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boytoyhalo · 5 months

Note

Your Selkie au is super compelling! Plus you are a very good writer. A question, will you ever go into more detail about Pac's previous captive situation? I'm very interested in how you will adapt Fuga's lore into your au. ( Specially bc of Cell and Cellbit stuff)

I'M SO SO SO LATE BUT IM USING FITPAC WEEK DAY 3 (WHICH IM ALSO LATE FOR) AS AN EXCUSE TO FINALLY, FINALLYYYYY GET THIS POSTED THANK YOU FOR BEING PATIENT ANON AND EVERYONE ELSE WHO'S AN ENJOYER OF THIS AU I PROMISE IT ISN'T ABANDONED IVE JUST BEEN IN AN END OF YEAR SLUMP

selkie au snippet #4 (i think) || T || slash (ambiguous) || @fitpacweek day 3 (belated its actually day 4) AU day!!!

read the rest of my posts about this au here

"Can I ask you somethin' personal?"

Pac paused, hand suspended halfway towards the checkerboard that was currently serving as him and Fit's way of passing the long hours up in the lamp room of the lighthouse. He kept his eyes on the round piece he was holding as he deliberated on how to answer, sure that if he met Fit's gaze his face would give away his nervousness; "personal" could mean a wide range of topics, most of which would spell disaster for Pac and his poorly constructed web of secrets. He slowly placed the piece in it's spot on the board, fighting to keep his voice even as he responded.

"Mmm, you can ask, yeah. I might not answer, but you can ask." Fit hummed bemusedly, absently flipping his own game piece between his fingers and he contemplated his next move.

"What happened to your leg?" Pac's breath caught in his throat, and Fit rushed to continue, "It's ok if you don't wanna talk about it, I get it. I just- I mean, you've probably figured out how I lost my arm, right?" Pac looked up at the familiar, mechanical clacking of the veteran's stiff wooden fingers flexing in and out of their open position, eyes involuntarily darting to the gnarled pink scarring that crawled from under his collar and up to the side of his head. He quickly returned his gaze to the board, face reddening a little in shame. Thankfully though, Fit seemed far from offended. "Heh, it's okay, I know. It's pretty obvious. And besides, you're a smart man. I'd be surprised if you hadn't assumed correctly. Me though - I'm just brawn, I don't have a whole lotta brainpower up in this thing." He knocked his fake knuckles lightly against his temple, a light smile on his face. "So if you are okay with me knowing, you're gonna need to tell me."

A small, nervous laugh bubbled it's way out of Pac's chest, his face properly flushed now in a mix of embarassment and flattery. "Don't - don't say that about yourself Fit, you're smart! Smarter than me, probably-" He cleared his throat, redirecting his focus to the topic at hand (ha.) "I can tell you, I don't mind. It's just a, it's a tough topic, you know? I need to get my head in the right place." Fit nodded easily like he understood, which Pac supposed he did at least somewhat.

"Take your time, I'm not going anywhere." The selkie chuckled a bit, tracing the edges of the paneled glass walls that surrounded them as he considered the best way to talk around the subject; he knew, or at least had decided, that he owed it to Fit to give him some semblance of the truth. After all, they had been growing steadily closed for months now and yet Fit knew so little about his life. Which was out of necessity, or course, but his friend had been so kind and so patient with him, never demanding more information than he was given. Pac needed - no, he WANTED to let him in as much as he reasonably could. He deserved it.

"I..." He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, steeling himself to sort through the painful, tangled memories and hoping he would be able to hold himself together. He starts at the beginning, where he won't have to omit too much of the truth, though if anything that makes it harder to talk about. "Mike and I were on a merchant ship off the coast of São Paulo that was attacked by axis submarines a few years back." Fit winced sympathetically, patiently waiting for him to continue as he picked his next words. "We avoided the worst of the blast, but... Mike was in really bad condition, and I had to hang onto him with one arm and a piece of the wreck with the other while I waited for help to come. By the time someone found us, I was too tired and too um- too relieved to realize that we were being taken as prisoners and not as refugees."

It was all technically true so far, just with some important details omitted: like how they were only on the ship in the first place because their pelts were being imported as merchandise by a fisherman who believed himself to be incredibly lucky, and how they weren't taken as prisoners of war as Fit was no doubt assuming. Pac fails to suppress a shudder as he remembers the smug, taunting grin of the man that stood above him on the deck of his supposed refuge, two familiar seal pelts clutched in his meaty fists.

"I'm so sorry you went through that, Pac. You don't have to keep-" Pac cuts him off, already committed to opening up.

"No, I want to tell you. We," He clears his throat again, pushing down the memories of too-small tanks full of too-salty water, of needles and IV drips and white lab coats and pencils scratching on clipboards as he writhed in pain. "We woke up in some sort of facility, I'm not sure where exactly? I think the men who had us were European but that's all I remember, it's all blurry you know? And that's where we met Cellbit and Felps actually-" The image of frenzied black eyes claws its way to the front of his mind against his will, but he can't help a small smile at Fit's attentiveness as his eyebrows raise in intrigue, the checkerboard between them completely forgotten.

"Anyway, we were there for- months, I think. And long story short Cellbit ended up, um. He tried to- to eat my leg off?" It comes out sounding uncertain, Pac having realized there was no way to say it that wouldn't raise more questions. Sure enough, Fit's mouth drops open.

"Wait he- He tried to eat you?"

"Not- it wasn't- aaaaugh, he wasn't himself ok? They were- they were cruel to us, and they injected him with these drugs that made him all crazy and violent and they kinda just. Let him do it? It wasn't his fault, is what I'm saying." Fit looks disturbed, although significantly less so than Pac would expect from most people. He supposes bearing witness to the horrors of war would give you a higher tolerance to this sort of thing.

The thing is, it really wasn't Cellbit's fault. He had been there the longest of any of them, starved and beaten and forced through their cruel experiments since he had been a teenager. He was angry and desperate and hungry, and it was pure bad luck that Pac had happened to be the closest to him when the "researchers" had decided to test the effects of whatever combination of steroids they had injected him with. The ghost of his leg twinges in pain as it remembers the feeling of sharp teeth tearing through it's flesh.

"Wait so did Cellbit..." Fit hesitates, like he can't quite put together what he means to ask. "So he, bit your leg off? but how does that even-" He's interrupted by Pac giggling, and after a moment he joins in quietly with a confused laugh of his own.

"No, no he- he just did enough damage that the sci- that the jailers had to amputate it. And it wasn't that bad honestly, I mean, they weren't kind enough to knock me out before they started sawing but at least I didn't die!" His amusement at Fit's horrified reaction to his nonchalance almost drowns out the echoes of grief that his heart sounds for one of his fellow prisoners who hadn't been so lucky. Pac puts on a wide grin, forcing himself to perk up from his slumped posture. "So anyway, that's the story! Pretty cool don't you think?" Fit sputters a shocked laugh.

"Pretty- Yeah, sure, Pac. That's- *cough*- that's cool, yeah." It's a joke, obviously, but warmth washes over him anyway at the way that Fit lets him control the weight of the conversation like always. He wouldn't be able to handle trying to talk about his past seriously, and he's grateful to whatever higher power may or may not exist for bringing him Fit, who not only cares but understands despite being a human, and who always without fail meets him wherever he needs to be at. Pac doesn't know what he did to deserve a friend like him. "So, okay," Fit's voice snaps him out of the appreciative haze he had fallen into. "How did you guys get out? Were you released, or rescued, or..." He trails off, eyes imploring him to go on. Pac feels his face light up at the opportunity to discuss his favorite part of the tale - the only part, he likes, really.

"Oh, you're not gonna believe it. It was Richas! He actually saved us!"

"What?" Fit exclaims in elated disbelief.

"Yeah! So ok - they were keeping him prisoner too, but he was just a baby, like a, a toddler right? And the guards that were assigned to him treated him like their own kid-" Minus the horrible inhumane experimentation, of course. "- and he somehow, he figured out how to use their sympathy to get them to tell him where they kept all their keys," - and all the pelts - "and then managed to convince them to let him play with us alone. So he came to me and Mike and told us, so we told him to steal us some guard uniforms and figure out where the breaker box was, and after some planning and waiting for the right time we were able to escape by having him shut off the power and filing out with the rest of the guards! Mike wanted it to just be the three of us but I told him we weren't leaving the others behind." For all the suffering they had been put through it had honestly been comically easy - the facility they were at was small and not well guarded, probably funded independently considering that if any powerful government had proof of the selkies' existence everyone including the scientists would have been in a much bigger mess - the world was already at war, Pac doubted anyone was eager to add another variable to the conflict.

Fit crosses his arms and sits back, nodding in amazement. "Huh, so little Richarlyson is a hero! That's crazy"

"What, you don't believe me?" Pac shouts in mock offense.

"No no no I believe you! That kid is a fighter, I know it. So you guys all just stuck together after that? What about Bagi and Forever?"

"Ah, so- Bagi and Cellbit, they're brothers, or uhm- they're brother and sister, yes? And Bagi had been searching for Cellbit since he was taken, and somehow she ended up at the place we were being kept just a few days after we escaped, and she was able to track us from there. She's crazy smart, Cellbit and her both are. And Forever," Well, truthfully, Forever had just swam up to their pod and started playing with Richas one day while they were searching for a new home, and then the two had become inseparable so he just... stuck around. But Pac wasn't sure how to spin that into something that sounded reasonable for a human family, so he just went with "Forever just showed up one day and wouldn't leave." Fit laughed again at that, and this time Pac laughed with him.

It felt unbelievably good to tell Fit about his story like this, even with parts of it changed. Still, he wanted nothing more than to tell him the truth of what he was - he almost did, right then and there, swayed by the sound if his laughter and the mirth in his eyes. But, he reminded himself, that had to be a family decision; it wasn't just his secrets at stake. It was all of them, and as much as he loved trusted Fit and would be happy to gamble his own safety on that trust, he wasn't willing to risk his whole family.

...But, it would be so much easier if he could just say the whole truth. He wonders if Fit would react with the same attentiveness and amazement he gave to Pac's storytelling.

The rest of the day passed with little more of note, mostly filled with idle chit chat and card games. As Fit tries to teach him how to play Kings on the Corners for the third time, Pac finds himself thinking about how much Fit was changing his life without even realizing. A few months ago, Pac had never wanted or even tolerated human company that wasn't absolutely necessary. But now, he couldn't imagine not having the veteran around to occupy his time. In fact, when Fit had taken his first two-week relief back on shore after two months of service, Pac had felt inescapably lonely even when surrounded by his pod. Not even Richas, who had also been upset over the Ramon's absence, had been able to completely cheer him up. And while Pac's always been somewhat fascinated by humans, and had enjoyed watching the previous lighthouse keepers as they went about their work, he had never found himself as interested by any of it as he does when it comes to Fit.

"What is it?" Fit's voice snaps him out of it yet again, cards abandoned as he looks at him curiously. "You're staring."

"Huh? Oh, nothing, nothing! Just thinking about Richas and Ramon - what do you think they're up to?"

"They should still be hanging out with Cellbit, right? They're probably doing puzzles or something." Fit looks at the clock over on the left side off the room. "It's almost six, Bad should be here soon to take over for the night. Do you want to go join them and I can catch up?"

"Um-" Pac flusters, face heating up slightly. He's not sure why the emotional exhaustion of talking about losing his leg is what's bringing all these revelations to his mind, but he can't seem to pull his thoughts away from how much he appreciates the man in front of him. Which.... "Yeah, I think I'll go find them now! I'll see you soon?" Fit nods.

"Sounds good, Pac. I'll see you in a little bit." With a nod back at him, Pac shuffles out the door and makes his way down the tower. Instead of going to find Cellbit and the children, however, he beelines straight to the rocks where his pelt is stashed and hastily wraps himself in it's familiar comfort, sliding into the water before his limbs have even finished morphing into flippers. Surely a nice, solo swim is what he needs to clear his head.

...If only he could take Fit with him.

#stumbles out of the drafts covered in blood #my ass is gonna be late for every single fitpac week prompt at this point cuz dawg why did this take me like 5 hours to get done #anyway. i hope you like it. scream at me in the tags if u like it #ps i have begun outlining and drafting the full fic of this au #most of these blurbs probably wont be in it in full tho just for the sake of not making it 10billion words long #fitpac #selkie au #fitpac week

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lake-archive · 5 months

Text

Look At Me!

AO3 Link

Fandom: Ensemble Stars

Characters: Ritsu Sakuma, Anja-Sophia 'Ann' Wolff (OC)

Pairing: Ritsann (Ritsu/Ann) (Romantic, Established)

Tags: One Shot, Fluff, Romantic Fluff, Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, POV Sakuma Ritsu, Original Character(s), Major Original Character(s), Original Character-centric, Fluff without Plot, No Plot/Plotless, !! Era (Ensemble Stars!), POV Third Person, POV Third Person Limited

Words: 1,344

The sight could make anyone look a little in annoyance. One of the first days the two could have all to themself and yet Ritsu was made to sit and wait. “Sorry! It’s… Important! Since… Well, the exams are… Coming up! I should study a tiny little bit.” had been Ann’s excuse. And she wanted to prepare properly for them so the university would for sure take her, because a recommendation could only take you so far and she still had to be tested in her abilities for the subject she is supposed to be studying while starting to work for the movie company ES had established not too long ago. Sure, they would probably take any fresh blood they could get, yet there was still an exam to pass.

It’s a long story but things had led to one thing after another since the movie was shot with Knights as the main actors, a movie Ann managed to be heavily involved in. Apparently one of the directors had found one of her stories by accident and wanted a script version. Ann insisted on working on it herself so her’s and Nyeli’s vision would be kept alive and after several drafts and tries she managed to put out something which was satisfying for the director from overseas but also would be possible within the limits they had, especially considering the runtime of the movie. She had to be there of course to overlook and apparently picked up some things from the director himself and she had fun too.

Not to mention that the script was lots of fun to read out, and Ritsu is not just saying that because of him liking Ann. No, he actually meant that when he had told her and the others seemed to agree. Even Secchan admitted that she had some talent, even if a little reluctantly. “You’re a bit of a pain but… You have talent.” He even said, right into Ann’s face. Not to mention that the script had kept TsukiP’s attention until the very end, he even claimed to have come up with ‘five new melodies while reading through it’. Nacchan and Su–Chan had lots of fun.

And the director seemed to agree because shortly after he suggested Ann to become one of their writers and directors. “Of course she still has things to learn but she is a fast learner. Plus, having a writer with potential on your team couldn’t hurt, could it?” Of course hearing that they are considering her and are willing to take her if she passes the entrance exam at a university they have close ties to they would take her.

Basically this was a one in a lifetime chance and Ann did not want to mess this up. He understood that. Ever since she decided to study not just Japanese at a quicker pace but also everything else which might be useful and she has not taken a rest ever since. Though it was all difficult to balance with her current classes and her job as a translator, she had barely any time now.

“Why don’t you drop out now?” Ritsu had asked her before.

“In case… I will not pass.” Was her response. “I don’t want to think like that but… You never know. I need to keep this option.”

And he was able to accept this for a while. After all, he was not going to stand between her and what she worked so hard towards. Besides, he had been busy with idol work as well, especially around the holidays. There were just so many special events going on and interviews… There was hardly time to nap. This should be illegal. There was not a single free day until new years rolled around!

And yet once it had hit she just wanted to stick her head into the books and do nothing but studying! That was of course not going to sit right with Ritsu. The next few days were going to be their alone time! And Ann would not get a say in this! She is going to need a proper break anyway! So, before she had even a chance to hit the books he came up with the following… Cling onto her as tightly as possible.

In fact, Ritsu had pushed himself against them the next moment she sat down after having used the bathroom and made sure that his arms were wrapped around her ever so tightly, so she couldn’t even think about moving away. “Wha— H… Hey! Ritsu, I should—” She tried to protest yet it was only met with an annoyed groan before he even shoved her onto the ground by shifting his own weight right on it, making both lay next to another. Though he was still clinging onto her like a little child.

“Are you dating those books now?” He asked, somewhat joking yet one could hear from his voice that he wasn’t happy with this at all. Was he jealous of a bunch of books? Maybe, but he had every right to today! He was on a break and wanted to spend it with her after all, no matter how!

“N… No. I’m not, but—”

“Then I win.” He interrupted, not wanting to hear the but by any means. “I’m not letting you escape for a while.”

“S… Studies—” She was about to say yet he really didn’t feel like hearing it. Instead he turned her to him so they were facing each other, their faces awfully close. That alone could silence her it seems, judging from Ann’s red face. She was stuttering before going all silent. Once he held her tighter, both bodies pressed tightly against one another. It was enough so he could rest his head on one of her shoulders. In truth he just wanted to hide his slight glare. He didn’t like this, at all.

“Please… Ann–Chan… Don’t talk about this now… Can you just pay attention to me instead?” He asked, his voice unusually soft. He wasn’t messing around, he didn’t want to. He was dead serious. One might call him selfish, inconsiderate even, yet he didn’t care. He just wanted to be close to her. Was that really too much to ask for?

Maybe it got her to think, or so he hoped. Because he didn’t hear a word from her mouth for a minute maybe… It could have been less time as well however. Though soon he had felt her arms around him all of a sudden, first catching him a little off guard. He had grown a little warmer but that was not a bad thing. It was what he had asked for and thus he couldn’t help but smile soon after.

“Sorry…” He heard it coming from her lips, a word she said ever so meekly and softly. Yet she meant it. She is not the type of person to say it if she didn’t mean it.

“Then… Can we stay like this? A little longer?”

“Ah— Yeah, sure!”

“I’m glad to hear that.” He responded. Yeah, he was glad about that. Even if it was just for a short while, this was their time… Just the two of them. No worries, no work, no studies. Just them. “Besides, you owe me lots of cuddles Ann–Chan. At least three months worth.”

“Eh!? How can I—”

“And you were pretty bad earlier too. Hmm… That’s it, I’m punishing you~” Ritsu moved his head backwards to face Ann yet again, witnessing how red her face was now. Oh it was beyond red and it was never a sight he got tired of. Maybe just for a little longer he can keep pushing her buttons. Whether she liked it or not. And with that he got his face awfully close, maybe a little too close for comfort. “Alright… Ready or not, here comes your punishment~”

“Wait a– Ritsu, this is– Hmph!?” And yet he managed to cut her off. And he will do so many more times if he has to.

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silvastampe8 · 2 years

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persephoneyss · 3 years

Text

The Monster.

Pairing: park jimin x f!reader.

Genre: Yandere, dark themes, anguish.

Summary: ❝You can be reborn like spring, but your nightmares will follow your footsteps at night.❞

Warnings: Yandere behavior, obsession, voyeurism, Jimin is a little delusional, implicit murder, death threats, a little violence, stalking, death of secondary characters, reader idolizes his mother, humiliation.

Number of words: 6000+

︙ Author's note: this is my first fic here, sorry if there are errors. My first language is not English and I don't speak it fluently either, so I used the translator. Sorry about that. I hope you enjoy it, I am open to criticism. Thanks!

(Puedes leer este y más fics aquí en español.)

To block.

Your mind felt strangely familiar, like it was processing the same situation all over again. And then the same thing happened again.

Blocking.

You never noticed those little details, invisible to the eyes of others. Or maybe you took too seriously the message and advice that your mother always told you when you were afraid of being left alone in your room because of the obvious and silly repetitive story of the monster under the bed, you were crying looking for your mother's room in the middle of the night. You were looking for refuge in her arms. However, the only loving words she had for you were: "Ignore him and he will go away, darling."

It seemed very clever to you, you began to close your eyes ignoring your worst fears and in a short time you could do what most children could not at your age, sleep alone in the dark.

Your mother was wise, maybe that's why you never understood why your father left her overnight. She never commented on the subject and little by little it was forgotten in her daily lives. Your father never existed, you never saw him again.

In his small town no one was exceptionally well known, unless he had done something good or bad enough to be called a hero or, in the same way, a villain. You were barely seven years old when it happened, a family with a lot of money had chosen your town as a decent land, enough to build their luxurious house where their children who came from golden cradles would grow up. According to the gossip, they were foreigners coming to invade their town and rule it, when in reality the Parks never got more involved in politics than necessary.

They were just rich, spending money.

Young women from all over the world and even from other distant towns came every day to try to conquer the privileged children of the great mansion built finely and strategically in the middle of the main square. The young women were beautiful, many times you stood at the door of your house admiring their distinguished perfect faces and you wondered if the children of the Park family were really worth it so that young and beautiful women who had previously been rejected would come back again. in search of new opportunities.

Your mother sometimes stood next to you with a smile and released another phrase that ended up marking your style of thinking, her voice sounded so ethereal: "Money compensates for external beauty, plus the dignity that you lose to those who possess it, it will never have a price."

Your lost look made her smile beautifully badly, then that same sweet voice that taught you things that other women would see as irrelevant, she too moments later she orders you to come home to eat. You thought about it so much, your mother was beautiful, she could remarry if she wanted to. However, she never did, or at least until that day.

You were poor, you were never afraid to accept it. You noticed it almost immediately, when you saw other children playing with toys that seemed impossible that you will ever possess, your mother was friends with the one who was best friends with your father, a carpenter who seemed to be very kind. He always gave you toys that came out with small defects and he couldn't sell, he was a good man until he seemed to misinterpret the situations and her relationship with your mother, unexpectedly asking her to marry him. Obviously you had to stop seeing him after the rejection. However, you were stubborn like the woman who gave you life, almost every day after finishing school you walk two streets to her local.

"How is your mother? Any suitors who weren't rejected the first time?" You laughed, helping him finish his last job. You shook your head, Peter was always very nice and honestly funny, you still didn't understand how your mother could reject them, but you never got into adult affairs. You were just an eight-year-old girl.

"She still misses dad." You whisper trying to drive a nail into loose wood, before being interrupted by Peter.

You look curiously at his downcast face of hers, as if she was keeping something deep within himself. But he quickly changes his expression as well as the subject. "Very good girl, no more help for today" he says, removing the dangerous tools out of your reach, you let out a exhausted sigh wanting to help him. Deep down you felt guilty. "How are you doing in school? I heard that the Parks will start a new campaign to help more in the education of the children, maybe you can see someone from the family up close."

You move your head in distracting affirmation playing with a piece of wood, Peter watches you for a moment and then sighs. You really were special, and if I could tell what happened to your father, you would let go of that glow for sure.

The following days passed in the same way, there was only a radical change in your routine. Now they forced you to stay longer in school so that you could take art classes with the children of the Park family. You had heard many mothers talking to yours about how handsome they were, and since their daughters would undoubtedly have a chance with Jimin, who was the eldest son and of course the first-born heir, you thought for a long time about a tall man with more years than all those young women who hallucinated with the perfect millionaire husband. However, it was all an illusion. Jimin was not a man, he was a seventeen year old teenager.

Perhaps the young woman who did win him over would be very lucky to marry someone her own age and not a bitter old man who only had money. Jimin was everything, young, handsome and a millionaire, the best bet of any woman.

His first class was alongside his current teacher, introducing each child in the Park family. They were all very handsome, but Jimin seemed to shine brighter than the stars in the dark night. You wondered if his younger siblings would become jealous of him, it would be an interesting concept considering you had no siblings.

Your hands moved the clay very patiently, your classmates seemed to enjoy these classes and they were undoubtedly fun.

"What a beautiful flower ..." You smiled nodding, no one would ever think that someone like Jimin would be delighted with the common drawing of any girl. Her gaze traveled around your pure and innocent face, as if she couldn't get enough of you. She sat next to you, admiring how your hands continued to play with the dough creating new shapes and I certainly enjoyed every second.

She had never met someone who would attract so much attention from her, you were ethereal. Jimin was immediately drawn to you, your gaze clear as daylight and your soft features, maybe you were just a girl but you seemed to tempt his attention incredibly badly from him. He felt the strange sensation of making sure you were okay, safe, probably in his arms.

He followed you closely, always arriving at the same time. Her mother used to say that Jimin was very irresponsible, she never complied with the basic principles of being a Park: Discipline, order and punctuality. Jimin was different, his siblings may have fulfilled those three bases just to give what they wanted to their parents and receive more affection from him, but not him.

Jimin was obsessive. Impulsive, and he had self-control issues.

The biggest dangerous trait that his parents noticed since he was little, is that he suffered attacks of anger against anyone without caring about the consequences of this. More than three of his babysitters claimed that little Jimin had hit them, slapping and shoving them. But all of this was radically ignored by the Parks, who turned a deaf ear claiming that their son was simply too controlling, and in a way, he was. Jimin liked to have everything under control, at his disposal.

Jimin found himself fascinated with your little eyes looking at him without fear and, even though it was painful for him, without love. For you, he was nothing more than a stranger. He tried to change that, sitting next to you every day and talking to you a few times when he could get more than two sentences out of you. He liked art, I could tell by the way you focus too much on a small painting of an insignificant tree.

If you liked trees, Jimin could buy a forest for yourself.

You loved roses, he could plant thousands in every corner of town.

Or maybe, your obsession with the smell of vanilla. Jimin went wildly for the most expensive vanilla scented lotion, hoping for some praise from you and he really didn't fail.

No, when the next day he sat next to you and your gaze turned to him with a kind smile. "It smells great, Mr. Jimin." Your soft tone and your minimal compliment was enough to make his entire body shake, his hands began to sweat and his voice seemed to falter. It was amazing how you managed to make him so nervous, while he was still a child.

"Y-do you like it?" She asked even knowing the answer, your head bobbing in a quick nod and an even bigger smile adorns your features.

You put your painting aside for a moment to continue responding, Jimin feels elated to see that his plan worked. Now you're just looking at him, as it always should be. "It smells like vanilla, I like vanilla." You say honestly.

"I see, I also like vanilla." You seem shocked, Jimin increases the tension of him fearing that he said something wrong. He really wasn't lying, maybe vanilla wasn't something he used constantly but he didn't dislike it either, he was just disguising and embellishing a crude truth.

And before long, Jimin feels his life take an unexpected turn, people had started to notice his closeness to you. They called him an angel when in reality he was a devil, rumors and silly praise that he would be a good father were not lacking and the young women who came to his door every day to look for a date with him increased in an exorbitant way. You were oblivious to all that, clearly. However, you could not ignore all the looks that fell on you when you accompanied your mother to the market, as from one day to the next you became someone important just because you were the focus of attention of him Mr. Jimin, as you used to call him with respect. Peter also suffered the consequences of this, you had not stopped going to his store and the young women looking to conquer Jimin or at least get his attention began to follow you wanting to win your affection so that you will speak well of them with their desired man, no you were interested in what they could offer you but the biggest problem was that they did not like to receive a clear 'No.' as a reply.

They were insistent and often annoying. They followed you closely, even when you went to school or to visit Peter who now only went twice a week, you did not want to go out and have to face the pity that it gave you to see many beautiful young women begging for a vague love and that I was looking for more money arrangements than anything else. Also, not all of them had good intentions with you. Your mother made sure of your safety in the face of any incident, and with that came her last word, her strict order not to approach Park Jimin again until he found a wife.

The rest would be history.

