and maybe that was step one.

“Surprised it took this long,” Mary Sage commented.

“It didn’t make international news until this morning, I think.”

Martine may have shot the screens at the press conference, but Jonesy’s camera had still been up and working throughout their entire confrontation in the back room. She and Grace had retrieved the footage and disseminated it to every news outlet they could. As it turned out, it didn’t reflect well on Martine that she ordered the cold-blooded murder of multiple people on camera. Every security officer in the place had been on her as soon as they could get past her guards, anyways.

Because Martine wasn’t dead. What Mary Sage had done – whatever she had done – had ruptured the connections Martine had had with the former members of the Do-Good Fellowship, as well as the people who’d received stimplants since then. According to the news, she was suffering “unexpected neurological side effects” from what had happened.

“Oh, cry me a river,” Mary Sage had said when she heard. “I didn’t have a choice when she fucked up my brain. I’m not sorry.”

Now, Mary Sage flopped back with Nadiya, carefully avoiding her arm with the IV in it. “We heard from Jamie this morning,” she told Nadiya. “She wanted to know whether it was all true. We said yeah, an’ told her about the whole victim of war crimes protection thing or whatever. Sounds like she’s goin’ back to Eureka.”

“I’m glad,” Nadiya said, and was surprised to realize she meant it. “What about the others?”

“I think Irene’s been talkin’ to Flanagan, but Kardala’s been real cagey about it,” Mary Sage said, snickering. “She did say they were good, though, Addison an’ Flanagan. Figurin’ stuff out. Pridmore an’ Abbey are still hangin’ around. I think Grace got ahold of Joe this morning?”

Nadiya made a sound that she hoped adequately conveyed her utter contempt for and disregard for one Joe Carbinner.

“Aw, shut up,” Mary Sage said, giggling. “I know you hate him, but he got screwed over by the Fellowship as much as any of us.”

“Sure.” Nadiya smiled as Mary Sage’s absent fingers found the bracelet she was still wearing and started fiddling with it. “Has, uh… How’s Remy doing?”

“Not great,” Mary Sage said frankly. “Kinda the same as you. Today was better than yesterday was better than the day before. Somebody called him last night – his brother? He cried a lot an’ when he got off the phone he gave everybody a big hug, an’ he’s seemed a little better since then.”

“And you told him I want to see him?”

“Yeah. Might be a couple days, still. I think he knows it wasn’t his fault, but he’s still pretty messed up about it.”

Nadiya sighed. “I guess I don’t blame him. He probably got the worst of this, and that’s counting that I literally got stabbed.” She settled back further into her pillows. “You ever feel like… you can’t quite believe it’s over?”

“Every second,” Mary Sage said without hesitation. “Shit, Nad, this all started for us way before we even knew it had. I know it’s not, like, over over, with Martine’s trial we gotta testify at an’ everything, and figurin’ out what the hell we’re gonna do now, but… I talked to a lawyer this morning, Nad. A lawyer. He said he’s gonna help me get my parents out of jail, and he only had to look at the case file for like, a second before he said there was more hinky stuff goin’ on than it even seemed like at first. Bribes an’ shit. Didja know that forbidding contact with family members in prison without due cause is a crime?”

“No, but it makes sense. Have they found Richard yet?”

“Yeah, as soon as they raided Martine’s place. He’s under arrest too – aiding an’ abetting. And treason,” Mary Sage added. “Sylvane’d be under arrest too, but he’s in the hospital right now, an’ he’s sayin’ he was controlled like Remy. I call BS, but I guess the feds can figure that one out.”

“God, I want to get out of here,” Nadiya grumbled. “I hate having to hear everything secondhand.”

“Hey, Nad, guess what I realized?” Mary Sage, sitting up and grinning.

“What?”

“Now that we’re not on the run, we can actually go on dates an’ shit if we want,” Mary Sage said. “There’s a bunch of real great places in San Francisco. I’ve been checkin’ ‘em out so we can go when you get out of the hospital. Bookstores an’ ice cream places an’ coffeeshops an’ whatever. I dunno, that’s what you do for dates, right? I’ve only been on, like, one, an’ we went to Olive Garden, an’ I left early.”

“That’s one more than I’ve been on,” Nadiya admitted. “But that sounds… really good. And then I guess we’ll have to start apartment shopping, huh?”

“Yeah, eventually, once we know where we wanna live,” Mary Sage agreed. “Plus finding jobs, I guess. But we don’t have to worry about that yet, right?”

“Nah,” Nadiya said. “Let’s get through this first. Let everything reset and settle down. And in the meantime, yeah, let’s go on a bunch of dates.”

“Sounds good to me,” Mary Sage said, and kissed the corner of Nadiya’s mouth. “There’s that old sweet feeling again,” she whispered. “You feel it too?”

“Yeah,” Nadiya said. “I do.”

-----

(Tomorrow will take care of itself.)

#taz #taz commitment #taz fanfiction #nadiya jones #irene baker #kardala #mary sage #space cadet #christopher rembandt #remy #the adventure zone #the adventure zone commitment #taz: c #that old sweet feeling #tosf #mine #wow... I made it

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diyunho · 6 years

Text

The Joker x Reader - “Mommy” Part 3

It was a well known fact The Joker’s girlfriend left him with four young children and disappeared. It was also known that his ex stepped up and took care of them even if she didn’t have to. The King of Gotham might have lost his woman, but he never lost his Queen.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5

After 2 months

The Joker is alone in the VIP room, enjoying his solitude; he ordered everyone to clear the premises and wait outside since his business meeting ended earlier than expected. Out of the blue, the cell alerts of a new message. J slides the screen and a picture with you and Mia laughing pops up: you are both wearing matching headbands with yellow flowers, identical pearl necklaces and PJ’s made from the same fabric.

He barely smiles, when a new picture with you and now all the boys added in the frame pops up, apparently ready for bed. The Joker’s smile gets a little bit wider, then after a few seconds it disappears under the usual frown. He starts texting something back but changes his mind and erases the words, staring at the images one more time before placing the phone inside his pocket.

At the penthouse, you didn’t even wait for a reply since J never comments when you send him pics with the children; you get notifications they were seen and I guess that’s the best you’ll ever get.

“Kase honey, stop jumping on the bed, it’s time to sleep, ok?”

The four years old is still energetic so he keeps on jumping, chanting your name:

“Mo-mmy! Mo-mmy!!! Mo-mmyyy!!!”

“Kasey, be good and listen to me!” you try to make him behave while exiting his room with a clear purpose: taking Mia to her crib. The baby girl fell asleep in your arms, resting her head on your good shoulder. You are really not supposed to hold the kids or lift them up since it will take a while to completely heal from the injury you sustained, yet sometimes you can’t help it.

You carefully place her in the cradle, sneaking up into the room next door to make sure the twins are still dozing off. Thank goodness they are and you close the door to their bedroom, immediately rushing to Kase’s room when you hear the thud followed by crying.

The boy was hopping up and down when he accidentally moved too much towards the edge of the bed and landed on the floor right on his face. The carpet is soft but the impact scared him nevertheless.

“My poor little man,” you pick him up, worried he might have broken something.

Kase whimpers and hugs you, searching for comfort. You kiss the child’s head and caress his back, soothing the pain.

“Are you ok?” you wipe his tears, making him sit on the bed while you analyze him.

“Y-yes…” he stutters, sniffling.

“Then why are you crying honey?” you ask, cupping his face and the answer makes you hold in the laugh.

“Don’t know, mommy…”

“You’re silly,” you kiss his cheek, happy nothing bad happened. “You want me to read you a bedtime story?”

“U-hum, “ he nods, distracted by the offer. You get Kase under the covers and snuggle with him, reading until he falls asleep. And the busy day you had catches up with you, making you snooze in there before you have a chance to go to your own bedroom.

*************

“Y/N…Y/N, wake up!” The Joker shakes you and finally gets a reaction; he’s been calling your name and you didn’t even hear his first attempts.

“What time is it?” you turn towards him and Kase instinctively moves closer, searching for the warmth of your body.

“It’s 2 in the morning. Come on, hurry up, we have to go: it smells like gas downstairs, I think we have a gas leak!”

“Jesus!” you wake up in an instant, pulling Kase in your arms and struggling to get up; your shoulder hurts since you carried Mia around yesterday. “I’ll take him, go to the car!” he wraps his son in the blanket, not fazed by the protesting moans.

“Dadddddyyyyy,” the boy yawns, closing his eyes, upset with the ruckus.

“You’re fine, brat !” J lifts him higher in his arms and follows you. You want to get the other kids, but some of the henchmen are already helping, having them in blankets and heading towards the elevator. The gas detector is beeping in a frenzy but you were so exhausted you had no clue.

“Yuck, the smell,” you cover your nose, waiting for J to catch up with you. “Are we going to my house until this is taken care of?”

“I suppose so,” he growls and you know why: The Joker hates your house, always complains it’s too small.

Situated on the property you use as the children’s playground – 3 bedrooms, 3 bathrooms, a large living room and a spacious kitchen- the one level home is more than enough when needed. Since you live mostly at the penthouse, you never feel the need to upgrade. Usually the boys sleep in one bedroom and you sleep with Mia, this way J has his own room. If he’s not coming to stay when you take the kids there, you move Aiden and Zane to their father’s bedroom. Simple and easy.

Not for The King of Gotham though. “Simple and easy” are not his thing.

***************

“It’s cold in this stupid house!” J complains as soon as he enters the master bedroom where you gathered all the kids in the same bed, waiting for the central heating to warm up the house.

“You know I don’t have the heat on when we’re not here; it’s not safe. Be patient, it will get hot soon,” the reply attempts to explain the obvious situation.

“Gimme 2 kids, I need to warm up. I’ll take them to my bedroom!” he gestures towards the twins.

The two year olds are not excited about their dad’s strategy: they are cranky and whiney because they got woken up in the middle of the night and transported to another location. They hold on to you, burying their faces in the pillows.

“Hugging all the kids, hm?” J snarls, irritated. No other choice but to crawl in the big bed also.

You choose not to comment: how is this your fault?!

The Joker snatches Mia that is sleeping in your arms and places her on top of him, moving Kase to his left, this way he has some bodies around to warm up with.

“That’s better,” he grumbles, covering everyone with an extra blanket. Kase reaches for you, wanting to go back to the spot next to his mother but J won’t have any of it:

“Stop wiggling and sleep!”

“I want my mommy,” his son complains and The Joker gets mad:

“What am I, decoration?! She’s literally a few inches away!”

“Kase, go to sleep honey, ok?” you plead, touched by how much the children love you. “Mommy’s here.”

In about 30 minutes the house reaches a comfortable temperature and J tiptoes out of crowded bed, wanting the privacy of his own room.

You keep on tossing and turning; your shoulder aches and you’ll definitely need some pain killers if you want to be able to rest. You slowly move away from the kids, not wanting to startle them. It’s so sweet to see the four innocent souls peacefully dreaming, curled up under the cozy fleece blankets.

“J, are you still awake?” you knock at his door.

“Yes, come in,” he turns on the lamp, curious on why you’re still up. You open the door and step inside.

“My shoulder hurts and I forgot the painkillers at the penthouse. Can we send…”

“I have your med,” he shows you his coat on the chair. “Upper pocket.”

“Oh, that’s awesome!” you sigh, digging in there and retrieving the much needed remedy. ”Thank you.”

“Here,” he dismisses your gratitude, handing over the bottle of water kept on the nightstand.

You swallow 2 tablets, taking a deep breath when the sharp pain pokes at the surgery site.

“Get in,” The Joker slides on the sheets, making space for you.

You almost choke on the water and he rolls his eyes.

“Are you afraid I’m gonna take advantage of you?”

“No,” you hesitantly debate on his proposition, confused about it.

“Then get in,” he reinforces his will. “Don’t look at me like that!” J glares in your direction, not a big fan of that intrigued expression on your face.

You listen to him though and comply.

“What did the doctor say? Do you need more blood transfusions?” he starts the conversation as soon as you are next to him. You bite on your lip, nodding a no. “Well, if you do let me know, alright?”

“OK…” you agree, perfectly aware on why he’s interested: after all the blood loss you sustained with the stabbing, you needed more to replenish what was depleted. They had you hooked up to the IV ready to go, when J had a fit because the doctor didn’t notify him of the procedure. The Clown Prince of Crime was furious he wasn’t asked to donate blood: he’s a universal donor, a match for all blood types. Of course the medical team had to apologize and be thankful they weren’t killed on the spot.

They also had to listen to his rant about how generously rewarded they were for being allowed to take care of the mother of his children and how they couldn’t even keep him updated on your condition. That was the first time you heard him talk like that and it was hard to hold in the tears: it made you aware he did appreciate the sacrifices his ex-girlfriend made over the years while taking care of his babies. The Joker just never showed it; he’s not that kind of person.

Needless to say you do have his blood running through your veins now. And you could have more if necessary.

You stare at each other in silence: you have a feeling there’s a purpose to his behavior.

“Why did you remove the tattoo?” J unexpectedly blurs out.

Ahhh, there we go: that’s why you were cordially invited to stay; he wants to talk about stuff bothering him. Might as well since you want to take a few things off your chest also.

You answer with a question:

“Why would I want my ex boyfriend’s name on my skin?!”

