#bud the highway is probably the wrong place for you | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fischerbees · 1 month

Text

Bite Me!

click to help palestine before reading

[word count: 3953]

VI. Worry Knot

His eyes snapped open but he could not see. His legs were leading him somewhere but he had no idea where he was. All of his senses were drowned out, the only thing he was aware of was the herd of horses stomping right beside his ear. Or inside his head. Definitely not inside his chest and that was wrong. For some reason, he was sure it was not the only thing completely amiss.

The weird feeling forced him awake, put a dark bag over his head and the next thing he knew, he was trying to escape. Hopefully. Whatever was happening made alarm bells go off in his head, created vacuums inside his lungs, threw sticks and branches under his feet, so it was a miracle he somehow managed to remain somewhat upright and did not plummet to the ground right away.

He let his legs do their thing as he had not the slightest idea where to go or what to do. He just needed to get away. Something was wrong, so wrong, and escaping was the only thing on his mind. The panicked rush will probably leave him with some bruises, although if he hit anything on his way, he did not process any of it. Either it was pitch-black wherever he was or his eyes were good for nothing. Technically both could be right but why think about even worse possible scenarios when he already felt like dying?

Once there was not enough air and energy, he could only hope this was a place where he could be heard and found. He could only hope he managed to bang his fists against the wood because, over the loud thumping, it was difficult to recognise any other sound.

Was it his heart going crazy or just him?

“Cole,” someone else rasped out. It had to be someone else, he had no recollection of opening his mouth, let alone having the strength to speak. “Cole. Are you there? Cole?” His shaken words hung in the air and he clung to them. He could only hope someone would come to save him. Someone, anyone, really. Kai was sure he was going to die right then and there, one hundred per cent, if not because of his malfunctioning lungs, then because of whatever was coming after him.

There was something coming after him, there were footsteps. He was a dead man, he was a dead, dead man. Cornered, ready to be slaughtered without any hassle as he lacked the strength to put up a fight. His mind was filled with useless junk of thoughts clustered in a chaotic ball that zipped around erratically at lightning speed. Escape. It was like a lonesome billboard on a dark highway but his body would not obey.

“Kai, what the hell are you doing? You’re gonna wake everybody up!”

The voice, although almost drowned out by the heartbeat, was a small flicker of light. Just the tiniest flicker of a firefly but at least now he could see he wasn’t swallowed by complete darkness. There seemed to be shapes around him. Unfortunately it also meant he was unable to flee freely. Contained. Actually cornered, set to worry what might be hiding just behind the turn.

“Kai? Bud?”

The moment he got near, Kai used the opportunity to grasp onto his pyjamas. It was so much better than to plead the unyielding walls to keep him standing, even if all of his muscles could equal to sacks of wet flour.

He desperately wanted to scream into his face but all that came out of his mouth was a weak, “Am I dying?” like a last puff of steam from a machine that gave up. Reality shook along with him but he was not dreaming, was he? No, there were too many sweat-drenched clothes for it to be a dream.

“Oh no, as long as I’m alive, you’re not dying, buddy.” Then came more words. Kai tried to focus on his mouth in order to understand him but it only did the opposite. He did not intend on stopping anytime soon, however.

The living room was one of the few rooms where they all could bundle in and still have some personal space. Which would probably have some value if there was anyone in the house who grasped the concept of personal space. It was, in most cases, an oasis of comforting memories, evil was not allowed there. Even food crimes were prohibited behind its door. Pillows on the couch required to be frequently fixed or newly bought, it would not be a proper game night without feathers bursting out of the pillowcases.

Maybe that was why Jay led him in there, because things were always so easy in the living room. At least so it seemed. It was designed to wind down, to relax. Just Kai kept ruining it with his consistent frowning at the dead TV screen. He had to keep reminding himself to relax his jaw, only to clench it again and again. He was freaking out over nothing but even when he gained enough conscience to realise that, the uneasiness never left his side. Sticking to him like another coating of his skin, it made all his hair rise and muscles twitch in need of movement.

It felt like hours before he could breathe regularly again and even then he remained tied up, thrown away in the corner of his own head.

What was he doing? He can't just sit around doing nothing! He was an easy target, a sitting duck, simply waiting for its predator to use the opportunity, to jump out of its hiding spot… A pair of eyes burning right into his back, through his spine into the spinal cord. Claws gnawing at his skin, seductively teasing to tear all of it off until another rush of goosebumps threw him back to reality.

He was at the monastery. At home. Home filled with elemental masters or spinjitzu, armed with otherworldly technology, what was there to be so afraid of? Which part of him was the one being irrational? The feeling just would not budge.

“Something’s wrong.” Kai sprung up from his spot on the couch and paced around the room, tugging at his hair. “Something’s seriously wrong.”

“What’s wrong, Kai?”

“I don’t know! But something is definitely wrong, I feel it in my bones.” And cells and every single one of his nerves. The sound of a wildly thumping heart made him want to bash his head through a wall just to make it stop. Just shut up, please.

“Did you have one of those, um, prophetic dreams? Like Zane?” Jay asked, timidly looking over him from his spot on the couch as if Kai was going to combust into flames any second.

He refrained from answering, that would probably dig his hole only deeper. All he had was a weird feeling, what exactly was he afraid of? It could be a bad dream he didn’t remember. He would also rather avoid having to say anything about the weird quirk of his mind lately, that was between him and Cole and it was enough. No more people needed to know about it.

So he let Jay talk him down and he did take the tea from him. He might have set it to boil in his own hands, it was too cold no matter how heated up he felt.

His spine prickled in alert no matter what Jay said but numbly listening to his rambled attempts at calming him down was tangibly better than weeping to himself because of a stupid, nonexistent heartbeat. Two dragons fought for the prey and it meanwhile ran away; now that the two noises clashed, Kai had a little window to think.