He would surely forget you and start forming his own family, having his own children and likewise, looking for his own problems. Instead, that never happened. Jimin had discovered your plan, he was angry, he couldn't believe that you were ignoring his attempts to approach you in such a way. Your attitude was so pure but you were hurting her so much.

He was delusional, she knew he was. But he didn't want to stop. So, he did the only thing that would make you stay by his side.

You felt strangely calm, you had been to and from school with no one following closely in your footsteps. Until you noticed that the whole town seemed to look at you with superiority, with caution. Peter never stopped taking care of his store, however, that day it was closed. You gave little thought to that coincidence, walking home with slow steps. Deep down you were scared.

Maybe you thought you could feel it, in front of your house a crowd of people lay watching the most unexpected marriage request. Your mother was uncomfortable, you could tell by how her face was distorted, and how her hands seemed to shake for reasons not yet known to you. You watched in horror as Jimin knelt before her with a smile pulling a ring out of a small red box.

For a moment, you thought about your father. You felt strange, you always wanted to have a warm fatherly hug but it made you uncomfortable to imagine Jimin occupying that place, you did not want him, you did not love him as a daughter to his firstborn or as another similar relationship. He was a stranger.

Your body fell into the seat reserved especially for you, your eyes observed any place in the church trying to disperse your mind. Your little shoes brushed against each other, your hands rested on the wooden seat waiting for the wedding to end as soon as possible. You never wanted to oppose your thoughts to the idea of your mother falling in love or getting married again, you really didn't care much as long as that person was good for her.

However, he was Park Jimin. You felt disgusted when her mother looked at you from afar with despicable eyes, just as anger consumed you when Mrs. Park tried to embarrass your mother in front of everyone. You didn't ask for this, nobody asked for it.

Maybe you spent too much time thinking around you to notice that Jimin was unhappy. A little upset. He had done what he had to do, chained you to him in some twisted way, marrying your mother and he felt happy, at first. I could see you walking through the church, you were wearing a little white dress to match your mother's and for a sinister moment I imagine that you were the one walking towards him to be named his wife. But he quickly came back to reality, you weren't his fiancée. You wouldn't be his wife.

Deep inside him, he knew how gross it was to feel like this.

Your mother's eyes reflected how unhappy she was, her gaze was uncertain. Jimin smiled seeing how you kicked the decorations that fell to the ground, you were completely oblivious to everything and more to the look of her that she followed you closely. Many called him a good father. Seeing nothing but his protective attitudes, but under the circumstances there were only hints of what might come next. You weren't allowed to leave Jimin's house, his father had left the mansion where his whole family used to live.

Mrs. Park could find no better excuse to leave than the sudden tantrum of her first-born son for marrying an older woman, a widow, and a daughter. This is a mockery and disgrace to her family's last name. Jimin just let her go, he wasn't even there the day her mother boarded the first train to her grandmother's house.

Your mother flatly refused to leave her house at first, she did not want to leave the little cabin that your father had built with his own effort so that both of them would live there and in the future raise their children, you always lived there and you did not want to leave either. But you never had a solid vote, your mother ended up agreeing from one day to the next, you did not know how Jimin managed to change his word so suddenly. Maybe there was never one reason, but you became all of them.

You were painfully present at all times. You observed how little by little, the wispy and wise glow that your mother possessed was getting lost between her empty eyes and her bent body, her head was never raised as she taught you it should be. She was a stranger, you felt scared in her presence. You remembered very well how her face seemed to light up when she saw you coming home from school and how she taught you something new every day.

"Mommy..." You spoke, your hands were still busy with the picture that you hadn't finished painting. But curiosity began to attack your mind.

Your mother came out of the kitchen with a little gray apron, she smiled when she saw you sitting on the floor. "Yes, honey?"

"Why do people get married?" Your gaze lifted from the sheet of paper, wincing at her glowing eyes.

"It depends, it's not necessarily for love. Maybe for money, comfort or ..." her voice trailed off, she still staring at you she leaned down to take your face in her hands. "Because they found someone, as cute as you!"

"Mommy ... I want to marry you!" Your mother began to laugh, your gaze traveled all over her face, joyful of hers and for a moment, you swore that you would hate anyone who dared to take away the great happiness of a genuine smile.

You finished your drawing, just in time because the front door echoed through the entire cabin. Your father appeared with a small drawer in his hands, your mother seemed to be illuminated with an angel when she saw him enter with a kind smile. Both were such for which. They were, more than lovers and husbands, lifelong best friends. Your life seemed to have something that many do not get even after death.

An outer and inner peace. It was perfect.

Almost so perfect, it wasn't true. White roses were always your favorites. However, you began to detest its soft light petals when it seemed that all the townspeople bought the same bouquet of white roses for the funeral of your, now, deceased mother. You took a seat next to her grave, ignoring everyone's greetings and goodbyes, who apparently forgot how her criticism of her increased even as the days, months and years of her wedding with Jimin passed.

You couldn't blame anyone. Or you just didn't want to.

Because the rope around his neck was not placed by them. And the multiple scars on his wrists weren't his marks. A small part of you felt helpless, angry and respectively, disgusted with yourself. Could you help her? Yes. No. Maybe if you had ... And he had stayed in the past.

The little white rose in your hand fell to the floor, everyone had left the room to go to the large buffet served at the reception. You froze, then with the same rage you began to step on the already dead flower at your feet, the petals of it were no more than a pure color, now they were disgusting and dirty. Jimin appeared minutes later, your gaze fell on his hand that was holding a black and a red rose.

"We should go, honey." He whispered as if afraid to scare you even though you were already looking directly at him. Your immobile figure instinctively ran into his arms, which greeted you with an incredibly loving warmth. The roses were placed on top of the coffin, a smile spread across your face when you saw the color red stand out against so much white, and for a second you came to compare the beauty of an outstanding color with your mother.

She stood out in a world where everyone wanted to paint themselves pure white.

Jimin was even more welcoming to you now. He pretended to sleep waiting for 11:30 to arrive so that he could hear your footsteps on the way to his room, you had developed a great amount of fear of loneliness. Jimin knew you always did that, but before it was with her instead of him. You would walk for several seconds looking in the dark for his room, which was next to hers, then I would always hear her voice singing for you, making you rest in his arms. For a long time, I want to be her. But now he was gone and I knew it was a matter of time before your steps stopped at his door.

She loved the closeness of your body to hers, how your hands clung to her nightshirt when you were cold or a horrible nightmare was projected into your dreams. Jimin horribly wishes he could see beyond your dreams, although that would be disrespectful to your privacy, he wouldn't mind breaking your trust too much if he could be sure that you would never walk away from him, even in your dreams.

He managed to chain your life to his, your scared look was the most beautiful thing I have seen before. I want to touch your little face and kiss your soft lips that tempted him every time the word "dad" came out of it.

Time was his greatest enemy.

Your presentation was no better, your hands were trembling again while your feet moved from here to there restlessly. Jimin just watched silently, but the distance between you and him was gigantic, he just wished that the damn bitch that was presented before him would shut up and leave his house. It was remarkable how you seemed angry, maybe it's jealousy, she has feelings for me. He thought sickly, a smile spreading across his face discreetly at his incoherent thoughts of him. The young woman sitting on the sofa in front of him smiled thinking that her talk had caused some pleasure in the young and widowed man.

Jimin admired her face, she was very cute, also she seemed to have good manipulation technique in people. She noticed it quickly when she walked through the door, her smile that seemed uncontrollable and genuine lit up his childlike face. He took a few seconds, he knew he shouldn't do it but he couldn't help comparing the woman to you. You were shorter, you were obviously younger and your gaze was more pure. Jimin was proud of your firm stance, knowing that in the two years since your mother's death you had developed a closer connection with him, and likewise, you were a beautifully perfect copy of him. Your hard gaze and your legs crossed with each other showed your firmness, and your silent opinion.

You wanted the fucking bitch sitting across from your stepdad outside your house.

You laughed at the very idea of one day finding a really good replacement for your mother. You couldn't replace a rose with bad herbs. For you, as selfish as he was, Jimin was your father, and he was your mother's love from the day he married her. No one would replace his position.

It was all three of them, and a part of your mind conned that Jimin still wasn't over the love he had for her. Or he would have remarried long ago, when the young women stood in front of the door of his house asking for a date with him. In those moments you didn't care, Jimin was a stranger, but now he was your father and you were his only daughter. No one had the right to ruin their harmonious relationship, they were both alone and someday serious like him.

You will be successful, you will make a lot of money and you will be able to marry someone you love.

But for now, your gaze fell on the little worn and dirty shoes of the woman in front of you. A smile crossed your face, your gaze lifted surprising the woman. While Jimin waited with his arms crossed for your following action.

"Woman." Your voice seemed to cut her tranquility, her face lost total color of life and a small grimace of fear passed over her fragile face. "I can't allow shoes like that to step on the carpet in my house ..."

The woman looked at Jimin who seemed indifferent, distracted by the painting on the wall.

"I'm sorry miss" she whispered trying to remove her shoes, his hands seemed more clumsy than usual. Her face burned when your hand moved closer to hers to prevent any further movement.

"Go away." A tiny part of you felt sorry for his embarrassed face and flushed cheeks. But it quickly came to your mind that she thought she was good enough to believe she was your mother. When she couldn't even challenge a stupid girl who acted like a spoiled brat. "Get out of my house, or I'll have to ask you not to just take off your shoes."

"I-sorry, I'll go now-..." A sob interrupted her dialogue, her hands searched for the notebook she was carrying but she gave up making a quick bow to Jimin and running outside.

The garden was your favorite part of the big house, the walls constantly made you believe that you were going to be eaten by them. Every day you came out of your lair admiring the many roses of many different colors growing beautiful and healthy. Your school stage was about to begin and you did not want to neglect your garden, which was also a tribute to your late mother.

So you hired a gardener. You were seventeen years old and soon to be eighteen. To say that you managed to experience the best of all those years was ridiculous, and deep down inside you, you thought that all of that was possible because of all the things Jimin did for you.

You had a debt, which you planned to pay in the future. You thought about leaving and letting him have a quiet life from now on without having to run to solve your problems, even if you never asked him to.

Jimin had eyes watching your every move, he clearly remembers how he put security cameras throughout the house, observing how you slept, what you did in the comfort of your room and privacy. Even when you walked into the shower and your hands ran over your body covered in water. Sometimes he felt guilty, for how he seemed to enjoy those moments that seemed so short.

However, it was repeated that as long as you were safe.

Breaking your trust wasn't that important.

Your eighteenth birthday was moderately quiet, Jimin was not used to throwing parties, and honestly, you never asked for one. So you just stood at the door of your house receiving expensive and cheap gifts from people who when they gave you the gift had a forced smile that told you many things. Most were familiar faces, of women who had previously sought a date with your father, obviously being rejected.

The little birthday cake looked so monotonous, the candles were the only thing you could stand out for. You were never aware that you had started to be privileged and extremely ambitious since Jimin proposed to your mother and forced her to marry him, pointing a gun at her pathetic silly little head. You had it all, and in your previous years maybe you managed to get excited about the new toys and accessories that were brought to you from other countries, you had everything that others did not, and a strange epiphany collapsed over you.

It was you, it was déjà vu. You were them, and those who were before, were now you.

You had all of them, and they didn't. Now, by your side, they were all poor. Jimin showered you with gifts, causing you to gradually lose interest in money. You remember your thoughts when it all started and likewise, you still remember the woman with the dirty shoes. You will be successful, you will make a lot of money. It was what you thought in the future for yourself, but now that was it, in a nutshell. Completely boring. You stayed for a moment thinking about them under the watchful eye of your stepfather who tried not to smile when you saw you, you were an adult now and he could finally take you as his own. They would be husband and wife, as it should have been from the beginning of its history.

And you will be able to marry someone you love. You still had only one option left, you blew out the candles with a single sigh causing Jimin to clap his hands and approach you to hug you fondly. The maids behind you only blushed when his boss started showing all of his affection. They weren't used to seeing him so often, Jimin had a firm and tough stance with everyone but he seemed to become as soft as clay in your presence. You came to mold Jimin in your favor, making him a cold person in front of his own demons and then, you left yours.

"I want marriage proposals, father." A gasp came from the mouths of the maids who just immediately fell silent. Lowering their head as they were taught. "I am ready to get married."

Jimin hummed still keeping his arms around you, your body was trapped in theirs. Your skin burned when his fingers squeezed your skin, leaving permanent marks. There was no reaction from you, you were used to this kind of unexpected treatment and it just didn't hurt.

"Get married?" His arms pulled away from you in disgust, there was no other reaction either. Jimin taught you not to object unless you knew you should. Stay calm and you will win. "And can you tell who would want to marry you? Useless little girl."

"Useless?" Your low voice seemed to make him happy for a moment.

Quickly his hands took the utensils to cut the cake, with a soft and sweet voice he continued: "Honey, men do not look for a girl with a lot of money like you. They look for someone to tame, and you, you could easily crush everyone with a wave of your hands."

A piece of the cake perfectly positioned on the plate was placed in front of you, a sob escaping your lips. You were really pathetic, eh? You clearly wanted to live something that has been claimed many times. You weren't going to get married, not without having it all like Jimin said. Then, you would lose everything and go back up to crush the others with greater pleasure.

"Aren't you going to eat? It's your cum-..."

"I will go to a neighboring town, I will finish my studies there."

Jimin looked down at his plate, ignoring how you got up from the table and put your cake aside. Then, your sweet voice finished destroying his self control that he thought he mastered long ago.

"I never liked that cake taste."

And it was the end.

You went back to the start again. You were planning to leave tonight, your bags were ready. Everything you needed was never in that house, it was never him. They were those that never existed in your present continued.

Your shoes did not seem to contrast with the dirt on the town's floor, you were also aware that those would end up in the trash. You didn't care, they were just shoes Jimin bought for your birthday, insignificant.

People were observant, and often foul-mouthed. It was no different than they spoke far from you or close to you, yet their mouths moved in a fussy way exaggerating reactions and creating new lies.

"_____...?" Your posture was decreasing, you no longer had to pretend. A smile covered your face, framing many emotions in one. "Come in please, it's your house."

Peter stepped aside, leaving room for you to enter. Your hands trembled but this time from cold, you still did not get over the harsh winter that suddenly passed. You took your shoes off quickly, briefly forgetting that this was no longer your home. You had sold the little cabin at a minimal price, and you were even happier when it was Peter who chose that place as his future home to live with his wife and his future child. Now he had two more. The little children ran in the tiny room playing with each other, a feeling of nostalgia invaded you when you saw them. You used to do the same before, together with your parents.

Those moments.

"Glad to see you around here, daughter." Peter hadn't changed, he was still the same kind and understanding person as ever. The opposite of you, of course. "Do you want to have tea? I heard on the streets that you would go to study far from here."

"Coffee, please." You responded still reluctant to talk about your departure.

Peter just laughed at your exaggerated denial, nodding and leading into the kitchen. You took a seat at the small table looking around. "You didn't change the decoration."

"Uh? ...." He seemed surprised by your observation, but he quickly smiled. "No. Actually, I think I liked it from the beginning how your ... er ... your mother decorated it. Besides, my wife loved it too. For her, it's beautiful as spring."

"Spring?" You ask, avoiding looking at it. You look down looking for some reason not to feel sad, in a way, you had compared your mother to spring as well. However, Jimin said that you were his. You never liked being called a light, because you always tried to be in your mother's shadow. And you liked it. "She believed that she is very wise, my mother was like spring."

"Thanks." A voice whispered from behind, your gaze fell on her and her face very much like your mother's. But they were obviously completely different. "I never doubted that you were just as wise. Spring represents the new beginning, a new beginning. Did you manage to find yours?"

Peter tried to intervene, clearly noticing the way his wife was trying to make you talk about your life after your mother died.

"I did. That's why I'm leaving here tonight."

"I'm glad we all need to be born again at some point."

You affirm with a small movement of the head, concentrating your gaze on the coffee cup in your hands. The smoke fell directly on your face hiding your grimace of disgust. Nobody deserves to talk about her like that yet.

"Ok, honey." Peter began by sitting across from you, with a cup of green tea and a serene expression. "Are you planning to go alone or with someone? I heard that travel today is very dangerous."

"Actually, I am accompanied by an acquaintance. His name is Jungkook, he also planned to leave and started working for me as a gardener to get the necessary money. We became good friends." You spoke remembering the adorable smile of the young man, he used to accompany you everywhere you went as if his job was to protect you. At first it was cute, but then it was annoying. Even after all that, you preferred to travel with him rather than alone.

"Oh that's very nice. I'm glad you managed to meet your goals. Good luck."

Your goals?

"Thanks, Peter."

His gaze lingered on your face for a moment, then he seemed to remember something very important. She gave you a smile before getting up to leave the kitchen.

"I have something for you, you are old enough to know this."

It was an envelope. Common and ordinary, but its envelope was beginning to deteriorate, showing that it was an old and very reserved letter.

You questioned your decision but took it, not wanting to read it in front of anyone even more when you read who wrote the letter.

You sat on the small wall, the trees and the cool breeze boosted your adrenaline. Small pieces of paper fell to the ground. So, you weren't thinking correctly at those times.

"I only married a man that I loved in all my life, I was happy. I had a daughter. I lived years of solitude and then, I was chained to an empty love."

"I know what you're reading this now. You're weak, darling. Maybe that's what made us mother and daughter. Because from the beginning I never had the courage to tell you that Jimin put a ring on my finger and a gun to my head. Or maybe, I was weak when I didn't get in the way of his errand, I should have told him that I hated him and that he could put a bullet in my head before giving it to my daughter. And maybe, I should have told everyone who passed by me that He was the same one who murdered my husband, he never left. I made you believe that. You never asked. "

"I saw you so happy today, you were running between the garden and the wedding. I could see his gaze following your hurried steps, I was almost completely sure that he was trying to get closer to you at all times. I told the woman next to me, But she shut me up saying that I can't be jealous of a father and daughter relationship. You weren't her daughter. She also ordered me to let them create a closer relationship, because I already had Park Jimin's heart in my hands. Liars."

"I always loved your curious voice. You used to ask me everything, and why everything was like that. But lately, I don't know what to answer. Why am I crying? Why is there a dark stain under my eyes? Why is there blood in the bathroom? Why did I never ask for help? I see you worry and you don't let me give you affection, because you prefer to give it to me. I also see how I start to bother him, I am a hindrance. Now I understand, I knew it but I never wanted to accept that it happened. He was everywhere, and likewise, I was never part of the plan."

"There were only two things I didn't tell you. I love you and my last piece of advice. Honey, lock it up and fly to the start, whenever you feel lost. A fresh start and never forget spring."

You stifled a sob. Covering up your pain. You had not noticed that the night had covered the sky, a dark blue blanket arrived. It took you a long time to assimilate that all the fragments were torn papers, and it was not a letter. It was an envelope filled with, apparently, incomplete sheets torn from a notebook. There was a fragment that was not part of the leaves, but rather was written later.

"Lost parts of a sad widow's diary.

Peter."

They were from your mother's diary. So where was the rest? What actually happened? A message came to your phone, you read it quickly still drying your tears.

JUNGKOOK:

Our trip is in an hour, I hope you said goodbye to everyone.

Received at 7:05 p.m.

I still do not:(

Received at 7:06 p.m.

Along with both messages was an attached picture, a photo of him and his grandmother. Jungkook talked a lot about her, and hers, her brothers. You smile, still wiping the tears from your face.

Your feet moved, the leaves in your hands seemed too heavy. And yet it was something you needed to do.

"Are you at home." His monotonous voice invaded you, he was busy reading a book that rested in his hand. The maid came over leaving a cup of coffee beside him, greeting your presence politely. "I have some things to discuss with you, darling."

"Me too, Jimin." It was the first time you had said his name without due respect, he seemed surprised for a moment. But his expression changed to one of happiness, as if he had been waiting for it. "I couldn't say goodbye, I'm leaving today. I think you already know that, though."

"Actually, no. But it's nice to hear it from you."

"I ..." Your voice dried in your throat, a giant doubt fell over you. You didn't want to leave without telling him how much you hated everything about him. His attention, his affection, his smile, his gaze, his voice. Everything about him was disgustingly charming. "I think I'll go get my bags."

Jimin nodded, ignoring your presence. Still distracted with reading him.

"Before you go, can you give me that back, darling?" Your gaze followed where he pointed his finger. Your hand. The leaves were still there.

"It's something of mine-..."

"Oh I don't think so. It really is very easy to threaten someone, just suffice to say that you can put a bullet in their head to make them your obedient little puppets."

"I do not understand your..."

"Me? It was obviously me. I'm surprised you thought your mother would be smart enough to leave a confession letter to her ex-lovers, days before her death. You really had a lot of credit for her." His chatter was accompanied by a laugh. You were paralyzed, shaking in your useless state of shock. "But I will not say that I did not plan, I hoped that you would never have the courage to try to leave my side. And even if that were the case, I knew that you would say goodbye to the only person who reminded you of her. Peter, she has a family. lovely."

Nor did he expect you to have the courage to cheat on him with another man. Oh, the gardener. Poor Jungkook, his body now rested leaving behind your favorite flowers. Jimin bit his lip, another mocking smile peeking out with intensity remembering the cutthroat figure of the innocent but guilty young man.

You were his...

"How can you be so cruel?" The doubt in you seemed to want to keep growing, passing second by second through your head. You weren't sure you could understand that everything that happened in front of you was actually planned by the same person who swore never to leave you alone. The same man who disguised himself as a sheep so he could eat you like a wolf. "Did you kill my mother ?!" Jimin seemed surprised by your desperate tone, he did not expect to be able to unbalance your state so easily.

It was lovely. Certainly.

"No sweetie." He murmured closing the book in his hands, setting it on the table next to the steaming cup of American coffee. "But it would have been exquisite to be the reason for his pain. Unfortunately, it was your father who won that title."

"Where did you get this from? I know she wrote it, and I also know that she would never give it to you knowing what a monster you are." Tears were running down your cheeks like water, you knew you were a mess but Jimin seemed to look at you like you were a perfect work of art.

"I found it." He spoke casually, getting up from his seat. Walking slowly towards your trembling figure. "It was a coincidence, I like casual things. It was a coincidence that you studied at that school, that your mother was a widow, that your father died. That he will make me fall in love with you."

What is your goal now?

"I love you darling."

Escape from the monster.

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teacupfulofstarshine · 3 years

Text

LOVELY, DARK, AND DEEP CHAPTER 10

PLEASE HEED THE CONTENT WARNINGS!!! this chapter features Evil Scientist Lady and her Fucked Up WorldView a LOT, and there are also some Major Plot Events that involve Violence. i will put a summary in the end notes if you decide at any point that this particular chapter is too much - that's super valid! i will also mention here that no main characters are going to die in this story and no one dies in this chapter either.

huge huge thanks to @flamingfawkes for beta’ing!

CW: extreme disregard for human life, mentioned human and animal cruelty, toxic workplace environment, violence (both imagined and actual, mildly graphic), gun mention, minor blood, death threats, extremely unethical character, unethical science, stalking

chapter 1 // chapter 2 // chapter 3 // chapter 4 // chapter 5 // chapter 6 // chapter 7 // chapter 8 // chapter 9 // read it on ao3!

“This is the same result we’ve gotten the last twenty times -”

“I don’t care, Steven, run it again!”

Steven sighs, punching at the keyboard to run the statistical analysis sequence again. “This is ridiculous! I’ve run this sequence so many times it feels like my eyes are going to bleed. Why can’t we just turn in the results we have and -”

“Because she’ll behead us,” James snaps, “and then she’ll destroy our reputations and our families and they’ll get no severance. I have three young children at home, Steven, I need this money.” Steven softens a little, fingers running smoothly over the keys as he combs the data again. Next to him, James has a computer screen full of frame-by-frame stills of what little data they recovered from the probe before it was destroyed; Penny across the room is surrounded by ancient texts a mile high and at least three laptops.

“Why is she so interested in this, anyway?”

“It’s beyond me. Since when do we question the whims of what we’re told to do?”

Steven squints at the screen, pushing his chair back and rubbing at his eyes. “If I have to stare at these numbers for one more second, my brain is going to explode. I feel like my eyeballs are going to melt out of my skull. I wanna scream.”

James pulls up another image, staring at the blurry image of the merman before him. Steven pushes away from his own screen and squints at James’s. The merman in the photo looks young, not much older than his kid brother, but they don’t know anything about the lifespan of these creatures. He looks confused, squinting at the camera. As James flicks through the stills, the merman transitions from confused to angry to enraged, and then he attacks.

“He’s not happy about the camera.”

“Would you be happy about someone spying on you and your family?” James says, switching to the next still.

“I wouldn’t be happy if I thought someone was doing anything we do in this lab to me or my family.” James elbows Steven, but luckily no one else seems to have heard.

“This lab isn’t the most ethical place I’ve ever worked, but it pays the bills,” James mutters. “And we’re not even in the experimentation lab. We just do data analysis. We’re removed from the situation.”

Are we? Steven wonders. He sees James reach out and touch the framed picture of his daughters, and keeps his mouth shut. He turns back to his computer, watching the little spinning color wheel of his mouse as the program calculates the same numbers again and again. The results come up identical to the previous ones, and Steven clicks “Run Program” again wordlessly.

They work in silence for a while, the three of them, broken only by James’s muttering and the occasional thud of one of Penny’s books and the clicks of keyboards and mice. If they weren’t so reliant on technology, Steven thinks, there would be an enormous corkboard spanning three of the four walls, covered in pushpins and handwriting and red string connecting images. He debates actually building one, if only to increase the levity in the room, but decides against it.

He’s seen people punished or fired or who-knows-what-else for far less, after all.

Instead, after his program tells him for the twenty-third time that his results are the same (and didn’t someone say insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results?), Steven scrubs at his eyes with the heels of his palms and opens the data entry window. Maybe the problem with the results has to do with the entry of the data; did he input something wrong? It’s possible . . .

Here he goes again, he supposes. He stands up, stretches, and leans back to crack some vertebrae. “I’m gonna grab a coffee, take a short screen break, and go back to the beginning. Maybe there’s something in the input that I missed. You want anything?”

James groans, thunking his head against the desk. “I want something with enough caffeine to kill three elephants, please.” Steven nods, looking over at Penny. She shakes her head, and he heads for the shitty coffee machine a few doors down.

Several floors below, a young woman pulls her lab goggles up to rest on top of her head with her perfectly-pinned protocol-compliant bun. “The latest round of tests is completely done, ma’am. I think you’ll find the efficacy . . . striking.”

She takes the clipboard, glossy perfectly-painted nails pinching the sheets of thin paper and flicking between them. “I’m afraid I don’t do so well with the scientific side of things - Kathleen, was it? Explain this to me, would you?”

“Certainly, ma’am. As you know, the kill time for the most effective neurotoxin currently available, tetrodotoxin, varies from thirty minutes to four hours. Average time for symptoms to manifest is seventeen minutes, and from there the symptoms progress through tingling of the lips and tongue, headache, vomiting, muscle weakness, ataxia, et cetera. Death occurs as a result of respiratory or heart failure, and the poison is nearly undetectable if you do not specifically test for it.”