“I worked on that tattoo for weeks! It was perfect, my best one !” J cuts you off.

It’s always about him, of course.

“We weren’t together anymore, no point in keeping it…”

“I worked on it !!!”

This is not going well.

“The lack of a tattoo doesn’t…”

“I spent weeks on that ink!” he interrupts again.

But you can’t hold in your own escalating anger:

“Why did you always bring Anya back?! Why did you tolerate her behavior?! Why did you keep on getting her pregnant?! She was horrible! And you didn’t want to have any children with me when we were together ! I would have been a great mother!!”

You lick you lips, running out of breath after the valid outburst. The Joker’s eyes have a sudden threatening sparkle, not expecting you’ll turn the tables on him.

“I don’t have to explain myself to you !” he grumbles, annoyed. “But I have to?!” you fight back, more and more upset. “Why…” and your voice breaks…”Why did you like her so much?…”

“I don’t like anybody!” he mutters through his silver teeth.

“You did like her a lot, it’s obvious…” you sadly smile. “And she neglected the kids, almost killed her own daughter… She never cared about you either…So…why did you like her so much?” you persist, unwilling to quit. At this point there’s no use: you are both fired up.

“Get out of here!” his menacing voice shrieks. “Get out before I might do something I can’t take back !” he pushes you away, struggling to contain his temper. “OUT!”

You don’t budge and J continues to violently shove you towards the end of the bed.

“Get out I said !” he pants, provoked by your rebellious behavior.

You don’t even feel the shoulder pain anymore or anything else for the matter.

“Why did you like her so much?” you repeat and he covers your mouth, rolling on top of you. The Joker realizes you’re not attempting to escape his grip; you just gaze at him without squirming.

“Get out of my sight!” J hisses, annoyed at your apathy; you’ve been in charge of his security for years, he knows you can defend yourself.

Why don’t you?

He lifts himself up a bit in order to give you one last nudge that will make you fall off the bed, when your arms tightly wrap around his neck, pulling him back on top of you.

“Why did you like her so much?” you forcefully hold him close when J wants to escape the embrace. “Why did you like her more than me?” you whisper in his ear and start crying, unable to suppress the burning question you wanted to ask for years. “I was loyal, I really loved you and never cheated,” your shaky voice makes him pay attention. “And you still broke up with me. And I didn’t object continuing to work for you when you asked. And I took care of your children when you asked,” you start sobbing and his face is buried in your neck, still mad yet listening. “You told me you trust me and that I never stopped being the Queen…Queen of what?” you lift his head up so you can look at him.“Queen of nothing?” and the tears keep on uncontrollably stream down your cheeks, your heart aching a hundred times more than the stabbing wound.

The Joker doesn’t bother to react or protest when you finally slide from under him, catching your breath while sitting at the edge of the bed. You wipe your eyes and prepare to go back to the kids just as his words barely make it out:

“You’re my children’s Queen and The Queen of this city. And…and my Queen since I can’t find a better one I can trust…”

Instead of making you happy, the sentences deepen your gloomy mood. J gets under the covers, turning his back on you, done with it all. He senses you scooting over closer to him until your steady breath lingers on his neck.

“Why are you still here?” he grouchily mutters and he feels your lips pressing on his shoulder.

“You want me to go?” you sigh. “Or…can I stay?”

“Suit yourself,” he reaches for the lamp and turns it off, not opposing to your left hand finding its way around his waist.

You’re almost napping when The Joker reopens the discussion:

“If by some miracle one of these days you manage to keep a man and get married, you still have to take care of the children; that’s an order !” he spits out with a hateful tone.

“ I really love your children; I couldn’t abandon them,” you cling to him more, somehow comforted when your hand is being moved from around his waist and kissed after a few seconds.

***************

The next day he avoids you.

You spend a lot of time outside on the porch, watching the kids play in the snow: even if is mid-February, there is plenty left for them to enjoy.

“Mommy… for you,” Zane gives you a snow ball, excited it made you smile. Mia is chewing one of her toys, cozy on the thick blanket she’s placed on at your feet.

“Thank you baby,” you kiss his nose, making sure to button up his jacket one more time. He likes to unbutton it; surely takes after his father, can’t keep stuff buttoned up. The thought gives you a sudden boost of positivity while watching him run back to his brothers. Aiden trips him and they both fall to the ground laughing, Kase trying to squeeze in between them because he wants to join in the fun.

“Don’t hurt yourselves !” you shout, the maternal instinct surfacing for the millionth time today and you help Mia up, the cute Princess standing without too much help; pretty soon she’ll be able to walk on her own.

You peak behind you through the huge glass windows, seeing The Joker talking to Frost. The King of Gotham is fast to throw something in the trash can, visibly irritated.

“Mommy, look !” Aiden yells, showing you the wall of snow he’s starting to build with his siblings.

“Good job honey!” you praise, waving at the boys and J steps outside, crabby disposition noticeable from a mile away. “Hey, did Frost tell you how long it will be until we can return to the penthouse?” you’re curious to find out since you hardly spoke to him since this morning.

“At least one week,” he growls, displeased at the news. “The pipes need to be replaced at the lower level. Only one duct was leaking, but they want to change all of them for safety.”

“That makes sense,” you grunt and lift Mia up, The Joker scolding:

“You’re not supposed to do that !”

“I know, I know,” you agree and he gestures for her. After finding herself in his arms, the little girl starts munching on his coat’s collar, babbling words that almost resemble “mama” and “dada”.

“Greeeat, another one to chew my ears off,” he frowns and it doesn’t go well with you.

“Why do you have to take the joy out of everything? Aren’t you happy Mia will walk and talk soon?” you sulk, not understanding why he can’t appreciate the little things.

Sarcasm follows:

“Sure, why wouldn’t I be? It’s something a kid never did before, right? Pfft,” he scoffs, ”you’re the one that got emotional when each kid learned to walk and speak; I don’t get the hype.”

“Of course you don’t,” you grumble, concluding the children must be hungry after playing for so long. “Darlings, come inside; it’s time to eat!”

************

You stop drinking your tea and elbow J, making him pay attention to the touching scene taking place at the kids’ table: the boys are eating and feeding their little sister also. Kase is actually standing, holding her hand and she nibbles on the chicken nugget offered by Aiden. As soon as Mia starts chewing, the boys eat some more too, waiting for her to finish what she has in her mouth.

Your eyes get teary; even if they did it before, you find it irresistibly adorable.

“That’s very cute,” you gulp, getting ready to help. The boys can mostly feed themselves, yet their mom’s intervention is more than welcomed.

J smirks, quietly adding more salad to his dish.

You head over to the counter, wanting to dump leftovers from your plate in the garbage can before helping the kids. The small box resting on top of the trash is discretely taking out by a curious Y/N. Is this what he threw in there earlier?!

You open it and hold your breath: it’s a gold bracelet; a simple circle beaded with a few diamonds, engraved with plain, meaningful words:

To: Mommy

From: Kase, Aiden, Zane and Mia

J hears you sniffling behind him and turns his head to see what’s going on. You hold the bracelet in the palm of your hand, speechless.

“Why is this in the garbage?!” you bite your cheek. “Help me put in on please.”

He doesn’t seem willing to fulfill your demand.

“I had no clue you dig in the trash now! Is it a part time job?” he mocks, cranky you found the customized gift he ordered eight days ago and decided to dispose of.

“Help me put it on,” you disregard his bitterness and J nags:

“It’s a gold hoop, easy to use, no clasp or nothing.”

“I want you to help me… please…”

That’s the point: you want him to do it.

“You’re annoying !” he yanks at you wrist, gliding the bracelet against the soft skin.

“Daaadddy, I’m thirsty,” Zane whines, coming over with his empty cup.

“Oh goody, someone finally needs me!” The Joker’s sassiness escalates for no reason.

***************

You creep inside his bedroom without knocking and lean your back against the closed door, waiting.

“Can I sleep here?” you utter, not looking his way.

“It’s your house, isn’t it?” the indirect invitation follows and you crawl in the bed by him, keeping a safe distance. “We can fit the twins between us; why aren’t you coming closer? Or are you scared you won’t be able to behave?”

You actually giggle, surprised you feel nervous.

“I think I’m alright, ” and you bring your body near his, cuddling like you used to years ago when you were together.

“Here’s the thing Y/N,” The Joker lifts your chin up. “If you sense any activity bellow my waist, don’t flatter yourself. It’s just a natural reaction due to the closeness. Are you…are you fucking blushing when I’m just messing with you?!” he teases and you feel your cheeks burning.

“I’m not blushing,” you whisper, embarrassed at your stupid vulnerability.

“You totally are,” J grins and you are aware it’s true. You wiggle in his arms, cautiously considering your next words. The smile perishes on his lips when you ask:

“J…Can you make love to me?”

He looks surprised and you feel awkward.

“That was dumb to say,” you patch your mistake with a fake, clumsy laugh.

“Of course I can,” The Joker’s face comes really close to yours. “The question is if I want to.”

“Well,” you gulp, “do you want to?…”

“Maybe…” he gropes you, thinking. Or is he just pretending?

“Moommyyyyyy,” is heard from the next bedroom, Aiden starting to cry because he probably had a nightmare.

“Such a missed opportunity,” J chuckles and you get out of bed in a hurry, but he grabs your hand, squeezing it before releasing the hold: “Come back afterwards.”

***************

The children weren’t used to find their mommy sleeping in the same room with their father, but that changed two years ago. They don’t know what it means, but one thing’s for sure: they love coming in the master bedroom at the penthouse and jump on the bed, waking up both parents and horsing around all morning until The Joker hides under the pillows, displeased with the noise.

Mommy never complains though; she always shows her affection and lets them touch her growing belly, telling them their new sister is in there. So fascinating for the kids! And they are getting more and more impatient, especially the little girl: she was told she will be the big sister and it sounds like an important task.

*************

“Baby?” the three years old Mia’s squeaky voice inquires, excited and curious to see such a tiny doll in your arms.

“Yes honey, this is your sister Emma,” you smile, pecking her forehead. You are sitting on the floor with the kids around you and they are seeing their sister for the first time.

“Waahhhh, she’s so cute,” Kase caresses the small head, mesmerized.

“Can I kiss her?” Zane claps his hands, puckering his lips.

“Sure,” you agree and Aiden wants to do the same.

“Me too!” the oldest kisses her also and Mia pushes him away, pouting:

“She’s my sissy!”

“Hey, hey, no fighting! Emma is everybody’s, ok?” you try to alleviate the quarrel, amused it’s already starting. It took like…40 seconds for the rivalry to surface.

“Look daaa’yy, baby!” Mia snickers, presenting Emma to her father like some kind of treasure. He’s been sitting at his desk, watching their reactions. You smile, softly rocking the new born when it fusses from the commotion.

“I know, I made her,” he sneers, winking and the kids are completely absorbed by the new addition to the family.

“Can I hold her?” Zane extends his arms and you carefully place Emma in his grip, holding both of them so he won’t drop her.

You notice the Joker is the proud possessor of a very arrogant aura and you know why: he’s been bragging all afternoon that he makes very cute babies and no matter how the mom looks like, he compensates for the deficit. Such nonsense!

But the annoying truth is that he does make beautiful babies.

“Mommy, can I hold her too?” Aiden begs, getting you out of daze.

“Sure can,” you nod, wondering when the jealousy will actually kick in.

You are definitely prepared for the challenge: this might have been your first pregnancy, but it’s actually your fifth child. It shouldn’t be too hard since…

Once a mother always a mother.

Also read: MASTERLIST

http://diyunho.tumblr.com/post/153664676321/joker-x-reader-masterlist

#the joker x reader #the joker fanfiction #the joker imagine #the joker jared leto #the joker #jared leto #joker #joker fanfiction #joker x reader #mister j #mistah j #mr. j #puddin #dc #the suicide squad #dc comics

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i-am-adlocked · 6 years

Text

Tagged by @randombiochemist. Ghad, you know I’m a sucker for these things.

NAME: Allysa, pronounced as “Ol-is-a”, yeah like “All is a ___” A few years ago, I’d go out of my mind if other people found my name, but my pseudonym of “CA Hawkins” slowly seeped into Allysa D.

I can’t say my last name because I am the only one in the world with this name with this surname. There’s about 20 people with my last name in my country alone and all of them are my relatives, but it’s seriously not that hard to find me. I’m a bit loud in the Internet nowadays.

NICKNAME: Allysa or Oli to my friends. “Gurl” to my sister. My second name to my relatives other than my sister.

GENDER: Biologically female, identifying as female.

STAR SIGN: Capricorn.

HEIGHT: 5′2 ½. That’s actually tall in my country.

TIME: Right now, as I write this, it’s 9:27pm. I shall update when I finish this thing. Update, it is now 10:15pm and I shall click “Post.”

BIRTHDAY: Eight of January! I have the same birthday as Stephen Hawking and Elvis Presley, and when I was five, I had a crush on both (before I knew they were old men, shut up), and even so, I thought I would be both scientifically smart and artistically brilliant. Obviously, I was neither.

FAV BANDS; FAV SOLO ARTIST(S); SONG STUCK IN MY HEAD: Bands: Coldplay, Radiohead, IV of Spades, and more. Solo: Beyonce, Lady Gaga, Adele, Miley Cyrus, Fleurie, and more. Stuck: Smokestacks by LAYLA.