He was losing the ground underneath his feet lately and realising so only made it worse. Crying and hyperventilating in the hallway? That was so not him, he had years to gain control over his emotions, he can’t just stumble like this. Now he had Jay watching over him as if his life depended on it which was considerate but Kai would have preferred to beat himself up over it in privacy.

On the other hand, he appreciated not being alone.

He could talk about it to someone. He could. After all, it would not be the first time admitting defeat, and it wasn’t the end of the world before. Maybe he could speak to Cole first, once he gets the sleep he needs. If they don’t figure something out together, then they come up with the next plan of action. Yeah, talking to Cole was always easy, he will just wait for morning to come…

“Knowing you, you could use some distraction, how ‘bout that?” Kai could only hum, until now, everything Jay said went one ear in and out the other without leaving a trace. “You ever did origami?”

Well that sprung some life back into him. Turning to him, Kai frowned, this time with a clear target. “Last time I checked, we’re not the old married couple.”

“Come on, it’s a relaxing activity and you can make pretty cool stuff with it.”

“Like what? Pop-up Valentine cards? Folding paper, fun.”

“Hey, it’s not about what you make, it’s about keeping your mind occupied so it can’t freak you out.” Kai rolled his eyes, back to staring at the black screen. Jay hurried to get up. “I’m getting some papers,” he said, already leaving the room.

Curse the others for sleeping in the middle of the night. Kai hissed after him, “If you seriously think I’m gonna do origami, you’re even stupider than I thought!”

__________________________________________

Kai spent the entire night folding colourful papers into different animals. In front of him, Jay dozed off on the conference table. His steady breathing morphed together with the birds’ singing outside and Kai did not register any of it. Once he got into the motions, he got hypnotised. In front of his eyes was just another piece of paper until it turned into another creation, helping the ridiculous pile grow. It was quiet – at least Kai thought it was – and the silence was addicting.

“Good morning, Kai.” Finally morning?

Kai turned to see Zane standing in the doorway, eyebrows raised as he watched him fold without looking. “Morning, Zane, wanna crane?” He reached out with his hand, showing off another crane sitting in the palm. Zane stepped forward and took it from him, his eyebrows still too high for comfort. “Did you know you get a lifetime of happiness if you fold a thousand of ‘em? I lost count.”

“I take it your insomnia is still going?” His eyes moved to Jay drooling on the table.

“We’re getting a happy ever after, didn’t you get the wedding invite? Together forever,” Kai sing-sang. The lack of sleep was seriously getting to his head, that’s what was going on.

Of course Zane completely glossed over his words. “Your adrenaline levels are higher than usual, did something occur?”

“Nothing you have to worry your brilliant brain about.” Kai stretched into the air, away from all the paper. That was more than enough for the rest of his life. “You’re making breakfast?”

“Kai, when it comes to your well-being, I need you to be more honest with me. It is for your own good.”

At least he could avoid eye contact with all the stretches he had to do to bring his muscles and bones back to life. Yep, never again. “Fine. I might have panicked over a stupid dream and Jay found me. Nothing serious.” Wiping off Zane’s sceptical face proved to be pointless. “Honestly.”

After that, Zane indeed went to make breakfast, but it was painfully clear he was not satisfied with Kai’s answers. Oh well, he can live with it, disappointing others was his shtick after all. It was also easier to handle than admitting he might be losing his mind. It was stupid. Plus, if he was going to Cole with this, he was not doing anything bad in the end, right?

As the sun rose and lit up the world some more, the rest of the team began waking up and shuffling into the dining room, from where the smell of fresh food travelled into their bedrooms, luring them out. Jay had a hard time trying to not fall asleep on his plate of eggs, Nya kept glancing Kai’s way as she got the same half-hearted excuse as Zane from him.

The spot next to him was cold with Cole’s absence. They did not sit side by side every single morning but right now Kai would welcome him being there. Maybe their shoulders would bump into each other, maybe he would tease Lloyd’s stormy looks, the hypocrite. When Kai was busy with all the night patrols and fighting his sleep bankruptcy during the day, the lack of time they spent together didn’t faze him much. On the other hand, now that he stopped and everything could catch up, he woefully missed hanging out with him.

Well, if Cole feels better, Kai could replace Zane in the caretaking. He had to make up for the way he shut him off yesterday.

After the enervated breakfast, they all went their own way – Lloyd was going to prepare some exercises, looking enthusiastic and filled with energy in the morning as ever, Zane sent Nya to Cole’s room with breakfast before he went on to clean up, and Jay beelined to his bed. While Kai considered giving Cole some time, he found himself following Nya’s footsteps, too restless to wait for Cole to have his breakfast and properly wake up.

Halfway there, he ran into her and they spoke at the same time,

“I can’t find Cole.”

“How’s Cole? I need to– What?” Kai furrowed his eyebrows, looking between her and the food she was carrying. Untouched.

“He’s not anywhere in his room!” Nya’s voice was ready to jump to incredible heights.

“Well– Maybe he’s in the bathroom or something, you know how he is.” She left him with a frustrated grunt, Kai trailed behind her, peeking through open door for a glimpse of Cole.

When living with a team of ninja, it becomes normal that finding someone might take a while unless they have the decency to let others know of their whereabouts. So Kai was not stressed out, knowing Cole, he probably just wanted to have some ime for himself after being under the watchful eye of everyone in the house. Until the number of rooms remaining to check shrunk in no time, and no one else saw him that morning yet, and,

“What do you mean gone? He’s been bedridden for a week! He couldn’t walk to the WCwithout sounding like a dying horse!” Maybe that was why Jay didn’t drink coffee, his own voice must have been more than enough.