“The untraceability is a plus, but that is far too wide a range of times, and too slow a time even at its fastest.”

“Of course, ma’am, but as far as naturally-occurring marine poisons go - actually, as far as naturally-occurring poisons go, full stop - it is the most effective. Until now, that is.”

“Oh? What are your findings?”

“Which trials would you like to start with, ma’am?”

“The human trials, Kathleen. The only ones that matter. I hardly intend to go around killing mice and hoping that no one traces their deaths to a novel neurotoxin.” She laughs airily, and Kathleen nods along.

“Certainly, ma’am. The most recent data points indicate an average efficacy time of thirteen minutes for our compound neurotoxin, with a full range between nine and seventeen minutes passing before subject death. Subjects began to show symptoms around five minutes, give or take twenty-five seconds.”

“And those symptoms were?”

Kathleen flips through the document. “Seizures, vital organ failure, blindness, painful muscle spasms, suffocation from the inside out.”

She hums, tapping a manicured finger against the report. “Well, Kathleen, that is certainly impressive, especially for a preliminary human subject trial. These results . . . I must say, they are not nearly as disappointing as I anticipated when I came down here.”

“Ma’am?”

“How long have you worked for this company, Kathleen?”

“Almost five years, ma’am, but I’ve always been an assistant. This is my first time as lead researcher and biochemist on a project, ever since you . . . laid off the previous lead researcher.”

“Kathleen, let me be frank. These results are not what I hoped for. The efficacy time and symptom onset times are both far too long for my liking, and the range of efficacy time is too broad. By all accounts, I should consider this a failure.” Kathleen swallows, but remains poised. “However, you’ve managed to shave off a considerable amount of time from the tetrodotoxin readings. The range of symptom onset time is an acceptable breadth, and your results are far beyond anything your predecessor ever accomplished for me. This is truly impressive, all things considered.”

“Thank you, ma’am. How should I proceed?”

“I want the efficacy doubled - tripled - I want it upped by anywhere between four and five hundred percent. I want the pain increased, too. Feel free to increase your requests for test subjects, but get me the results I want. You said the original tetrodotoxin was untraceable?”

“That’s correct, ma’am.”

“Can you keep that feature intact?”

“As of right now, it is intact, ma’am. I will endeavor to keep it so in future experiments.”

“That’s what I like to hear. Welcome to your new position as head of this research division. Don’t let me down.” She holds out a slender hand, and Kathleen takes it, trying not to seem too eager.

“I won’t, ma’am.”

“How soon can you start this experiment up again?”

“The cleaners should be finished by tomorrow morning, ma’am, and I can tweak chemical formulas until then.”

“Excellent.” Her watch beeps, and she lifts it, pursing her bright lips as she examines the message she’s just received. “If you’ll excuse me, I have another matter to attend to. Someone will drop off your master access key for Lab Three within the hour.”

She steps into the elevator and lifts her watch up to her face, swiping through the messages from her secretary. One finger reaches out to press the button for the digital analysis labs floor, and the other taps away at her watch.

When she steps off the elevator, her secretary is waiting. “Ma’am.”

“What do they have for me?”

“Unclear. They said it was something they wanted to report directly to you and you alone, but it seems to be something big.”

“Hopefully it’s a big step in the right direction, or they’ll be taking a big step out of a job.” She relishes in the way the employees she passes all unfailingly flinch and then snap to perfect attention when they hear the sharp echo of her heels against the floor. She lifts her head and walks faster, striking the tiles with her heels like a gavel, sharp and precise against a judge’s desk.

The computer labs are disorganized when she enters, but there is a string of promising-looking numbers on the main display monitor. There is a woman surrounded by books and a man pulling up photos on his computer, and there is a third man standing in front of her like a toy soldier. She focuses on that one.

“I hear you have news for me? Make it swift, and make it good.”

He swallows, hard, and her eyes idly trace the line of his throat. If he disappoints her, perhaps she will drive her heel through it, to make an example of him. That would be far too messy; perhaps his dominant hand will do.

“I have narrowed down the location of the missing net, ma’am. I believe it to have washed up somewhere around these general GPS coordinates.” He fiddles with a remote in his hand, and the image on the screen changes. It shows an aerial satellite view of a secluded strip of beach, framed by rocky cliffs with larger rocks studded out into the open water. “It should have washed up somewhere in this one-point-three-seven-mile strip of beach. The whole area is property of one Doctor Thomas Sanders.”

She snarls. “That man. He won’t let us on that beach willingly until hell freezes over.”

The other man, the one scanning through photo stills and video footage, jumps up, knocking his chair backwards. “I found something!”

She turns towards him, and his excitement freezes and sputters into something much more controlled and terrified. “Show me.” He clicks something and pulls up video footage from one of their surveillance drones, zooming in on a particular patch of ocean along the stretch of Sanders’ beach. Her eyes widen when she sees what he’d noticed - a hump of red-and-white tail arcing above the waves before a pattern of ripples streaks off towards the cliff. He pauses the footage, rewinds it, uses a laser pointer to show an opening concealed in the cliff face.

“There’s some kind of grotto in there, hidden by the cliff. It’s on Sanders’ property, he has to know it’s there. And it looks like the merman from the destroyed drone knows it’s there too. Which means -”

“That must be where he’s keeping them.” Something burns in her chest, brilliant and terrifying and all-encapsulating, like wildfire. “We’ve found them, at long last.”

“What would you have me do?” her secretary asks. “I can arrange for a recovery squad at your earliest possible convenience, ma’am.”

“Assemble the squad, but do not have them move out. They will wait for my orders. When they go, you are to go with them.” Her secretary nods, once, sharp and sure. “Dispatch a crew to Lab One and clear it out. I want it prepped for containment, vivisection, chemical tests - the works. Get at least three tanks set up and one strap-down human table.”

“A human table, ma’am?”

“Yes. We have to deal with Sanders once and for all to ensure that he does not ruin any future experiments.”

“Will we be taking him as well?”

She hums thoughtfully. “No. Pull up the file we have on his known associate?”

A few swift clicks and flicks and a photo appears on the large screen: a young man with brown-and-purple hair, sleeves rolled up, carefully lowering a perfectly viable specimen into the ocean and letting it go, like some kind of fool. “His doctoral student, ma’am. The longest one he’s ever kept - this one has been with him a few years.”

“Excellent. When you raid the lab, take him.”

“Should we kill Sanders?”

“No. Rough him up a little, but leave him alive. Taking his protégé and leaving him alone, helpless to rescue him, will be the highest form of torture for such an insufferable person. The agony will eat him alive until his dying day.”

Her secretary nods, taking the notes down dutifully. The other employees look vaguely horrified, but she pays them no mind. No sacrifice is too great to be made in the name of progress, and anyone who thinks otherwise is a weakling who will never get anywhere in life.

She refuses to be one of those weaklings.

*~*~*~*~*

Logan wakes up confused.

He’s warm, warmer than he thinks he’s ever been in his whole life. When he stirs, he moves farther than he meant to - he must not be underwater. That’s enough to send a jolt of concern through his sleep-addled brain. Why isn’t he underwater? Why was he sleeping if he was above the surface? There’s no way his dad is here, and Roman hates surfacing, where are they? Where is he? But he’s so comfortable . . .

Someone shifts beside him, an arm draping across his waist, and Logan forces his eyes open. He shifts his lower half, confused when two things move instead of one, and there are layers upon layers of thin, flat, soft things wrapping around him. What is happening?

Slowly, slowly, his mind clears, and he remembers the events of last night. He grew legs - he was a human, once, before he was mer - he couldn’t sleep underwater with Dad and Roman - Virgil was teaching him to walk - Virgil put “clothes” on him - Virgil was embarrassed that he didn’t have those “clothes” on him - Virgil took him out of the lab to sleep - Virgil agreed to cuddle him since his pod couldn’t -

Logan feels the strange burning in his face again as he shifts. He can’t see well in this new human form, but when things are close enough to his face they’re relatively clear. And Virgil, still sleeping, is close enough that Logan can smell him - he smells like salt water mixed with something sharp and something sweet and something else that Logan can’t quite identify but finds addicting nonetheless. Sunlight streams in and pools around Virgil’s face, illuminating the tangled mess of hair spread around him and flopping into his face, the small puddle of water leaking out from his open mouth onto the soft thing he’s resting his head on, the way his chest moves slowly with every breath. His arm is wrapped around Logan, pulling him close. Logan thinks he might explode if he focuses on this any more, so he rolls from his side to his back as carefully as he can, not wanting to wake Virgil. Virgil tightens his arm around Logan and mutters something indecipherable in his sleep, but he doesn’t wake.

Rather than focusing on his very confusing feelings for the very pretty man next to him, Logan focuses on what he can see of the room around him. He makes a list in his mind of things that he plans to ask Virgil about later today, including:

1: There are many draws attached to the small, smooth cliffs surrounding them. How do they stay there?

2: There are lots of “clothes” scattered all around the floor, and there were several on the bed, too. Is that normal for humans?

3: Last night, Virgil did something that made the room light up with trapped sunlight! How did he do that?

4: How did Virgil get ice to stay in those big frozen sheets in such a warm place to let the sunlight in?

5: How did Virgil make ice into that weird shape that he filled with water and drank last night?

6: How did Virgil get the water to come into this place?

7: Do all humans have a specific area set aside for sleeping? Logan and his pod usually just sleep wherever they can, but Virgil seems to have this soft slab set aside with all of these soft things to be comfortable and sleep in every night. Is this a Human Thing or strictly a Virgil Thing?

Logan looks out through the sheet of ice that protects Virgil’s area from the outside and gasps. He can’t see well, but there’s a glittering expanse of blue that shifts and moves and oh, is that the ocean?

He’s spent his whole life (well, his whole remembered life, anyways) in the ocean, and he’s seen some truly wondrous things. He travels around the world with his pod, he knows the ocean is big, but seeing it spread out like this is . . . awe-inspiring. Logan has never seen the ocean like this, and now that he has he doesn’t think he can ever not see it like this again. It’s like a perfect sheet of sea-glass, rippling and unbroken but dynamic in a way that he never really gets a sense of when he’s beneath it.

He knows that there are waves, of course. There are smaller swells out on the open ocean, and larger ones when the Second Goddess dips her fingers down from the Upper Ocean and swirls the storms to a thundering burst. There are waves along the shoreline, ones that he frolics in with Roman and batter him against the shoreline. There are waves created when he or his pod members surface. But watching the movement of the ocean from up here is . . .

Even with his imperfect vision, he is completely at a loss for words as he stares at the ocean.

Eventually, Virgil stirs next to him, and Logan turns away from the ocean to stare at him. Virgil is close to him, arms wrapped tightly around him, face pressed against him. Logan’s eyesight is not great, but Virgil is close enough that he can pick out little details of his face. There are brown face scales scattered all over him, but they seem to cluster on his nose and his cheeks. Logan has wanted to touch them for a substantial amount of time, and he can’t stop himself from gently settling the tips of his fingers over Virgil’s cheek.

His face doesn’t feel like Logan was expecting. The scales don’t give texture to his face the way that Logan’s do; the skin is smooth and flat. There are little bumps all over, but the brown scales aren’t raised off the skin like Logan expected. He lets his fingers trail along Virgil’s face. His bone structure seems to be exceedingly similar to Logan’s, at least in regards to his head. Logan’s finger rests gently on the curve of bone under Virgil’s eye, and Virgil exhales warm breath onto his palm.

Logan wonders what it would be like to have this for longer than just his recovery period. He wonders what it would be like to wake up next to Virgil all the time, to get to run his hands over Virgil’s face and arms and chest and examine the differences between their anatomy. He wonders what it would be like to learn to walk without falling over, and he feels a sharp, unexpected twinge in his chest as he realizes that getting better at walking means no more closeness to Virgil.

His chest feels strange, like there’s a school of small fish swarming around and tickling his insides and making him feel all foamy, like the froth churned up by a windswept sea. He feels like he does when he’s underwater - free, weightless, mobile, limited by nothing except his own imagination. He feels unstoppable.

Virgil makes a sudden, sharp inhale, blinking his eyes open slowly. Logan thinks that, perhaps, he might not appreciate being studied unknowingly - he hadn’t appreciated Virgil doing it, before he understood what was happening, when all he knew was the loss of his pod aching like a scraped-out seashell. As Virgil wakes up, Logan shifts, turning his gaze to the rest of the room.

Virgil makes a sleepy grumbling noise, opening one eye. Logan chances another quick glance at him, and when his eye slides open Logan is struck by its beauty. He doesn’t get much of a chance to admire it, however, before Virgil is jolting backwards like Logan’s struck him with lightning. Logan is confused, reaching out and gently touching his shoulder. “Virgil?”

“Wassat?! Wait . . . L’gan?”

“It is me,” Logan says softly. “Are - are you upset with me?”

Virgil yawns, jaw dropping to his chest, revealing a flash of teeth and a soft pink tongue. (Logan wants to lick it. Why does Logan want to lick it? Why is Logan thinking about Virgil’s tongue licking his tongue - why is Logan thinking about Virgil - what in the Seven Oceans is happening to him.) “Wh - no, no, ‘m okay, I just - woke up, forgot I had you with me, got confused about another person in my bed.” Before Logan can start to feel bad, Virgil adds, “S’okay if it’s you, though,” and the foamy, floaty feeling is back.

“Did you sleep well?”

Virgil laughs, low and rumbling, and Logan can feel it in his fingers where he touches Virgil’s skin. “I never sleep well.” He sits up, and the fabric of his pajamas shifts to let Logan see stretches of soft, supple skin that he usually doesn’t. Logan wants to touch it. He very determinedly keeps his hand on Virgil’s shoulder. “Gotta admit, though, last night was . . . better than usual.”

This appears to be the point where Virgil first notices their position - pressed together, arm slung over Logan, basically cuddling the way that Logan normally would with his pod. (No tangle with his pod has ever felt this . . . electric, this charged, this important to Logan before.) His face flares a brilliant red, and he shifts like he wants to move away but -

“I’m sorry,” Virgil says. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“No!” Logan blurts out. Virgil blinks at him a little, and maybe he was a little overly enthusiastic, but - “I sleep in a tangle with Dad and Roman all the time. I have extreme difficulty sleeping without contact with someone else. It . . . helped me greatly.”

“Oh,” Virgil says, face turning redder still, smiling shyly. “That - makes me feel better. Thanks, Lo.”

Logan smiles, and Virgil smiles too, reaching up to gently move a piece of hair away from his face. Logan thinks that, as far as deaths go, his chest exploding (which seems to be getting more and more likely every fifteen seconds he spends in Virgil’s presence, only accelerated by all this skin-on-skin contact they’re having right now) seems to be the most pleasurable.

Virgil opens his mouth to say something, but whatever it was is interrupted by a Ping! noise from across the room. “What is that?” Logan asks. Virgil, sadly, untangles himself from Logan and the blankets, sliding out of bed and heading over to one of the other structures in the room (what did he call it last night? Dex?) and picking up a flat glowing rectangle.

“Is everything alright?”

“What? Yeah, yeah, I - Thomas sent me a text, it’s a little weird.”

“What is a text?”

“It’s a kind of human messaging system, it allows us to communicate when we’re far away from each other.”

“Like a pod call?” “Kind of? I’ll explain more later, I promise, I just - I gotta go down to the lab real quick.”

“I’ll come with -”

“No!” Virgil snaps. Logan flinches, and Virgil softens, crossing the room and gently touching his shoulder. “Hey, no, Logan, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you. I just - this message, there’s something off. I think something might be wrong, and I don’t want to put you in any unnecessary danger. Just - wait here, okay? Wait in my room, where it’s safe. It’s probably nothing, he’s probably fine, but on the off chance that he’s not, I want you to stay hidden safely up here.”

Logan isn’t sure why this makes his face heat up slightly, but it does. “Okay. I accept your apology, and I . . . trust you.”

Virgil smiles, soft and heartwarming, and Logan is beginning to give more credence to his “chest explosion is fine, actually” theory. “Wait for me here, okay? I’ll be right back. I promise.”

He leaves, shutting the door firmly behind him, and the foamy feeling in Logan’s chest dissipates a little. He can’t quite put his finger on it, but there’s something . . . off. If Logan didn’t know better, he’d think that he was sensing a predator approaching.

But that can’t be right, he isn’t underwater. His danger senses are likely just overreacting to his disappointment at Virgil’s absence.

. . . Right?

*~*~*~*~*

Thomas is beginning to regret letting Roman and Patton (specifically, Roman) out of the large tank before finishing his first coffee of the morning.

“I want some!” Roman complains.

“Do you even know what it is?” Thomas says. Roman pouts sulkily at him.

“. . . No,” he mutters, rolling his eyes. Thomas gives him the deadpan, no-nonsense, I-am-your-direct-superior-take-the-damn-samples-Virgil stare that he has perfected over the past few years. Roman wilts a little more, and Thomas feels slightly bad.

“It’s called coffee,” he says. “It’s a hot drink that lots of people have in the morning. Some people drink it plain, and some people add things to it to change the way it tastes. It helps me wake up more and get focused to start my day, and sometimes I drink it late at night to help keep me awake.”

Roman looks less like a kicked puppy and more like Logan, eyes wide and curious. “I want some!”

Thomas, taking a sip of his own two-seconds-of-cream-five-cubes-of-sugar coffee, nearly spits it out. He looks at Roman, eyes the very sharp, very detachable, very toxic spines covering his body, and says, “No.”

Roman’s demeanor changes entirely, switching from “curious toddler” to “toddler about to throw a temper tantrum” in a heartbeat. “Why not?!”

“Because when people drink coffee without being used to it, sometimes it makes them a little crazy.”

“I’m not crazy!”

“Do I need to recount to you how many times you’ve threatened me and my assistant since we met you?” Thomas says, raising an eyebrow. “I’m not giving you coffee until I know I can trust you not to stab me with your poisonous spines that cover your entire body and can be fired at people.”

Roman pouts more, dropping under the water and letting out a gratingly harmonious string of mer that Thomas is pretty sure translates to Roman bitching about the coffee situation to his dad. Based on the pattern of Patton’s response, he’s pretty sure Patton is laughing at Roman.

More sulky chalkboard-violin music, and then Roman resurfaces grumpily. “Dad agrees with you and says no consuming strange human foods.”

“Did he laugh at you?”

Roman squints suspiciously at him. “You can’t speak our language.”

“Yeah, but I know what it sounds like when a dad laughs at his kid.” Roman, continuing to pout, sinks back into the tank, presumably to sulk some more. Thomas takes another very long sip of coffee that is definitely too hot for his mouth and turns back to his desk.

Virgil should definitely be awake and in the lab at this point. The samples he’s supposed to be analyzing are sitting in their little tubes, each neatly labelled with locations and dates and times and what, specifically, Virgil is supposed to be looking for. Thomas considers going upstairs and waking up Virgil, who’s almost never been late for work in this way, but he decides against it. Virgil is upstairs with Logan, and Thomas knows that there’s something building between them. He’s not sure how advisable that something is, but he trusts Virgil to make his own decisions.

Besides, he could probably use some practice. His water sample analysis skills are pretty rusty, he’s had Virgil doing them for years. “Virgil, you owe me big time for what I’m doing for you.” He carefully shifts the samples over to his own desk, slides his earbuds in, picks up a pipette, and gets to work analyzing the bacterial and algal concentrations for any abnormalities.

Thomas accomplishes about forty-five minutes’ worth of work before Roman interrupts him by flicking water at him and soaking the back of his neck. “Hey!”

“I tried your name, but your little ear bug things were keeping you from hearing me,” Roman says smugly. Thomas, not for the first time, considers retreating to the closet and throwing beakers until he feels better.

“Can I help you?”

“Dad wants to go hunting and bring back breakfast, but we can’t leave without you.”

“Are you not going hunting?”

“I’m going to stay here and observe you,” Roman says.

Thomas blinks. “Do I . . . need observing?”

“How do I know you won’t sell us out to your little human friends the second you get a chance? If I’m here, I can stop you. Plus, what if you do something to Logan while we’re not here to protect him? No, no, I’m staying right where I am and you can’t make me leave.” His spines ripple; Thomas steps closer to a whiteboard in case he needs to duck.

“I’m not going to do that, and I don’t want you to stab me.”

“Still! I’m staying here! Also, Dad’s bigger than me, and he’s a better hunter cause he’s faster and he’s been hunting longer.

“Does he need something to help him carry all those fish?” Thomas asks. Roman opens his mouth like he’s going to say something snarky, pauses, and stops.

“I . . . usually we just eat what we catch when we catch it. We make a pile of prey and take turns guarding it while the other two hunt. Then we make a sacrifice to the Seven Mother Goddesses and eat what’s left.”

After some debate, Thomas is able to fashion a sling of sorts from some waterproof tarps and leftover anchor rope to tie around Patton’s body. “You can put the fish in this pouch and carry them back here. Will you be able to navigate your way back to the grotto?”

“He will,” Roman says. “Dad knows more about the ocean than any human possibly could.” Another discordant song from the tank, chastising, and Roman huffs. “Dad wants me to reassure you that he’ll be fine.”

Patton settles into the mobile tank easily, and Thomas gets him down to the grotto leading towards the sea. “When you come back, let out one of your pod calls and Virgil or I will come and collect you and your catch. Take as much time as you need, okay?”

Patton reaches up and gently pats Thomas’s arm with one large, damp hand, and Thomas takes that to mean an agreement. “Alright, off you go.” There’s a whoosh and a rush of water as it flows from the tank into the grotto in a clean arc, carrying Patton with it. Thomas waits for a moment, letting Patton disappear into the open ocean, before returning to the laboratory.

Roman, for the most part, ignores Thomas. He asks the occasional question, which Thomas tries to answer in a way that he’ll understand, and leans over the edge of his touch tank, eyes guarded. Every time Thomas sneaks a glance, when he thinks Roman isn’t looking, his expression is wide-eyed and wondrous, like Logan’s usually are, but the moment he realizes Thomas is watching him his entire face closes up like a clamshell.

Thomas wonders what it’ll take to get Roman to trust him, trust Virgil, trust any human. Granted, he doesn’t know Roman’s history with humans, but he and Patton are both fairly scarred, and Thomas might not know the whole story but he’d bet a not-insignificant amount of his monthly income that the giant starburst scar taking up the majority of Patton’s chest isn’t the result of a clash with a marine creature.

He works quietly, fielding the occasional question, keeping one ear on the grotto tunnel for Patton’s return. He’s not sure how long he expected Patton to be gone, but he hears movement in the grotto tunnel far sooner than he’d expected.

“Thomas, what’s -”

“Shhhh,” Thomas says. He stands up, pushing away from his desk, but before he can say anything else, there’s a flood of movement coming from the tunnel. Bodies pour into the lab, swift and strong and carrying weapons that they immediately train on Thomas and Roman.

“What is this?” Roman snaps, bristling. He sounds betrayed, like he thinks Thomas is behind this. Thomas picks up a heavy glass beaker, fully prepared to shatter it upside someone’s skull if necessary, but something heavy and hard strikes the back of his skull and he feels his knees crumple. Roman cries out, and Thomas struggles to push himself up. A hand fists itself in his hair and yanks him upright, sharply. Thomas exhales sharply through his teeth, but before he can start struggling, something cool and round rests against the back of his neck, shutting him up and shutting his brain down.

Roman is puffed up like a hedgehog, apparently fully prepared to defend Thomas despite his strong and inherent mistrust. Before he can begin to attack, Thomas hears the click-click-click of shoes on the hard stone floor. Whoever’s holding his head yanks him back again, and he is forced to watch as a woman walks into his laboratory.

(It sounds like the beginning of a bad joke - a sick, horrible, twisted joke.)

She has black heels, black tights, a black pencil skirt, a black blazer, and a blood-red blouse. Her hair is scraped back into a tight bun, pulled so taut it must hurt, and is held in place with a pitch black stick. She carries a - clipboard? tablet? Unclear - held against her chest, and there’s a sleek silver weapon in her right hand.

“The one from the video?” she asks.

“Affirmative, ma’am,” says the person holding Thomas’s head. The woman nods, lifting her weapon, and fires at Roman. Thomas tries to scream a warning, earning himself another painful yank from his captor, but the projectile lodges itself in Roman’s shoulder anyway.

It isn’t a bullet, but something that looks like a small syringe. Roman swats it out of his shoulder, swaying a little, but it doesn’t stop him from swiping at the - mercenary, they must be - who tries to grab him with his elbow spines. The woman frowns, lifts the weapon - some kind of tranquilizer gun? - and fires again.

Roman screams, inhuman and animal, and tears the newest dart from his arm, throwing himself out of his tank and clinging to the nearest mercenary. His teeth tear into the man’s shoulder, spines piercing through his camouflage clothing and flooding him with neurotoxin. The man collapses against the concrete, alive but unconscious, and Roman snarls at the next man as though daring him to approach. He sways, weakened but awake, and bares his teeth.

“Of course,” the woman says, tapping something on her tablet. “His naturally produced neurotoxin must be providing him with some level of natural resistance. Unexpected, but not a limitation.”

It takes three more tranquilizer darts before Roman finally slumps down into his tank, unconscious. The mercenaries look hesitant to approach him, but the woman reaches for her tablet and they scramble to action at once.

“No - no, stop, let him go, he’s not an animal for you to cart off to your lab -” Thomas starts. The man holding him knees him sharply in the back and he cries out, coughing.

They wrap Roman in thick leather bands, roughly shoving his spines flat and binding them against his skin so that he can’t attack them again. The woman nods, once, short and sharp, and they drag Roman away, letting his head bang mercilessly on the ground. Thomas catches a glimpse of a logo - emblazoned on the back of the jackets, on the back of the woman’s tablet, on the side of her tranquilizer gun - and commits it to memory. He’s going to need it, if he gets out of here alive.

“- your phone,” the woman says, and oh, when did she get in front of him.

“My what?”

His mouth runs dry as she places the tranquilizer gun under his chin, barrel pressing against his throat, and tips his chin up. “I said, give me your phone.”

Thomas blinks. “My - the desk. It’s on the desk.”

She sets her tablet down, picks up his phone, and shoves it in his face. “Open it.”

“I - wh -”

“Unlock your phone, Dr. Sanders. Must I repeat myself a third time?” She rolls her eyes. “Doctorates are wasted on people like you.”

Thomas numbly punches in his passcode, and she swipes through to his messages app, frowning before turning the screen towards his face to reveal a message thread with Virgil. “Is this your assistant?”

Thomas glares at her, he’s not going to give her what she wants, he’s not going to just give her Virgil but then the - gun, it must be a gun, what else would they be holding against his neck like this - pushes into him harder, and it’s probably bruising, and he can’t get himself killed here because then he definitely won’t be able to take care of Virgil and -

“Yes,” Thomas says, hating himself for giving in so easily. “What do you -”

She turns away from him, nails clicking against his phone screen as she sends a text message - to Virgil, presumably, and that makes his heart sink like a stone - before dropping it on the floor and stepping on it to shatter it. “I have a message for you.”