LAST MOVIE I WATCHED: The Greatest Showman (which would have been the fifth time I watched it as well, but #NoRegrets).

LAST SHOW I WATCHED: Two nights ago, I binge-watched “Santa Clarita Diet.” Ghad, I love that show, and it made me hungry. Okay, that makes me sound like a psycho, but Sheila’s enthusiasm over eating made me crave for a burger.

WHEN DID I CREATE MY BLOG: I had a blog around 2011, when Sherlock just came out. Things were all gen but I was already shipping Adlock by then. By 2012 and Irene finally showed up, I shipped hard. By 2015, I had death threats for shipping Adlock so hard. As a 16-year-old, I deleted my blog, and made a Tumblr exclusively for Adlock on June 2, 2015 to show my haters, they ain’t gonna win against me.

LAST THING I GOOGLED: “Harry Potter sent to alternate universes abuse fic” shut up

DO I HAVE ANOTHER BLOG: For me alone, it would be theoneallysa.wordpress.com but I seldom use it and I think the last post was made last year. Co-blogs would be bucketlost.com where my older sister posts about what we did when we travelled around Europe (just the two of us). I was the photographer in this blog.

DO I GET ASKS: No. Or rather, very rarely. Like, once or twice a year.

WHY I CHOSE MY URL: To show my Adlock haters that I am not fazed by them hating my yacht. This is also to stand for my yacht and all the members in it who are being attacked. I will so fucking fight for yall gals, but I also won’t hesitate to put you back in line. I don’t want members of the yacht attacking others.

FOLLOWING: Oh I’m just following 217 people. Most of them Adlockers or Harry Potter blogs that post a lot of text post. I’m more of a text-post kind of gal, despite my usual posts of GIFsets and all that crap. I love metas or text posts with memes. There will be days that I will hoard a lot of Tumblrs for the hell of it.

FOLLOWERS: I feel like an arsehole for never thanking my 2,621 followers, but I just don’t know how to thank them without bursting in tears.

AVG HOURS OF SLEEP: About 3-4 hours of sleep. Both intentionally and naturally. I’ve had this sleeping pattern since I was about nine years old. I remember just lying in bed and getting restless because I can’t bloody sleep. Although, yesterday, I slept at 5pm and I woke up today at 12 noon. So that’s 19 hours of sleep. Go big or go home, that is my motto.

LUCKY NUMBER(S): I don’t know about luck, but I am fond of the number eight, six, and thirteen. In day-to-day life, or like visual patterns, I prefer three and five.

INSTRUMENT(S): Piano (self-studied, one-month with our glee club maestro, then self-study). Voice (two-year training, same maestro as above). Violin (two-days training before I got frustrated and my sister took it instead).

WHAT AM I WEARING: Right now? Er, brown shorts, silver shirt with elements of dull scarlet, and a dark scarlet jacket. Even though I’m at home, I do like matching clothes.

DREAM JOB: To be a good wife and mother. If you dare tell me I should be going out and get an actual job, then you have no idea how tiring being a housewife can be. Ask my mother. With future kids that will have MY bloodline? You bet my arse it’s going to be a full-time job. By then, I would have saved up a lot of money from working in a desk job whilst also performing in the theatre from time to time.

DREAM TRIP: You have no idea how much I want to go to Peru and just see a random llama. Before, I would say Paris and London, but my sister and I went to a Europe trip last year (we didn’t go to London btw) and it’s amazing and all but I want to go hiking next. Although, I also want to go to back to Rome, and visit Greece as well. My sister and I do back-packing, and just AirBnB. We always get mistaken as locals, especially since we learn the language before heading to a country.

FAV FOOD: Boi, my love for McDonald’s Cheese Burger and Fries right now. I’m craving. Also, Coca-Cola, oh boi.

NATIONALITY: YAH GURL BE WAVING MY PHILIPPINE FLAG RIGHT NOW YAH BOI

FAV SONG RIGHT NOW: Smokestacks by LAYLA.

SEXUALITY: I am still confused between asexual and bisexual. I don’t want to be touched and I hate physical contact because of my not-too happy childhood, but also I find both boys and girls beautiful, and if there are people I like, goddamn will I be flinging myself to them... Demisexual. I think I’m demisexual.

HOGWARTS HOUSE: CAW CAW EAGLES YAH RAVENCLAW WOOPITY WOOP WOOP

FAV ANIMALS: EVERYTHING UNDER THE BIOLOGICAL FAMILY CANIDAE

DOG OR CAT PERSON: CANINE ALL THE WAY, my sister is too much of a feline lover.

BLANKETS YOU SLEEP WITH: A thick blanket as well as placing two pillows on top of me for added weight.

WHY YOU GOT A BLOG: I’ve been on Tumblr for years before I had an account, then I got fed-up so I made one in 2011. Then I made this one to fight haters of Adlock.

TOP (3) FAV CHARACTERS: Harry Potter. Sherlock Holmes. Leo Valdez.

NO. OF POSTS. 3,519. Mostly reblogs lmao.

POKEMON TEAM: I’m sorry. I don’t watch Pokemon because my older sister and older cousins (who were living with us at the time) didn’t let me watch TV when I was a kid so I just never bothered.

FAV COLOUR: I’d say Black but black is a hue, not a colour. In fact, it is the absence of colour so I ain’t saying black. I was a sucker for Glaucous in aesthetics and stuff, as well as Navy Blue. Nowadays, I have also taken a liking to red. It compliments my skin colour well, as well as my personality.

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Er, a bit complicated.

LIPSTICK OR CHAPSTICK: They feel weird so neither. But if I had to choose, Chapstick cos my lips are so chapped, I can’t even.

LAST SONG I LISTENED TO: Smokestacks by LAYLA. I’m editing a vid.

TOP (3) SHOWS: Sherlock, Doctor Who, and Mythbusters.

TOP (3) SHIPS: Adlock (Sherlock Holmes and Irene Adler) R11ver (River Song and the Eleventh Doctor) Leyna (Leo Valdez and Reyna Ramirez)

BOOKS I’M READING: I’ve been reading a lot of novel-length Harry Potter fics right now. I’ve related to Harry Potter a lot. Before, I always related to Sherlock, but finding out about his familial relationship, I found out I was more Mycroft (never good enough) and Eurus (crazy violent kid) than a Sherlock.

TAGGING: To anyone who wants to do this.

@musical-chick-13 @thank-you-for-being-with-me @antarktica @sentimentalgenius @addignisherlock

#personal

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clown-bait · 6 years

Text

29 Neibolt st (Monster Roommate AU) CH24

OK IVE BEEN SO EXCITED TO DROP THIS CHAPTER!! Some wild ass shennanigans are about to happen guys!! Theres going to be a lot of Robert Gray in these next few chapters so get hype for that! maybe ill do some smut with him who knows.

CH24

Humans?

The clown looked in the mirror he kept in his lair for probably the 20th time that night and ran through several terrifying face transformations as if he was rehearsing. In fact that was probably the best way to describe it. The dawn was swiftly approaching to begin the day of Halloween, his favorite human holiday. It was the day the hunt was always the best for him, he could make 5 good kills if he really put in the effort making his stock for winter nice and full. Hunting in the cold wouldn't even be necessary if he did well.

Speaking of cold Penny felt a chill rush through the sewer, a reminder that leaner times were coming. Usually he would barricade himself off in the cart in between hunts to wait out the winter but this time around he had endless entertainment. Her flesh may no longer have heat but she would keep him warm in other ways. So many other ways. The clown chuckled darkly at his own dirty thoughts while rubbing a fresh hickey under his jaw only a few hours old.

Penny stretched and yawned feeling a sudden wave of drowsiness….strange….. he marked it off as the cold October air making him sleepy. Maybe a cat nap would help him be more alert for his hunt. It couldn't hurt to feel fresh on his biggest day of the year…. yes he thought a small nap would do. He laid on his pillow pile and attempted to shut his eyes and release his form. This wasn't comfortable he was too cold. Why was he suddenly so uncomfortable and tired? After tossing and turning a few more times he decided to find a different place to nap. His mate’s nest would be perfect, the mattress was a bit small but he'd be extra warm with her under the large blankets. Pennywise whisked himself away reappearing in her room where the vampire was sprawled out sleeping just as he had left her, spent and exhausted. He loved seeing her like this, covered in his marks and completely bare. He was half tempted to wake her up just so he could add some more fresh love bites. She’d probably kill him… not probably definitely. Penny instead stealthily crawled into her bed and fitted himself against her under her thick comforter. He slipped his long limbs over her body caging her into him, the nosferatu only stirred a little letting him hold her and welcoming his warmth. Penny buried his nose into her skin and let the sweet love pheromones she emitted send him into a state of pure relaxation. He was finally comfortable, finally warm and finally able to sleep.

Leech woke up that morning feeling weirdly hot. The first thing she noticed was the arm draped around her gripping her hand. It wasn't Penny’s arm this was human, and so was whoever was snuggled up to her. Leech attempted to squirm out of the strangers grip but was pulled back into him and held tight. She could feel whoever had her was lean and tall, his bare skin pressed into hers and his long limbs entombed her entire body. His hands were huge, the one wrapped around her pawed at her bosom causing Leech’s breath to hitch and jolt up out of his grasp. She finally was able to see who the hell was groping her and to her relief she was met with the sleeping form of a very human, very naked Robert Gray. Why the hell was he a naked human right now? She thought to herself sitting up and running a hand through her hair. Wait…. HAIR?

Leech tugged at the platinum locks attached to her head. It was fucking hair! Real hair! Her real hair was back! She also had normal ears, teeth and suddenly she was very aware of the beating thing hammering away in her chest. She was alive and human.

“Pen-er uh Robert! Wake up!” she shook her mate who grumbled and flipped over. “Wake up asshole its urgent”

“5 more years” he mumbled.

“You're a fucking human… I'm a fucking human!”

The man grumbled more and pulled the blanket up to his face. “Did you not hear me? Get up lazy ass” she smacked him with her pillow.

“Ngh what decade is it?”

“Same as it was yesterday moron.”

He flopped over onto his back and opened one beautiful green blue eye. “Why are you wearing your wig?”

“Its not a wig Pen look at your damn arm”

Robert scrunched his face and held out his hand suddenly he felt a rush of a million different emotions at once, some he didn't even know he could feel.

“WHAT?!!”

——————————

“WHY CANT I TURN BACK WHY AM I FEELING THINGS WHY DO YOU HAVE HAIR??”

“Pen calm down.”

“CALM I CANT BE CALM HOW CAN I BE CALM AT A TIME LIKE THIS IS THIS WHAT HUMANS FEEL ALL THE TIME?”

“You're panicking.”

“PANIC NO NO NO I CAUSE PANIC I CANT PANIC- WAIT I AM PANICKING- THIS IS PANICKING? WHY AM I PANICKING LEECH??? WHY CANT I CHANGE?”

“Pen control your emotions and breathe”

“CONTROL SHE SAYS IM FEELING EVERYTHING AT ONCE ALL THE TIME LEECH! EVERYTHING! HOW DO HUMANS GET ANYTHING DONE… BY THE WAY YOURE VERY PRETTY AND I FEEL THE SUDDEN URGE TO TELL YOU THAT WHEN I LOOK AT YOU!! LEECHIE HELP! HELP IM FEELING TOO MUCH!”

The former vampire sighed and pulled his face forward to kiss him forcing him to stop his shrieking. Robert immediately stopped and rolled his baggy eyes back as he closed them.

“Inside voice, deep breaths, count to 10. Try it.” she said pulling away and tapping his cheek.

Robert attempted to follow her instructions when he was startled by a loud shout of joy from down the hall

————

Meanwhile

Chucky was woken up by a horrible shriek. Fucking clown its too damn early for his shit. Charles pulled his hands down his face and was fully prepared to march down there and yell at Pennywise for hunting so damn early in the morning. He rolled his head over on his pillow only to be greeted with a sight he had been waiting to see for years. His wife’s perfect large human boobs.

——-

“FUUUUCCCKKK YESSSSSSSS!!!!!! AHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!”

Leech turned her head towards the shout recognizing the New Jersey accent as Chucky’s. She slipped on some clothes and left the room (and a very distressed Robert) to see if the dolls were also affected by this curse.

“Hey you guys got it too?” she shouted

“FINALLY FUCKIN FINALLY!”

“I’m going to assume that is a yes?” the vampire said as Tiffany opened the door wearing a nightgown and a huge grin on her face. Leech’s eyes went wide from the sight.

“Uh oh um heeyy Tiff?”

“Hey fangs stop oogling my wife!” came a very familiar voice from a very unfamiliar man.

“Holy shit Chucky? IS THAT YOU?”

“Yeah its fuckin’ me!”

“Fuck you look different!”

Leech felt a presence at her back and a very panicked very confused Robert stood behind her attempting to cover his front with a pillow. “Leechie, I drank some of your blood stash and I threw up in your trash can.”

“WAIT WAIT WAIT! JINGLES?” Chucky shouted looking at the naked extremely attractive man behind his roommate.

“DOLL?”