Lloyd stepped into the conversation before it could get a chance to explode, taking the plate from Nya, although it was almost empty anway. The sun barely cam eup and she was already stress-eating.

“Guys we can’t start freaking out now. Cole might need our help, not our yelling.” Piercing green eyes jabbing into the lightning ninja, as if the redhead could see anything through his bird nest of hair.

“Right, maybe he just ventured somewhere, over-confident that he doen’t need our help. As usual.” Nya’s sigh spoke of murder, no mercy for the ill. Kai looked over everyone assembled in the courtyard, arms crossed, wooden beam boring into his spine. The tension could be sliced and served on a plate, despite Lloyd’s best efforts. This was a fairly new kind of situation, losing someone right under their noses, where they deemed safe.

“Who saw him last?” All eyes turned to him, Kai’s cue to stop digging his nails into his palm and pay attention to the conversation. His muscles itched to start doing something more useful than to idly stand around and chat.

“What? I haven’t seen him since dinner. I cleaned up and went to sleep, you guys were hanging around.”

“Oh boy…” Jay’s face turned pale and his eyes comically widened as he covered his mouth. For some reason he looked even worse when his and Kai’s gazes met.

“Don’t be so cryptic, Jay, spill it,” Nya commanded when he decided to keep them all waiting in anticipation.

“I think I was the last one to see Cole,” Jay muttered, then put his face into his hands, letting out something between a whine and a groan. “He said he just wanted to take a short walk after the food. I shouldn’t’ve let him go by himself! I’m an idiot.”

“Yeah you are.”

“Kai!” Great, he was the target again.

“What? He said it himself, didn’t he?”

Completely unfazed by the stressed-out chaos, Zane prodded further. “Jay, did you see where he went?”

While Jay uncovered his eyes to look over them all, his mouth remained hidden, his words coming out abit muffled. “I thought he was just gonna pace behind the walls for a little! He seemed happy with the trees in the afternoon…”

“We would hear it if he got in trouble, though.” Kai wanted to get rid of the image in his head but his brain had a mind of its own. Memories came flooding and Jay’s intense stare wasn’t helping. “He must’ve worn himself out, he’s probably witing for us to find him, you know.”

“Something’s wrong…” Jay muttered, now relentlessly staring at Kai. “Kai, what if–”

Nope. No, this was not on the program for that day. No, he was supposed to talk to Cole first. “Shut up.”

“But–”

“What?” Nya jumped into their so-called conversation, only for them all to be silenced by Lloyd again.

“Guys, calm down! We have to start looking for Cole. Kai, you wait here if he happens to get here before us or something.”

“What? No. Why! Wu and Pix can do it, why do I have to stay here?”

“It’s strategic.”

“It’s stupid. I can help.”

“You’re sleep-deprived and not in the right headspace, it’s better this way, trust me.”

He kept frowning the entire time the rest prepared some things to bring along (first-aid box being one of them but everyone was nonchalant, of course), he burned them with his stare as they walked outside the gate but the farther they went, the faster his fury extinguished into fear. His fists were quivering even when he clenched them with all his strength, his breath became unsteady and his eyes burned from time to time but he refused to let anything out. Jay wasn’t too far off. What is this was it? What if Cole got into trouble, his gut feeling screamed for him to do something and he just ignored it? What if Cole was— No. But it would be his fault. But it wouldn’t be this easy. Cole wouldn’t go out without a proper fight. Cole would never—

Thank Master for the wooden dummies always being there to welcome his inner conflicts bursting to the surface.

__________________________________________

His eyes burned as if the sun was right in front of him but once he got used to it, there was barely any light. Branches were crossing the sky, lightly swaying in the breeze, he could hear some birds sing above him. It was definitely earlier than he was used to waking up and it showed – everything ached, everything hurt and all he wanted was to roll over and continue where he left off.

It took a long while of staring at the forest canopy for everything to click; for him to realise that the sight was wrong. Trees? Those weren't the cherry blossoms behind the monastery's wall.

Cole jolted up, then quickly regretted it as he fell back on the ground. Did he pull every single one of his muscles? Broke all of his bones? More pain, he couldn't keep quiet. As if his body wanted to turn inside out, he lacked the strength to keep his sobs to himself.

As his senses began finally catching up, he realised how cold it was, how all the needles and cones and sticks and stones embed and stabbed into his back. He could feel wetness over his body but it was not raining and there was… blood on his hands?

They shook as he held them in front of his eyes. The darkness made it difficult to recognise the signature red colour but it for sure was not water, not even muddy.

At least he got his explanation for some of his throbbing pain. Now all he needed was an explanation for his weird bedding in the middle of a forest with deep gashes all over.

He was basically naked, bleeding out on the forest floor, this certainly took the cake as the worst nap he ever took. What on First Master's green earth.

His thoughts were jumbled and useless, he had to get moving, he had to get back up to the monastery. But even just turning around took so much effort. His body burnt and he was so cold. Luckily the woods were full of trees he could cling onto to stay straight, also luckily, the mountain didn't seem to be that far. It also meant there was probably no one who could witness him at his lowest. Was this good or bad? This was not a sight he would wish upon anyone else but his hopes for getting all the way home diminished the moment he saw the crimson pool he left behind.

The last thing he did… There was dinner, Kai was acting off, something about Uno… He just went for a walk? The stairs are wide, how could he manage to fall off? Branches would not make these kinds of wounds, no, something had to attack him.

Too much thinking, he needs to focus. He needs to get to the monastery fast, he was leaving a bloody trail behind and his eyes were getting heavy, this wasn't good. He cannot panic but it was the only comfort. Tears can’t block his vision, premonitions of his early death cannot cloud his mind, weakness cannot knock him down when he’s so close.