“A - what?”

“Did they really hit you that hard, or were you this stupid before we came here?” she says coldly, picking up the tablet again and tapping at the screen. Thomas groans as the man yanks him to his feet, shoving him onto his chair and pulling a roll of duct tape out of one of his multiple pants pockets. He tapes Thomas’s wrists and ankles to the chair, keeping his weapon trained on Thomas’s temple at all times, before pressing it roughly against his head and gripping his hair again.

The woman sets the tablet on his lab table, and the screen flickers to life, and then there’s a woman in front of a dark black backdrop, smiling at him like a cat who’s caught a canary. “Thomas Sanders. How long I’ve waited for this day.”

Thomas recognizes her. He knows he recognizes her. She used to be his classmate, before . . .

His head hurts, so badly that he can barely keep his eyes open, and the memory slips away. “You . . . why are you doing this?”

“Why? Because I am a real scientist, unlike you. You refuse to do what is necessary, what must be done for the progression of the species. The sacrifice of some worthless animals is necessary for humanity to reach its zenith. You would really hinder the entire human race for the preservation of lower life forms?”

“Wh - I -”

“You think that ‘preserving the ecosystem’ and ‘keeping animals alive’ makes you a good scientist, but it makes you weak. You are weak, Thomas Sanders, and if the world was left in the hands of people like you, the human race as we know it would die out in a few centuries. Fortunately, there are people like me, who understand what must be done.”

“Caring about other people and things - it doesn’t - it doesn’t make you weak,” Thomas says, chest heaving, and the woman just laughs.

“One of many logical fallacies to which you subscribe, Thomas. They really gave you a doctorate? Of course caring makes you weak. All emotions make you weak. They corrupt your data and make your experiments worthless. You must be ruthless. You must be willing to do whatever it takes to pursue your goals and achieve the height of success. But no.” She rolls her eyes, face hardening, twirling a pen in her fingers. “You insist on ethics and principles and letting emotions cloud your judgement, and that makes you a failure as a scientist. It makes you weak. Your attachments will be your downfall.”

Thomas’s eyes slide shut, head pounding, and the man behind him yanks at his hair so sharply that he knows some has been ripped out. He forces his eyes open in time to see a smile slide across the woman’s face like a knife, teeth gleaming white as sun-bleached bone.

“You won’t - get away with this,” Thomas manages. He grinds his teeth together and curls his hands into fists, digging his nails into his palms to keep himself awake. “If you leave me alive -” Thomas, stop talking, why are you reminding her that she has the option to fucking kill you “- I will not rest until I find you. I’ll - you can’t -”

“You’ll what, Thomas? If you call the police, you’ll expose those creatures you’re so intent on protecting to the world. Are you really willing to take that chance?” Before Thomas can even begin formulating a response, she steamrolls him. “It doesn’t matter. Even if you were, I’m going to take some . . . insurance, shall we say.”

“Why not just kill me?” Thomas spits. Excellent idea, Doc, poke the murderous lady with a stick like a god damn hornet’s nest, the tiny Virgil in his brain hisses. Her smile, somehow, only widens, and that’s . . . that can’t be good, can it? Smiles are supposed to be good! They’re supposed to make you happy, but all Thomas feels is creeping dread and pain, so much pain, and -

Yeah. He’s . . . pretty sure he has a concussion.

“Because if I kill you, you get to take the easy way out. Your suffering will end. But unlike you, I don’t put limits on my science. I know how to cause you the maximum amount of pain.”

Thomas eyes the toxin gun, but the on-screen woman just laughs. “Not yet, Thomas. We need something from you, first.”

“You already took Roman,” Thomas says. “What more can you possibly take from me?”

“You named it? You’re even weaker than I thought.”

“He told me his name, he’s not an it, he’s not a thing for you to play with and - and I -”

There’s a strange sinking feeling in Thomas’s chest as the woman onscreen laughs. “I knew you were emotional, Thomas, but I can’t believe this! It looks like I’ll have more hanging over your head than you thought.”

“You -”

“Say, Tommy-boy, have you heard from your precious little assistant recently?”

Thomas’s entire body flushes ice-cold and then white-hot, immediately struggling against his duct tape bindings despite the man tearing at his hair and shoving the gun into his neck and snapping at him to shut up, shut up, shut the fuck up before I do something we’re both gonna regret -

“Don’t you touch him!” Thomas snaps. “If you hurt him, I swear to God -”

“You’re not in a position to be making demands, and if you don’t calm down, I’ll paint your boring little lab bright red.” Thomas freezes, holding his entire body tensed like electricity is running through his blood.

There are footsteps on the stairs. “Doc? I got your text, what’s -”

“Virgil, run!” Thomas chokes. Virgil comes around the corner, holding his phone, staring at the screen in confusion. He looks up, eyes widening in horror as he takes in the scene.

“You know what to do,” the woman onscreen says. The other woman lifts her tranquilizer gun, and Thomas is sure that he’s screaming, his mouth is open and sound is coming out but his blood is rushing through his ears and his heart is pounding like waves against a boat in rough sea and he can’t - he can’t -

Virgil turns to run, but the tranquilizer dart hits in him the back of the neck and he collapses like a sack of bricks. The woman lowers her gun and jerks her head at the two remaining conscious, unoccupied mercenaries, who step forward and grab Virgil.

“Let him go!” Thomas screams, and his throat feels raw and his chest feels raw and his wrists are rubbed raw and his soul feels hollow and raw, like he’s been scraped out with a jagged piece of metal and only an empty shell remains. Virgil’s head lolls against his chest as they drag him down the grotto tunnel, and Thomas struggles and screams and stares after them until Virgil is out of sight.

His face is damp, and his eyes are burning, and he isn’t sure if it’s blood from his head wound or tears or some strange, morbid mixture of both.

“The greatest torture of which I can conceive,” the woman onscreen says, and it takes him a moment to realize that oh, she’s talking to me, “is to leave you alive, knowing that your precious little protégé is with me, and that there is nothing you can do about it.” She leans forward, and any trace of a smile is gone. “If you try to come after me, I will kill him. If you call the authorities, I will kill him. I already found you, Thomas. Don’t think I’m not watching. If I catch so much as a whiff of you planning something, his blood will be on your hands. Do you understand me?”

Thomas, numb and shocked, can’t even respond. “Knock him out and bring the specimens back to me,” the woman onscreen says.

“Yes, ma’am.”

He doesn’t even feel the tranquilizer dart hit his neck, but he welcomes the sweeping darkness.

(Summary: Evil Scientist Lady has been spying on Thomas and she finds the entrance to the grotto where our mer friends have been hiding. She sends her assistant and several armed thugs to invade the lab, they drug Roman with tranquilizers and kidnap him. Thomas gets knocked around a lot and is mocked for being an ethical scientist and caring about people by Evil Scientist Lady and she gloats at him through Evil Facetime before kidnapping Virgil in the same way they did Roman, knocking Thomas unconscious, and leaving him tied to his lab chair. During this whole scene, Patton is out in the open ocean hunting and Logan is safely hidden in Virgil's room.)

#starshinewrites #lovely dark and deep #romantic analogical #sanders sides #platonic TLAMP

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stars-falling · 3 years

Text

late night at the local convenience store (elriel)

summary: elain, desperate for snacks, visits her local store late at night and bumps into her supposed rival (and he's hot).

prompt: esteemed rival chefs find each other shamefully buying ramen at 3 in the morning AU

word count: 1985

note: welcome to the first july upload! this piece was written for a writing month challenge and i had great fun with it! i'm really excited for the other pieces i'll be posting over the next month. i hope you enjoy them as much as i enjoyed writing them! i'll continue working on other pieces over the month too, so there will be more coming after july (hopefully i can finally finish part 2 of both a storm and a summer's day).

in the meantime, hope you enjoy!

lily (tysm for 760 followers btw! love you all <3)

read here on ao3 // masterlist

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Archeron’s Kitchen was the most popular restaurant in Velaris. It had the best food, the best drinks, the best atmosphere, and Elain had never been more proud to say that she was the Head Chef. It had taken years of hard work from both her and her two sisters to reach the level they were at now and they only continued to grow. The sisters worked closely together: Nesta (the eldest) directed the finance and other admin, Feyre (the youngest) worked on the design aspects and managed the staff and Elain manned the menus and the actual cooking. They worked well together, with only minor disagreements happening occasionally, and soon they had rocketed to the most well known and sought after restaurant in Velaris.

This was why she was contemplating her life choices as she pulled up to the local convenience store to buy ramen at 3 am. It wasn’t even the nice ramen; it was the crappy 50p packet of ramen that took less than a minute to cook. She often tried to utilise her skills to cook herself the healthiest and tastiest meals but recently she had been working overtime due to another restaurant's rising popularity. The two staff had even formed some sort of rivalry, trash-talking each other in the streets and slandering the other restaurant to their patrons. She found it childish, so Elain didn’t partake, but she did find it mildly amusing. The new restaurant was several streets over and it was the opposite of Archeron’s Kitchen in every way. Where they were warm and cosy, Starfall was sleek and modern. Where they focused on comfort foods, Starfall served new and innovative dishes. People went to the Archeron’s for the food, whereas people went to Starfall for the experience. And where the Archeron’s Kitchen was run by three sisters, Starfall was run by three brothers.

She had never actually met them. She knew their names and what they looked like but in terms of interactions she had only caught a glimpse of two of them once before. They had stood in the main square with Feyre and Nesta arguing about the importance of serving classic food. Her sisters had both come away grumbling about ‘upstart assholes with no sense of tradition’. As far as Elain was aware, the two brothers they had argued with weren’t actually in charge of the menu, making her unsure if they had full authority over the subject, but she didn’t want to start them off again so she refrained from mentioning it.

Elain pulled into an empty parking space and took a moment to lay her head against the headrest and close her eyes. She was tired and hungry. There was no food in the fridge, her bank account was looking quite sorry for itself and she still had more menus to plan and ideas for new dishes to brainstorm. Steeling herself, she hauled herself out of the car and locked it as she walked to the bright light of the store. She pulled the hood of the tattered sweatshirt she wore over her head as a precaution against recognition. With the status of a semi-famous chef, she didn’t want anyone to see her in the somewhat pitiful state she was in. The bell rang as she pushed open the door, signalling her entrance. The bright flickering lights and cool temperature made it feel like she was entering a separate dimension, one that lacked all sense of time and direction. Elain nodded at the cashier as she walked past them, making a beeline to the snacks aisle. She was greeted by a wide range of ramen, the different flavours and prices making it difficult to choose. She had about £1.50 in her purse and she desperately wanted a coffee too so she would have to be frugal. She was so engrossed with her ramen selection that she failed to notice a person coming up beside her. When she swivelled around to check the time on the obscenely large digital clock above the checkout, she crashed into them hard, causing her, them and the copious amounts of ramen they had piled in their arms to go flying to the floor.

Elain let out a yelp as she landed hard on her tailbone and felt her face heat up.

“I am so sorry!”

A deep, warm chuckle floated toward her and her head snapped up to look at its source. She found hazel eyes staring back. A large man with tan skin and dark hair sat in front of her, surrounded by many colourful packets of ramen. Her heart fluttered slightly as he smiled at her. He was handsome, even in this shitty convenience store lighting at 3 am dressed in similar attire to her.

“Don’t worry about it. I should have been paying more attention. Are you okay?”

She nodded before sitting up fully and helped to gather the ramen that lay around them. He smiled at her gratefully and they sat in content if not slightly awkward silence as they pulled the packets into a pile before finally rising. As she looked closer at him, a spark of recognition kindled within her.

“Do I know you?”

He looked at her curiously, tilting his head.

“I’m not sure but you do look familiar.”

They stood analysing each other. Normally the staring would make her uncomfortable, but with him, she found it didn’t bother her nearly as much as it should have. This went on for about a minute before she saw realisation set into his eyes.

“You’re Elain Archeron. The Head Chef for Archeron’s Kitchen. Why are you buying shitty ramen at 3 am? Shouldn’t you have made yourself a three-course meal by now?”

Elain felt something drop inside her. She hadn’t noticed that her hood had fallen off when she fell, exposing her and her shameful ramen buying to the whole world. But as he laughed softly, she remembered where she recognised him from.

She scowled at him as she said, “ Well you’re Azriel Knight, Starfall’s Head Chef, so you can’t exactly talk.”

She gestured to the stack of ramen that she had just helped pile into his arms. He turned away slightly as if to hide them.

“My stash had run out, okay. I need it to keep me going when I stay up late planning dishes.”

“I get that. That’s why I’m here right now.” She replied and a mutual understanding passed between them.

Elain knew she shouldn’t be talking to him right now, the reminders of the supposed rivalry between the two restaurants loomed like a shadow behind her. But the longer they spent together, the more she found herself not caring.

“I feel like we should be arguing,” He told her. “If my brothers were here, they would have been kicked out for yelling by now.”

She smiled, “Same for my sisters. But I’ve never really cared to be honest. I just want to focus on the food, not a silly competition that people seem to be taking too seriously.”

He nodded in agreement and they both began to walk to the cashier.

“So, what kind of dishes are you planning then?” She asked. “I promise I won’t steal any ideas. It’s not my style anyway.”

“I”m not a hundred percent sure on the actual contents of the dish right now, but I’m currently trying to create a more experimental menu. We recently unveiled a new line of drinks that have a more theatrical element to them. Colour changing, dry ice, bubbling, the whole shebang and I wanted to design a food menu that went along with that.”

He turned away from her to pay the cashier, giving her a moment to turn over his words in her head. She’d gotten a glimpse at some of the drinks and food from when she had taken a look at (read: stalked) their website and various social media sites. She had called it ‘scouting out the competition' when really she was curious to see what had set them apart enough for them to have such a rise in patronage. Whilst it wasn’t her style, she had always thought that she’d like to visit them and try what they had to offer. That was until the stupid rivalry had started and just walking by the restaurant was asking for trouble. Azriel finished paying and grabbed the plastic bag the cashier had placed his ramen in, moving out of the way so she could step up to the counter.

“That sounds amazing!” She replied. ‘I admit, I’ve always wanted to try some of your food but unfortunately, my sister’s might disown me if I even mention it. Calling them over-competitive would be the understatement of the century.”

He laughed at this and she took the opportunity to turn away and press the 50p coin into the cashier's hand. They nodded at her, satisfied and she turned back to Azriel. Together, they walked out of the door and into the cool night.

“I’d say you should stop by, but as you said, our siblings may not be too happy about that.” He let out a sigh. “As much as it amused me at first, I do wish we could just get along. I’d like to come and try some of your food too.”

He swivelled towards her, the white light from the store casting his face into shadows.

“I hope this isn’t too forward of me, but would you like to grab some coffee?”

She smiled at him, shoving the packet of ramen into her hoodie pocket.

“I’d love to. And maybe in the future, we could make some of our food for each other.”

He raised an eyebrow at that. “Like a date?”

She felt dread trickle in. Maybe she had misread the situation. They seemed to have been getting on well, and she had caught him checking her out when they first bumped into each other. Plus, he had just asked her to grab coffee with him. Perhaps he was just being friendly.

She swallowed anxiously before replying, “Yeah. If that’s something you’d be interested in.”

He smiled at her brightly, making her heart stutter and skip a beat.

“I’d like that.”

They stood under the streetlamps in an almost abandoned parking lot. Two head chef’s from popular restaurants with bad ramen and a budding connection between them.

“What are you feeling? Starbucks or maybe that local coffee shop down the street? I think it’s called Veritas?”

Elain hummed as they started walking along the road.

“Veritas, I think. I can get a cup of tea for a pound.” She reached into her pocket to show him her single coin.

For the second time that evening (or was it morning?), he raised an eyebrow at her. “I thought I was buying?”

She glanced at him in confusion. “Since when?”

“I thought since I had asked you it was implied?”

She let out a laugh, shaking her head. “My god, we are bad at this. I think we need to get out of the kitchen more.”

“I’m not sure about that, I’ve got plenty of pick up lines I've stolen from my chefs.” He stepped in front of her, stopping her in her path. “Baby, you’re the crème to my brûlée.”

She groaned, hitting him on the arm as she pushed past him. “That was so bad! I might leave.”

“As if you could do better.”

She pulled out her phone, searching up ‘chef pick up lines’. She grimaced, “These are all so sexual! I think it might be best if we keep flirting out of the kitchen.”

They both doubled over in fits of laughter before continuing down the street. She was glad she gave in to her cravings and went to buy ramen at 3 am. She could tell that whatever this was, it was going to turn into something great.

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110 notes · View notes

cj-sparkss · 3 years

Text

opposites attract -

note | happy new years! my first really long fic. enjoy!

eren’s masterlist:

warning | alcohol usage mentioned, cursing category | fluff wc | 3.4k+ pairing | eren jeager & f!reader

series discontinued!!!

“And that is it for today. Class dismissed.”

Loud chatters fill the classroom. You are currently in your general biology class, sitting all the way in the back by yourself, just how you like it. Quiet and peaceful. It’s not that you’re lonely - you have wonderful friends in fact, Annie and Sasha, your best friends since high school - it’s just that you like being alone. You don’t do anything that is outside of your comfort zone, and you definitely do not go out as much as your friends do, but you like it that way. On the plus side, being alone most of the time is how you have carved your way to the top of most of your classes.

You start gathering your textbooks and supplies together, neatly arranging them in your backpack. As you get up from your seat, Professer Hange calls out your name, stopping you in your tracks. “Oh yeah you, please stay behind for a moment, I have something to discuss with you.” She turns to someone else on the other side of the room. “You too Eren.”

Your heart stops. Why would she be calling you to stay behind? And with Eren Jaeger too? You have never spoken a word to that boy besides the first day of the semester when he was passing out papers to everyone, and even then the only words exchanged were, “Here.” And “Thank you.”

You run through every possible thing that recently happened that could have led to this situation, but you couldn’t think of anything at all. Feeling defeated, you scanned the room and the only people left now are you, Eren, and another boy leaving the classroom. Eren is already in front of Mrs. Hange’s desk, his back turned to you. Sighing, you walked down the steps over to stand next to Eren.

Clasping her hands together, Mrs. Hange looks up from her seat to face the two of you. “So.” She pulls out a folder, and pulls out two papers, one labeled Eren Jaeger, and the other labeled with your name. You both look at your teacher quizzically, wondering what could be going on.

“Eren Jaeger. I am sorry to say this, but you are absolutely failing my class. Literally digging your grave more and more with every test you take here.” You and Eren’s jaw drops, Eren raising a hand to awkwardly rub his nape and look at you for a brief second, ears turning pink and a blush erupting on his cheeks. Mrs. Hange pulls your paper and places it on top of Eren’s.

“And you. You are nailing my class. Basically perfect scores, never a failing grade, top of the class.” She puts a finger to her glasses pushing them up and looks at you with wide eyes, Eren staring at you from the side in shock and with wide eyes. You can’t help but get flustered over the sudden attention, eyes darting anywhere but the two people around you. “O- oh um, thank you so much.”

“Eren. Remember when I told you that I would get a student to tutor you?” Eren nods his head. “And you, remember when I asked you about teaching another student that desperately, and when I say desperately I mean desperately needed your help?” You take note of your teacher’s tendency to over exaggerate things, and nod your head as well.

“Well guess what. You will be tutoring Eren. I trust that you guys will create a good schedule and that things will be smooth sailing from here. I wish you all the luck.” She gives a lopsided grin. You and Eren’s heads turn, staring at each other as if silently questioning if this just happened. When Mrs. Hange asked you to tutor someone else in your class, you definitely did not expect the someone to be him.

You? Tutoring Eren? Eren Jaeger? Fuck boy of the century? Oh yeah, Eren kind of has a reputation around here. He gets around. A lot. He knows how to charm his way into girls hearts, and into them. He’s popular, cool, outgoing, and a troublemaker too. All adding to his charming personality. Eren sends you a tooth smile, making you realize that you were staring, lost in your own thoughts. He motions his head towards the hallway, leading you out the door and coming to a halt once to the side of the classroom door.

He rests his back against the wall, stuffing his hands in his pockets. You come to stand in front of him, smiling warmly up at him. He smiles back at you, opening his mouth to speak. “Hey. I’m Eren, if you weren’t paying attention to Mrs. Hange’s whole rant about my terrible grades and your amazing ones.” His tone is light hearted, almost in a teasing way. Relief spreads across your body, releasing a breath you didn’t know you were holding in. You were glad that he didn’t take the whole ordeal to heart, thankfully not leading him to having a bad first impression of you.

“Oh yeah, sorry about all that.” You look down, beginning to fidget with your fingers. “It’s okay though, I personally think smart girls are actually really cool.” Your head moves to look back up at him, searching his face for any sign that what he just said was a joke. After a moment passes, you realize it wasn’t, and you turn away, hiding the blush on your face. “Oh. Well thank you.”

“So, Mrs. Hange says we have to set up a schedule or some shit.” He looks at you expectantly, and you take the hint to come up with a plan, you being the tutor and all. “What about we can have a tutor session after every bio class since it’s not everyday.” He slowly nods his head, thinking about the plan you brought up. “So Monday’s, Wednesday’s and Fridays?” He tilts his head to the side.

“Yes. Monday’s, Wednesday’s and Friday’s.”

“Great.” Eren pulls out his phone from his right pocket, swiping and pressing on the screen a few times before holding it in his hand out to you. “Number.”

You collect the phone and punch in your number, Eren’s eyes following every movement you make.

“Thank youuu.” He takes it and slips his phone back in his pocket. “So where do you want to meet up Friday?” Friday is the next day you two have biology class, and your brain runs through possible places, and the words that roll out of your mouth are “My dorm room?”

The corners of Eren’s mouth twitch up, curling into a teasing smirk. “Are you trying to get me in bed with you? To be honest I didn’t peg you as that type of girl.” He walks closer to you, feet stopping only a few inches from yours.

Your brain goes haywire, mentally slapping yourself for not thinking enough before saying those words. “I- uh- I, that’s not what I meant Eren.”

Eren tilts his head at you, his smirk only growing bigger. “That’s what they all say.” He moves closer to you, tilting his head so he’s eye level with you, eyes boring into yours, your breath hitching in your throat. Who does he think he is? Cocky bastard.

“Anyways,” He steps to the side, beginning to walk away. “Text me the details. See you around.” He walks away, back facing your front, raising only an arm waving goodbye to you.

That was interesting.

----

You hear knocking on your door, the bellowing knocks creating a musical rhythm. You check the time.

4:52 p.m.

Eren texted you earlier in the morning, asking for the details about the tutoring session.

Eren: Hey smartie

You: Where did the nickname come from

Eren: You don’t like it? I think it’s pretty fitting

You: Ehh not really feeling it, try something better

Eren: Nerd. Better? Also when are we meeting

You: Worse. Is 5:00 good?

Eren: Perfect.

You told Eren where your dorm was and everything else, and before you knew it, it was time for him to come over. You are a pretty organized and clean person, so you didn’t have to do much to prepare for the tutoring session. You already gathered the textbooks and supplies that you would need, and you were all set.

“Coming!!” You open the door, and you are greeted by Eren in grey sweatpants and a hoodie, his long chocolate brown hair is tied into a messy bun, strings of hair loose framing his face.

“Hi.” You smile sheepishly at him, the fact that a boy would be hanging out in your dorm room suddenly dawning on you.

“Hey nerd.” You grimace at the awful nickname Eren has given to you, causing a teasing smile to grow on his face.

“Want to come in?” You move to the side and open the door wider, allowing him enough space to walk in. Eren walks right into the middle of the room, slowly turning around taking everything in. You shut the door and sit on your bed, watching him analyze your dorm room.

He comes to a stop and looks at you.

“Clean.”

“Hmm?” You furrow your eyebrows.

He takes a step closer to you, gesturing around the room. “Your room is clean. And cozy.”

“Thank you. I try my best.”

He nods his head. “I see that. You don’t have a roomate?”

“Nope. If you haven’t figured it out by now, I like to be alone.”

“Interesting.”

You waltz over to your desk and sit down at one of the two seats. “Want to sit?” You point at the other chair.

“Yes please. He walks to the other seat, drags his backpack off of his shoulder and places it on the floor next to him with a thud. “Let’s get started.”

You open your biology textbook, and the tutoring begins.

----

Eren spins around in his chair, obviously bored from the work you both have been doing. You’ve been at this for about two hours, going over everything you will be tutoring him and the basics of the subject first. Eren has been half heartedly listening, no matter how many times you told him he needs to pay attention.

“Ughhhh.” Eren groans and slams his head into the desk with a loud thud. That must have hurt.

“What Eren?”

“Let’s take a break.” He lifts his head and turns to face you. “Please?”

Eren clasps his hands together in a pleading motion and sticks his bottom lip out in a pout. Of course this man has a pouting baby face.

You drop your pen and sigh. “Fine.”

“Yay! Lucky for usss...” Eren wiggles his eyebrows at you and shoves his right hand into his backpack. He pulls out two bags of chips and many different types of candies that you can’t even name them all. “I brought snacks.”

“Of course you brought snacks to a study session.” You shake your head in amusement but can’t fight the smile blooming on your face due to his childish antics.

“Of course I did. Who wouldn’t?” He opens a bag of chips and tosses you the other one.

“Everyone else.”

“Rhetorical question man.”

You both snack on the goodies that Eren brought, a comfortable silence falling over the room besides the sound of chips crunching.

“What do you do for fun?” Eren turns to look at you.

You stare at him for a moment, questioning what goes on in this man's mind.

“Read.”

He tilts his head, furrowing his eyebrows together in confusion. “Read?”

“Yes.”

He spins around 360 degrees in the chair again while exclaiming, “Booooring.”

“Anything else?”

“Study.”

Eren stares at you for a good moment. His eyes are so intense all the time, even if the rest of his face is light hearted. Doesn't help that his eyes are a mesmerizing turquoise shade.

Finally, he lets out a laugh.

You stare at him quizzically. “What’s so funny?”

“You. Do you even go to parties?”

“No. They're overrated.”

He laughs once again, shaking his head in a playful disapproving manner. “Are you even in college?” Eren’s clasps his hands together, turquoise eyes lighting up at a new idea. “How about this. There’s a party happening tonight at Jean’s place. You’re coming.”

“I am?”

“Yes. Yes you are. We have to get you out of that little bubble of yours.”

You aggressively shake your head at Eren, brain panicking over the fact that you might have to socialize with people outside of your friends. “I don’t like parties.”

“You will soon. It’s at 8. I’ll come get you in a bit. It’s a walking distance.”

“Eren. No. No parties.”

“C’mon please? I promise it will be fuuuun.” He sends you a mischievous smile, eyes twinkling.

You squint your eyes at him, sending him a death glare. “Fine. You owe me.”

How this man was able to convince you to step out of your comfort zone for the first time in ages, you will never know. What you also didn’t know was that this was just the first baby step in many, many more to come with your time spent with Eren Jaeger.

---

And now you are walking through the starry night, you and Eren side by side. You had face-timed Sasha and Annie earlier, ranting about your day with Eren and about how you are now going to a college party for the first time in ages.