“YOU LOOK LIKE A DAMN UNDERWEAR MODEL! HOW COME I GOT PUT BACK IN MY OLD BODY AND YOU GET TO BE A LIVING CALVIN KLIEN ADD”

Tiffany turned to Leech with a look of wonder and pointed at Robert with her thumb mouth open.

“OH GOD Sorry about him I think I need to find him some clothes…” Leech apologized to her.

“Does he really need them though?”

“No but its going to get distracting around here real fast with that bubble butt hanging out all the time”

“I’ll say holy shit” both girls giggled at Tiff’s comment

Robert turned around and glared at them. “Why are you giggling? THIS IS NOT THE TIME TO GIGGLE THIS IS AN EMERGENCY AND YOURE GIGGLING?? HOW AM I GOING TO GET BACK LEECHIE HOW CAN I BE THE ALPHA PREDATOR LIKE THIS?”

Robert twitched and ran his hand through his hair going into yet another panic attack when he realized that he was no longer top of the food chain. His stomach suddenly lurched and he felt extremely dizzy.

“I’m going to vomit again.” he held his mouth and sprinted for the bathroom smacking into a very distressed very confused Bubba Sawyer.

The giant did not recognize this tall screaming man. He didn't recognize the humans in the doll’s room. What he did see was his bestest vampire friend surrounded by strangers who were all shouting. He would save friend yes! He would grab this violent tall naked meat sack for her just like he did at work. The giant bellowed and shrieked lunging for the anxiety filled Robert Gray who for the first time in all of existence knew what it was like to be prey. He was caught from behind and before anyone could stop the distressed giant he was hauled down the stairs a mess of flailing limbs being dragged to Leatherface’s red room.

“BUBBA WAIT THATS PENNYWISE” Leech shouted the three former monsters rushing after the giant.

“STOP YA BIG IDIOT ITS US!” Charles waved his hands at the giant from the other side.

The giant saw Tiffany move in from left and he was suddenly cornered by very angry pajama wearing humans. They were all shouting at him and flailing around for him to put the strange thrashing man down. The poor giant began to panic and crush the flailing man tighter to him the air going out of his lungs as he hollered and squirmed. What would Grandpa Sawyer do? ......Hammer! He thought pulling the tool out from his belt. “HAMMUH” the giant shouted.

“NO BUBBA NO HAMMER” Leech screamed trying to pull the giant’s arm back down with no luck.

“HAMMUUUUHH” he placed Robert in a headlock so tight he started to suffocate

“OH FUCK CHUCKY HELP ME STOP HIM”

“HELL NO FANGS I JUST BECAME HUMAN I AINT DYIN FOR JINGLES.”

“HAAAMMMUUUHH!!!”

The giant swung and Robert passed out.

——————

“Oh my god ok. Ok he's awake just deep breaths holy shit.”

“Leechie?” Robert gurgled realizing he was back in his mate’s bed “What-“

“You passed out and then Leatherface almost killed you.”

“Yeah Jingles you’re lucky Tiff stepped in with that floor board.”

“PEN-NEE BUHBUH SORY” Leatherface moped he felt horrible about hurting his friend.

“He’ll forgive you big guy just give him some time-” Leech patted the giant on the arm. “Right Pen???” she gave the dazed former clown a stern look.

“Just because I'm human doesn't mean you get to boss me around.” the clown growled.

“If you want to survive this ordeal I suggest you listen to me dear.”

“I suggest you listen to me bleh bleh bleh”

Leech slapped him on the shoulder and he whined and grumbled.

“Can we at least put some clothes on Jingles now? I’ve seen enough of the clown’s ass to scar me for life.”

“Yeah alright let me grab him something” Leech went to her closet and pulled out a pink silk bath robe “Try this Pen” the clown stood up and walked over to the dressing screen Chucky made a face and glanced to the side. Stupid sexy clown.

“All right it's a bit short but it covers enough, maybe Freddy and Drac have something you can actually wear.”

Tiff let out a small giggle as Robert came out from behind the screen. Chucky looked at the blush on his wife’s cheeks and then saw the former clown.

“COVERS ENOUGH? Fangs! His ass cheeks are hanging out the back jesus!” he shouted.

“Jealous of the goods? Benefits of a high protein diet doll” Robert looked behind him and leered at a blushing mortified Charles.

“I-Im not a doll anymore don't call me that”

“Don't call me Jingles then”

“Well before you two start making out, my stomach feels extremely neglected and because I'm human again I am going to eat some god damn pancakes. Come on Bob get that bubble butt moving.” Leech grabbed Robert and tugged him out of the room.

“Ugh Fangs get your gross boyfriend some fucking pants first!”

“OR DONT!” Tiff called after them.

————

The batter sizzled when she poured it onto the old pan sitting over the ancient stove how the hell Tiffany cooked anything in this old kitchen was a miracle. Robert hovered over Leech’s shoulder watching hungrily the scent of food making his stomach growl. He had never made human food before, knew of it of course, but never did he create it himself. Creation wasn't his thing. His mate had insisted he stay and learn though, they didn't know how long this human thing would last and the sooner he could take care of himself the better.

“Do we add the syrup now?”

“No we need to wait.”

“This preparation feels tedious how did this species not starve to death?” Robert took a swig of the syrup bottle

“Are you…..drinking that straight out of the bottle?”

“I’m thirsty Leechie this is all I’ve been given.”

“Oh my god you're an actual child. Get a cup and fill it with water you moron.”

“EUGH NO! Its tasteless!”

“Take my drink then jeeze!”

Robert grabbed the mimosa and sipped cautiously. He liked this drink it was fizzy like cola but made his head swim and his throat feel warm. He finished her drink and searched for more. She used this green bottle to make it right? Rob took a gulp from the bottle. This he liked very much.

“Ok you want fruit on yours?”

“Bah!” he swatted the air in disgust gulping more from the fizzy green bottle.

“You just drank fruit now Bob, here cut up this banana thats an easy task.”

Robert held the knife in one hand and the yellow food in the other. Ok Wise you can do this you're older than time you can cut a fruit. He suddenly felt that human fear again. What if he couldn’t? He'd never eaten a banana before what if she sees him mess it up….oh god then she’d see him as lesser than other humans! No, no, no, that wont do at all he had to impress his mate she had to see that he was still the superior being. He'd be the most superior of all the humans until he was back to his full glory! Yes he would cut this banana he would do it perfect and she would throw herself at him for being the epitome of human perfection! Robert ran through every memory he had of food preparation he remembered how Leatherface cut up meat by raising the knife high and chopping. Seemed pretty simple, how hard could that be?

Suddenly while deep in his day dreams pain shot up Robert’s hand. His finger was spurting blood and quite a bit shorter. Oh no this wasn't supposed to happen. He began to panic again. He was human he couldn't grow it back what would he do?

“LEECHIE?” he shouted a mix of shock and fear in his voice “What do humans do when they…. lose… things?”

“What are you talking about?”

He held up his blood covered hand to her and the other part of his finger.

“OH MY GOD WHAT DID YOU DO?”

“Do I eat it?!”

“No Rob don't fucking eat it!!”

“Ok but it does look appetizing!”

“Don’t fucking eat it you idiot we need to get you to a doctor.”

Robert licked at the blood pouring from his hand and snarled when it didn't taste the same as it used to. Leech shut off the stove and rushed the leaking Pennywise out of the kitchen and onto the couch flying over to the stairs to yell for help.

“CHUCKY? TIFF?”

“I AM ABOUT TO FUCK MY WIFE RIGHT NOW FOR THE FIRST TIME IN YEARS! WHAT THE HELL IS SO IMPORTANT?! DID JINGLES REALLY FUCK UP THAT BAD?!” came a very angry response from upstairs.

“He cut off his finger!”

“JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!” Charles swore “JUST……. PUT IT ON ICE AND GIVE ME LIKE 30-40 MINUTES!”

Leech let out a long frustrated groan as Leatherface lumbered into the room to see what was wrong this time. She then looked at the disaster that was the kitchen. Robert had smeared his bloody hand all over the place and was now sitting dazed and leaking on the couch. Oh yeah, stop the bleeding right. Leech waved the giant over and told him to get her a towel which she grabbed to put pressure on the wound.

“AHH DONT TOUCH IT!” Robert hissed like a child afraid of a bandaid.

“You’re going pale I need to stop the bleeding or you'll pass out again.”

She grabbed his hand and wrapped up his wound Robert watched intently eyes flicking up to her then back to his hand. He felt warm.

“All right this is gonna get a little jankey but let me get some duct tape to hold the towel on there.” she said and let out an exhausted laugh “Jesus fucking christ what a disaster.”

Bubba stood over Robert and held out his dismembered finger which he had helped place in a bag of ice.

“PEN-NEE FINGUH” he said happily hoping that his kindness would help the former clown forgive him faster for what happened earlier.

“Uh thanks..” Robert awkwardly took the bag and set it on the coffee table staring at his severed appendage.

“Ok hold it out I'm going to wrap it up tight. Thank you for the help Bubba.” Leech smiled at the giant.

“BUHBUH CWEAN PEN-NEE AN WEECH EET” The giant set their neglected pancakes on the coffee table. They weren't hot… more lukewarm really.. but she was starving and she hadn't had human food in months.

Leech finished wrapping Robert’s hand only to notice he was watching her and to her surprise he was actually blushing a bit. The former clown’s face was hot and his chest felt tight, breathing was a bit difficult. He was embarrassed to be this vulnerable, power was so important for him and to be bested by kitchenware especially in front of her… but the way she held onto his hand and the way she teased him about it while laughing….It made him feel tingly but in a good way. He was feeling all these strange emotions at once but the strongest most prominent one he felt now made his human heart thud loudly in his chest. Was this what she felt all the time? For him? He had loved her in his own way before but he never felt it like a human did. Not until now.

“Hey ruffles you're doing your day dreaming thing again.” her voice broke him from his haze she still held onto his hand and Robert closed his free fingers around her’s smiling a bit to himself. He felt the urge to grab onto the former vampire and hold her tight against him. He just wanted to engulf her completely but he sat still in his seat deciding instead to watch her with curiosity. It was all over for him when she kissed the bandage on his hand. That’s it. He had to touch her.

Robert burst from his seated position and grabbed Leech by the face roughly kissing her. He pressed her into the corner of the sofa aggressively moving his mouth against hers. Tongues explored each other and new hair was roughly pulled and tangled in fists. When they finally broke away Robert sat back staring at her panting without saying a word.

“Uh you're welcome?” Leech laughed straightening out her hair and Robert actually chuckled a bit to himself at her joke. She pulled his face back over to look at her’s tracing his cheekbone with her thumb.

“You know what humans call that feeling?”

“The heart racing warm one?”

“That’s love Robert Gray.” she laughed and kissed him again. Looks like they'd be having cold pancakes for breakfast.

---------------------------

BIG BOY HAD A BIG DAY! Not ever a full hour of being human and he already passed out and cut his finger off. What a great start for clownboi. Chucky is so jealous tho poor guy. Robert is basically that stupid sexy Flanders moment from the Simpsons. Or Toki from Metalocalypse when they all stop jerking off. Chucky really wants to voodoo body jack dat ass and he’s super embarrassed about it. Im so stoked for this new mini plot. Then I plan on finishing the christmas adventure with the paranormal investigators. I finally got some stuff for that one too!

#pennywise #pennywise fanfiction #pennywise x oc #Robert Gray #robert gray x oc #chucky #charles lee ray #tiffany valentine #bubba sawyer #childs play #it 2017 #Texas Chainsaw Massacre #horror fiction #slasher fanfiction #slashers #monster roommate au

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artificialqueens · 7 years

Text

for all the honest world to feel (trixya) (6/9) - dare

“You fucker,” Adore crowed, drawing back with a face-splitting smile. Bianca grinned back, crooked, and tucked a little of her bangs behind her ear.

“Only one of us gets to affect a tone of outrage here, bitch,” Bianca said. “You’ve been keeping Trixie Mattel stashed away in your little grow-op for how long, exactly?”

(AN: more laughs, more sadness! i can’t believe it’s been two months. hopefully yesterday’s interlude served as a bit of a refresher; as usual, i use “she/her” for adore and “he/him” for pretty much everyone else (depending on the context.) no promises on when the next one will be up, but it is currently reading week so i’m gonna try to get as much done as i can. ALSO IVE UPPED THE CHAPTER COUNT. i’m sorry? i don’t know if i should be apologizing.

this week on honest werld: bianca tries to cheer a couple of sad sacks up.)

| ch. 1 | ch. 2 | ch. 3 | ch. 4 | ch. 5 |

TO: KATYA - 7:28 AM - Friday August 29th, 2017

check in?

FROM: KATYA - 7:28 AM - Friday August 29th, 2017

[A single emoji: index finger pinched to thumb, OK, the universal symbol of ‘all-good’.]

FROM: KATYA - 7:29 AM - Friday August 29th, 2017

you?

TO: KATYA - 7:29 AM - Friday August 29th, 2017

yeah. that’s about right

“So this is where you’ve been hiding out,” said Bianca, staring inquisitively, like Brian was a specimen under a microscope. “There was a pool on it. I guess we all lost – my money had you under a mattress in a drug den somewhere. You know, a classic.”

“You heard about that, huh,” Brian said, with a smile that landed somewhere between awkward and sheepish. He held Bianca’s gaze steadily as a nervous feeling turned over in his stomach – or maybe that was just the hangover.