Not so close. Although the mountain was not far, it felt like it kept walking away as he tried to reach it. Chasing fog. And then, once that endless journey came to an end, came the stairs. The stairs leading into white clouds, he can’t even see the monastery and he wants to cry. Was it his home waiting there for him or was this already a different kind of journey? His body might as well be falling apart, piece by piece.

He has to keep crawling up, no matter what is waiting up there for him. He ignores salty tears mixing with sweet blood. He forces his defiant muscles to work… He can’t fight back the sparks of pain his bones shoot out.

Now it’s panic fueling him and he can’t make a sound to call for attention.

The stone is freezing cold and the shaking of his body just worsens the ache.

As much as his self-preservation instinct yells at him to go on, he can’t. He’s too weak. He’s too tired and cold and brethless. Why do they have to live on top of a mountain? Why was he losing touch with his senses for the second time?

This was it. This was how he dies. Naked and shivering, crying and bleeding onto the stairs leading up to the monastery. And the last thing he will see is a bunch of colourful blurs calling his name.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

< Previous chapter Masterlist Next chapter >

4 notes · View notes

inconvenient-sneezes · 2 years

Text

yay!!! finally posting this. thanks for the request @buckysnose!! 💙💙 of course, i’m doing bucky/steve bc why not and also it’s my fav ship hahaha

***

prompt: ankle

***

“You should be more comfortable here,” Steve said, easing Bucky into an olive green recliner that could’ve been from the ’70s. In fact, it probably was.

Bucky winced as he was lowered into the chair. He’d broken his ankle during a recent training session and although it was in a cast, he was still in a bit of pain. Steve was taking care of him at his apartment.

“Does that feel OK?” he asked once Bucky was situated. The other man nodded.

“Mmhm. Yeah, thanks, Steve.” He sighed, adjusting his position. “I’ve never been in this room before.” Bucky looked around, studying his surroundings — a habit he couldn’t shake.

Steve laughed. “Yeah, probably because this is the guest room and you usually just stay in my bedroom.”

The room was pleasant. There was a small TV (definitely from the ’70s), a twin bed, a claw-foot nightstand with a vase of flowers, and an open window, the curtains fluttering in the afternoon breeze.

“What do you want to watch?”

Bucky shrugged. “Anything, really.”

They settled in together, Bucky in his recliner and Steve in an adjacent chair, to watch “Bringing Up Baby” — a film they’d actually seen in the movie theatre some 100 years ago.

Bucky sniffled, feeling an intense, sudden itch deep in his sinuses. Without warning, he gasped and sneezed away from Steve at the last second. “HEH’IHSSCHOO!”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “Bless you. Where’d that come from?”

Bucky waved him off, quickly turning away again. “Hh’HURESHHHOO!” His breath caught again and he ducked into the collar of his t-shirt with a shuddering sneeze. “Huh’RRREEHSHH!”

He shook his head, as if to shake the unbearable urge to sneeze from his now-red nose.

“Fuck.” Bucky scrubbed his nose with the heel of his palm, snuffling loudly.

“You OK?” Steve chuckled, rubbing his back. “That was some sneeze. Sneezes,” he corrected himself. Fucking adorable.

“Sorry, I’m n-nahhh... n-not sure what’s—” He took a series of quick, shaky breaths before diving into cupped hands to cover. “Heh’URUSSHuhh!”

Bucky blinked, trying to see Steve through his watery eyes. “Jesus Christ,” he choked out. “I’ve g-godda sd-sdehhh... sdeeze agaid!”

Steve watched in complete adoration as Bucky placed a trembling finger under his nose to stifle the sneeze. “NNNGNT! Hahh... haH! Hh’SHHHP!”

He groaned and scrubbed his itchy nose with the back of his wrist. The resulting squelching sounds made Steve squirm. He tried to swallow his smile.

“Bless you, Buck. It’s gotta be those allergies of yours, right? What are you allergic to again?”

“I’b—” Bucky gave a liquid sniffle before continuing. “I’b dot sure, bud I think id’s r-ahhhhh... hoo.” He exhaled shakily. “Ragweed. I have doe fuckig clue though.”

“Let’s start by shutting this window,” Steve said, kissing Bucky on the check. “And I’ll go grab some tissues and ibuprofen.”

“Th-thags,” Bucky gasped, already on the verge of another sneeze.

***

request some stuff/give me feedback!!

read more stucky stuff!!

ask me about my commissions!!

#in which steve's apt is decorated w #'70s furniture from nick fury #snz #snez #snzblr #snezblr #sneeze kink #capsnz #mcusnz #snz kink

35 notes · View notes

spooderboyandtincan · 3 years

Text

You’re Gonna Miss Me

(When I’m Gone)