A gust of wind sweeps over you and Eren, causing you to shiver. It doesn't help that you’re wearing shorts and a short top. God why did you have to dress cute. Not even that, how did your dumbass forget a jacket? Comfy and simple is always, always the best answer.

The shiver doesn't go unnoticed by Eren, who happens to be wearing a hoodie and sweatpants like earlier, lucky bastard.

“Are you cold?” You can see Eren looking at you with a concerned expression despite the slightly dark sky. You wrap your arms around yourself and nod your head yes, embarrassed to not have thought about bringing a jacket. You hear Eren rustling next to you, but you couldn’t be bothered to look.

“You should’ve brought a jacket smartass.”

You were about to retaliate back, when a soft fabric is draped over your head and shoulders, stopping you in your tracks. You lift it up and make out Eren’s hoodie that he was wearing earlier. You look up to see Eren slightly in front of you, watching you with a smile on his face.

“But, won’t you be col-”

“I’m fine. Don’t worry.” He motions his head forward. “Put it on. Now, are you coming or not.” He walks forward, moving slowly allowing you to put on the hoodie, and then you follow right after.

The hoodie smells nice.

-----------------------------------------------------------

You both approach the house, loud music playing from the inside. Your nerves start to settle in, every cell in your body telling you to retreat back to the safety of your dorm. As if Eren can sense this, he drapes an arm around your shoulders, pulling you to his side.

“Hey. Don’t worry. It’ll be fine. Just stick with me.”

You nod your head, somehow feeling better and reassured by Eren’s words and actions. You both walk into the house, Eren’s arm still over your shoulders, the music even louder inside immediately bothering your ears. There’s people jumping up and down in the living room, couples to the side making out and a game of beer pong going on in the background. Typical.

“Hey!” Eren raises his voice to try and top the obnoxious music. “Let’s head upstairs! It’s calmer up there and my friends are there!”

You nod your head. “Okay!” He softly grabs your wrist, leading you up the stairs and into another room. Although you haven't known Eren long, you know you can trust him, so you don’t doubt where he’s leading you.

Eren opens the door, and a group of people standing around, some sitting, but all laughing and smiling greet you guys.

“Oh! Hey Eren!” A boy with blonde hair walks up to you guys, a girl with short black hair following closely behind.

“Hey guys!” Eren lets go of your wrist and envelops the blonde boy in a side hug. “Guys, meet my new friend. She’s the one that’s tutoring me.” He gestures towards you with his arms.

New friend.

You can’t help but feel some warmth thinking about how Eren now considers you a friend in the short time you’ve known him. His easy going nature is easily becoming one of your favorite traits about him.

“Hey!” You tell them your name, and they tell you theirs, although the girl you’ve come to know as Mikasa keeps staring right into your soul, making you fidgety under her gaze.

“So,” Eren starts. “Want to go sit dow-”

“Hey.” A boy slightly taller than Eren walks up to you guys, red styrofoam cup in his hand. His hair is two toned, blonde on the top and then fades down into brown.

“Who are you?” He asks, looking right at you, a sly smirk on his face.

You introduce yourself, stating your name and why you’re here.

“Ohhh cool. Good to see Eren is finally getting the help he needs.”

“Oh shut up Horseface.”

“How many times have I told you not to call me that.”

You can’t help but laugh at the banter going on between them. Although they are teasing each other you can still feel the love in the air between them.

Maybe the party isn’t going to be as bad as you thought.

-----

It’s the end of the night, and you might be a little tipsy from the alcohol you drank.

Or maybe like full on drunk.

You swore to Eren it was only three drinks, you do get drunk pretty easily. Now you're stumbling into your dorm room, Eren preventing you from falling straight on your ass. Somehow he managed to not get drunk.

Though it was probably due to the fact his mouth was attached to 5 different girls throughout the night.

But you made some new friends, and it was kind of thrilling to do something different for a change. All thanks to Eren, who for some reason decided to take you under his wing.

“Woahhh, be careful.” With one arm around your waist and the other holding your wrist, Eren led you towards your bed. He lifts the covers for you, allowing you to steel underneath and then draping them over your body.

You hear Eren rummaging through your room, brain too fuzzy to look at what he’s doing.

The rummaging comes to a halt, Eren then dragging a chair over to the side of your bed. A water bottle comes into your vision.

“Drink.”

You groan, but comply nonetheless and drink a bit of the water before handing it back to him.

He leans his face closer to you, analyzing your poor state. “You know, you should come with a warning that says, “Do not serve any drinks to this creature. You will regret it.” He gives you a cheeky grin.

“Oh shut up.” You half heartedly hit him in the arm, Eren jokingly grasping the spot as if you actually hurt him.

His turquoise eyes settle on yours, his intense gaze there again. “Did you have fun today though?”

You pull the covers further up on you and think about it, and you decide that you did. “Yes I did. Thank you for making me go Eren. But I have to ask, why did you want me to go? You could’ve just thought of me as the girl that tutors you, but you called me your friend.”

Eren stares at you for what seems like forever, the silence becoming unbearable.

Finally, he answers.

“Because I like you. You're interesting. And I came to the conclusion that you need my help to have more fun. After all I have to pay you back somehow for tutoring me.”

You stare at him in surprise, not expecting this answer from him.

“Plus, you’re pretty cute.”

You tear your eyes away from his, embarrassed by his answer.

“I bet you say that to all the girls.”

“You’d be surprised.”

Another silence sweeps over the both of you, sleep lulling you away. You feel something soft press on your forehead, but then you're taken away by sleep.

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fandoms-are-my-friends-1321 · 3 years

Text

Somebody Told Me

Okay so this is my first attempt at any of Simon Pegg’s characters, but I figured I would start with Gary King because I’m in love with him the most currently. Plus his characters deserve more content, so here we are. The song in this fic is Somebody Told Me by The Killers. Gif and characters are not mine, and I hope you all enjoy it!

Description: Gary King has fallen for the reader for the second time in his life, but when he notices them hanging out with a friend from their childhood, his confident demeanor falters

Warnings: angst but eventual fluff, cursing, drinking, otherwise none that I can think of

Breakin' my back just to know your name

Seventeen tracks and I've had it with this game

Gary couldn’t take his eyes off of the person standing across the room from him. It was none other than Y/N L/N, the one person in town that managed to match Gary’s wit and adventurous spirit when they were teens. Everything was different now, however. Still, Gary wanted to try and make his move.

The music played softly in The First Post, but Gary paid no attention to the tune. His only focus was on Y/N, and he tried to slide into the barstool seated next to Y/N’s. Gary didn’t realize how small the seat actually was, and he tumbled to the floor.

“Hey are you okay, sir,” Y/N asked as they climbed off the stool to help Gary up from the floor. As soon as their E/C eyes met Gary’s blue-grey ones, Y/N instantly knew who he was. Y/N’s lips turned up slightly as they grasped Gary’s hand. “It’s been a long time, Gary.”

A breakin' my back just to know your name

But Heaven ain't close in a place like this

“That it has, Y/N,” Gary said as he slicked his onyx hair back. “What’s a person as gorgeous as you doing here in this old dump?”

Y/N sat back down and took a sip from their drink, the alcohol leaving a pleasant burn behind. “Oh just trying to forget about the many stresses of life, and if I remember right this used to be one of the top bars when we were growing up. What about you?”

“Same thing, actually. My mother just passed away, and I thought this place might bring me some comfort.” This was a lie. Gary hadn’t talked to his mom in years, but it was the only way to keep Y/N’s attention. After all, why would they want to talk to someone like him? Y/N’s eyes filled with sadness at the fake news that had been given to them. “I’m sorry to hear that,” they said as they took another long swig of their drink. “You’re mum was the sweetest person I’ve ever met.”

Gary nodded his head before changing the subject. “Say, how would you like to meet me and the others here for a drink tomorrow? It’ll be just like old times!”

Y/N beamed at the idea, and they wiggled excitedly in their seat. “I would love that! We’ll be like the six musketeers!” Gary leaned in close to Y/N, his cologne causing Y/N to subconsciously lean closer in return. “Actually,” Gary began, “there’s only three, or so I’m told.”

Y/N punched Gary’s shoulder, and he pretended to be in pain. “I’ll see you tomorrow, smart guy. I wouldn’t miss an evening with The King for the world.” Gary felt even happier, and it felt wonderful to be appreciated for once instead of call outs for being a drunk. Y/N left shortly after that, and Gary’s nerves began to kick into overdrive.

“What the hell have I gotten myself into,” Gary whispered to himself.

——————————————————————————

“Just bring them some flowers! Everyone loves flowers,” Andy yelled into the phone.

“Well, what if they have allergies?! What the hell am I supposed to do then,” Gary yelled back. He was driving in the direction of the small rental home Y/N was staying in. Gary hoped that they hadn’t left yet, and if Y/N wanted to, Gary could drive them to The First Post. Gary’s car, The Beast, rumbled as he sped along the quiet streets of Newton Haven. Gary rubbed his temples as Andy continued his rant.

“If Y/N truly wants a relationship with you,” Andy declared, “they’ll think that the flowers are a cute gesture. You are the most confident guy I know, Gary, so start acting like it.”

“Yeah, but I-,” Gary was cut short when Andy hung up the phone, which caused Gary to groan and toss his phone into the passenger seat. The nearest flower shop was miles away, and Gary was almost late. “Shit, there’s gotta be something around here.”

That’s when Gary saw them. The tiny violet flowers that were sprinkled in the yards of many Newton Haven homes. Gary could remember very clearly that Y/N used to love them growing up.

“I just love the color. Not to mention how small and adorable they are,” Y/N said as they tucked one of the tiny flowers into Gary’s hair.

Gary chuckled. “Not as adorable as you are.”

Gary slammed on the brakes, and he launched himself out of the vehicle. He plucked as many of the flowers as he could before driving off to Y/N’s place. Y/N had just locked their door when Gary swerved into their driveway. Despite the initial shock, Y/N was happy to see him. “Ah yes, The Beast. The only way to ride in style.”

Gary hopped out of the car and patted the hood. “Yep, it’s exactly the same as when we were young. Oh, I brought these for you.” Gary held up the flowers, a few petals dropping from the twisted stems. Y/N couldn’t help but laugh. “You remembered! Thank you, I love them very much.” As they took the flowers, Y/N’s hand lightly brushed Gary’s, and the contact made him sway on his feet.

“Come on,” Y/N shouted as they climbed into that car. “It’s time to get totally annihilated!”

——————————————————————————

The bar was surprisingly full, and after a few drinks began to flow through Y/N’s system, they began to revert into their tipsy self. They caught sight of another one of their old school buddies, James Blakemore. Y/N stood up from the booth and walked over to James, only stumbling once or twice. “Hey! How’s it going you big old lug!”

Gary frowned as he watched Y/N and James hug each other. Why couldn’t he be the one to make them smile like that? Was he really that terrible?

Bring it back down, bring it back down tonight (hoo hoo)

Never thought I'd let a rumor ruin my moonlight

The other boys let out their condolences. “I’m sorry, man,” Andy chimed in. “Looks like the jock wins again.”

Gary slammed his beer glass on the table, and the others were silenced in an instant. “I’m not letting Y/N get away this time. I just can’t.” Gary pushed himself up from his seat and headed for the bar. The others called out to him, but it fell on deaf ears.

Well somebody told me you had a boyfriend

Who looked like a girlfriend

That I had in February of last year

It's not confidential, I've got potential

“Hello, James,” Gary snarled. “Are you having a wonderful time?”

“Yes, Y/N and I were just catching up,” James replied as Gary continued to glare at him.

“Sorry to break things up, but Y/N and I are leaving,” Gary quickly added as he grabbed Y/N’s wrist. However, Y/N wasn’t ready to leave just yet. “Why are you in such a hurry?”

Gary waved his hand in the air. “Isn’t it obvious? I want to spend time with the most attractive person that I have ever known! And yet I’m not good enough for them. All I wanted to do was try.” He stormed out of the bar after that. Y/N followed after him.

“Gary, please wait! I have something to say to you,” Y/N pleaded.

“What?! You want to call me a drunk too?! Go ahead, see if I give a-,” Y/N kissed Gary in a fierce and yet gently way. Gary responded quickly as he placed his hand on their waist. When the two separated, Gary let out a sigh. “I’m sorry for yelling at you. It’s just, I’ve liked you ever since we were teenagers, and seeing you with someone like that I...I can’t stand it.”

Y/N cupped Gary’s cheek, his scruff scratching their palm slightly. “Gary, I would never be with a man like him. I’ve only ever had eyes for you, but I was scared that you would want a more confident partner.” It was Y/N’s turn to stare at the ground, but Gary lifted their chin in order to gaze into the eyes he could easily become lost in forever. “I don’t want a confident partner. I just want you.”

Gary was the one to kiss Y/N, and the two shared a peaceful moment under the stars. That is until several excited screams could be heard from the entrance of the bar. “Finally, it’s about god damn time,” Oliver commented as the others continued to shout. Gary and Y/N both smiled as they linked their hands together.

While they headed back to the bar, Gary squeezed Y/N’s hand. “I know I’m not perfect, but I promise to be the best for you.”

“I promise to do the same as well.” Y/N suddenly sprinted the rest of the way towards the bar. “Now, you owe me several years worth of romance!”

Gary smirked as he ran after Y/N. “I think I can arrange that, darling.”

#gary king #the world’s end #simon pegg #the cornetto trilogy #Gary king x reader #Gary King x reader #gary king x reader #Simon pegg fanfic #Simon pegg character #x reader #fluff #fanfic

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quillsareswords · 4 years

Note

Could you do something with Damian and a really cuddly, clingy, touchy-feely reader? I feel like his brothers would be v confused about the whole situation bc Damian's just chillin and always seems neutral to what's happening while reader is just like, koala bear hugging him and stuff all the time.

Firstly. I love this concept with every fiber of my being because, oh good god, it's me. Thank you so much for bringing this to inbox, because I've been lacking on inspiration lately, and this is just what I need right now. Thanks doll!!

Prompt List // Masterlist (in bio)

Tim stops dead in his tracks, cereal bowl nearly slipping from his hand as he halts in the doorway to the huge living room. He pauses, before cautiously asking, "What is this? What am I looking at?"

Damian's arm twitches against your back, the only give away that he's been caught off guard. You seem just as relaxed, sprawled on top of him like you've been there your whole life.

You don't even look at him, eyes still glued to the phone screen shining up at you from the floor, which you're facing with your face pressed against Damian's shoulder. "You've known me for five years and you still haven't learned my name? Rude."

He blinks. "Sure, sure. Right. Because it's absolutely normal for anyone to successfully get within a foot of Damian and not get knocked out."

You snort, but it still isn't enough to pry your attention away from your phone. Damian either, as he reads a book over your shoulder, which is settled under his chin. He must be tired or in a terrifyingly good mood, if he hasn't shoved you off in hopes of hiding emotions from his family. That's what he usually does when he gets caught with you, anyway.

He's been tiptoeing around the subject of you for a solid year and half now. It wasn't exactly easy, seeing as you're also a family friend, what with being a vigilante and all. You're Damian's partner, have been for three years, and you're in the manor often enough that you have your own room, right next to Damian's.

Still, even with no clear answers from either of you, the whole family has suspected a relationship for a long time.

But Damian isn't very touch oriented. In fact, he's been known to go to nearly astonishing lengths to avoid being touched at all.

And now here he is, you laying on top of him, out in the open, absolutely unbothered by Tim catching it.

Tim decides quickly not to risk Damian's mood spoiling while he's around, so he backpedals and heads for his room.

• • •

Jason doesn't come to the manor often, but when he does, there's usually a decently concerning reason for it. This time, he's waiting out a possible kidnapping by one king pin or another. You haven't been paying as much attention as you probably should.

Now, he's trotting down the steps from Bruce's office to fix a suspicious rattling noise his motorcycle has been making for a shameful period of time.

However, he stops beside the super computer, looking a little aghast and far too dramatic for the sight.

Damian side-eyes him, still typing away, but his head doesn't move. It really can't, because you're resting your head on top of it.

You're resting your full weight on the back of the chair, which Jason now realizes isn't the tall backed chair that usual sits there, with your cheek buried in the soft looking bush that is Damian's hair. Your eyes are closed, and your arms and draped over his shoulders, hands laying on his chest.

Jason catches himself staring when Damian's side-eyeing turns into a curious glare. Tentatively, Jason points to you, and raises an eyebrow.

Lowly, Damian somewhat patiently answers, "She's half asleep."

Your eyebrows slant together. "Hmm?"

Jason's expression becomes more confused. "She sleeps standing up?"

"Apparently," Damian mumbles.

Jason, more than a little perturbed but Damian's oddly placid demeanor and your absurd sleeping habits, shuffles the rest if the way to his bike, grabbing the toolbox on his way.

• • •

Dick sitting on the floor, wrapped in a blanket—correction, three blankets, facing the rest of the living room, where Damian sits on one couch, and Duke occupies the other.

"No no, I'm not saying Bella wasn't smokin, I'm just saying that those facial expressions and life decisions were questionable enough to make a guy think twice," Dick tries to reason.

Duke makes a face. "Bro, are you kidding? If a chick stares at you from across a lunch room and you've never spoke to her, you don't even try."

Damian scoffs. Duke raises an eyebrow, and just when he's about to beg for the story of who tied him to a steel chair and forced him to watch Twilight, you shoulder the double door open.

Damian doesn't look up from his newest book, which could be deemed rude if you weren't so close and comfortable with one another. "Evening, Beloved, how was your drive?"

You say nothing. You drop your bag by his feet, crawl the rest of the way onto the couch, and collapse. Your head in on a pillow between Damian's thighs and the arm of the couch, the rest of you divided unevenly between his lap and the rest of the couch.

He glances away from the pages briefly. "Traffic?" His hand slips under your shirt to gently run blunt nails up and down your spine.

For a moment, you're quiet, and neither of the two older men know how to react.

Then, without warning, you wail into the pillow. "Who the everloving fuck drives a Winnebago through central Gotham at six o'clock going fourteen miles an hour?"

Duke barks a loud laugh, before he claps a hand over his mouth in fear of a punishment. But a man can only do so much, so he sits with his hand over his mouth, giggling like a fifteen year old listening to a dirty joke with his parents in the room.

Damian chuckles lightly, white teeth peeking through a little smile that he's trying to suppress, much for the same reason Duke is doing his best not to let you hear him laugh.

Dick is more focused on the two of you, and the fact that his baby brother has grown up and changed for the better so much—

• • •

Cassandra climbs the stairs with some difficulty, thanks to two new sets of stitches and a few too many fresh bruises.

It's nothing a few days of relaxation won't fix. It was worth it, to see Poison Ivy put back behind bars—even if it did take four of you.

Shortly after arriving back, you and Damian had disappeared up to his room, after you'd both been checked over by Alfred. Aside from some intense bruising and a fee cuts and scrapes, you'd both been spared.

She knocks on his door a few times. With no answer, she loudly turns the handle and pushes the door open slowly, giving you enough time to correct her if need be. She knows at least one of you are in here, because the light is on. "Alfred sent me to tell you that there's dinner, if you want–"

She stops. You are, in fact, both in the room. However, neither of you are conscious.

Damian is sprawled haphazardly across his bed, face half squished into a pillow.

You're flopped across his back, horizontal across his bed, likely also with a pillow, but she can't see your face to be sure.

For a moment that feels a little intrusive, she stares, eyes wide. Not because he's in only boxers and you're in shorts and a sports bra (neither are necessarily a new sight, with one makeshift locker room in the Cave and a city with way too many privacy-surpassing emergencies), but because she's never witnessed Damian allowing another person to be so close to him while asleep.

Even on week long stakeouts that confine them to one room, he claims one corner for himself and doesn't tolerate that invisible boundary to be broken, especially when he's asleep.

She wouldn't even be so surprised if you were passed out in his reading chair, or even on a pile of blankets in the floor, or hell, even if you were on opposite sides of the bed. But you're literally as close to him as you could possibly be. And he's still sound asleep.

She closes the door and backs away slowly, a little smile on her face, even though she was too tired to laugh at the joke Bruce tried to crack a few minutes ago.

• • •

Bruce sits, almost impatiently, on a stone bench by the fountain the middle of Gotham City Gardens. The whole family had come here for the day, on invitation of the organization's owners. Of course, not everyone was officially recognized as family by anyone outside the Manor, so there were quite a few plus ones—you being one of them.

Of course you were. You're always invited. Over the years, it's become a running joke. A trip to the grocery store? (Y/N) must be invited. Walking from the W.I. building to an ice cream parlor and back? I bet (Y/N) is invited. At one point, Damian became so simultaneously annoyed and amused by it that for a week, you really did join him on every single outing. No one knows how exactly you made it across Gotham in six minutes flat to help him pick up cereal but by golly you managed it.

Bruce is currently waiting on you and Damian, who swore to meet him here for a few pictures (at Alfred's request). The pair of you had gone off on your own after about an hour of meandering around with his family, and no one has heard from either of you since. He would be worried, but you were both too excited about this to get into any trouble that would risk being sent home early.

Your laughter finds him before you do. It comes from around a corner of tall hedges, and shortly after, so do you.

You're smiling ear to ear, giggling like a school girl, elbows balanced on Damian's shoulders, about as precariously as you are on his back. That is to say, quite stable. Damian is grinning as well, his arms linked around you're knees at his sides to keep you as stable as you are. You've got an ice cream cone in each hand, one obviously having had more attention than the other.

Bruce's heart swells in his chest at the absolute joy on his son's face.

Damian stops not too far, shifting your weight to free one hand. You help, carefully resituating yourself to hold yourself up easily. You hand him the neglected ice cream, resting your now free hand on his shoulder.

"Sorry, Father," Damian sounds a little winded, and Bruce wonders if the running he heard earlier had been you two. "Somebody found an ice cream bar and insisted we stop before meeting you." He doesn't sound apologetic in the least.

"Hey!" You laugh, flicking the back of his ear as payback.

As payback for payback, he takes the edge of his cone between his teeth, and uses his free hand to give the back of your knee a quick pinch, before he occupies his hand again to tilt the odds in his favor.

You squeal and jerk. "Damian! You're gonna make me fall, and if I go down, you're coming with me!"

Bruce laughs loudly.

• • •

Alfred is on his way to the library to finish the afternoon chores. All he needs to do is straighten up in there, and he can call it an evening. Just in time, too, as one of the local channels is running a Downton Abbey marathon tonight that he doesn't particularly want to miss.

He pushes open the doors to get a little extra fresh air, but pauses just inside the doorway.

Damian is stretched out in one of the plush leather chairs, his long legs propped up by his ankles on the coffee table, head resting limply on the back of the chair. You're curled up in his lap, head on his shoulder, legs folded up on either side of his thighs, arms wound around his back. His hands are folded together on your back. You're both fast asleep.

The elder man is suddenly flooded with memories of the boy's first few months in this manor. In this room, even. He was politely feral, as Bruce had once put it. He was so uncomfortable all the time, though he fought not to show it. It was so new to him, to be openly cared for the way his family tried to care for him. Most people he met back then treated him as the cold, rude, trained assassin that he presented himself as.

So many overlooked the terrified ten year old boy that shook beneath the armor and the weight of the mantels he was expected to take up in so few years.

Of course Alfred had been paying attention to him all this time, all the growing he's done and the man he's becoming. He's always been proud.

But it's here, in this exact moment, that Alfred really takes in how different he is now, compared to then.

Not only did he find the strength and the trust to forge a close bond with you, one that would arguably outlast just about anything it was forced to endure, but he'd fostered such a sweet affection for you. He's found the space within himself to make room for a great love for you, and his family, and his friends.

And you're so good for him. You remind him of the things he could be, if he wanted, and not of what he should be or could have been. You provide him a sense of normalcy when he needs it, and battle ready companion when he needs that.

You look past the blazing armor of controlled aggression and lessons learned to reach the beautiful soul he is. And most importantly, you love him for all of it. You manage to dig so far beyond what he's been taught and the walls he's put up, that you look at what was meant to be the perfect soldier and you see a pillow to sleep on. You trust him with everything, including your vulnerability, just as he trusts you.

Alfred marks the page of the open book on the floor, closes it, and leaves it in the table for you later. He leaves as quietly as he came, in hopes of leaving the two of you undisturbed.

#damian wayne imagine #damian wayne #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne headcannon #damian wayne blurb

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m-y-fandoms · 3 years

Text

COMMISSION: Joker/Akira/Ren x Reader Part 1

Thank you to the client for commissioning me! This is gonna be a long one! I love Joker and Persona 5 is my second favorite fandom after Danganronpa! Exctied to be working on this.

Around 2.6k words, SFW, SLOW BURN romance friends to lovers, gender neutral reader, anyone can enjoy it and place themselves as the reader! - Admin Myah

Shujin Academy could be silent as the grave in the earliest hours of the morning, and yet seem so deafening. It was almost guaranteed that at least thirty new rumors were spreading throughout the student body at any given time, and the overwhelmingly hostile environment that created made the air heavy. With all the teenage angst, hormones, hatred, circles of venomous malice, it was no wonder so many loners could be spotted on academy grounds. That’s just how it was at Shujin: you either had a clique, or you had no one. It was no surprise, then, that you simply kept your head down, minded your business, and got to know no one. Miraculously, though, gossip abound about you still, at least two or three preposterous examples of hearsay and stories. But hey, what could you do? That was in all actuality, pretty low for a single Shujin student. God help the students who actually did make their opinions known, express themselves through clothing and cosmetics, and dared to swim against the current.

You shuffled through the first floor, the absolute blandness of that April morning perpetuating your usual routine: arrive at Shujin, check your locker, scribble down any notes and ideas that came to you in your dreams last night to put into your next short story, and of course check for new posts in the group chat, where your only friends resided. You wouldn’t be caught dead associating with anyone here at the school, it would simply be mental and social suicide, and quite frankly, you didn’t have the constitution for that.

Peeking up for a split second to avoid any collisions, you quickly slid to the left and ducked into a nearby alcove, successfully escaping the gaze of the oncoming wall of muscle and testosterone that was Coach Kamoshida, the plague of Shujin Academy. It was the best case scenario that Kamoshida remained ignorant to one’s very existence, for even those on his good side suffered the consequences. He strode by, shoulders wide and chest puffed out, scanning the halls for girls to harass or boys to intimidate, and once the coast was clear and he was a safe distance away, his back facing you, you dipped back out of the rather dusty corridor and back into the light, immediately slipping back into an almost mechanical daily ritual. It took mere seconds: phone screen unlocked, group chat opened, notebook slipped snuggly back under armpit.

“C’mon, man!” An obnoxiously loud voice rang out above the typical tinnitus-like buzz of the hallway, and suddenly your shoulder was thrust forward, body flying to the ground with a forceful shove on the shoulder.

“Aaagh!” Your voice cracked as your knees buckled and you collided roughly with the wooden panels below, your smartphone soaring out of your grip and clinking against the floor. Thank goodness your notebook was safe, at the very least. People gasped and turned to look at the spectacle, including Kamoshida himself, who’d just reached the end of the hall.