He hadn’t seen Bianca in… god, ages. He couldn’t even say when.

“I hear everything,” said Bianca. He looked Brian up and down, brow raised; then his dimples flashed. “It’s just a matter of distinguishing the bullshit from the facts.”

Brian huffed a laugh – flavoured with relief – and stepped back. “Come on in,” he said. “I, uh. I wasn’t expecting to see you. It’s… kind of a mess.”

Bianca grabbed his bag again and followed him in the door, snorting audibly. “If you think I don’t know that…”

“Oh, no, this is fully on me,” Brian said. “Adore’s been away all week.”

“I know,” Bianca said. There was a thump – Brian turned to see that he’d dropped his bag in front of Adore’s room, and was leaning back against the wall beside the door, inspecting him. Bianca continued, “She’s been texting me pictures of the other lawyers’ asses that just say ‘P.E.G. THEM’. The same caption every time. All week. I’m about to call my telephone company and change my damn number.”

“Just buy another prepaid, girl,” said Brian, and grinned when Bianca laughed.

“But yeah,” Bianca said, shrugging. He tucked his hands into his pockets. “I thought I’d come down and, y’know, cheer a bitch up, and then I find you here.”

He gave Brian an expectant look.

Brian cleared his throat. “Yeah,” he said. He rubbed a hand at the corner of his eye, willing away the dry itch of too much liquor and not enough sleep. “I’ve, uh. Had a lot going on, I guess. Uh – I’m in the guest room, actually, sorry. That throws another wrench in your plans. I could take the couch, if you don’t mind my crap being all over the room –”

“Don’t be stupid, no one’s sleeping on the couch,” said Bianca, “except maybe you, right now, if you don’t collapse on the floor instead. You look like you’re about to pass out. Sit down, for Christ’s sake.” He brushed past Brian at what could only be called a clip – fast, determined, and altogether more than Brian’s hungover brain could fully process. Brian chose the path of least resistance and heaved his aching body – he was definitely getting too old to be sleeping without a real pillow, shit – over the arm of the couch, settling down with his cheek leaned against the back cushions as he watched Bianca set about tidying the kitchen. Bianca called over his shoulder, “Should I bother looking in the fridge, or should I spare you the indignity and just go get groceries?”

Brian thought about the wilting lettuce all sad and alone on the second shelf, and closed his eyes. “Uh,” he said. He’d never made that salad. “Might be best not to look.”

Cupboards banged open and shut, keeping time with the pounding in his head. “That’s what your dad told your mom when the nurse put you in her arms, huh,” said Bianca over the racket, who could very well be doing this to punish him.

“You think my dad stuck around that long?” said Brian, suffering quietly in the unmoving dark behind his eyelids. “You think I was born in a hospital?”

Bianca cackled. Brian’s head throbbed.

A long moment later, something cool and damp pressed against his temple, and he opened his eyes to see condensation drip down the side of a glass of water from very close-up. He lifted a hand to the glass, fingers brushing against warm skin, then looked up further to meet Bianca’s eyes, which were resting on him with a sober kindness.

“If you’re gonna die, do me the courtesy of moving to the balcony first so you don’t stink up the place,” Bianca said, mouth twitching up.

Brian pressed the glass against his cheek. “Anything to make this easier for you,” he said.

Bianca – nearly three years later and Brian was still a little too intimidated to even try for ‘Roy’ – huffed a laugh and returned to the kitchen. The cupboards started banging again, but a little quieter this time. Brian sipped his water and watched through half-lidded eyes as Bianca fussed and grumbled. “Always moving things around, I swear to God it’s like she tries to piss me off…”

“If there’s no food, what are you looking for?” Brian said.

“Frying pan. You’re vegetarian, right?”

Brian glanced up, surprised. “Yeah.”

“Get that look off your face. I remember things. I’m not that old.”

Brian smiled, hiding it away behind his cup.

Once Bianca was satisfied with the layout and contents of the kitchen, he leaned back against the counter and started tapping away at his phone rapidly. “Sesame oil, hoisin, star anise,” he muttered, “tofu, rice noodles – if I find anything instant in these cupboards, I swear…”

The sun was splintering through the clouds above the rooftops across the street; Brian shut his eyes and pressed the cup against his cheek, the cool glass soothing the ache behind his eyes. There was a pause in the low flow of words across the room and then Bianca said, “How’re you doing, miss Trixie?”, in the kind of crooning voice you might use on a sick pet.

That was fair, probably.

“Somehow both too close and too far from death at the same time,” Brian mumbled against the glass.

Footsteps sounded across the floor. He opened his eyes again.

“Don’t,” Bianca said, now over by Adore’s room, rustling through his duffel. “I’m just going for groceries. You can catch a few more winks while I’m gone.”

The fog in his head made Brian’s nose itch, his eyelids hang heavy. He nodded distractedly at Bianca as he rubbed at his face with one hand; when the door shut, he slumped against the arm of the couch, knees coming to rest against the back, glass of water cradled in his hands between his ribs and the cushions. Somewhere outside, a wind chime jingled quietly. His eyes drifted shut.

At some point, Bianca came back. Brian twitched into wakefulness at the sound of the door; shoes on hardwood (quickly silenced); the fridge opening and closing and the stove top beeping on. Bianca hummed tunelessly across the room.

Something in Brian twisted, turned in on itself like a dog gnawing at a mat in its stomach fur. Not quite restlessness, not quite nausea. He made a quiet, incoherent noise, then licked his lips and tried again: “Bianca?”

Bianca looked over at him. He saw it through mostly-closed eyes. “Yeah?”

Oil sizzled in the frying pan. The doors to the balcony were still open, and there was a faint smell of ginger beginning to fill the air, chasing away the staleness that clung to the corners of the room. Brian swallowed against the dry feeling in his mouth. “Tell me about your tour?” he said.

Bianca huffed a laugh. “Don’t get me started, girl,” he said, warning, but Brian cocked a sleepy eyebrow and he laughed again, louder. “Alright. The most recent show was in Florida, so, you can imagine, a bunch of swampy assholes – you didn’t need to fuck ‘em to smell ‘em. And the venue’s air conditioning was amazing everywhere except in the dressing room. You wouldn’t believe…”

Bianca rambled on. Brian closed his eyes again and drifted off to it, Bianca’s voice a soothing rhythm in the room, like one of those fountains where the water trickles slowly over tumbled stones. The pounding in his head faded. His eyes shut. He slept.

Hours later the door closed again, startling Brian into confused wakefulness and a late afternoon light. The sun had passed beyond the scope of the glass doors, casting the living room into shadow. Brian blinked hazily against the indistinct dark of the entryway, unable to make sense out of the lines and shapes that blurred before his eyes.

There was the thump of a bag being dropped. His gaze focused in on the sound – and up, to its source, where Adore stood listless, pale and brittle in the shadows. Her eyes slipped shut while he watched, and her lips thinned, pursed.

He opened his mouth.

“Adore.”

Adore’s eyes flew open to meet Brian’s gaze, but it wasn’t him who’d spoken. She looked to his right.

“B!”

In a flash, Adore’s face went from spent exhaustion to an almost hungry joy – not hungry, exactly. Sharp at the edges and a little too bright in the eyes. Brian didn’t know how to explain it, but it hit him like a punch all the same, familiar and close. Adore flung herself at Bianca, who caught her easily.

“Hey, baby,” Bianca said, knuckles going white at her spine.

“What the fuck, Yanx, what the fuck,” Adore kept repeating. Her elbows poked out like a spiny guard where her arms were wrapped around Bianca’s neck – like, god fucking help you if you try to get between this shit. She’ll fuck you up.

“What? I can’t take my weekend off to come visit my best girl?”

“You fucker,” Adore crowed, drawing back with a face-splitting smile. Bianca grinned back, crooked, and tucked a little of her bangs behind her ear.

“Only one of us gets to affect a tone of outrage here, bitch,” Bianca said. “You’ve been keeping Trixie Mattel stashed away in your little grow-op for how long, exactly?”

Adore paused, and looked back at Brian.

Brian dragged himself upright – well, more or less. Bianca had drawn a step back, watching him with an eyebrow cocked. Adore, holding one of Bianca’s hands in both of hers, was watching too, mouth set with trepidation, waiting for Brian’s move.

“About a month,” Brian said. “It’s, uh. It’s a long story.”

Bianca’s brow twitched higher. “I cleaned your puke out of the bath mat while you were passed out just now. I think you can fuckin’ humour me.”

Adore’s eyes widened.

“Oh my god,” she said, “oh my god, dude, the thing –” she glanced quickly at Bianca and then back, “when I was in L.A. I saw – but the thing, last night, dude, how fucked were you?”

“Ask your bath mat,” Bianca said. “And what thing is it we’re referring to? I’m not a fucking codetalker – no offence to your people, Trixie.”

Brian laughed, hoarse but real. “That was the Navajo, you dumb bitch.” He sipped his water – which miraculously hadn’t spilled all over him during his nap – and aimed for a smirk. “Sorry that the only code you understand is hanky because you’re a fucking dinosaur.”

Bianca cackled, and the sound – bright and younger than such an old bitch deserved – bounced off the walls, pushing back the pall of the encroaching evening and the stale air in the corners left over from Brian’s week alone.

“Watch it, girl,” Bianca shot back. “I brought your dinner into this world and I can take it out just as easy.”

“Food,” Adore blurted, turning suddenly and shaking Bianca’s arm.

Bianca rolled his eyes. “Did your lawyers not feed you in L.A.? It’s on the stove. I’d say you know where your own plates are, but in this kitchen, I can’t be sure.”

Adore smacked a kiss on his cheek. “Thanks, B,” she said, then spun past him into the kitchen.

“Yeah, yeah,” Bianca said. He eyed Brian critically. “I’d ask what you’ve been eating but I’ve already met it. You look thin.”

“Who knew depression had such perks?” Brian said, but judging by the way Bianca’s lips thinned, it fell flat.

“Come on,” Bianca said, decisive. “You’re having seconds tonight, and if I have to clean them out of more of Adore’s furniture later, I’ll do it. Because I care, Trixie Mattel.” He came over to the couch and offered Brian a hand up; once Brian was standing, he took him by the elbow and lead him towards the kitchen. “But expect my invoice by Monday. My mother taught me two things: how to clean and how to bill for it. So don’t you take me for a fool.”

“Oh, I’d never,” Brian laughed. “Lot of drunk white women stay at the hotel she worked at, huh?”

“Don’t compare yourself to them, now. You couldn’t afford to stay there.”

Adore flitted around once they were sitting like she had springs instead of feet, spreading candles throughout the room so everything was glowing and soft at the edges. And Bianca could cook, apparently, because it wasn’t enough that the bitch was talented and funny and well-read and handsome. Brian scraped his plate clean and – at Bianca’s glare – got seconds.

At one point, Bianca stepped outside to make a call. Adore leaned over and said, “Trixie, when I was in L.A.,” and then paused, one hand curled around Brian’s wrist. “Yeah?” he said, prompting, grinning easily with the food and the hour and the company. Her gaze flicked across his face – then she smiled and said, “I was really fuckin’ worried about my plants, dude.”

“Wow,” he said. “They’re fine. Where is the faith? I thought we were friends.”

“You’ve said that to a lot of people in your life, haven’t you,” Bianca yelled from outside the doors.

It was good. Everything else might be fucked beyond belief, but this – it was good, and something in Brian’s chest felt like it had been opened, like the first sweet breeze breaking through a summer heat wave, fluttering the curtains and knocking screens against their frames.

Brian woke just after midnight to a dry mouth – this hangover was going on twenty-four hours now, which was some bullshit – and the quiet sound of rain and distant voices. The glass by his bed was empty so he pulled on a shirt and slipped out the door, only to stop, drawn up short at the sight before him.

Adore and Bianca were on the balcony. They were turned in towards each other, talking quietly; Adore had one arm braced up on the railing, and Bianca was holding her hand. The city beyond them hid behind a grey curtain of late August rain. The night haze closed them in together, away from the rest of the world – and Brian, standing at his door, holding his empty glass against his chest, was just as far away.

Bianca said something he couldn’t catch, a serious expression straining the corners of his eyes as he searched Adore’s face for… Brian didn’t know. Adore replied, then ducked her head, shoulders hunching up. She freed her hand to fumble at her pocket, coming up with a carton of cigarettes. She lit one in the candle on her right – and missed the look that crossed Bianca’s face, aching and tired.

As Brian watched, Adore aimed a crooked smile out from under shaggy bangs – saying something, cracking some joke – only for it to break at the edges, ragged and thin in the orange glow of her cigarette. She turned away, out into the rain. Her shoulders, square and black against the grey night, cut a lonely figure, like some doomed ingenue from an old hollywood movie.

Bianca stepped closer and wrapped an arm around her waist. Her shoulders shook.

Brian couldn’t watch anymore – shouldn’t have seen any of it. He slipped away into the bathroom to fill his glass, then back into his room, deliberately not looking out onto the balcony again – and it hurt not to, in some fucked up way, hurt worse not looking than looking had. Because seeing Bianca hold Adore’s hand, and seeing Adore lean into the warmth of Bianca’s body – that had fucking hurt, like a blunt force straight to the chest.