Read on Ao3

/ST*RKERS DNI/

~~~~~

Tony doesn’t know why he’s so nervous.

That’s a lie. Utter bullshit. He’s lying to himself. Tony knows exactly why his heart is fluttering in his chest like he’d run a marathon, why his chest struggled to rise like there was twenty pound weight rested on it.

Though to be fair, when he made an anonymous donation of a meager 50,000 dollars to Midtown Science and Technology, he hadn’t expected Peter’s decathlon team to put in a request to the school board to travel abroad, and he definitely hadn’t expected the school to immediately approve it. He thought they’d use it to replace the sudsy water in the bathrooms they called soap with the real stuff or some shit, not whisk his kid away to Vienna for a whole week where Tony couldn’t even hug him, couldn’t protect him.

Peter is thrilled, though. Ecstatic. When he’d broken the news to Tony and May, he’d been over the moon with excitement, his round cheeks flushed pink and his eyes gleaming. Even two weeks ago, Tony had felt a deep sense of apprehension kindling in his chest, but with the date seemingly so far away, he’d pushed it to the back of his mind.

He wishes now that he’d done something. He should have told Peter he couldn’t bear to be without him like he was an actor in a cheesy soap opera (it was true, he couldn’t); tell Peter he needed him on a “mission” that would mysteriously be canceled. Though they’d probably end up taking a plane or a suit to Vienna anyways (despite what he liked to say to Rhodey, he was not at all immune to Peter’s puppy eyes); hell, he should have purposely tripped on the stairs and broken his leg so Peter, sweet, kind, empathetic Peter, would immediately decide to stay by his side where Tony could keep him safe.

He missed Peter when he was at his apartment in fucking Queens, thirty minutes from Stark Tower. He didn’t know how he’d handle having him 4,222 miles away. He didn’t know if he could.

“Damn,” he hisses, pushing himself from his bed with a grunt and making a beeline towards Peter’s room. He dashes in. The sight of his sleeping son (read: lump of blankets) is enough to take his breath away.

Tony had missed him. It had been four hours since he’d tucked him in and kissed him goodnight, and Tony had missed him. Peter was fifteen feet away.

This trip is going to be the death of him. He’s going to drop dead of a goddamn heart attack before Peter even gets on the plane.

Tony sinks carefully onto the mattress and rests his hand on the boy’s neck, some deep, parental instinct in him immediately soothed by the slow, steady beat of his pulse. Peter is curled under the thick blue blanket, only his chestnut curls visible which are tinged blue from the Iron Man nightlight on the wall, his breath puffing out in those little snuffling snores that Tony absolutely adores.

He leans down to kiss his temple, inhales the familiar scent of his favorite strawberry shampoo and is overwhelmed by the wave of infinite love that washes over him. He loves this kid so much it sometimes hurts.

Leaning back, he smooths his thumb over Peter’s cheekbone. He doesn’t want to leave the boy’s side. He doesn’t know if he physically can. Maybe asleep Peter has somehow sensed this, because there’s a small mewl from the bundle of blankets, and two bleary doe eyes flutter open.

“T’ny?”

“Hey,” Tony whispers, running a hand through his curls. “Hey, jellybean. Sorry I woke you up.” Peter rolls over with heavy limbs and rubs his eyes with a fist in a childlike motion, yawning in a way that resembles all those yawning kitten videos he’s made Tony watch.

God, he’s adorable, Tony thinks. His heart is melting. He’s so small, so young. Tony feels an instinctual, almost uncontrollable urge to protect this kid, to wrap him in his arms and keep him from harm for the rest of time.

Peter is oblivious. “‘S… s’okay,” he mumbles. His hand sneaks out of the blankets and tugs on his arm lethargically, which the genius knows is sleepy Peter language for “cuddle with me.” Tony chuckles fondly and slides under the covers.

He props himself up on an elbow and gazes down at his beloved boy, stroking a finger down his cheek. Peter smiles sleepily up at him from his assortment of pillows. “Hi.”

His face splits into a wide grin. “Hi, Pete.”

Peter frowns at him then, a sudden change from his drowsy, half-asleep state. “You… you ‘kay? Wha’ time’s it?” He tries to sit up, but Tony hushes him gently with a “Everything’s okay, bud, just a typical 2am visit from your friendly neighborhood Iron Man.”

He smiles, so Tony counts the joke as a win. It’s not one of his best, but hey, forgive him if he’s a little anxious about his kid going to another fucking continent.

(He refuses to acknowledge that it’s not just being away from Peter that’s stressing him out, it’s the fact that anything could happen to him while they’re apart.)

Tony looks back to Peter, opening his mouth to talk, only to find that he’s completely conked out. He balls up the sleeve of his sweatshirt and wipes the line of drool tracing down the boy’s chin away, finding that a soft smile has formed on his face, the one that only makes its appearance around Peter.

Peter snuggles into him the second he lies down, resting his curly head just over his heart. Tony wraps a protective arm around his back and rubs small circles on his soft blanket hoodie. “G’night,” he whispers, bending to kiss the top of his head. “Sweet dreams, baby. I love you.”

He can feel Peter’s heartbeat thumping steadily against his chest- can hear his soft kitten snores. The warm weight of his body is so comforting that for a moment he thinks that maybe, just maybe, this trip isn’t going to be the end of him. That everything’s going to be okay.

~~~~~

Peter’s starting to regret eating all those waffles for breakfast. He feels shaky all over, like he could collapse or throw up any second. He’d told Tony he was going to pop in the bathroom, but he’s been in there for at least ten minutes, settled back on his heels on the cold, grimy floor of an airport bathroom, trying to breathe properly.

Speaking of Tony, he can hear the man just outside the door, typing on his phone and sipping from a cheap cup of coffee. Peter immediately experiences a hot flash of guilt, realizing that he must have grown worried while he was gone.

Sure enough, the door swings open and there’s a soft knock. “Pete? Everything okay, bud?”

Peter stands up and unlocks the stall. “Tony,” he sniffles, taking an unsteady step forward. Tony rushes forward and gathers him in his arms

“Whoa, hey, hey, you’re okay,” he says gently, rubbing a hand up and down his back. “You’re okay, Pete. Breathe, just breathe, bud. It’s okay.”

“I don’t-” Peter whispers. “I don’t know, Tony, I-I wanna go, but I can’t, I don’t know w-what to do.”

“Breathe, honey. It’s okay, I’m here, we’ll figure this out, okay? You just gotta take a breath, alright?”

Peter tries- fails. Tries again, and manages to gasp a breath in. “Sorry,” he croaks, when he can properly breathe again. “Tony, I-I don’t-”

“It’s okay,” Tony murmurs, squeezing him tight. “Nothing to be sorry for, Pete.” After snatching a paper towel and soaking it in the sink, he runs the scratchy cloth over Peter’s face and kisses his forehead when he’s done. “Okay, bubba. You wanna go back out or stay in here?”