“Sakamoto! I see you running in the halls again, I’ll write you up!” He just always had to say something, let the general student body know he was in charge. He cared far more about sounding rough and tough than making sure the student who was just steam-rolled was uninjured. He pointed directly at you and the student that had just dashed by, effectively pummeling you to the ground with a shoulder check. You looked up and just ahead of you, Ryuji Sakamoto was pivoting on one foot, ignoring Kamoshida’s threat entirely to catch his breath and look down at his victim, splayed across the floor.

Ryuji Sakamoto, now that was one of those students mentioned earlier, the kind that dyed his hair, customized his uniform, and didn’t take shit from anyone. He was a pariah, pretty much the opposite of the teacher’s pet… teacher’s pest more like. Sakamoto was the subject of many falsehoods and conjectures, and he was sure to be trouble for anyone associated…

You looked him up and down, halting your unflattering and socially-altered thoughts in their tracks. Didn’t wanna become the very thing you hated. There was no reason to judge Ryuji without first-hand proof.

“Woah! My bad, sorry dude!” He held up one hand submissively, but unfortunately, just as with Kamoshida, it seemed that you were not his main concern either. Huffing and puffing from the sprint, he looked past you to another male student who was hot on his trail, but this one looked… different.

You’d gone to Shujin Academy for all of your high-school career. It was your third and final year before graduation, and you knew of Sakamoto well enough, but this kid was a mystery… was he new here? He must’ve been. You knew at least the face of every student here in some way or another just through Shujin’s own little eternal game of telephone, and not by any choice of your own. You actively removed yourself from the local goings-on. Was it his first day here, you wondered. Why hadn’t you heard gossip about him yet, especially looking the way he did?

Beauty was a curse - much like any other feature that stood out - at Shujin Academy. If you were too pretty or handsome, you must be sexually promiscuous. On the other hand, if you were too ugly, too nerdy, too quiet, you probably picked your nose and read hentai on the train. There was no winning in this soul-crushing wasteland. Unfortunately for this new-comer, he was outrageously gorgeous.

“Gah, sorry about that…” he sighed, slowing his pace as he passed you by, plucking your phone up from the ground and offering you his hand. You took it and stood with his help. A quick tug and you were to your feet, dusting off your uniform and thanking him for his assistance. “Yeah, no problem… Ryuji’s just… a bit eager I suppose” he chuckled. “Luckily, no cracks!” He turned your phone around in his hand before placing it back into yours.

“Isn’t that the transfer student??? I heard he nearly killed a man!” One random NPC-esque shithead whispered from behind.

“Oh God, figures that freak would gravitate to the new freak…” another responded.

Ah… and there it was. Why did fate hate you so much that it chose you as Sakamoto’s door mat on this day? You truly must have been fortune’s fool.

“Yeah, good thing…” You eyed the boy before you, taking in what you could of the new student before the short exchange was over, from his face to the delicate yet thick veins protruding from his lithe hands.

He was tall and thin, and would even be considered lanky if not for the lean muscle that lined his frame. He seemed to be better off than the average teen, sporting almost no blemishes or imperfections on his smooth skin. A black, messy mop of hair that looked soft to the touch sat upon his head, falling into his eyes and over the dark frames of his distinct spectacles. These spectacles did nothing to hide the true elegance that gleamed in the eyes behind them. They were a muted, soft grey that was beautifully simple and clean. His uniform was neat and tidy - as opposed to his blonde and brash acquaintance’s - with his pristine white turtleneck gently blanketing a quite prominent Adam’s apple and his school jacket buttoned and ironed perfectly. Lower down, his plaid slacks concealed thighs that strained against the fabric and long legs that ran down into some very - yet again - flawless dress shoes. Yep, that was a brand new uniform, sure enough.

And a brand new student… he just might make a good subject, a new inspiration for your writing, an aura unmarred by the stain this place put on one’s soul. Your opinion of him was fresh, it was new, unaltered, unbiased, and he really was quite beautiful… your mind played with the thought.

“Ah… sorry about this,” he spoke, taking in the whispers all around you, “I probably just ruined your reputation, what with being seen with me an’ all,” he sighed and laughed breathily, a hint of exhaustion in his voice. He must’ve been keen to the ways of Shujin already, which was super sad in its own right. “I’m Akira by the way,” he held out a hand, and you shook it hesitantly.

“Eh, doesn’t really bother me. It’s (Y/N), nice to meet you. Sorry you’re feeling the Shujin warm welcome.” That first part was only partly true, but the last half was genuine.

“Anyway…” his voice shook you back out of your contemplative reverie, and you came back to reality to find him also looking you over. Oh right… you were new to him as well… “I gotta go, Ryuji is kind of impatient, I’ve found.”

“Hey! Am not!” Ryuji retorted, brows furrowing before he ran off. Akira’s eyes rolled playfully, before he smiled, waved, and sped off.

You nodded, and quickly pulled out your phone, rushing to the glass doors leading to the courtyard. Anything to get out of the spotlight and harsh crowd of stares, plus, you had a sparkling new idea filling up your cranium, and artistic inspiration could not be wasted. Finding one of the benches placed for student recreation, you set down your school bag and impatiently scrambled for your favorite pen, throwing open your notebook.

“Oh, shoot!” You’d gotten ahead of yourself in all the excitement. Placing the moleskin down, you picked up your phone, hands trembling just a bit, and messaged you friends before anything else. They just had to hear about this.

＊

(Y/N) 9:55 am: Guys guys guys!!!

Itsuki 9:56 am: What do you want?

Rin 9:56 am: ???

Megumi 9:57 am: Shouldn’t you be in class?

(Y/N) 9:57 am: Shut up I have a free period just listen

You know how I’ve been having writer’s block?

Rin 9:58 am: Ya

(Y/N) 9:58 am: Well I just met this new kid, and ideas just started FLOWING.

Itsuki 9:59 am: Yeah

Megumi 9:59 am: Yeah we remember nerd

Oh that’s great!

Wait what do you mean?

New kid?

Only we can have you 😭 Don’ go switching up on us. Shujin is

toxic anyway.

(Y/N) 10:01 am: No no no It’s not like we’re friends, I just met him is all

You know you’re my one and only bby 😘

Itsuki 10:01 am: New kid???

Megumi 10:01 am: 😎

Itsuki 10:02 am: Gross

Also what about me!!!!

Rin 10:02 am: Me too 😡😡😡

(Y/N) 10:03 am: You two know you’re included in that???? 🤔🙄

Anyway just listen

I think he may be good inspo for my main character!!!

I was stuck looking for a unique look or face claim or something

But he seems nice enough and he’s good looking!

Itsuki 10:05 am: You got a crush? Awww I’m telling 😏😏😏😏

(Y/N) 10:05 am: I swear it’s like we haven’t been friends for years…

You know me, PLEASE don’t be gross

Writing purposes ONLY

Megumi 10:06 am: I thought you were stuck on the CONTENT, not characters and shit

(Y/N) 10:06 am: Both!!!! But he’s perfect for the look of my protag

Itsuki 10:06 am: 😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏

Megumi 10:07 am: Well I’m happy for you

STOP

Itsuki 10:07 am: 😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏

Rin 10:07 am: 😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏

(Y/N) 10:08 am: I can see this conversation isn’t going to be productive

LMAO you’re assholes

＊

You tucked your phone into your pocket and once again picked up your notebook. Scrawling down some of the details you knew about Akria: his looks, the sound of his voice, the way he carried himself, you quickly became aware that you knew far too little… or rather

You wanted to know more.

Standing, you packed your things and set out to find him again…

Not in the creepy way! You thought to yourself, trying to justify this uncharacteristic choice of yours to actually reach out to someone in real life, to maybe… try to make… friends? You stood there, brows furrowed and a small frown on your face, pondering your options.

“Oh well, all artists must suffer for their work!” You resolved a little too promptly to try to force another encounter with the new kid. He seemed to be special, unique. He seemed to be well aware of the social hierarchy of Shujin, and have a distaste of it at least. Maybe he wouldn’t be… so bad?

Making up your mind, you spent your free period not writing of romance and rebellious characters, but searching for that fluffy-headed newfound hero to your story, however ghoulish and greasy that made you appear. You truly were becoming that “reads-hentai-on-the-train” and stalks cute boys freak your peers thought people like you were, weren’t you?

To your surprise (though maybe it shouldn’t have been surprising with the volume of Sakamoto’s voice) you soon found the gaggle of second-years, model-status beauty Ann Takamaki now added to their number, standing next to the stairs on the third floor, looking quite conspicuous to boot. Noting the suspicious air around the three, you pulled back, hiding behind the corner leading down the next hall. They seemed on edge... maybe now wasn’t the best time to make friends…?

You felt something thump in your chest. Your shoulders sank subconsciously. It felt a little disappointing, disheartening in a way you couldn’t explain. It was a bit intimidating: Ryuji the loudmouth with a temper, the hottest girl in the school, and the cute new kid. You sighed, this was why you never tried to make friends in the first place. Why had you even gotten your hopes up?

These irrational feelings of self-doubt clouded your heart, your head knowing better of course. It was hard to fight thoughts like these, especially for someone like you. On the precipice of making up your mind, deciding to give up and scrap the new novel idea altogether, you were jolted to attention by the sound of shoes scuffling and scrambling up the stairs.

Students aren’t really allowed on the rooftop during school hours unless accompanied by a teacher or given express permission, your thoughts swarmed. Maybe they didn’t know? No, there’s no way. There’s a possibility Akira didn’t know, but Ann and Ryuji had been here for two years... What were they up to?

Your nosiness was regrettably getting the better of you, and you slithered over, careful to pad your steps and tread softly. You didn’t even know what you’d do once you’d cornered the trio on the roof, didn’t know what you’d say. What was there to say? You were never too good with words, that is those not written on paper. Your heart beating out of your chest, you climbed the narrow stairwell and threw open the doors to the roof.

“Huh?” You looked around, dumbfounded. “Hello?” The rooftop area was not that large, all parts of it visible from the door.

There was no one to be found.

“What the hell?” You step forward, thinking you must have been the subject of some prank, but no, upon looking around, all three students were gone without a trace. No school bags, no lunch boxes, no uniform pieces, nothing. Akira, Ryuji, and Ann, all vanished into thin air. There were no hiding spots, none big enough for three people at least. It was dead silent, and only the door you currently guarded provided an exit off of the roof. Your mind wanted to wander to darker places, but if they’d have jumped, there surely would’ve been a commotion either during or shortly after. Frantically, you looked around, feeling like you were going crazy.

“What the fuck?” You pressed the palm of one hand to your forehead, sitting on the ground and crossing your legs.

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talesofarcadia78 · 3 years

Text

Sorceress of Arcadia || Gnome Your Enemy

Summary: Y/n Lake is Jim Lake's older sister. She discovers that she is sorceress and her brother is the Trollhunter. She and the Trollhunters go on adventures together, they save trolls and humans. Along the way, a friend becomes more than just a friend and discovers their secrets.

Warning: None

Word count: 5,784

Tags: @lunariasilver

Previous >> Wherefore Art Thou, Trollhunter? • Next >> Waka Chaka!

“For centuries, the troll and human worlds stood seperate and at peace, divided by bridges that acted as doorways between our two realms. But the Gumm-Gumms wanted to devour all of mankind. They were led by Gunmar ‘the Black’. The rest of trollkind fought against him, culminating in the great Battle of Killahead Bridge, the portal to Gunmar’s Darklands. After many moons, good triumphed over evil, and our great Trollhunter, Deya ‘the Deliverer’, lock Gunmar away, exiling him to the Darklands, and sealed the Killahead Bridge with the sacred amulet. After, we tore it apart, stone by stone. We left the old world in search for peace. We stowed away on a ship called the Mayflower, just a handful of us and some gnomes we’d brought along for companionship and nourishment. Finally, we arrived in a strange and exotic realm,” Blinky explained.

“New Jersey,”Aaarrrgghh commented.

“We kept walking. Eventually, we came across a new Heartstone, and we realised we had found a new home… under Arcadia,” Blinky finished as you heard Jim snoring.

Blinky groaned and walked over to Jim. He slammed the book in front of his face.

Jim startled up, "¡Lo siento, Señor Draal! ¡No me mates!"

You had done Spanish in middle school, so you knew what he had just said.

"I'm sorry Mr. Draal! Please don't kill me!"

You giggled at his outburst. Jim glared at you quickly before he turned his attention to Blinky.

"The training of troll history might seem like a minor duty, Master Jim, but--" Bliny started to explain but was cut off by Jim.

"Sorry, I pulled an all-nighter studying for my Spanish Comprehension exam and my brain is muy gooey. I don't know. I guess I thought if I'm facing Draal in a week, my training would be a little more… active" Jim yawned, standing up.

"Yeah, like, when is he going to learn Troll-kwondo? Or Rock-itsu?" Toby inquired.

"Well, Jim has to learn why he fights, so it's kinda important to learn this," you explained.

"Miss y/n is correct. Before one fights, Toby D., one must understand why one fights. For these precious early steps will decide whether a young Trollhunter will become a Deya ‘the Deliverer’…" Blinky explained.

"Or Unkar ‘the Unfortunate’," Aaarrrgghh added.

"Well, tomorrow, my Spanish exam is with Señor Uhl ‘the Unforgiving’. My main concern is for my immediate future," Jim informed Blinky.

"A-ha! But, to learn what will happen in the future, one must only look to the past," Blinky explained.

"Ugh!"

"I recommend A Brief Recapitulation of Troll Lore by the venerable Bedehilde. Volume one of 47," Blinky recommended.

"Wow, that's a big book," you commented as Blinky gave Jim the book.

Due to the book being so big, Jim struggled to hold it. He eventually got a good hold of the book. Jim placed his Spanish textbook on top of the other book.

"Okay, but if I don't pass the exam, I'm grounded and I can't be the Trollhunter. Sorry, Blinky, but the amulet chose me, and now I have two lives to keep up," Jim explained.

Then, Bagdwella came running in stopping in front of you, panting.

"Are you okay Bagdwella?" you asked, putting your hand on her shoulder.

She shook your hand off, not wanting your comfort.

"Oh, no. Is it the Heartstone?" Blinky panicked.

"No! No!" Bagdwella denied.

"Stalkling?" Aaarrrgghh asked.

"Is Gunmar out?" you also asked.

Jim gave you a look that said 'Who's Gunmar?". You just rolled your eyes in response. He really should've been paying attention to Blinky's lecture.

"Is Bular in Trollmarket?" Jim guessed.

"No! Gnome! Rogue gnome!" Bagdwella yelled, her voice echoing throughout the Forge.

The six of you walked to Bagdwella's shop to investigate what the matter was.

"Get your toasters here!" a random troll exclaimed.

"First, I couldn't find my monocle, then my collection of bed coils. Now something disappears every minute!" Bagdwella explained.

Suddenly, a gnome whizzes past, stealing an item and making Bagdwella fall over.

"Ah, yes. Gnome," Blinky said, lending his hand to Bagdwella, but she slaps his hand away and gets up herself.

"Oh, dirty little pests. Up to last week, the glue traps were working fine," Bagdwella said, showing you all a skeleton of a gnome.

Just before you could say something, the gnome snatches the skeleton, making everyone gasp.

"Fix it, Trollhunter!" she begged.

"Uh yeah, I'm really sorry about that. See you need a gnome-catcher, and I'm well, the Trollhunter, so--" Jim explained, but got cut off by Blinky.

"Oh no, Master Jim. The Trollhunter cannot refuse the call. And what better a call for you to train with than a pint-sized quarry?" he explained, coming up behind Jim.

"Blinky's right, Jim. This'll be a start to your Trollhunting. Plus, I think the task will be easy for you," you agreed.

You heard rapid footsteps around you, then a guitar play. You all try to look for where the sound was coming from. When you did, the gnome revealed itself. The gnome started to play his guitar once again and started to sing.

"He's trying to distract us! Hold tight to your valuables," Blinky warned.

"Well, I don't need to hold onto anything, I got nothing valuable," you chuckled.

"Yeah, right," Jim scoffed.

"Seriously, I don't have anything valuable. Unless if you consider my a hundred year old phone 'valuable'," you retorted.

"Okay, maybe you don't have anything valuable," Jim agreed.

Then the two of you see Toby going up to the gnome.

"Why? He can't be that bad," Toby chucked, clapping.

Before you knew it, the gnome had taken Toby's belt.

"Oh, no! My belt!" Toby cried. Then he sighed, "At least he didn't take my Nougat Nummy."

"Uh, Tobes, I don't think you should--" you warned Toby, as he took out his favourite chocolate out of his pocket, only to be taken by the gnome.

Toby gasped, "We need to catch that gnome."

All of you tried to catch the gnome, but he was way to fast for you. One time, Jim had caught him, but somehow, it escaped from his grasp. Jim then realised that his amulet got thieved.

"Oh no!" Blinky cried.

Jim and you chased after the gnome until it went behind a wardrobe. Aaarrrgghh pushes the wardrobe aside to reveal a small hole, which the gnome was probably hiding in.

"Hole," Aaarrrgghh stated.

"Yes, it appears the plot quite literally deepens," Blinky said, looking into the hole.

Jim slides his hands through the hole opening, hoping that his amulet would come back to him.

"Come back, come back. Shouldn't the amulet be coming back to me right now?" Jim questioned.

"Dolefully, that rule only applies if you've rejected it. When thieved, it's another story. If you had read A Brief Recapitulation you would have known that," Blinky explained.

"Technically, Jim didn't even have time to read the book, since you know, we're right now doing some Trollhunting business," you pointed out.

Jim gave you a quick smile, before Bagdwella spoke up.

"Some Trollhunter you are. Jim ‘the Baby Handed’.”

You glared at Bagdwella, as she snatched a bag of food from Toby.

I'd like to see how good you are at being the Trollhunter.

You turned your gaze over to Jim and Blinky.

"Master Jim, press on. This is not the moniker you want," Blinky said.

"What else can I do? I can't fit in that hole," Jim shrugged.

"Hmm, currently," Blinky thought.

"Bad idea," Aaarrrgghh warned.

"What's a bad idea?" you asked, but no one answered the question.

"No Trollhunter has ever lost his amulet. We'll need time to procure the Furgolator," Blinky argued.

"Uh, the Furgolator?" Jim doubted.

"Uh, don't you worry about anything, Master Jim. tend to your studies. We'll watch over the hole. Tomorrow, you'll return refreshed to deal with this, uh... little problem," Blinky said, and the three of us headed to the surface.

Toby and Jim headed to Arcadia Oaks High, while you headed the opposite direction to Arcadia Oaks Academy.

Once you had gotten your books, Izzy and Rachael both ran up to you.

"Y/n! Guess what just happened!" Rachael exclaimed.

"Uhh, you won the state lottery?" you replied.

"Nope, way better," Rachael denied.

"What can be better then winning the state lottery?" you asked, getting a bit curious.

"I got into the state math comp!" Racheal squealed.

"Wow! That's great, Rachael. So, when are you going?" you asked.

"Tomorrow, that's why I was texting you the other day, I wanted to hang out with my two besties before I headed off to the competition," Rachael replied.

"Oh, sorry about that, I was... busy," you said.

"Well, are you free after school?" Izzy asked.

You thought about it, you didn't need to go to Trollmarket or have any other plans.

"Yeah, I'm free," you nodded.

"Great! We'll meet at Sam's at 4, then we'll go from there," Rachael said.

You nodded. Suddenly the bell rang, making you jump a little.

"See you guys at lunch," you called, as you ran to your first class.

As you took a seat, you noticed that everyone was focused on the board. You glanced at the board to see everyone's name with a bunch of classes next to them. You searched for your name and saw your classes. You had chemistry, biology, calculus, literature, geography and history as your subjects for the next semester. Then, you noticed a certain name that you had not been expecting to have the same classes as you, well except biology. Tyler. You heard someone sit down beside you.

"Hey, y/n," it spoke.

You turned to see none other than, Tyler.

"Hi, Tyler," you smiled.

"I guess we have almost the same classes. What a coincidence, right?" Tyler chuckled.

"Ha, yeah," you commented.

"Hey, wanna sit next to each other in classes, you know since you'll be the only person I know," Tyler requested.

You hesitated. You didn't know Tyler that well, and seeing his anger the other day in the cafeteria, you weren't so sure.

Then you were saved by the bell.

"I'll see you in class Tyler, and I'll think about it," you said, rushing out of class.

You headed towards the lower office, since you needed your new timetable. As you were walking to the lower office you bumped into a certain emo-boy.

"Sorry," the two of you apologised.

You looked up at the person, to see Douxie.

"Oh, hey, Douxie!" you smiled.

"Hey, y/n! Going to get your new timetable?" Douxie asked.

"Yep," you responded.

The two of you got your new timetable. The two of you looked at each other's timetable, wondering if you had any classes with each other.

"Hey, we have mostly the same class, except instead of geography, I have economics," Douxie pointed out.

"Cool!" you said.

"Wanna head to class together?" he asked

You nodded and the two of you headed to class.

When you entered the classroom, you noticed two seats at the back of classroom weren't occupied so you nudged Douxie. Once you had gotten his attention, you pointed to the seat and headed there.

Once the two of you had taken a seat, you saw Tyler walking in. You groaned.

"You okay, love?" Douxie asked.

"Tyler wants me to it next to him in every class. It's a coincidence that he has all the same classes as me," you explained.

"Ahh. Understood. You can sit with me in every class then, well, except for geography of course. You'll have to deal with him then, but other than that, you can always sit with me," Douxie offered.

"Thank you," you grinned.

Soon after, Tyler started looking around the room. When his eyes fell on you, you were in a deep conversation with Douxie.

"Wait, so your actual name is Hisirdoux?" you asked.

"Yeah, I have no idea why, but it's my name!" Douxie nodded.

"It sounds very 12th century," you commented.

"I know right!" Douxie exclaimed.

From the corner of your eyes, you could see Tyler fuming at Douxie.

Huh? Why does he look mad at Douxie?

You thought he was going to come up to Douxie and start arguing with him, but instead he took a seat at the front of the class, right in front of the teacher's desk.

After a few minutes, your class started.

You had a hard time figuring out what the teacher was saying, since she had a very quite voice, luckily, she was only a substitute. The actual teacher was just away on leave because he was sick.

After an hour, the bell rang to indicate next class, which was calculus, great. You sucked at calculus and science. You and Douxie headed together to calculus, avoiding Tyler.

The next two lessons kinda sucked, they all just introduced your new teacher's and what you're going to be learning for the next semester. Luckily for history, you had an assignment not an exam.

Soon, the bell rang for lunch.

While, you and Douxie were walking to the cafeteria, you were suddenly surrounded by all of Douxie's friends. Well, band mates.

"Hey, Douxie! How'd all your new classes go so far?" Henry asked.

"They went good. I found a friend that's doing the same classes as me," Douxie replied, gesturing towards you.

"Hey," you shyly waved.

"Wait, you're the girl that Douxie brought back stage at our last concert, right? Y/n, was it?" Jason recognised.

"Yep, that's me," you confirmed.

"Well, we're going over to the band room to practice, wanna come?" Jason asked both of you.

"Sure, why not. I'll just grab some food," Douxie replied. "Y/n, I'll grab you some food as well, you head over to the band room with the other's."

"Oh, no. I don't want to disturb you guys with your practice, I'll find my other friends," you denied.

"You're not going to disturb us, in fact, you can give us some feedback!" Jack said.

"But, I promised my friends that I'll sit with them today," you mentioned.

"What about, you and Douxie find your friends, and bring them to the band room? We really need someone else's point of view of our music," Jason suggested.

You thought about it for a moment.

Izzy wanted to meet the Ash Dispersal Pattern for a while now, and Rachael, well, she can make some new friends, since she doesn't really hang out with anyone else other than you and Izzy.

"Okay," you agreed.

"Great!" Jason exclaimed, walking away with the rest of the band.

You and Douxie saw your two best friends in the line to get food.

"Yo y/n! Where were you?" Izzy asked as she saw you going up to them.

"Just talking with Douxie's band. Want to go meet them? They're in the band room. They said that you guys can come," you offered.

"Oh, you had me at 'Douxie's band'," Izzy grinned.

"Just let us grab some food first, "Douxie said, walking into line, pulling you along.

After grabbing some food, you all walked over to the band room, getting welcomed by a lot of laughter.

"What's so funny?" Douxie asked, grabbing a seat for you and your friends before grabbing one for himself.

"Nothing, it's an inside joke. You won't understand," Henry said.

"Okay..." Douxie nodded, getting a bit suspicious, sitting down. "Anyways, meet Rachael and Izzy."

Rachael shyly waved, while on the other hand, Izzy waved very energetically. You instantly saw Jason blush when Rachael waved at him while she also blushed.

Who knew, Rachael had charm. She's usually not the type to get involved with the boys and crushes that much.

"Looks like we have a fan," Jack pointed out, looking at Izzy energetically waving at them.

"I'm your biggest fan! I go to every single one of your concerts!" Izzy beamed. "Well, I couldn't make it to your concert last week. But other than that, I've been to every single one!"

You, Rachael and the entire band laughed at her enthusiasm.

After getting introduced to one another and getting autograph from every single ban member, they started to practice.

"Wow, Jason is good," Rachael commented.

"Of course you'd say that. You have a crush on him," you teased.

"I do not!" she retorted.

"Sure," you and Izzy smirked.

After about 10 minutes, you heard the door open. You glanced towards the door to see Tyler.

"Hey guys!" Tyler waved.

"Hey, Tyler! Wanna practice?" Jack said.

"Jack, I don't see any of our guitarists away right now. There's no point," Douxie claimed.

"Well, Douxie, I see you're getting a bit tired of playing. Tyler can fill you in while you rest," Jack said.

"I'm not tired," Douxie stated.

"Uh, Doux, not to be rude, but you're kinda missing some chords and not keeping up with the beat," Henry commented.

"What?! I'm not missing any chords! You guys are just going faster than you're meant to!" Douxie exclaimed.

"And you're getting a bit short tempered," Henry added under his breath, but you all heard it.

"I am not getting short tempered!" Douxie fumed.

"Yeah, dude, take a pill and chill. Y/n, can you take Douxie for some fresh air?"Jason requested, snatching the guitar off of Douxie and handing it to Tyler.

"Sure," you nodded, lightly pushing Douxie out the room.

As you closed the door, Douxie started walking down the hallway. You ran up to him and made him slow down.

"Douxie, are you okay?" you asked.

"I'm fine. Those guys over there are just going faster," Douxie grumbled.

"They're not, Doux. You just need to take a break," you advised.

"I don't need to take a break, they need to take a break," Douxie scoffed.

"Doux, this is not you. This is not the person I have met and befriended with," you said.

"Well, this is me! Get used to it!" Douxie yelled, stopping in his tracks.

Your eyes widened at the tone of his voice, making you step back away from him.

Douxie's eyes widened at what he just said to you.

"I-I'm sorry y/n, I didn't mean that at all. I've just been so stressed out lately. I just exploded," he apologised.

You smiled at him, putting your hand on his shoulder, "It's okay. Everyone has those days. You know you can talk to me about it you know?"