He went back to bed. Cheek pressed into his pillow, he looked again – for the fifth or sixth time that day – at the texts from that morning between him and Katya. Not even ten words and they were all he could think about.

He fell asleep and dreamed of seagulls in flight; white sheets rumpled like seafoam; warm skin and a warmer smile.

bianca is here and she thinks she’s my mom, he texted Katya the next morning, each word coming too slow and careful. Stupid. He was so stupid. how do i tell her it’s a new dad i need instead?

He considered the text for a solid minute before pressing send.

There was no reply, but no read receipt either. He stared at the phone for another minute or two, lost in thought, until a knock came at the door.

“Hey,” Adore called, “hey, get your guitar, I want to show Bianx what you’ve been teaching me.”

“Sure, just a minute,” he called back. He woke his phone up to check it one more time, then got up to grab his guitar from the corner, flipping his notebook shut where it lay on the bed along the way.

He’d gotten a little work done this morning. It still made his palms sweat to see it all laid out like that, all the little fears and hopes he tried not to look at from day to day, and to remember that video on his instagram. But there were too many words set down to let them all go to waste. And anyway, he didn’t have to share the finished product with anyone. Just Katya.

He owed Katya that much.

Out in the living room, Bianca was curled on the couch barefoot, like a large and particularly self-satisfied house cat, smiling over a mug of coffee at Adore on the other end, her guitar balanced precariously in her lap.

“Oh, cool,” Brian said, affecting as much irritation as possible when they looked up at him. “Everyone gets to sit except me. Very cool.”

“Someone called me a dinosaur last night and someone didn’t,” Bianca said. “Figure the rest out for yourself.”

“Oh,” Brian said, and discreetly shot Adore the finger around the body of his guitar. Adore raised a lazy peace sign in return. “I’ll take that, I guess,” he continued, contemplative, “I probably deserve it.”

“Grace in defeat,” Bianca said. “I like that about you, Trixie.”

Brian hummed, dumping his phone on the coffee table and then straightening to sling his strap over his shoulders. He tapped his foot on the floor idly. “What did you want to play?” he asked Adore, then, not looking down, plucked out the notes to the theme of Jurassic Park.

Adore fell back into the arm of the couch, laughing, and Bianca pointed a finger at Brian and said, “You’d better lock your door tonight, bitch.”

“Please,” said Brian. “I welcome death.”

“Could we maybe, like, play my fuckin’ songs? Before I pussy out over here?” said Adore.

Bianca made a skeptical face at her. She made a much worse face back.

“Alright, alright,” said Brian, adjusting his strap. “27 Club?”

Adore’s new material was all angry and loud, but she kept returning to these softer, acoustic versions, like there was something in there between the notes that she was trying to find, something that got lost when it was all grinding electric rhythms. Brian followed her on the melody, rounding the sound out with three notes for her every one. Her music didn’t sound angry to him. It just sounded honest.

That had always been Adore’s greatest strength, though – that revelatory honesty, that unquestionable realness. Even when she was plastering on a smile, it was there underneath, palpable. Brian didn’t know how she did it.

(Nothing is real, mama, Katya would say, but that was also just her way of saying that everything was.)

(Brian didn’t know about all that. Some stuff was realer than other stuff – it was just a question of whether that mattered.)

The last chorus faded into a settled quiet. Adore tapped her pic against the body of her guitar rapidly, like a wood-pecker, then looked up at Bianca through her lashes and said, “What do you think?”

Bianca opened his mouth, paused, and then huffed a quiet laugh. “I think you put the rest of us to shame,” he said, and Adore ducked her head over her guitar.

Brian looked at them a moment, then swallowed and said, “I just want to remind everyone in the room that I did the heartfelt acoustic thing first. Just. You know. In case anyone had forgotten.”

Adore laughed and kicked out at him, missing his knee with her turtle-print-socked foot by a mile.

“I hate you,” she said, beaming. “9 Yards?”

“It’s your gig, girl,” he said, clinching the capo into place.

Adore nodded. She tapped them into the intro, grinning up at Brian like they were a team, and they fell into the melody together, just like they’d been practicing all month.

Three songs later they took a break, while Adore stretched her fingers out and Bianca got them all drinks. The two of them traded jabs across the room, and Brian, cross-legged on the floor, tucked a smile into the body of his guitar as he listened to their banter. He fiddled away at the notes aimlessly. The words he’d been penning late at night ran through his mind, the internal rhyme, the dips and pauses.

“I have it on good authority you never reorganized a damn thing when you were living with your mother,” Bianca was saying, “so I can only assume you’ve picked it up now to spite me –”

“I reorganized plenty!” Adore protested. “Moving shit around is reorganizing, it just isn’t tidying.”

“Oh, and you think you can have one without the other? Like, oh, well, I put this condom on, guess you can fuck me in the ass now! That ain’t how it works!”

Adore dissolved into laughter.

“Wow, I’ve been doing sex wrong this whole time,” Brian said, then almost dumped his guitar out of his lap as his phone buzzed on the table. The screen flashed with a new text: FROM: KATYA.

The guitar went on the floor; the drink Bianca tried to offer him went unnoticed.

“It’s from Katya,” he heard Adore stage-whisper as he snatched his phone up and unlocked it. “You can tell ‘cause she looks like she’s about to throw up her heart out of her mouth.”

“That’s visual,” said Bianca, and “Fuck the both of you,” said Brian, exiting the room, gaze glued to his phone.

Safely tucked away with a door between him and his hecklers, he read the text a second time, a third, and his own before it:

TO: KATYA - 12:07 PM - Saturday August 30th, 2017

bianca is here and she thinks she’s my mom

how do i tell her it’s a new dad i need instead?

FROM: KATYA - 1:34 PM - Saturday August 30th, 2017

what’s a step up from a check-in

He sank down onto his bed – and then a new text appeared, and another, and another.

if bianca’s ur dad and my uncle what does that make us? because i’m into it

i should have opened with that

I just. can’t tell when it’s a joke and when it’s a call for help with you right now

Brian swallowed.

me either, he typed.

Moving between the living room and the guest room was like moving into another house – another life entirely. The air prickled at his skin, slightly too cool with the encroaching fall. He’d left his window open the night before; gone back to his room, the image of Adore’s shoulders and Bianca’s hand at the turn of her hip burned into his mind. He’d cracked the window and lain on the sheets, thinking, thinking, completely un-fucking-able to stop thinking, staring out the window at the shadows cast by Seattle’s spindly bulk.

Katya’s texts from before had lit the dark of the room with an unfamiliar blue as Brian read them over a third time, a fourth. As his eyes had slipped shut, he’d heard it again, the way Katya’s voice had cracked: it’s not – you don’t just get to have things.

In the late afternoon, now, he hunched over his phone, shoulders up against the silence of the walls. He typed, i’m okay. And then, I don’t know what else to say.

There was a pause. Three inscrutable dots.

i don’t know how you did it, back then, Katya sent. trusted i’d make it through off one emoji and some incredibly unwarranted faith in – idk, fate? god?

You, sent Brian without pause.

He hurt. It was a physical thing, like all the ache inside of him had clawed its way out of the lock-safe of his chest and sunk long nails into his bones, his joints, all the spongy marrow, the nooks and crannies of his body. The way he missed Katya – it was a physical thing.

Dumb, sent Katya.

And, yeah.

i’m tired, he typed. The words came slow, because every letter felt like it cost him something. i feel sick all the time, more than i can blame on a day-old hangover. i miss you. I don’t know what to do.

He stared down at the words in the little text box, sitting idle, deceptively tranquil. His thumb hovered for a beat over the [x] to delete – then he shook his head and sent it off.

Delivered and then Read flickered instantly, followed by the ellipsis of Katya’s typing.

okay, came the answer. okay. thank you for telling me, tracy.

For some reason, the simple, sober seriousness of it made his eyes prickle. He huffed a laugh and rubbed at his nose.

we’re gonna work this out, was the next message, and then he really was tearing up, lashes sticking damply together as he blinked down at his phone.

we’re gonna work this out and it’s all gonna be okay, Katya sent.

thats a lot of optimism from a selfprofessed fatalist, he replied one-handed, wiping at his eyes with the other.

satanist, Katya answered quickly. theyre different things. sometimes.

Brian huffed a laugh, and then, mouth twitching despite himself, typed and sent: oh, you mean some people try to be bipartisatan?

There was a pause.

I, Katya sent.

I can’t even be mad

Im actually relieved

Brian really did laugh then, a sharp bark, and grinned down at his phone, like he could see Katya grinning back from the other side of the words.

The dots returned.

FROM: KATYA - 1:43 PM - Saturday August 30th, 2017

so bianca’s there now? how’s hell’s favourite senior citizen doing

That one Brian screencapped to show to Bianca post-haste.

good, he replied. sounds like she’s taken up throat-singing. seems to be sleeping in adore’s room.

Katya sent back a line of eyes-emojis.

mhm. it’s good though, Brian continued. like a continuous wave of benevolent judgement radiating directly at me. i think that’s healthy. Needed, even.

There was no reply for a minute; Brian kicked his heel gently against the back leg of the bed frame, waiting it out. His gaze drifted to his notebook, open at his side, and the corrections he’d scrawled out that morning. Assonance, meter, rhythm – just because it was honest didn’t mean it could be sloppy. He had his pride, here.

His phone buzzed again. Katya, forever on his wavelength, had sent: i liked your song

And then:

well, for values of liked. I mean – you know.

but it was good. is there more of it?

Lots more – black ink bleeding across faint blue lines, all the shit he’d been not-saying for a year or more condensed into four-four time. A whole fucking mess of a song more.

Yeah, he sent. And then, biting his lip: i’ll have to play it for you sometime.

He looked down at those words on his screen and the flicker of the Read notification, then amended -- i mean. i want to.

i’d like that, Katya replied, followed by a single heart.

Outside the guest room, a guitar picked up again, hesitant at first and then with more confidence. Brian glanced at the door, then out the window at the stretch of grey clouds hanging over the city. He turned and lay down on his side, phone in hand, and scrolled up to the top of the conversation – 1:34 PM, Saturday August 30th – to re-read it from the start.

Too late that night, tired but restless, Brian stepped out of the guest room to see faint light on the balcony and a thin haze of smoke. The apartment smelled vaguely sweet; mug in hand, he followed the scent out through the open glass doors, where Bianca was sitting alone, watching a small stick of incense burn. The orange glow at the tip simmered steadily, like a car light on a highway at midnight.

Bianca turned at Brian’s approach. “You’re up late,” he said, tipping his head back to observe Brian as he hovered in the doorway awkwardly.

“Yeah.” Brian jiggled the mug. “Getting some writing done.”

“Yeah? How’s that going?”

“Oh, you know. Slightly less painful than a country doctor pulling teeth. The usual.”

Bianca laughed softly. “C’mere,” he said. “Come sit. Enjoy the night. And this, uh, smelly shit Adore chose to inflict on us.”

“Really? I don’t see her out here,” Brian pointed out. “She bought it, but you lit it, girl.”

Bianca harrumphed, sinking deeper into his nest of blankets. “Well, she’s actually sleeping for once. Someone’s gotta keep the neighbours awake on her behalf.”

(When they’d walked into the magic shop that evening, Bianca’s first words were, “This feels like some white people bullshit.” He’d scanned the place, scowling, while Adore held her hands up to her face and snickered behind them. “No sense of self-preservation, messing with forces they don’t understand. It’s a miracle there’s enough of ‘em still around to plague the rest of us.”

Steph’s first words upon meeting Bianca were, “You look like you need more chamomile in your life.”

“I have some we can share,” Adore had offered; “if you can fuckin’ find it,” Bianca had interjected under his breath.

Adore had dug her elbow into his side. “Don’t be a grump,” she’d said. “I like these white people, man. They sell me crystals.”

Brian, behind them, waved at Steph with weary commiseration.)

Bianca tugged one blanket free from his pile as Brian settled down and passed it over; Brian took it with a nod, hunching his spine against the chill. Fall came faster in Seattle than L.A., like an impatient host ushering a guest out the door. Brian tried hard not to think of the implications of that particular metaphor.

“Let me,” Bianca said, nodding at Brian’s mug, then, when he passed it over, poured half of his own into it. A faint haze of steam rose out of the mug as Brian took it back.

“Thanks,” he said, then choked on his first sip – not because it was hot, but because it was beyond alcoholic. “The fuck is this?” he managed.

“The only cure for the common cold,” said Bianca. “I don’t know. Whatever was in the cupboards. Lemon, chamomile, and a shitload of gin, can you taste it?”

Brian stared at him. “No,” he said. “It’s just a delicate bouquet.”

“Ooh, someone thinks she’s fancy,” said Bianca reproachfully. “You don’t want it, give it back.”

“No, no.” Brian huddled the mug closer to his chest. Bianca’s mouth twitched crookedly.

They drank in silence for a minute. The skies lay heavy and low, weighted with rain; the street was quiet. On the coffee table, the incense was burning down to its stick, the sweet unfamiliar smell drifting on the breeze. Sips two, three, and four of Bianca’s hell brew went better, and a slow warmth began to fill Brian from the inside out. He slumped back into the chair, twisting his feet in the ends of the blanket as he stared out onto the street. The buildings were so obscured by the dark that he could only pick them out in edges and lines, like some monochromatic cubist painting.