“Out,” he replies without hesitation. The flickering white lights above are starting to give him a headache, not to mention the leaky faucet and the freezing tile floors and the faulty air conditioning. Tony leads him out with an arm around his shoulder and guides him to a little nook, where they both plop down on a neon green beanbag.

“My parents died in a plane crash,” Peter whispers.

Tony squeezes his shoulder. “I know buddy. I’m sorry.” Unlike a lot of the “sorries” Peter has heard, this one is sincere. Sometimes he forgets that Tony is an orphan too.

“I- I mean, logically, I know the plane won’t crash,” he continues, “But I guess it’s still hard for me to believe that. Like a- a gut feeling?”

The man nods in understanding. “I know how you feel, kiddo. I was terrified of cars after my parents died- I took the subway everywhere despite the paparazzi bloodhounds.” Tony doesn’t broach the subject of his parent’s deaths often, especially not in a crowded public airport, so Peter makes sure to pay attention.

“Then, the fear just kinda… vanished.” He wiggles his fingers dramatically. “I started driving without even thinking, didn’t realize I was in a car ‘til I got on the highway. I had to pull over when I did, but since then, I’m perfectly fine with cruisin’ at 80 mph. But,” he says seriously, meeting Peter’s eyes. “I think you should listen to what your gut’s tellin’ you, buddy. It’s important to listen to yourself- what inner you is saying.” He pokes Peter’s belly a couple times for good measure, which makes his face scrunch up adorably.

Peter nods, and really tries to listen to his gut. The pair both go silent in concentration, and then- his stomach grumbles. They both burst into laughter, born more from nerves than hilarity.

“Inner you wants to eat,” Tony snorts. “I think I saw a place with the biggest blueberry muffins of my life by the escalators, wanna stop there?”

Despite eating a huge stack of waffles just hours earlier, Peter wolfs down two of the gigantic blueberry poppyseed muffins, much to the amusement of Tony.

They made their way to the gate, where Peter’s teacher, Mr. Harrington was lounging, dressed in an ugly red sweater, his long legs stretched in front of him.

“Peter!” he cried as he spotted them, scrambling to his feet. “Thank god, I was beginning to think I had the wrong date! We’re leaving today, right?”

“Oh, yeah Mr. Harrington, we’re going today!” Peter laughs. He’s used to dealing with his scatter-brained teacher. “I’m actually here early, the plane’s supposed to leave at 1:00.” He gestures vaguely to the big digital clock over his head reading 11:54 AM, EDT.

Mr. Harrington frowns. “I thought it left at 8 am! You mean I’ve been here for hours in this awful chair when I could have been sipping a piña colada in my jacuzzi?!” He collapses back in his chair and pulls a sleeping mask over his eyes with a sigh.

“Sorry, Mr. Harrington,” Peter chuckles, then pulls Tony to a row of uncomfortable seats in the corner of the waiting area.

They sit in comfortable silence for a bit, just watching the various travellers rush past. A little girl, around two or three, comes up and shyly asks for Tony’s autograph, but no one else recognizes the genius. (Thanks to his foolproof disguise of a baseball cap and scarf covering up his iconic beard, the genius claims.)

“So, what are we thinking?” Tony asks after about half an hour. “Do you wanna go?” He secretly hopes Peter will say no, hopes that they can go home and binge watch all of the Star Trek episodes and fill their bodies with junk.

Peter nods hesitantly. “I think so. I-is that okay? I might change my mind, but- yes. Yeah, I think I want to go.”

Tony squeezes his hand. “Of course it’s okay baby, that’s perfectly fine. If you change your mind, you know what? That’s great too. Whatever you want, that’s what’s important.” He kisses Peter’s forehead and lets his hand linger for a moment where it rests on the boy’s cheek. “If you change your mind at any point, I’ll come pick you up, okay?”

“Thanks, Tony,” Peter breathes, slumping heavily against his side.

“Of course, bud. Anything for my Peter.”

They stop for lunch at a cozy little coffee shop, which is thankfully devoid of fans and paparazzi. Peter orders (or rather, makes Tony order) a small hot chocolate (with extra marshmallows and whipped cream) even though drinking a lot before a non-stop ten hour flight is probably not the best idea. (He can’t help it. He’s nervous.)

When the pair gets back to their gate, they find Ned and his family. The boy’s greet each other enthusiastically, performing their signature handshake, while Tony simply throws up a peace sign to Ned’s rather stunned parents.

The friends pull out their phones -probably playing one of those ghastly animated games that Peter is always quoting. Tony pretends to look busy on his phone, but really, he’s just trying to distract himself from the terrifying fact that he’s not going to see Peter for a week.

Too soon, the speaker crackles, a crisp voice announcing, “Attention. We are now boarding flight 367 nonstop to Vienna, Austria. Now boarding flight 367 nonstop to Vienna, Austria.”

Tony’s heart stops. Peter freezes.

No, they think at the same time. Not yet.

Peter turns to Tony, panicked. “Hey,” the man says, pushing away every anxiety, every worry away so he can focus on his kid. He sees Ned approach them, but stop when his father places a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay. Breathe, baby, it’s okay.”

“Tony.” Peter wraps his skinny arms around his waist.

“I know, baby, I know.” Tony kisses the top of his head and hugs him close. “Follow my breathing. You’re okay. We’re good.”

Around them, the members of the decathlon team are rising, but Tony and Peter sit in those unforgettable chairs, clutching each other tightly, not yet ready to let go.

“I’m gonna miss you,” Peter whimpers.

“I know kiddo, me too. I’m gonna miss you so much, but I’m always gonna be here, okay? If you need me, just call, or text, use morse code, doesn’t matter. I’m always here for you.”

“I’m here for you too,” Peter says. “I- I’ll call you every day.” Peter’s bottom lip is trembling, just barely, but enough for Tony to hug him a little tighter and kiss his forehead. “I love you, Tony,” he sniffs.