"Thank you, y/n. It means a lot," Douxie smiled.

"We should probably head back," you reminded.

"Yeah," he agreed.

The two of you headed back into the band room, getting greeted to everyone just chilling.

"Hey, y/n, Douxie," everyone said.

You noticed that Tyler had left.

"Is Douxie...?" Jack questioned.

You nodded and took a seat next to Izzy.

"What happened to band practice?" Douxie asked.

"Stopped a few minutes ago. We were discussing on hanging out this afternoon," Izzy informed. "Y/n's already coming, what about you Hisirdoux?"

"I'm free. And how do you know my actual name?" he inquired.

"Your mates here told us," Izzy explained.

"We're meeting at Sam's at 4," Henry told Douxie.

Soon after, the bell rang for class.

After three hours, you headed to your bike and peddled home.

You finished up some chores and waved goodbye to your brother and headed off to Sam's.

Once you met with the others, you all headed over to Lucia to watch Danger House 2: More House, More Danger. You were going to sit with Izzy and Rachael but there were seat numbers, so you didn't have much of a choice. You ended up sitting at the end of the row next to Douxie. The two of you shared popcorn while watching the movie. At times, you didn't want to see a scene, so you hid your face in Douxie's shoulder. While you weren't looking, the others snuck some photos of you two, especially when you hid you face in his shoulder.

After the movie, all of you headed across town to The Bluff to watch the sunset. Everyone hated the bike ride up the steep hill, but surprisingly, you didn't. It was kinda easy for you.

Must be the advantage of running from danger.

In the end, the ride up the hill was worth it, since you all got to see a beautiful sunset afterwards. As everyone was enjoying the sunset, taking pictures and goofing around, you saw Douxie leaning against a rock, staring at his phone. You strolled over to him and leaned against the rock with him.

"You know, you can't enjoy the sunset without, y'know, looking at it," you told him.

"Huh? Oh yeah, I know. I'm just looking at something," he mumbled, not taking his eyes of his phone.

You peeked over his shoulder to see what exactly he was looking at.

He was looking at his email, more specifically, emails about bills. The numbers weren't huge, but if you're Douxie that worked 2 jobs and hardly got tipped, that would be a lot.

"You worried about the bills?" you whispered, making sure no one heard.

He nodded. "I don't know how I'm going to pay all this. Thankfully, I requested the companies to give me more time to pay them. I got a few extra months, but I don't think that'll be enough."

You nodded, trying to think a way you could help your blue-tipped friend.

"Do you have any extra rooms in your apartment?" you asked.

"No, but I do have a lot of space in the bedroom. I’ve got two double beds that have been lying around," he explained.

"What if you get a roomie? Like they would give you rent every week, while you provide them shelter, food, etc.," you suggested.

"That's a great idea!" he beamed. "Thanks! I'll start to work on your plan tomorrow!"

"I'll come to help," you offered.

"Oh no. I don't want you putting time aside for me," he denied.

"I'm not, I have a lot of free time. And even if I did, it would be worth it. Helping a friend is always worth my time," you said.

"Okay. I'll text you my address and tell you what time you can come over. Probably on the weekend, but I'll just text you," he explained.

You nodded.

"Now, let's enjoy the view."

After the sun had set, you all rode over to Stuart's Taco Truck. Jason, Jack, and Rachael all went to get the burritos, while Douxie, Izzy and you chatted, waiting for your friends.

"So, y/n, have you been thinking about what you'll be doing after graduation?" Izzy asked.

"Uh, I don’t know. Maybe go to college, like every person does?" you guessed.

"Wow, I'm just gonna get a job and do that, it's just easier," Izzy said.

"Yeah. You never wanted to go to college," you agreed.

"What are you going to do, Douxie?" Izzy asked, turning her focus onto him.

"Well, I'll probably pursue my dreams of being a guitarist while having a job," Douxie replied.

"That's cool," Izzy commented.

Soon after, your burritos arrived and all of you dug in.

Once you had finished your burrito, you checked your watch to see it was starting to get late.

"Okay guys, I'm going to head back, it's getting late. I'll see you all tomorrow," you declared.

"Wait, y/n, I'll come with!" Douxie added.

You waited for Douxie to throw his rubbish in the trash and peddled your way home with him.

Before the two of you went your separate ways, Douxie thanked you for your suggestion.

"Thanks for your suggestion before, y/n."

"It's no problem."

"Well, I'll see you soon, love," he grinned, giving you a flirtatious wink along with a two-finger salute.

You blushed and returned the two-finger salute, riding your separate ways.

Once you got home, you saw Jim was finishing up washing the dishes.

"Hey, Jimbo!" you sang.

"Hey, y/n!" Jim called. "How was your hang out?"

"Good, but I'm beat. I'm heading to bed. ‘Night," you yawned and trudged to your room.

"‘Night," Jim called.

The next day after school, you, Jim and Toby headed down to Trollmarket. You were glad to take a break from everyone. Today was just not your day. Everyone from the hangout had uploaded to social media of the photos of you hiding your face in Douxie's shoulder and the both of you sharing popcorn. The post made you attract the crowd at lunch. People bombarded you with questions related to Douxie. Most of them consisted of 'Are you two together?', 'Are you a couple?' and 'How long has it been?' Luckily, Douxie came in time and saved you from the crowd, again.

You approached Blinky, Aaarrrgghh and something covered with a piece of cloth.

"Remember when I told you all Trollhunters must start small?" Blinky asks, revealing the Furgolator.

"Full disclosure, I'm a little worried how I let you talk me into this," Jim doubted.

"A 'little worried'? I'm full on concerned!" you gulped.

Blinky turns on the Furgolator, making the doors open up.

"Still bad idea," Aaarrrgghh warned.

Jim steps inside and the doors start to close, "Wait a minute. So, how does me going into this thing help me get a gnome out of a hole?"

"If a gnome won't come out, the Trollhunter must go in," Blinky informed.

"Wait, what?" Jim questioned.

"I think Blinky plans to make you small enough to fit inside that hole," you hypothesised.

"Yeah, right," Jim scoffed.

"Exactly! We often use the Furgolator to compress minerals. And now for the anthracite!" Blinky agreed.

"See?" you teased.

Jim rolled his eyes playfully, but you saw the fear in his eyes.

"But you've done this a few times on flesh and bone, right? Right?" Jim yelped.

Blinky placed the rock inside a compartment, "Not exactly." Then the machine started up, "But I'm not concerned."

"Well, that's because you are not the one trapped in this thing," Jim complained.

"Nothing to worry about, Master Jim. We work best under pressure," Blinky shouts.

"I can't see anything!" Jim coughs. "Why is there so much smoke?"

The machine started to make weird sounds. You and Toby ran to the Furgolator, trying to get it open.

"Come on, you guys gotta get him out of there!" Toby cried.

Blinky rushed over to help us, "Don't just stand there, Aaarrrgghh!"

Aaarrrgghh comes over and pulls the doors open.

"Looks like it didn't work. Hope you have a plan B," Jim began, but then realised he had shrunk.

"On the contrary," Blinky said.

"You sure we need a plan B? I think plan A worked fine," you chuckled.

"He's like an action figure!" Toby gushed.

"The Furgolator functioned perfectly!" Blinky laughed.

He picked up tiny Jim, holding him in his palm. Jim looks at his tiny figure. You quickly took out your phone and took a photo of your little brother. Jim groaned, not liking you taking photos of himself.

You all made your way to the hole that the gnome had escaped into. Blinky placed Jim just outside of the hole.

"Real subtle. ‘We've got to start small. Deal with the little problem.’ This is a huge problem! I can't be shrunk! I have exams to take! I have sinks to reach!" Jim raged.

"You have a gnome to catch. Now, onward, Master Jim, and fetch your destiny!' Blinky reminded.

Toby grabs a pencil and hands it Jim to use as a sword, "Your sword, my liege."

Jim pokes the pencil on Toby's palm, earning a yelp from him. He attempts to walk into the hole, but he falls down, earning a giggle from you. But he eventually got into the hole.

"Oh, and one last thing to know when dealing with a gnome, Master Jim, and this is of dire importance: Do not touch its hat!" Blinky forewarned.

"Of course. It's right there in A Brief Recapitulation," Jim taunted.

"You remember!"

"Of course not! Nothing in this world makes sense!" Jim yelled.

You backed away from the hole to see Vendel walk pass.

"Miss y/n, you should go and continue your training with Vendel. We will handle things here," Blinky advised.

"Are you sure?" you asked.

"Completely."

You nodded and jogged over to Vendel.

"Hello, Master Vendel. Do you have time to teach me how to make objects move?" you inquired.

"Hello, Miss Lake. I am not known to any troll as 'Master', but it sounds good coming from you. And yes, I can instruct you how to make objects move," Vendel said.

The two of you walked over to the Heartstone and began your lesson.

Soon after, you could move objects easily, with just a quick gesture of your hand or finger.

"Thank you, Master Vendel!" you beamed.

"Your welcome. Next time you come, with some spare time, I will teach you something new," Vendel replied.

You nodded and jogged back over to the hole to see Toby backing away from the hole.

"Why hasn't he come out?" Toby asked, his voice full of worry.

"What happened?" you asked.

Aaarrrgghh explained to you what happened to your brother.

You all waited for Jim to come out safe and sound. You then saw the gnome walking out with Jim following behind him, wearing the gnome's hat.

'You summoned the armour and caught the gnome! Well played, Master Jim!" Blinky beamed.

You all clapped at his heroism.

"Thank you, thank you. I don't want to forget the little people," Jim smiled.

"Expedient and-" Blinky started.

"And good humoured," you finished.

"Oh my hero!" Bagdwella praised.

Toby captures the gnome into a bag and sets aside.

"And what about this shrinking stuff? When does it wear off?" Jim asked.

"Don't worry. Sleep it off. By morning, you'll be as good as new. And how you have earned it! Jim "the Gnome Slayer!" Blinky reassured.

"He was so young. There was so much music left in him," Toby commented, playing the little guitar.

You ignored him.

"All that is left is for you to take care of it," Blinky instructed.

"Wait, what? Take care of it?" Jim puzzled.

"Rule number two," Aaarrrgghh reminded.

"‘Always finish the fight’," Blinky quoted.

"And by finish... " you began.

"Deaden. End. Le coup de grâce," Blinky finished.

Aaarrrgghh moved his thumb across his throat, indicating to kill the poor gnome.

You and Jim shared worried glances. Neither of you were killers, but you had to follow the rules. But, it was up to Jim, since he was the Trollhunter.

You headed home, while Jim stayed at Toby's house.

As you opened the door, you saw your mom unpacking food.

"Hey, Mom. What are you doing?" you asked.

"Just unpacking the food I got. As you already know, I'm not a good cook, so I thought some takeaway would be good," she explained.

Soon, the two of you sat down and dug into your food.

"Y/n, where's Jim?" your mom asked.

"He's staying at Toby's place," you answered.

"Well, since he's not here, want to have some girl time?" she asked.

"I'd love to," you replied.

Once you two had finished dinner, the two of you sat down and binged watch watched Mistrial & Error together.

After a dozen or so episodes, the two of you started to play truth or dare.

"Okay, y/n… Truth or dare?" Mom asked.

"Truth," you answered.

"Hmm... so, that friend of yours, Douxie. Is he just a friend or...?" Mom questioned.

"Douxie?! He's... uh... um..." you stammered.

"And my question is answered," Mom cheered.

"What?! He's not. Uhh..." you cried.

From that, you and your Mom started to talk about your love life, more specifically, Douxie.

"I saw on one of your friends posts that you were hiding behind him during your little movie night," she said.

"It was a scary movie! Some scenes were just absolutely terrifying, so of course I’d hide behind him. That's normal," you defended.

"You could've just shut your eyes," she suggested.

"Um... well... uh..." you stuttered.

"I guess my suspicions are true," she smirked.

"Mom!" you cried.

"Okay, okay. We'll have this conversation another day. I'm tired, so I'm heading to bed, kiddo," she said, getting up from the couch.

"Me too. I need to go to school," you agreed, following suit.

Next morning, you woke up to the sound of clattering downstairs. You got up and got dressed into a t-shirt, pair of jeans and sneakers and rushed downstairs to see what the commotion was about. You found the source of the commotion, your mom.

"What are you doing?" you asked.

"Nothing for you to worry about, kiddo," she said.

You shrugged and realised that there was nothing for you to eat for breakfast.

"Sorry, y/n. No breakfast. Maybe grab something in town," she suggested.

"Will do. I'll head out, love you!" you called and rushed out your door, hastily grabbing your bag on your way out.

You made your way to Toby's house, checking on Jim. You knocked on the Domzalski's door. It opened to reveal Toby.

"Hey, Tobes!" you grinned.

"Hey, y/n! Checking in on Jim?" he guessed.

You nodded and you followed him to his room. On the way, Toby's Nana forced you to eat a blueberry muffin.

As soon as you entered his room, you noticed Jim's absence. But then you realised he was in a doll house.

Toby opened the doll house to reveal a startled Jim.

"What's wrong, Tiny Jim? Did you not sleep well in Nana's dollhouse?" Toby asked.

"Why am I still small, guys?" Jim whined.

"Maybe the stuff works different on trolls than it does on humans?" you theorised.

"Oh, my gosh. The gnome! You did it? I told you I was supposed to-- Oh no! School!" Jim panicked.

"We have to call you in sick. Tell them you ate too much chocolate. That always works," Toby ordered, shoving his phone into Jim's little face.

"No, Señor Uhl can sniff out a lie a mile away," Jim refused. He thought for a second when his eyes lit up. "That's it! Toby, I need you to do me a huge favour. Well, maybe a small one. But huge."

You gave him confused look.

"Look, I have a plan, just trust me on this," Jim explained. "Plus, you should be heading to school right now."

"Fine, but I want you to be normal size by the end of the day. I can't take you home like this," you said, gesturing to his size.

"Okay. Now, go!" Jim said.

You rode off to school, hoping your brother would return to his normal size.

#douxie x reader #douxie x y/n #hisirdoux x reader #hisirdoux x y/n #hisirdoux casperan x reader #toa #toa douxie #tales of arcadia #trollhunters

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cacoetheswriting · 3 years

Text

champagne problems, ch.4

Spencer is in love with you, but you’re engaged to someone else.

Chapter Four: Hope Is A Heartache: A glimpse into your past with Spencer as you tour wedding venues together. A/N: chapter titled after this song if you want to listen while reading. Word Count: 2.6k Warnings: mild cursing, heartbreak, unrequited / unreciprocated love, very angsty, jealousy, this series is a real slow burn babyyy

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A/N: you guys are incredible omg!! i’d love to reply to you all under each chapter but unfortunately this is not my main account but my messages are open so feel free to say hi!! i’m so happy you’re all enjoying the story so far, honestly lost for words!

It was a cold day. Cold enough to make your atoms shiver. Dark grey clouds covered every inch of the sky above, hiding the winter sun. The air was brisk. It was harsh against your skin as you got out of the car. And the unwelcoming breeze that followed made you wish that you hadn't forgotten your scarf.

“What a terrible miserable day.” You muttered while slamming your car door shut. You ambled your way around the hood as Spencer gently closed the passenger side door. You noticed immediately how he shivered slightly when the chilly air bushed against him. A sigh escaped your lips.

“Honestly Spencer, I can reschedule. I’m sure you would much rather spend this dull day reading in the comfort of your own apartment rather than driving around touring venues with me.”

“If you promise we stop for coffee before the next place, then I’m all good.” He replied, mouth twitching into an awkward half-smile.

You smiled back at him. “I’ll get you all the coffee you want doctor.”

“One is fine Y/N.” Spencer said, the smile on his face widening. “You know there are side effects to having too much caffeine. Anxiety, insomnia, and digestive issues to name a few.”

You couldn't help but roll your eyes. “I’ll repeat that back to you next time we’re working a case and you’re on your fifth cup of coffee in the space of three hours.”

Spencer chuckled lightly at your response. “I guess that’s fair.”

There was a brief moment of silence in which the two of you once again found yourselves simply looking into each others eyes. Blocking off the surroundings. Basking in the comforting warm presence of one another. Something that ever since your dinner date a couple of weeks ago happened more often than it probably should have.

The brunette doctor enjoyed these seconds. To him, they were pure bliss. To him, these moments of uninterrupted silence said more than either of you could ever say with words. Because truth be told Spencer was afraid to talk around you in case he ever said too much.

Which is why he only agreed to tag along today because Garcia was supposed to be here. As the maid of honour she volunteered to join you today since your fiancé couldn't make it. So when Spencer approached the car this morning, noticing immediately how the passenger seat was empty, he half wanted to turn back. He only stayed because of the promise he made your dad.

Although, he really was going to have to be careful not to slip up and reveal something he probably shouldn't.

After what seemed like eternity, you tilted your head and looked away. Palms of your hands sweating inside your jacket pockets. Heart beating fast. The cold air no longer a nuisance.

Unknown to the brunette doctor you also quite liked these silent moments. But unlike Spencer, you always felt incredibly guilty afterward. As if you were being dishonest and misleading somehow; rather your heart was.

With an inaudible sigh, you began making your way toward the entrance.

“Come on doctor, maybe they’ll have coffee here.” You called out after you, and shortly Spencer was by your side once again.

The venue was beautiful. You had only stepped in the door and already you were mesmerised. Even though the space was currently empty, you had no trouble at all visualising what you hoped it would look like on your big day. From the colour scheme, to the flowers, and the decorations.

“I am so glad you made it Y/N!” The wedding planner, Gina, appeared as you were basking in your surroundings. She hugged you briefly before turning her attention to Spencer. “And this must be the infamous Ethan.”

“Oh actually, no.” You cut in before Spencer could say anything. Gina glanced at you once again, one brow raised. “Ethan couldn't make it.” You advised with a timid smile. “This is Spencer.”

Gina nodded slowly. She looked at Spencer, and as she was eyeing him up you were hoping that she wouldn't recognise the name. See you have known Gina for some time now. You had initially reached out to her about a year and a half ago when you were hoping to marry the very young doctor stood beside you.

“Well, Spencer it’s nice to meet you.” She spoke, flashing him a pearly white smile. “I’m Gina, the wedding planner.”

“It’s nice to meet you too Gina.” Spencer responded, returning the smile. You could tell he was feeling slightly uncomfortable being mistaken by your fiancé, and you took a mental note to apologise for that in the car.

“Shall we get started?” Gina asked, turning her attention to you. “Lead the way.” You replied.

About an hour later the tour had concluded. You made plans to meet Gina at the next venue and after getting the exact address from her, you and Spencer ambled back to the car.

“What did you think?” You asked while hopping inside the vehicle.

“I liked it.” Spencer responded while fastening his seatbelt. You shot him a quick glance before securing your own strap. He smiled at you. “What?” “Just checking if you’re lying.” Spencer laughed at your response. “And am I?” You shook your head. “No. It appears you are telling the truth.”

You turned to look ahead before starting the engine. Soon the two of you were on the road.

“I think it’s more important if you liked it.” Spencer spoke. “I loved it.” “Why do I sense a but.” Spencer enquired with a soft laugh. You giggled. “But I don’t think Ethan would’ve liked it.” “Ah.”

“You can say it.” You retorted. “What?” Spencer asked. “That he’s not here so he shouldn’t get a say.” From the corner of his eye, Spencer noticed how your grip around the wheel tightened ever so slightly.

“I’d never say that.” He replied.

“Now that was a lie doctor.”

There was a brief moment of silence.

You sighed. “He promised me he’d be here. Just like he promised he wouldn't get called to work during our engagement party.” You stopped the car at a red light and glanced glanced at Spencer who was already looking at you. “So you can say it. Heck, I’m fucking thinking it.”

Spencer swallowed. He knew he shouldn't get involved. At least more than he already was. He knew he shouldn't indulge you. And he definitely knew that he shouldn't try to steer you away from Ethan. Because even though he really wanted to win you back, he knew that was unfair to you.

So Spencer was glad the light turned green and your attention was back on the road before he got a chance to respond.

“You know what was odd?” He said, quickly changing the subject. “What?” You asked. “How Gina didn't try to shake my hand when we met.” He noted, and immediately you bit your bottom lip. Fuck. You didn't realise it then. How could you have not realised? It means that she recognised the name and remembered how you told her he was a germaphobe.

“She must have just been eager to get going to be honest.” You lied calmly.

Spencer didn't buy your excuse. “I don’t think that’s it.” He said, trying to get a reaction out of you. “It’s almost as if she knew not to shake my hand.”

“Honestly Spencer, I wouldn't read too much into it.” You countered. “I mean we are on a tight schedu-.”

“Why are you lying to me Y/N?” He interrupted causing the air to hitch in your throat. “Just like you know when I’m not being truthful Y/N, I can also tell when you’re lying and you’re doing so right now.”

There was no point evading him any longer. Spencer was stubborn, almost as stubborn as you, and he wasn't going to stop pressing on the matter. Plus it was time he knew the truth. After all this time, he deserved to know the truth.

Taking a deep breath, you pulled the car over on the side of the road and cut the engine. You turned to look at the brunette doctor who was already looking at you.

“Do you remember the last time I visited you in prison?” You asked, your voice so timid you weren't even sure Spencer heard you. But he did. And he nodded his head slowly. “Of course I do. It was one of the worst days of my life.” He responded, and you could detect the hurt in his sentence.

“Well, uhh-” You cleared your throat. Here goes nothing. “That day I came to see you I actually, eh, well I-I wanted to ask if you’d marry me.”

Spencer was taken aback by your admission. A puzzled expression spread across his face as his mouth parted in shock. He searched his mind for what words to say but nothing seemed quite right. You wanted to marry him? The day he broke your heart by ending things with you so abruptly, you wanted to propose? He couldn't believe it.

Of course you sensed that he had trouble with wrapping his brain around this, like you knew he would, so you continued.

“Spencer, I loved you so much and just like the rest of the team I knew in my heart you were innocent. I knew it was only a matter of time before you would get out.” Tears began forming in your eyes and the lump in your throat grew larger with every passing second.

“When you were locked away, and our life together was taken away from us without warning, I realised I wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of my days with you.” The salty droplets began trailing down your cheeks and along your jawline. Spencer wanted to reach out and wipe them but he couldn't bring himself to move an inch. He was completely frozen.

“But between trying to clear your name, working the normal caseload, and honestly trying to get out of bed every fucking morning, I needed help to planning what I wanted to be the most perfect day.” You paused to take a quick breath. “Which is why I hired Gina.”

“Why didn't you say anything?” Spencer asked quietly after a moment of silence. An uneasy yet somewhat freeing silence.

“You broke up with me Spencer.” You replied. “That day I came to visit you, before I could even finish saying ‘Hi Spencer, I missed you.’, you ended things.”

“Y/N...” He whispered, and without thinking he took your hands in his. “And I know you remember what happened after that so I’m sure you can figure out why I didn't tell you sooner.” You added, corner of your lips twirling into a half-smile. Spencer squeezed your hands and let out a deep sigh.

“If I-” The brunette agent began but you shook your head to cut him off. “I know you only ended things to protect me Spencer.” You freed your hands from his grasp and gently cupped his cheek. It shouldn't have come as a surprise that he leaned into your touch.

“Which is why I was never angry with you, why I never resented you. I cannot take back the words I said to you that day but you have to understand it was all the initial shock considering I thought I would be leaving the prison with a fiancé and not completely heartbroken.”

You let your hand fall from Spencer’s face and ran your fingers through your hair. You cleared your throat.

“I hope this doesn't change anything between us.” You muttered. “Because I like where we are now, and I would hate-” This time it was Spencer who cut you off. “You have nothing to worry about Y/N.” He said with a timid smile.

“Thank you for telling me.” Spencer added.

“It was time you knew.”

You smiled at him warmly one last time before turning your attention back to the wheel. You started the engine once again and within minutes you were back on the road.

The two of you drove in congenial silence. As you focused on the directions ahead, feeling grateful that the brunette doctor was understanding, Spencer’s mind raced.

He couldn't help but wonder where the two of you would be now if he hadn't been so rash - married, maybe with a child by now. He shook the thought away, it hurt too much.

Of course back then he did what he thought was the right thing to do. He was suspicious that whoever was framing him would come after you, and he knew he couldn't risk that. He would never risk anything bad happening to you. In the end his suspicions were proved correct when Cat and Lindsey kidnapped his mom. And when that happened you were there for him in unimaginable ways, you didn't leave his side for a minute.

He should have begged for your forgiveness the second the whole ordeal was over. He should have fought harder to win you back, especially since it didn't take long for him to admit he only broke up with you to protect you. Truthfully, he was a coward. He thought perhaps you wouldn't take him back after the hurtful things that were said.

After all this time, he learned that you only really said what you said because you thought Spencer was the love of your life.

“I would have said yes.” The brunette doctor whispered.

Stopping at a red light, you turned your head to look at him. A confused look gracing your facial features. Spencer cleared his throat before nervously meeting your gaze.

“I would have said yes.” He spoke louder. Now you definitely heard him.

“Spencer...”

“I know it doesn't matter now, but in case you ever wondered what I would have said if you got to ask me back then.” He paused. “I would have said yes.”

“You don’t have to say that.” You muttered with a soft smile. “I’m not just saying it Y/N. I really mean it.” He emphasised and your heart skipped a beat.

The thought that crossed your mind next was incredibly wrong. The sudden pull you felt toward the man sitting beside you was inappropriate, misguided even, however it was there. You wanted to kiss him. You really wanted to kiss him.

Perhaps if you knew that Spencer wanted to kiss you too, you would have leapt across from your seat to smash his lips against yours. To tangle your fingers in his hair, cradle his lap, feel his hands travel up your back and hold you close.

But you didn't know. So you hesitated. And as you hesitated, you were promptly brought back to reality by the car behind you. The beeping of the horn signalised the lights had turned green and it was time to move along.

With a timid smile, you broke eye contact and began to drive.

Heavy-sitting silence enveloped around you. Spencer noticed immediately the slight change in your demeanour but he chose not to comment on it.

See, just seconds ago the brunette agent noticed a look in your eyes that he hasn't seen since you were dating. A look of devotion, amity. A look that burned the hope inside of him even more.

An image formulated in his brain. Image of you walking down the aisle in a beautiful white dress, him standing at the end of the alter while your dad gives you away, both of you tearing up. It was foolish, yes. Spencer should have known better than to hold out hope that one day that image would become reality but he couldn't help it.

And as the image became more vivid, the pain he felt in his heart grew stronger. Knowing that one day you wanted to be his forever, and now he was helping you tour venues for a wedding he didn't want to happen. The perfect image came crumbling down. Reality hit.

No matter how much he wanted it, you weren't his anymore.