“How long do you think you have left here?” said Bianca.

When Brian turned to look, Bianca was watching him – might have been watching him the whole time.

“I’m not asking ‘cause of Adore. Short of insulting her mother or voting for Trump, Adore would let you stay until the oceans rise to swallow this godforsaken hipster port-in-the-storm whole. I’m asking for you – ‘cause I don’t know how much longer you have it in you. Staying. And you’d better have a plan for when you can’t anymore, because otherwise this whole bullshit tangle will just get worse.”

Brian lifted his mug, rested it against his bottom lip. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I know.”

Bianca let him sit a moment longer, then said, “So?”

“Yeah,” Brian said again. He took another sip to steady himself. “I don’t know. Everytime I think I have a handle on what I’m feeling, something else comes up, or something happens, and it’s like I’m back in that moment again – standing in my bedroom in L.A. and realizing I couldn’t do it for another second more.”

Bianca hummed, low and almost soundless in the dark. “And what’s it?”

“The whole – thing. All of it.”

“Narrow that down for me.”

Brian turned and scowled at him. “You know, Adore never gives me this kind of shit.”

“Adore has her own shit. That’s why you never asked her to actually help – you just asked her for a place to stay. You wouldn’t have sat in that chair, and you wouldn’t have said as much as you have, if you didn’t want me to give you shit.”

He held Brian’s gaze steadily until Brian looked away, back down into his mug.

“Yeah,” Brian said.

“Hey,” Bianca said. “You know I wouldn’t push if I didn’t care.” He nudged Brian’s knee with his own. “Don’t repeat that or I’ll deny it.”

Brian laughed, just quietly.

“So,” Bianca said again. “What’s it?”

A siren rang out, somewhere in the distance. Brian took another drink. The clouds overhead cast everything in deep blue shadows; his hands had gone ghostly white and veinless. He wrapped them tighter around the warmth of his mug.

“Everyone wanting something from me,” he said finally, then corrected, “expecting something from me, and feeling like I have to answer to it. All of it, because no two people expect the same thing. That’s not what I fucking signed up for,” he said, volume climbing, then he cut himself off, looking away.

“Isn’t it?” said Bianca impassively.

Brian – snapped.

“I signed up to compete on a dumb-ass game show. I signed up to show my art to the world – I signed up to share what I could do, not who I am. That’s mine. That’s mine and not any other fucking person’s in the world. I didn’t sign up to be grabbed at, told what to do, or told when and where to spill my guts for some strangers’ emotional boners. They can go jerk off to season seven if that’s what they really need. I owe them my work – my best work. I don’t owe them me.”

The mug was shaking in his hands. He breathed, then breathed again, fighting against the band around his chest.

“No,” Bianca said gently. “You don’t.”

Brian opened his mouth, then closed it. It felt like something had dislodged inside of him, something that had been stuck in crooked where it didn’t belong; he couldn’t meet Bianca’s eyes. He looked out at the skyline until his mouth felt less dry and he could speak evenly. “But that’s not how it works.”

Bianca made a questioning noise. “Isn’t it?”

And – for fuck’s sake. “I don’t know. Why don’t you go ask Adore.”

Silence. Brian pressed his lips together, then took another sip of his drink. That was a low blow and he knew it. When he looked back, it was Bianca staring out at the skyline, face unreadable.

“Sorry,” Brian said quietly. And then: “I don’t know how to go back. But this isn’t… this isn’t who I want to be. I didn’t know I could get to this point, not anymore.” He hunched his shoulders. “I’m such a fucking mess.”

“Well,” said Bianca. “Yeah.”

Brian’s mouth twitched. “Thanks, girl.”

They sat in silence for a moment – a new, companionable silence that Brian had never felt with Bianca before, always a little too impressed and in awe to actually relax. He drained the last of his mug and pulled his blanket further up around his shoulders and neck. Sitting with Bianca like this felt like sitting with Adore did, like – like sitting with Shea, or Kim, or Katya, and that made him feel both warm and lonely at the same time.

“You know,” he said abruptly, “Adore has to be one of the – the best fucking people I’ve ever met.”

“That’s not exactly breaking news to me,” said Bianca.

“I’m serious. I show up out of nowhere and she just… lets me stay in her house, tells me it can be for as long as I need – seriously, who does that? For some bitch off the street? Come on. I wouldn’t.”

Bianca rolled his eyes. “Don’t be melodramatic. You’re not some bitch off the street. She liked you before all this, she told me so.”

“But you know what I mean,” Brian insisted. He watched Bianca from heavy, half-lidded eyes – he was either tipsy or half-asleep, and for the fucking life of him he could not have said which.

“I do,” said Bianca. “But – you realize she got something out of it too. Having you here. It’s been good for her.”

“Well,” said Brian, “well, yeah.” He tipped his face over to look at Bianca fully, the lines at the corners of his eyes and mouth and the way he held the edges of the blankets bundled in his lap, arms crossed to keep them place and hands tucked into his sides for warmth. “She’s lucky to have you. You balance her out – you’re like a rock. Or, I don’t know, some other, less-cliché shit.”

“I can see why you’re such a successful songwriter,” said Bianca.

“Fuck you, you’re the wind beneath her fucking wings.” Bianca laughed, and Brian grinned sleepily. “I mean it. You’re like – you’re so steady. Nothing touches you. That’s what she needs right now.”

(Earlier, he remembered, in the magic shop: the moment where Adore had retreated from the conversation, so smoothly Brian almost hadn’t noticed – eyes going distant and distracted, body closing in on itself. One moment she was there and the next she wasn’t.

And then: the way Bianca had stepped forward, touching a hand to the small of her back. The way Adore had leaned into it. The way Steph hadn’t noticed at all, because Bianca had taken over the conversation completely, buying Adore the moment she needed to get herself together.)

Bianca’s mouth pursed and he looked away.

“Who’s older, you or her?”

“I –” Brian paused. “I don’t know, actually.”

“She makes it easy to forget. And then sometimes I look at her and I feel like she has to be my age. No one that young should look so tired.”

Brian shifted in his seat, unsure of how to respond to the strange tone in Bianca’s voice. “Bitch has good skin.”

Bianca hummed quietly.

“You know,” he said, “you go through things in life and you think, this isn’t so bad. There’s no point in lingering on it because the more time you spend in place, the less time you spend getting yourself out of there. You know? You think, I can handle anything. And then you see someone else go through their own things – someone you care about, someone you love… “ Bianca trailed off. “That’s the real hardship. That’s the shit you can’t push away or push through. Where you learn you aren’t so tough after all.”

Brian swallowed, and thought about Katya.

“It’s not –” Bianca frowned and looked away. “It’s not her fault. But it’s hard.”

“She’s lucky to have you,” Brian said again, more forcefully. Bianca looked back,

surprised – then smiled all lopsided, and reached over and squeezed Brian’s forearm.

“Anyone ever told you you’re a sap when you drink, Miss Mattel?”

“Yeah.” Brian looked down at Bianca’s hand, then at his own around his mug. A dozen nights from the past month filled his head, the warm cocoon of a tipsy haze, Katya’s voice in his ear. He had developed this bad habit of repeating hey, I like you, like it was some big secret he was revealing every time. And then Katya would say, smile evident in the timbre of his voice: you’re a sap, Tracy. How many nights?

God, Brian missed him.

He swallowed against the tangle of feelings lodged tightly at the base of his throat. “Is it worth it?”

“Mm?”

“You’re the biggest name there is in our world. You know what I mean. Is it worth it?”

Bianca looked at him, equal parts thoughtful and watchful. Words clustered on Brian’s tongue but he couldn’t get them out: the stress, the loneliness, the bullshit, the distance –

“It can be,” said Bianca after a long moment. “You have to make it worth it, though. Make it yours. Do what you want to do, no more and no less, and make sure that at the end of the day, you have something to come back to.”

Brian dreamed of the pier; he woke too early, with gritty eyes and a tightness in his throat, and lay on his side looking out at the heavy grey skies which had persisted through the night. He remembered Steph, the day before:

“You look weathered,” she’d said, while Adore showed Bianca around the store.

“Yeah,” he’d said. “My pores are all oc-cloud-ed.”

She exhaled half a laugh, but looked at him with serious eyes. “So,” she’d said, “how’s that end of the world treating you?”

Seattle outside his window grew lighter but not brighter, the grey pall lying melancholy along its lines. All the colour leached out; that last pretense of summer giving up the fight. Brian shut his eyes against it and fell back asleep.

“My uber is downstairs,” Bianca said, chiding, as Adore refused to let go. “Dan.”

Adore sniffled. “Shut your face and let me hug you.”

“My wrinkles are getting deeper by the second, Delano.”

“‘Cause you can’t afford to get a lift done. Shut your face.”

Brian, leaning back against the island that separated the kitchen from the rest of the room, looked down at his hands so he wouldn’t have to see the way Bianca’s mouth twisted, abruptly less than firm.

“Now don’t you two do anything stupid once I’m not around to keep an eye out,” Bianca said a moment later, “and you, don’t you let that one forget to eat, okay?”

Brian glanced up again to find both of them looking at him, Adore with a fond smile halfway there and Bianca with a scowl.

“I eat!” he protested.

“Hmph,” said Bianca.

“Okay, exactly one of us looks like a short brown stick insect, so…”

“Shut up and c’mere,” Bianca said, finally loosening himself from Adore’s clutches, and when Brian hesitated, he came over himself, grasping Brian’s elbows, one then the other, and tugging gently until he folded forward into the waiting hug.

Bianca was warm and steady, and Brian shuddered, just a little. He didn’t know how Adore could let go.

When Bianca was at the door, bags in hand, he paused and looked back at both of them, even though his Uber was waiting (and beginning to honk intermittently.) His gaze flicked from Adore, to Brian, and then back to Adore. Adore made a rough noise. “Text me, dumbass,” she said. “I’ll miss you. Fuck. Get out of my house.”

Bianca laughed, eyes crinkling up at the corners, then waved a little at both of them – like a fucking dork – and disappeared out the door.

Adore slumped back against the couch. She looked both tired and older; but there was something more quiet about her energy than Brian had seen in the past month. He went over to settle beside her, and wrapped an arm around her shoulders gingerly.

She rested her head against his shoulder. He rubbed his thumb against the slope of her arm, absent, then said, “Want to get plastered?”

It was barely noon.

“Yeah,” said Adore. “Fuckin’ slaughtered.”

The rest of the day was… a bit of a blur.

Brian woke to a new day, sunlight, a pounding head, and a text from Katya.

LA is more of a sinkhole than i remember, it read. Anxious about fault lines & wishing u were here.

He pressed his face into his pillow and read it again, then again, half a smile creeping onto his face.

The night before was pretty much a shitshow, but he remembered parts here and there; vaguely, he could recall Adore digging her toes into his thigh – she’d been stretched out along the couch, while he’d been tucked into one end, mug of something ungodly held between his hands – and telling him, voice quieter than the night outside, that she’d watched the video. His video, the one he’d deleted from Instagram.

“That’s,” she’d said, slurring a little, “that’s some real shit, dude. Like some real ass shit. That’s not the shit you walk away from.”

But I have, he’d replied, barely even conscious of what he was saying. Lots of times. Katya and me… it’s always been ‘almost’ with us. Almost after almost after almost.

And almosts only count –

“But you want it,” she’d said. “And I know – I know she does too. Dude. I know.”

And what was he supposed to do with that? Did Adore think he hadn’t figured that much out for himself?

Fuck.

He turned over in bed, away from the sunlight, and groaned quietly. It felt like a small animal had fucking died in his mouth. He dragged himself upright on unsteady feet. There was a slight possibility he was still drunk.

Phone in hand, he stumbled out of bed, hitching his boxers up with one hand. The stretch to the door felt like an interminable distance. Water, he thought, get some water, and then back to bed for more sleep, and when I wake up I’ll feel like a person again –

He opened the door.

For one golden moment, everything was still. Then somewhere across the room, something jerked, and Adore gasped, “wait –”

Brian blinked.

Another jerk of movement; a thud; and then his vision cleared, the noonday sun slanting through the apartment easing in his eyes, and he saw Adore staring back at him from the couch, mouth slack, one hand pressing her phone face-down into the coffee table.

“I was –” she stuttered, “– fuck, I was –”

In his hand, Brian’s phone began to vibrate insistently.

“Fuck, Trixie,” Adore said weakly. “I was live.”

Brian stared at her.

People talk about the bottom falling out of your stomach. This wasn’t that. This was walls tumbling outwards, like a card structure when the table under it’s been knocked, the hollow inside of a house revealed to the open air in the shock of a second. This was the walls of his chest split open; fault lines doing what fault lines do.

He pressed a hand behind him at the door, like maybe he could step back into his room and all this would go away.

His phone was still buzzing, continuously now, the noise like a power drill. His mouth was dry as sawdust.

He wasn’t ready. The walls were coming down and he wasn’t fucking ready.

#dare #trixya #adore delano #katya zamolodchikova #trixie mattel #rpdr fanfiction #submission #fathwtf #canon compliant

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axelsagewrites · 7 years

Text

My secret place-Lightwood family x reader

Masterlist HERE

Wattpad HERE

This is a about the 2nd youngest lightwood who feels like they’re being ignored. Its just a bit long. Sorry not sorry. Hope you enjoy.