“I love you too, Pete. I love you so much.” Tony’s not crying. He’s not. The restaurant a few stores down is just cooking onions, that’s why his eyes are watering.

Peter pulls away and grabs his duffel bag, taking a step toward the loading dock. Tony tries not to burst into sobs. Stay, his mind whispers. Please stay.

Then Peter turns around, eyes full of tears, and slams straight into Tony’s chest, hugging him so tight he can barely breathe. Tony rocks them back and forth, cherishing everything about his sweet boy. When they finally break apart, Peter says, “I’ll be back before you know it,” echoing what Tony has said to him so many times before he leaves for a business trip.

Then he smiles a watery smile and runs to catch up with his best friend. Just before he disappears into the loading dock, he turns around and waves wildly at Tony.

Tony waves back, grinning. “I love you,” he mouths.

“I love you too!” Peter mouths back, and steps into the dock.

“I love you,” Tony whispers, hastily wiping the dampness from his eyes. “I love you, Peter.”

~~~~~

/ST*RKERS DNI/

Taglist: @aj-that-person @tonystark-deserves-better @nathaly-ab @skeeter-110 @peter-and-tony-vlogs @teammightypen @joyful-soul-collector @loveliestdisappointment @depuella @scwene-qween @honeythepooh @pixiethefirecat7 @spider-man-lover @jami161 @bringitonvoldie @queen-of-sarcasm-25 @roxy3457 @memilon @iron-loyalty @gralaca @bitchingpretty @pillowspace @thatminecraftgal @clockworkteacup @hatakehikari @wtfischeese @keep-a-bucket-full-of-stars @skydiving-without-a-parachute @yansi1923 @slytherin-hamilton-life-12 @dead-inside-pt2 @name-me-regret @zanderljones @spidy8664 @hold-our-destiny @tinystark-blog @bittersweetbeneath

If anyone wants to be added/ removed please let me know! (also, i think i missed a few people, and a few usernames have been changed, pop me a quick message so i can add you again!)

#chapter 1/2 #peter parker #tony stark #ned leeds #anxious thoughts #panic attacks #peter parker needs a hug #peter parker gets a hug #tony stark needs a hug #tony stark has a heart #tony stark acting as peter parkers parental figure #other tags to be added #no st*rker #st*rkers dni #my writing

143 notes · View notes

forasecondtherewedwon · 3 years

Text

Mr. Second Chance

Fandom: Loki Rating: G Word Count: 1148

Summary: Agent Mobius has a conversation with the potential new best friend the deviant timeline just dropped in his lap.

Loki seemed like he was going to play ball and so, as a reward, Agent Mobius took him back to the overlook. Poor guy seemed to enjoy the simple pleasure of marveling at the sprawling, soaring, roaring, crowded TVA metropolis. Probably reminded him of the inside of his own head.

Mobius knew how Loki’s whole life in the Sacred Timeline went—he’d memorized it either a week or 30,000 years ago—but everything Loki did and said here was brand new material. Now, most Variants were scrubbed from existence, their deviant branches nipped in the bud, so Mobius didn’t get a lot of new. Loki was a novelty.

He watched his new pal/god/sad-sack stare out at the domes and towers and aerial highways of bureaucracy and really felt excited about his job.

Abruptly, Loki turned to him.

“Do we have time for this?”

Mobius smiled.

“Man, you are hysterical.”

“I was being serious. You seem very fond here of explaining things in actions rather than words, so the only clarification I’ve received on how time works inside the TVA is being tossed backward across a room when I try to attack someone.”

“Ah. ‘Show don’t tell’ must really suck for you, huh?” Mobius checked, amusement undiminished. “Yeah, this place is a fairly well-oiled machine, so a lotta chitchat isn’t necessary.”

“…So you still aren’t going to answer me.”

Loki said it like a statement, but Mobius still pointed at him sharply and said, “Bingo.”

If there was one thing this guy actually needed, it was probably positive reinforcement. He’d had a rough time. Nobody here was supposed to show favouritism and, honestly, most of Loki’s history was like a textbook of cases you’d refer to for a reminder of when not to choose leniency. His entire life was one last-straw event after another, constantly crossing the line of, ok, this guy can never be trusted again. Better not give him my army, better not assume he doesn’t have another knife hidden someplace, better doublecheck to make sure he’s really dead and not doing a pretty bad job of pretending to be my dad.

“It’s better this way,” Mobius assured him. “A real answer would blow your mind and then what use would you be?” He immediately felt bad for the rhetorical question, lightly tapping Loki’s arm as he said, “Sorry, I’m sure you’re still feeling sensitive over gaining awareness of the extreme insignificance of your life and its fleeting accomplishments that were really just blips in a series of overall failures.”

“That really does sum it up,” Loki said flatly.

Shoot.

“Hey there, guy. You’ve got some spirit in you yet. Don’t forget, I know your track record. You’re the guy who always gets back up.”

“Not after being strangled by Thanos, apparently.” Loki turned his head and eyed Mobius. “And you’re not even afraid of me. That other one… Clarence… Carl…”

“Casey.”

“At least Casey was scared. Mostly confused,” Loki amended, cocking his head as he seemed to play back his memory of the encounter.

“Well,” Mobius explained, spreading his hands wide, “first of all, Casey doesn’t get out much. I’m a little desensitized because I’m not stuck behind a desk.”

Loki studied him shrewdly.

“You’re a field agent.”

“Sometimes fields. Also sometimes caves, uh, houses, places of worship. A lotta fast food joints, surprisingly.” At the blank look on Loki’s face, Mobius elucidated: “Customers are served in the wrong order and it’s like, no, he shouldn’t get his fries before her, she was ahead of him in line! God.”

“What disturbs me most is that I don’t know what to make of you,” Loki said.

Coming from anybody else, it would’ve been an admission of vulnerability, of being at a disadvantage, but with Variant L1130, it was closer to hostility. What a fun energy the two of them were going to have.

Mobius shrugged and decided he’d better say it simply.

“I’m a fan. It’s like, hey, did you ever watch Killing Eve? Great show, Earth show. Or Midgard to you, ya goof.” He thought a moment. “Never mind, you couldn’t have seen it.”