Keep thinking about us and how things get in between But if it is love, it doesn't matter, you don't belong to me But I can't let go

A/N: hello friends! i hope you liked the fourth chapter!! i’d love to hear your feedback and what you think will happen next! if you would like to be added to a taglist, please let me know. thank you for your continuous support. with love, mal. x

story taglist: @girloncorneliastreet, @haylaansmi, @rexorangecouny, @l0ve-0f-my-life, @obsssedwithjustaboutanything, @aperrywilliams, @sassy-hades, @rainsong01, @reverdevivre, @dracomikaelson, @softieekayy, @lunaofcrows, @andrewhoezierbyrne

spencer reid taglist: @no-honey-no, @calm-and-doctor, @idroppedmygourd

main masterlist | series masterlist

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kyloswarstars · 3 years

Text

ROOMMATES • Part 2

Divergent • College AU • Eric x Reader

ROOMMATES masterlist 💫 Divergent masterlist

You escaped your current living situation by moving in with your friend Christina – and five other college students. Little did you know that one of them was the guy who was your ultimate pain in the neck since your first semester. Now, you had to find a way to not strangle him in his sleep out of pure frustration. Also, you had to find a way to get rid of those weird butterfly feelings for him that slowly grew in your stomach.

Words • 2k

The enemies to lovers story no one needed.

/////

The donut shop had air conditioning. It was pure heaven. A donut shop was heaven to you 365 days a year anyways. The AC, though… yes.

Christina chewed on her third blue glazed donut and refused to answer your questions. First, she refused. Then, she tried to talk her way out of it. In the end, she mentioned the friendship code, which applied in this case to Eric, and therefore she couldn’t say anything.

The confusion was real. You didn’t understand anything when most of the time you always understood everything. Following things you knew:

A) Eric always entangled you in debates. Sometimes it was a civil exchange, most of the times he got your blood boiling until you were close to lose your temper. This happened in class and other college surroundings, where you talked about a study related topic.

B) Until last week you always thought it was because of his ego and pure strive to demonstrate his intellect why he went for, at some point, the silliest of statements you had ever heard.

C) You also thought he did it just to piss you off.

D) Then last week happened. Then this afternoon happened and left you entirely confused.

E) Christina must know another reason why Eric constantly sought for an academic dispute. His statement from a couple hours ago, that there was ‚no reason‘, was highly suspicious. But Chris also didn’t tell you the reason.

F) That only led you to one, logical guess on what that unsaid reason could be.

„Is this about him having a long planned strategy to become the number one student of our year?“ Him seeing you as a serious competition to that title was the only reason you could think of. It wasn’t too odd of an assumption since after all those debates, silly statements or not, he was one of the smartest guys you had met so far.

Chris swallowed a bit of her new donut. Donut number four. „He isn’t in our year.“

You had sipped on your milkshake and instantly looked up. „What do you mean?“ Having to ask that question again frustrated you.

„That he’s way past us. He just finished his third year of medical school.“

„Excuse me?“ You got up from your seat and started wandering around the empty donut shop. „I’m surprised my body hasn’t taken the form of a question mark yet,“ you slowly talked yourself into a frenzy. „Christina, you’re telling me that Eric, who keeps pissing me off in two of my classes, for the last two years, isn’t even in my year? That he’s studying to become a doctor?“ Please behold me from chopping off a finger or something and him helping me.

She looked a little guilty for not giving you more information. Also a little amused.

„I am studying to become a damn mathematician. Why on earth would a medical student attend those classes?“

Christina had the audacity to laugh out loud. „I’m sorry, Y/N.“ Karma came around instantly and made her choke on a piece of donut for a few seconds. You hurried over to harshly pat her back until she coughed it out. „All I know is,“ she was still gasping for air, „he sometimes takes random classes for fun. Or for one of his big assignments.“

That was all. You wouldn’t get any further information. She crossed her arms and ignored all of your remaining questions. At least she left the donut shop with a stomachache and you knowing that Eric wasn’t even a math student.

/////

Once a week all roommates had at least one dinner together. ‚To strengthen the community‘ Uriah mumbled to you while you helped him turn the groceries, he and Chris had bought today, into a prober dish. Rice with a lot of veggies was the meal for tonight.

You were the last one to sit down and were surprised, and a little nervous, to find Eric sitting in the spot across from yours. He must’ve come home while you were still concentrating on not letting the veggies burn to death.

Christina hardly ate anything after her five donuts. Being a reasonable adult, you only had one donut at the shop.

„Who chose to put mushrooms in there?“ Eric didn’t look too glad when his fork discovered a tiny mushroom.

„Me,“ you stated, not afraid to have another silly debate. This time probably about how mushrooms shouldn’t be harvested because it takes away a food supply for deers.

„Next time just roast it short. Don’t turn it into these rubber–“

„Shut up, Eric.“ Four intervened. „Be glad someone made dinner.“

Exactly. You smiled at Four for his backup and continued eating. Even though you highly concentrated on the bowl in front of you, your eyes occasionally moved to Eric, to see if he had found another thing he disliked about the meal. And every single time his eyes met with yours.

This dinner wasn’t like all the previous ones you had here since moving in. It was unusually quiet. Everyone headed pretty fast into their rooms after finishing up and collectively cleaning the dishes.

Eric lingered around and was actually the last one to help you with putting back the plates and cutlery to where they belonged. You leaned to the countertop and tried not to stare too obviously when he stretched to place some glasses on the top shelf. He wore a t-shirt where he must’ve cut off the sleeves and the way his arm muscles moved, with every glass he put on that shelf, should be forbidden.

What? Oh man. That you caught yourself thinking that way, even though Eric didn’t notice it because he was still occupied with the dishes, made you feel uncomfortable in your own skin. You hid your hands in your pockets to act casual. That’s when you noticed one of the many papers that were spread in nearly every clothing pocket and backpack of yours.

One of the many habits – coping mechanisms, actually – you had, was to write down unsolved problems in mathematics and brood over them whenever your brain was close to panic itself into a breakdown. To sit down and concentrate on a problem and search for a possibility to solve it, was what got you to study the most hated subject in the first place.

You pulled the paper out and checked what it referred to. The Riemann zeta function.

You tried to recall if any of the many debates with Eric ever had been about mathematics. They had never been about math at all you realised. The classes he had gone to were the social orientated ones. Those, where you discussed scenarios and ways on how to solve problems with a mathematical solution. Or at least help out along the way. And the debates were mostly about the logical or philosophic aspects. The reason why it had always been so easy for Eric to pull you into those discussions was because you didn’t study mathematics just for the sake of it. You didn’t want to become only a professor to teach others about it. You wanted to help people with all the abilities math provided. For example the study you worked on right now: a mathematical model to predict the success of immunotherapy for patients with cancer.

This is perfect.

There was no way Eric could enter a serious debate about the zeta function and not show that he studied something completely different. With a grin on your lips you cleared your throat to get his attention. Eric crossed his arms as he turned to you.

The game is on.

„Since you know everything better than me, and us living under the same roof now, I was wondering if you would take a look at some equations. I’m kinda stuck.“

Something in his face changed but he still said: „Sure.“

That’s a mistake, my friend. You handed him the paper, which he had to unfold his arms for again to take it. Those arms were bigger than the pile of books next to your mattress. Why did you never notice his muscles before? And why did you never notice that sharp jawline?

The concentration on his face didn’t give away that he had absolutely no clue what was on that paper. Time did. A minute or two went by without him looking up or saying a word. „That seems like a serious problem. I’m passing.“

„What are you studying again?“ Your voice as innocent as you could manage it to be.

„Why would you ask?“ He played it off. The crooked smile on his lips let you know he had a feeling for where this conversation would go, though.

„Because someone studying mathematics, like I do, would recognise the famous zeta function whose solution would earn you a reward of one million dollars.“

„I never said I study mathematics, Y/N.“ Eric grinned like you were the fool here. Like you had overseen something big. Like your little trap hadn’t worked.

„But you attend four full semesters of classes that aren’t necessary? Are you having such a big problem with me that you just can’t stay away?“ His stupid grin made it worse. That rage came rushing in because those ludicrous disputes sometimes had you thinking you were a complete idiot. „I mean no normal person would take those two extra classes for four solid semesters on top of damn medical classes. What’s wrong with you?“

„I like the extra knowledge.“ He simply stated, snapped a bottle of water from the countertop and slowly made his way down the hallway to his room. „And debating with you.“

/////

For your own wellbeing, and not to flip every time you thought about Eric being the biggest prick on this earth, you decided he was just a little sadist. Who had probably his only fun by infuriating you. You were glad to know about that hobby of his now and could focus on the more important things in life until next semester.

He just didn’t make it easy at all. Living under the same roof had diverted the debates from class to the dining table. Plus it had added a lot of other intentional disturbance on his part.

For a while you tried to just ignore it because he was a sadist, as you declared. On the other hand he exactly got what he had aimed at. Your anger.

„Eric,“ you shouted at the wall, knowing very well that he could hear you because you heard perfectly fine what kind of little movie he was watching. It paused for a few seconds and you breathed out in relief. Then it started again. So you raised your voice another time. „Use damn headphones!“

The only thing that happened was Uriah peeking his head in your room, with some incredibly high raised eyebrows. „Are you okay?“

„I am not.“ You buried your face in your hands. „Eric is watching porn and I can’t concentrate,“ you stated in despair.

„I’ll handle it,“ he smiled and was fast to knock at Eric’s door and enter his room after a ‚come in‘. They discussed for a while and Uriah gave you a thumbs up as he passed your room on his way back to the kitchen. Problem solved? Sounded like it. No noise from the other side of the room anymore.

The newest data had come in for the study this morning and you didn’t get anywhere yet. You just hadn’t been able to because of… picturing Eric watching porn. Ban it from your consciousness. With another deep breath, you started working in the newest data and focus only on your task. And it worked for a couple of minutes. Until Eric decided not to use headphones anymore and his porn noises echoed through the wall again.

I will strangle him in his sleep one night.

/////

A/N • I'm enjoying this way too much so there will soon be another update. probably next weekend. ok bye

Taglist • @longlostinanotherworld

Wanna get tagged too for future updates? Lemme know 🖤

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in-my-feels-probably · 3 years

Text

INEFFABLE - Kaz Brekker

Chapter One - Now

If you would like to read this on Wattpad, it’s on there as well, my @ is in_my_feels_probably and there’s a few visuals and better descriptions and stuff on there. otherwise, enjoy, let me know what you think, and you can check out my masterlist for updates and more.

don’t forget to read the prologue, it’s important to the story!

INEFFABLE – Kaz Brekker

ineffable (adj.) too great to be expressed in words, utterly indescribable; too sacred to speak of.

Chapter One - Now

Elham gazed up from her book, sitting at the bar, to the sound of a gunshot at one of the card tables. Sighing, she got up from her seat, sliding her book to Rotty to take back to her room. And to think she was finally going to get a quiet night in the Slat, the previous night being not so quiet.

She began making her way over to the table, where Jesper was sitting leaning back, a knowing smirk on his face, his pistol smoking in its holster. Before she could reach the table, the familiar sound of a cane clicking on the ground was getting closer and closer to her. A light grin on her face, she slowed her pace, allowing Kaz to catch up, nod in her direction, and pass her.

“No loud noises at the table, Jesper. You’ll scare off the pigeons.”

Elham barely paid attention to the two boys' conversation, instead pocketing the counterfeit Zemeni coin left on the table, as well as a few Ravkan bills. Kaz was well aware she had slipped the money in her pocket, but he chose not to say anything, watching Jesper make his way to guard the door. She had been a big help in the previous night's heist, and arguing with her wasn’t worth the slew of sarcastic comments she would send his way. If there was a next time, he’d reprimand her. At least that’s how he justified it to himself. Elham knew his threats were hollow, to her they always were.

Elham trailed behind Kaz as Rotty had returned to talk to him about a missing Dekappel painting. He rambled on about how hard it must have been to steal it from the merchant, how advanced the security system was, locked down to the nines, complete with a Fabrikator made lock. She smirked to herself, eyes pointed towards the floor, trying not to laugh.

Kaz tapped the back of her leg with his cane, signaling her to go before she made Rotty suspicious, and she turned making her way up the stairs to Kaz’s office. She went straight for her chair, the one spot in the room she felt comfortable being in. This was Kaz’s space, and despite the two growing close over the years, and her constantly in his office or room, she still felt the need to confide herself to the space he had given her.

He had put that chair in by the window after he noticed how uncomfortable she looked on the window ledge when she came into his office to read, or chat about a heist. And plus, the window’s ledge was Inej’s spot, occupied by her as she came and went, feeding the crows and returning to the rooftops. Elham made herself comfortable in the chair, glancing around the room, eyes landing on the Dekappel hung on the wall.

Lifting the painting hadn’t been the easiest job. She wasn’t sure why Kaz had even decided to steal it in the first place. Nobody knew it was them who had taken it. Perhaps he did it for his own satisfaction, to prove he couldn’t be bested by some “advanced” security system. Or secretly, he had a taste for the finer things in life, and was too embarrassed to be caught shopping for a piece of art himself, and he sure as hell wasn’t about to ask Elham to get something for him. He’d never hear the end of it.

She’d like to think his reason was the latter.

Elham grinned to herself, reaching to pick up one of the books scattered across Kaz’s desk, when he walked into the room, latching the door behind him. He said nothing, only slightly scoffing at her position, curled up in the chair by the window in what looked like the most uncomfortable way she could possibly be. He could feel his own leg aching at the idea of contorting it the way she currently had hers, but she only smirked up at him, like this was the most comfortable she had been all day.

Sometimes, he thought to himself that everything Elham did was to spite him, or to try and get some sort of visible reaction. As the years passed by, his mask became harder and harder to read, and she made multiple attempts to slip through the cracks and see what was underneath. Unfortunately, this attempt was futile, and he made his way through the archway into his room, heading for the bathroom sink.

Elham, who had been shuffling her feet waiting for Kaz to finish, stood as she felt a draft hit her. She slowly made her way around the corner, only to meet his eyes already looking at her in the mirror, and then glancing towards the open window behind him. He faced forward again as he watched Elham’s lips turn up into a smile as she looked at the window.

“Hello, Inej. What information do you have for me?”

“A lead on a job. A big one. Enough money to change lives.”

Elham smirked to herself as she gave Inej a quick hug. “I don’t think it’ll take much to change someone’s life in the Barrel. I mean, look at us.”

“A million kruge?” Inej asked, smirking. Elham whipped her head towards her at that, then turned to meet Kaz’s eyes in the mirror. He gave her a nod, and she took that as her que to leave.

As the unofficial mother of the group, it was her job to round up the Crows and inform the Dregs, to make sure they were ready for a heist. Mostly, her job was to round up Jesper, make sure he didn’t do anything stupid. Jesper, of course, was at one of the gambling tables, leaned back in his chair, staring intently at his cards.

“Jesper!” He looked up from his hand and glanced around the room till his eyes fell on her. She motioned for him to follow, and he met her by the staircase leading to Kaz’s office. “We have a job. I don’t know the details yet, but just be prepared for me to come find you or Kaz to give you an order. Oh and Jesper, love, pick another game. How many hands am I gonna have to watch you play before you run out of bills? Really, it’s getting hard to watch at this point.”

She quickly took off back up the stairs before his swat could meet her arm, only to nearly run into Inej on the way up.

“Inej? What’s wrong?” Elham asked, catching Inej’s hand and giving it a squeeze.

“He infuriates me sometimes. I honestly don’t know how you deal with him.” She gave Elham a light smile before continuing down the stairs, heading in Jesper’s direction. Elham climbed the stairs once more and made her way back into Kaz’s office.

---

“You’re serious? The Fold? You know how to get across the Fold?” She gave Kaz an exasperated look. In all her years of knowing him, this might have been the most idiotic idea he’s had yet. But, with a million kruge on the table, she knew there was nothing stopping him.

“No, I don't know how to get across. But I may know a few people who do. Come on, go and find Jesper, tell him the plan. We’re meeting with Dreesen at midnight. I’ll meet you all in the alley in half an hour.”

She nodded, turning to head towards the door. “Kaz...does Pekka know about this job?”

His eyes darkened at the mention of the name, his grip on his cane’s head becoming tighter. He shook his head with uncertainty, face set with a hardened look. Elham nodded, jaw clenching at the thought. Dealing with Pekka Rollins certainly wasn’t on her to do list, and in all honesty, she was hoping to never meet the man.

Throughout the years, Kaz had told her bits and pieces about what Pekka had done to him, and she had learned for herself what kind of a monster he and his men could be. His Dime Lion’s were the reason she started killing in the first place. Pekka Rollins could count his days. With Dirtyhands and the Valkyrie after him, he was certainly doomed.

Seeing her eyes drift, her thoughts cloud, he sighed, tapping her ankle with the end of his cane, and her eyes met his. “Go on, Valkyrie. And think about losing the murderous look on your face before you scare the pigeons.” His tone was laced with sarcasm, a tactic she normally used on him.

“I’ll think about it.”

---

A few hours later, the Crows had interrogated the slew of people Kaz and Jesper knew that claimed they knew a way across the Fold. Of course, none of them had a safe way, and Elham began pondering if the million kruge was worth the imminent death. They were back in the Crow Club, sitting in a booth. Inej was twirling her knife, Elham was sharpening her sword, and Kaz was glancing around with his usual look of annoyance. Jesper finally broke the silence.

“Here’s what I don’t get.”

“We’re going to be here all night.” Inej commented. Elham let out a laugh at that, patting Jesper on the shoulder.

“Rude.”

“I’m going to have to get a drink for this conversation. Anyone want one?” Elham asked, heading for the bar. She returned to the table with shots in hand, to hear Jesper mention General Kirigan. She stopped in her tracks, setting the drinks on the table, before taking a step back.

“Are you alright, El?” Jesper asked, but she didn’t hear. Her mind raced back to her days at the Little Palace, to the warnings from Baghra about the General. Her thoughts continued tangling together, and she was unaware of Jesper and Inej’s attempts to get her attention.

“Elham.”

She glanced up at the voice. Kaz’s voice. Elham cleared her throat.

“Sorry, I’m fine. Just got sidetracked. Sorry to miss what I’m sure were your very intelligent remarks, Jesper.” She quickly changed the subject, missing how Kaz’s eyes lingered on her. She slid back into the booth, throwing back a shot. They continued their conversation, Elham quieter than before. Kaz didn’t miss that either.

“Well, as I was saying. This whole job sounds like a trap, anyways.” Jesper said, before sipping one of the drinks Elham had brought over.

“A trap would sound easy. This is something else.” Kaz remarked.

“Boss, boss. We intercepted a note from Dreesen. It’s from the Orchid. Say’s they require the services of a Heartrender. Tonight. Doesn’t say why, just that they need it before midnight.” One of the Dregs who had come running over explained.

Elham smirked. “Oh we are absolutely not letting this job go.”

“You don’t bring in a Heartrender unless you need an answer out of someone who isn’t willing to talk. That’s how we get this job before anyone else. Bring Dreeson a Heartrender.”

“Boss, just one problem. Pekka Rollins knows.”

Kaz glanced at Elham, who only looked more determined. Elham downed another shot, before standing up.

“Well. I’m feeling particularly vengeful tonight. Let’s go get a Heartrender.”

---

A/N - hi everyone, sorry it took so long to get this chapter out. i've been busy and didn't have much motivation to write, but I'm ready to go again. let me know what you think so far, and thank you for the support!

#wattpad #in my feels probably #ineffable #kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #six of crows #six of crows imagine #shadow and bone #oc #series #chapterone #grishaverse

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pitviperofdoom · 3 years

Note

I really liked your 'Life Preserver' excerpt and I'd love to read more about it. I liked the interaction between Gerry and Georgie, their characterization and Gerry's description of his relationship with Jon, plus this exchange: “He thinks your mum’s a homophobe, you know.”“You know, he’s probably right? Think she might just hate the idea of love in general, though.”“Messy divorce, I take it,”“Rohypnol and garden shears were involved, so yeah, I’d say it was pretty messy.”

Thanks!

Yeah, Gerry and Georgie surprised me as a really interesting dynamic to explore. In spite of Georgie’s caution around the Entities, Gerry just feels like the kind of person Georgie would get along with, given the people she canonically ends up loving.

Anyway here’s another part I’ve written! This one actually has Jon and Gerry in it.

---

When Jon went in for his next shift, things went smoothly enough to be genuinely suspicious. Tina was his desk partner again, and she greeted him with the same cordiality as always. No one official-looking ever came by to speak with him.

The only hint that anything had happened that night was a campus-wide e-mail paying respects to Daniel Lattimer, one of the subject librarians, who was reported as having “passed unexpectedly”. The message held all of the usual official platitudes and nothing else; Jon had read it word for word several times to be sure.

Someone should have known, shouldn’t they? It wasn’t as if he had been careful about covering his tracks, beyond making his tip anonymous. The library had cameras. He was sure he’d left at least a few shoe prints in all the blood.

But nothing came of it. The first hour passed peacefully, with nothing more exciting than a couple of patrons he had to inform of overdue books.

Jon spotted the familiar dark figure out of the corner of his eye, even before Tina hissed a warning at him. He raised his head to watch Gerard Keay’s approach, chest suddenly tight with nervousness.

How on earth was he supposed to explain this?

“Hey.” Gerard was in front of him already, leaning his elbows on the desk as usual. “Any word on that book? I tried to come in yesterday, but you were closed.”

“R-right.” Jon hesitated. There were several ways he could answer this. He could, of course, be utterly truthful and tell him that he’d burned the thing on account of it being made of meat and killing one of the librarians. He almost laughed at the thought. At worst, Gerard would complain to someone about Jon being unhelpful; at best, he’d find it funny, but he’d demand a real answer once he was done laughing about it.

He could lie and stall by saying that the book was still on its way. But that was a temporary fix at best, and it would only lead Gerard to keep coming in and asking.

And would that really be so bad? Jon shook his head to clear away the thought.

“Right,” he said again. “A-about that. Unfortunately—” He slipped his bandaged hand behind the desk, out of sight. “—we were unable to find the book in storage. It seems to have been marked incorrectly. It happens sometimes. Though not very often, I assure you,” he added hastily. “But it’s been marked down as missing, I’m afraid.”

“Oh.” Gerard’s face was the very picture of disappointment. “That’s a shame. Really did need that one.”

“Terribly sorry for the inconvenience.” Jon tried to sound like he meant it.

It was hard to force down the sheer, overwhelming relief. Just last night he’d regretted his own paranoia, but now? If he hadn’t gone back, if he hadn’t checked for the book…

Well, the library might not have been closed yesterday. And he didn’t have the first shift at the circulation desk. And whoever did might have been someone who didn’t know, someone who wasn’t haunted by the name Jurgen Leitner, who might have taken the book from the cart and handed it straight over—

The unwelcome memory of Mr. Lattimer’s body rose up behind his eyes, juxtaposed over the young man standing before him.

As a child, he’d doomed someone else to a gruesome death that should have been his. So maybe this time… maybe he’d actually…

“Well then,” said Gerard, shaking him out of his bubble of thoughts. “Guess that’s—er, guess I’ll look elsewhere…”

“Right,” said Jon. “Unless there was anything else you needed…?” He tried not to sound too hopeful.

“No, thanks, that’s it,” said Gerard, already turning away. “Thanks for all the help.”

“Oh, I hardly—I mean, I didn’t really do much, in the end.”

Gerard regarded him for a moment, head tilted to one side with a thoughtful look. Then, quite without warning, he smiled at him. “Don’t sell yourself short. You were great.”

“O-of course,” Jon stammered as Gerard turned to leave again. “Oh, wait—wait a moment.”

Gerard looked back. “Yeah?”

Jon dug into his pocket, pulling out the lighter. “Is this yours?” he asked, placing it on the desk. “I found it on one of the tables in the reading room, and I remembered you had it the other day…”

Instead of taking it, Gerard simply flashed him one last grin. “Keep it,” he said. “I’ve got loads.”

“It’s really not good to keep ignition sources in a library,” Jon protested, feeling inordinately flustered.

Gerard laughed, a brief, bright thing, and—

“D’you want to get coffee?” Jon blurted out.

The smile froze on Gerard’s face, before giving way to surprise. “What?”

A stab of terror nearly robbed Jon of his words, before he found his voice again and forged ahead. “Do you—I mean. Do you want to get coffee sometime?” he repeated. Shit. Shit, he was doing this, how was he already doing this? “With me?” He wanted to kick himself, of course he’d know he meant it that way. “I—my shift ends at noon today. If you’re free. I-if you want to, I mean.”

Gerard blinked at him, so utterly bewildered that it might have been funny if Jon’s heart weren’t currently climbing into his throat. “You—wait. Is this… are you asking me on a date?”

He said it so incredulously, as if the idea that Jon would ask him on a date were utterly incomprehensible to him. Rapidly, Jon’s heart sank back down.

“Yes,” Tina leapt in helpfully. “He is. Aren’t you, Jon?”

She nudged him none too gently. “Y-yes,” he said, because it wasn’t as if he could dig himself any deeper. “That—that was the intention.”

“Huh.” Gerard shrugged. “Sure.”

The whiplash made Jon dizzy for a moment. “Really?”

“Yeah. Noon, right? See you then.” With that, he turned and walked out of the library.

Once he was out of sight, Jon slumped over onto the surface of the desk like a marionette with its strings cut.

Tina patted his back. “Proud of you. Go get that goth D.”

***

It wasn’t that Gerry didn’t know it was a terrible idea—just that he’d had worse ones before. He was still breathing after years of them, in fact. So what was one more?

Jon the librarian was far from the first scarred survivor he’d ever met. They weren’t common, precisely, but nor were they unheard of. Technically he was one, and Mum had been as well, before she carved herself up.

But Gerry knew he was an outlier, and as rare as surviving one brush with the Fears was, meeting two of the things and escaping uneaten from both was on a level of its own. But against all odds, when he looked at the wispy little librarian who’d spent the past week being so divertingly helpful, Gerry could see two separate, distinct marks on him, where there had previously been only one. And they really were distinct from one another. The Flesh was like a shark sometimes, content to take one good bite before losing interest and wandering off, while the wisps of the Web still clung jealously. A scar like that could have been left years ago or the day before they met. You could never tell with the Web.

That added to the risk, of course. For all he knew, this was some ploy from the Mother of Puppets to catch him and draw him in. A little cliche, maybe, but Gerry couldn’t fault it for its efficacy.

He’d said yes, after all.

In his defense, it wasn’t every day he met someone with a nice face, a taste for burning Leitners, and enough luck or fortitude to walk away from two different Powers. Nor was it every day a person like that asked him to… well…

People didn’t flirt with him, was the thing. Anyone who knew enough to be worth talking to either wised up and ran the other way, or turned around and tried to take a chunk out of him.

So, yeah. Might as well give it a shot. See what it was like, while he had the chance.

He had til noon to brace himself, anyway. Not enough time to go back to Mum’s and freshen up, which was a shame. She’d just faded out a couple of days ago, so he knew he’d have the place to himself.

Ah, well.

In spite of himself, Gerry found himself turning his face upward with a grin and an excited spring in his step. It’d be a bit like traveling abroad, or visiting tourist traps, or all the other things he indulged in when Mum was gone. See as much of the world beyond his own as he could, before she finally fucked up and got him killed.

A date! Who’d have thought he’d get to check that one off the bucket list?

#tma fic #jongerry #jonathan sims #gerard keay #safe harbor au #tales from the pit #lady-with-a-deathwish

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