Ever since I was born i’ve been in someone else’s shadow. Im (Y/N) Lightwood. Im 3 years younger than Alec, 2 years younger than Izzy and Jace and 5 years older than Max. Since im not the youngest Mum and Dad don't pay me as much attention as Max needs but im also not old enough to make my own decisions or go on solo missions (according to my older siblings anyway.). Now that Clary, Simon and Magnus are here its worse.

I always loved sketching but im not that good at it (in my/your opinion anyway) and don't really show it off. One day at the institute we were all sitting in a spare room we (mainly me/you) had converted to a mundane style living room. I was sitting on the floor (there were no seats left) and Clary noticed me drawing and looked over my shoulder to see. “Oh cute! You draw too, let me see.” she said not giving me time to stop her before she had already took my sketch book. She started flicking through and my siblings all looked through it as well. “Your good for your age.” Clary smiled. She meant it as a compliment but it made me feel small, like a child. I snatched it out her hands muttering a “Thanks” “Hey why dosent Clary give you lessons (Y/N)?” Jace suggested. “Yeah totally!” Clary said. I just smiled and nodded before excusing myself to go the bathroom. Instead I went to my secret spot in the institute.

I was always one upped by someone else. Its so annoying. Anything I like or do someone else does better. I play (Your fav instrument) and Simon's in a band. I like make up but Magnus is a god at it. Jace, well Jace is quite literality the best shadow hunter of his age, so no matter how good I get at (your fav weapon) he’s the best over all. Since Izzy's so beautiful I try to style my outfits to live up to my siblings but she's always jaw dropping with boys fawning over her. And Alec is the leader. Its kind of understandable because he's the oldest but he's always painted as the responsible one no matter how sensible I try to be.

I cant even use the fact im younger as an advantage because max is 5 years younger than me. And he likes reading (manga but it counts) so im not the reader, he is. Yesterday I had finnaly convinced Mum to let me go on a solo mission and Alec crashed it. I had got into gear and was going to get my (your fav weapon) and 2 seraph blades from the weapons rack when I saw Alec ruining his arrows. “Hey” I said grabbing my weapon. He nodded his head. As I was reaching for a Seraph blade I asked “Are you going on a solo mission or something?” slightly confused because Jace had told me they were having a day off and that's why I got the mission. “No, im going with you.” He said putting his quiver over his shoulder. “Eh no your not,” I laughed slightly. “Its just a small mission so Mum said I could fly solo.” I went to walk out but he followed. “Tough luck. You never know how big a mission is until you get there” I stopped now we were just out of the doors. “No Alec, its just to kill a few imps that are gathering round a mundie school” I said rolling my eyes and walking away. “They're still dangerous if there's a lot of them.” He pointed out. “Only if they are a swarm of at least two hundred. But they only reported twenty of them.” I said frustrated. “You never now.” By the angel this is annoying. I just stayed quiet and went along with it. We did the mission in under half an hour and were heading back to the institute.

I had went on a couple of group missions with the gang and now it was approaching my birthday. Not approaching, it was today. No one had said anything and it was going to be dinner time in an hour. My older siblings went out on a mission this morning but still weren't back. Mum and Dad had to go back to Idris for something, but wouldn't tell me, and had taken Max. I was training when I decided to find out if they would want me to make dinner for them or not. (I cooked but not as good as mum so no one really noticed.)

Hey Sis, do you want me to save some of my b-day dinner for you guys or no?

I added the bit about my birthday to make sure they remembered. About 10 minuites later she finnaly texted back. No. Come down to Taki’s and have dinner with us I sighed. I had already cooked dinner for everyone and now woldnt get to eat it.

K. When? She told me now so I put the (favorite food) in a container with a note saying not to eat it and left.

By the time I got there they had already ordered and had gotten me a cheese burger and fries. They had pushed two tables together. One of four and one of two with a chair stuck on the end. Guess that ones for me. “Hey guys,” It was Simon, Clary and Jace on one side with Jace beside me. On the other side was Izzy, Alec and Magnus on the other with Magnus next to me. “Hey (Annoying Nickname)” Simon grinned at me as I sat down. I just grimmaced as the others laughed. “Happy Birthday,” Clary said reaching under the table to grab a plastic bag. “we got you some stuff. I didn't wrap it though cause I suck at it.” she grinned, passing me the bag. Inside was a sketch book, coloured pencils and normal pencils. “Now Clary can give you lessons with decent stuff,” Jace said, proudly “I got you a new seraph blade but its back at the institute.” of course the best shadow hunter got you a weapon. “Max told me you like to read so here.” Simon passed me a couple comics and I thanked him, not pointing out it was Max into comics and mangas. “I got you some new clubbing clothes but their back at the institute.” Alec frowned at the idea of you in clubbing clothes and I was slightly scared of seeing them but said cool none the less. “You will not be going clubbing anytime soon.” Alec gave me a pointed look I just rolled my eyes while Magnus muttered something about teenage angst. The he snapped his fingers and a box appeared in his hands. It was beautiful wrapped. “This is how a gift should be presented,” he looked around the table, eyes settling on Clary before handing me the box. “They're you go kitten” I tried to smile but that nickname. The others sniggered as I opened the box. Inside was a bunch of eyeliners, eye shadows and lipsticks. All bright. Mostly glittery. They had all gotten me the things they liked. “Thanks” I said putting it on the ground next to my chair with my other presents. We started eating and I zoned out. I couldn't help but think about how they had all gotten me something they liked. Clary with art. Jace, a weapon. Simon, comics. Izzy, clothes probably showing way to much skin. Magnus, glittery and bold make-up. And Alec, nothing at all. Same with mum and dad. I sound so spoiled thinking about it but I couldn't help it. They didn't ask what I wanted, or gave me stuff I would actually wanted. They didn't invite me out to dinner before I asked. They hadn't talked to me all day and had told me to meet them for food I didn't like that much instead of eating the food I made at home as a family. “Hey (Y/N/N), what you thinking about.” Alec said snapping me from my thoughts. I just muttered “nothing” not looking up, knowing they had all stopped talking to look at me. “It dosent look like nothing,” Izzy said looking at me questioningly. “You could break the fork with that grip.” I looked down and noticed I had grabbed the fork by the handle and was squeezing as hard as I could. I dropped the fork and noticed there was a small cut because of how tight I had been holding it. “(Y/N) what's wrong?” Clary asked. I snapped. “You!” she recoiled looking like she was about to cry. “All of you! You got me the things you liked for my birthday! I was alone all day at home. I made a special dinner and even a cake because I didn't think any of you were going to come home for a while. Im always in your shadows and the back of your minds that you just don't care! You refuse to call the institute home and you treat me like im a child and im sick of it!” I realised my voice had risen and that people were starting to look. I could feel me eyes tearing up and I wanted to get out of there. I scrapped my chair back and ran out.

I went straight home and to my secret place. It was an old abandon room on the highest floor. To get to it you had to go through a hatch in the cupboard of our mundie style living room, and climb up a ladder 2 stories high. I had snuck blankets and pillows up and had made a little set up in one of the corners. I had figured out a way to run electricity up here and fixed the over head light even though I mainly used the fairy lights in the corner. It was basically a blanket fort in the corner. I stored some of my private stuff up here and would play my (your instrument). I also could train up her without others seeing. Laying down face forward on my makeshift bed while my phone was blaring. I checked and saw that they were asking were I was. They thought I went back to the institute and now they couldn't find me. I debated telling them were my hiding spot was so I just texted Alec back saying, My secret place

3rd pov Alec was in the ‘mundie living room’ as he and his siblings always said to annoy (Y/N) when he saw his phone dinged and that (Y/N) had texted him. He immediately shouted on the guys saying to come over. They all looked at his phone. “What do you think she means?” Jace asked looking confused. “Yeah ive never heard of a secret place.” Izzy said looking round the four. Magnus and Simon had went home deciding it would just cause a scene with two downworlders running round the institute but had said they would look around before going home. “I think that's why it says secret Izzy.” Clary said receiving a scowl from the Lightwood girl. “Well as she said we don't really talk to her a lot.” Alec said taking his phone back from Jace. “Don't say tha-” “Its true,” Alec cut his parabatai off “we are always concerned with something else or with her safety that we never actually talk to as friends.” (Y/N) had climbed down the ladder to were the trap door to the closet was and had put on a hearing rune. She was happy to finnaly see one them noticing. She decided to let one of them in.

Go into the closet. Don't tell the others and don't talk.

‘Weird’ Alec thought but none the less complied. “Guys maybe you should go check around the institute” he suggested. The rest nodded and they all left the room and split up. 10 seconds later he came back in and opened the closet and went inside, closing the door behind him. He looked up confused and saw a opened trap door and ladder. He then saw how the boxes under the trap door so that someone shorter could reach the ladder. He didn't need the boxes so instead just started climbing.

(Y/N) pov I had just sat back down in my makeshift bed when I heard Alec starting to climb. The rune started fading off so I just laid back thinking if im going to regret this. After about 2 minutes Alec arrived and climbed out. He looked around before finnaly seeing me lying on my stomach looking over at him. He walked over and sat down beside me. He wasn't looking at me but instead my secret place. Obviously there was the blanket fort but at one side of the room was a training set up and in another corner some shelves that were up here when I found it that I had used for storage. He also noticed how I had an old, small mundie TV set up with a stack of VHS tapes that I had got from a charity shop. “So this is your secret place? Not bad.” he said finally looking at me. “Thanks. Its not much but its mine.” He frowned slightly at that. I laid my head in my arms and looked up at him. “You can lie down in my fortress, if you take your shoes off. Get it dirty and I'll kill you.” I looked at him seriously and he just rolled his eyes and smiled before taking his boots and jacket off. He laid down on his front next to me but had to bend his legs to fit him all in. I started laughing at him. “You’re like a spaghetti noodle.” I said between laughs and he started laughing too. We got quiet and then he started talking. “Why do you have a secret place? Do you not like hanging out with us?” I sighed. “I do its just that…. You guys steal all my things and do them better.” I huffed making Alec look at me confused. “Not actual things. I mean how I would sketch and then Clary came in like Van Gogh and suddenly I need lessons on something I do for fun. And Izzy is the stylish one, Jace is the best fighter, Magnus is the best at make up, Simon is the musical one even though I play (Your instrument). Then Max is the one who like to read and your the dull, sensible one.” “Thanks!” Alec rolled his eyes. “Everything I do someone else is doing better. Even cooking and Izzy’s my sister.” I laid my face into the blankets. “Yeah but Mum is the one everyone thinks is the best.” Alec laid down flat on his back next to me and took my hand, holding it. “but you are one who’s good at a lot of things. You might not be the best at everything but you must be the best at something.” “Like what?” I said muffled through blankets, tears starting to slip. “Like (your favourite hobby) and (what your good at). None of us are good at everything but you know how to do a lot. Hell you've made this den and its awesome. None of us have one. And you make the institute feel like a home, even with your ‘mundie living room’.” I turned my head towards him. “How come you never call the institute home?” “I don't know,” he wiped the couple of tears on my face away. “Im just used to calling it the institute.” he looked down at his phone before saying, “Can I text the others? Not to tell them where we are” he added noticing my worried expression, “Just so they know your safe. Ok?” “Yeah sure.” He texted them before asking “Were did you even get half this stuff? And how do you have electricity?” I laughed at his confusion. “When you guys leave me out on missions I go out to the mundie shops. I got most of it from second hand shops. The tapes, blankets and some of the pillows are from there. I wash them first.” I added seeing his disgust. “the TV's from some yard sale. The shelves were already here and the some of the training stuff. Everything else was from around the institute mainly. Or maybe a normal mundane shop.” “How could you afford it? And what about the power?” “Well for to begin with it was the money I had saved that Mum and Dad gave me. Then I realised you guys didn't rely seem to check your money or use it much so sometimes I ‘borrowed’ some.” “(Y/N)! Thats stealing! From your own family.” He exclaimed. “Well you never seemed to notice or care.” I said rolling my eyes. “Whatever. But who did you get to set up the lights and TV?” he asked looking at the TV with a confused face. “I did.” he looked shocked, “It was rely quite simple. Just had to go on the system and send some power up here. The I ran some cable over her so I could plug in the fairy lights and TV. Don't know how to get normal TV but that's what the tapes are for.” “Im impressed.” he picked up the top tape and looked at me. “(Favourite Disney movie), what's that?” “Lets just watch it. Ok?” he just shrugged and layed down. I put the movie in and lifted up a blanket at the back of the fort revealing a pile of snacks. I threw out a bag of popcorn and some other sweets and chocolate before turning to Alec and saying, “these I stole from the kitchen.” “Now that I can get on board with.”

We watched the movie and a few others before falling asleep up in my secret place. From then on it was mine and Alec’s secret place and at least once a week we would stay up there and watch old VHS tapes. He ended up buying more videos and looking how to get mundie TV up there. He also gave me my present when we woke up in the morning, having realised we had fallen asleep, he had got me a mundane laptop. It turned out to be quite useful as we could watch Netflix on it. But we still liked to use the tapes too. We were thinking about telling the others about it but we didn't. It was our secret fortress and no one would break in.

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