“After my time?” Loki guessed wryly. The expression on his face said he was barely containing his impatience for Mobius to get to the point, but he could just relax.

“Yes and no. It premieres in the Sacred Timeline, but, because of the Snap, never comes back for another season. Thanos really killed good TV. It’s a shame. What he didn’t have much effect on was the career of the actor Owen Wilson, who’d already made most of his popular movies.”

“Is this Owen Wilson person important?”

“Not technically, but he is my Sacred Timeline facsimile. More of a fun fact than a critical piece of information.”

“I was not aware that we were doing fun facts.”

“Only as detours, which you should feel like a specialist in now, seeing as you are one. Back to what I was saying, the whole premise of Killing Eve is that it’s these two professionals who are supposed to be on opposites sides but they just can’t be because they’re big fans of each other.”

“And you think what?” Loki stared at him with obvious skepticism. “That you and I have a similar dynamic?”

“Well, one of them kills people.”

“Ah. But you do know that I am not a fan of your work because I don’t yet know precisely what it entails, nor can I promise to become one once I do.”

“Nor would you promise that, I believe,” Mobius said knowingly. Loki inclined his head with a slight smile. “I like my odds though, especially since, I’m sorry to say, your other option is being reset.”

“No third option?”

“What, like letting you go?” Mobius wagged a finger at him.

“What can I say, I prefer to aim high.”

“I don’t think we can even do low. We got the ticket machine figured out a long time ago and we aren’t really looking to deindustrialize that process by putting an organic being in the post. Can’t let you narrate the informational video and replace Miss Minutes either. People love her.”

Loki narrowed his eyes.

“Do they?”

“Oh sure. At most, you could be her sidekick, Mister Seconds or something—that’s just off the top of my head—but I don’t think you consider yourself sidekick material.”

“And yet…” Loki gestured from himself to Mobius and Mobius had to laugh.

“I see your point. I’d say I’ll try not to call you my sidekick if you swear you won’t betray me, but I think you’ve infected me with some of those trust issues you have.”

“They are rather catching.”

“Then we’d better not make any promises and just see how things play out.” Mobius leaned forward on the railing and tried to view the TVA with fresh eyes. “I’m sorta looking forward to it.”

#come on read it #it's funny #and short #you have time #I entertained myself so much writing this #my writing #Loki #Loki spoilers #Agent Mobius

19 notes · View notes

stardust-walker · 3 years

Text

High Hopes

Chapter 1: The Highway

Synopsis: Dove Sawyer was more than happy going to her job, coming home, and maybe being able to talk to her sister if she was real lucky. None of that matters when the dead start to walk and she ended up in the woods with her older sister's family and a bunch of strangers. It's almost always been the two sisters but she never thought it would be so literal. Dove is sure in for a surprise when someone in the group starts to look after her family almost as much as she does.

Word: 1801

Author’s note: Ya girl is at it on tumblr now. The fic is also posted on AO3 here as well as on wattpad so I figured why not here as well since I’m posting Welcome Home mostly on here for now. I have 30 chapters up so I’ll be posting 2 or 3 a day until I’m all caught up! If anyone wants to be added to my taglist, just hmu.

____________________________________________________________

The young woman sat in the backseat of the Jeep Cherokee. She wished she'd had time to get her own car before her sister had panicked and basically dragged her out of the house with a half-packed suitcase, a few things already in her purse, and the clothes on her back. Ed was not happy about it and she could, for once, agree with him on that. It was a miracle they were both still alive 2 hours into a motionless traffic jam.

"Shouldn't they be saying something about this on the radio? What the hell is going on? Think you can change the station?" Dove finally spoke up for the first time in a half hour. The uncomfortable silence was broken by even more uncomfortable discussion. She could see the radio on but there was no noise coming from it since the emergency alert had stopped. She'd tried to be as delicate as she could with Sophia in the seat right next to her. Too bad her own father couldn't be so kind.

"Don't know. Guess a degree doesn't teach you everything." Ed snapped from the front seat and she noticed her sister tense up next to him.

"Jesus Christ, Ed. I was just asking you a question," Dove let out a heavy sigh as she pushed her door open.

"Where are you going," Carol's voice sounded slightly higher pitched than the last time she'd said anything.

"I'm just going to see if anyone else might know something. Maybe someone has a CB or heard from someone in the city. I'll be back. If I'm not back in a half hour, send a search party," she joked as she ruffled her niece's hair, not missing another snide comment about her being an uppity bitch from the man in the driver's seat. She hated leaving her family alone with Ed but right now she didn't really have a choice.

She felt like something was going on that someone else might know about and it was killing her not knowing. At least if no one else knew what was going on, she might be able to find someone actually intelligent to talk to. Anything was better than spending another minute inside the stuffy car in the Atlanta spring.

Part of her wished that she'd had time to change too. Damn Carol, she thought to herself as she pulled the fabric of her jean shorts back to their place an inch above her knee. Dove grabbed her sunglasses off the seat and slammed the car door shut as she started to meander her way down the freeway.

It wasn't weird to see an Interstate crowded or at a near standstill, but that was usually at rush hour with people going home or to work. Something about the way it was right now was eerie. It wasn't a feeling that was strange to her by any means, working in mental health will do that to you. Dove paused at the car up and over one from Carol's.

Her eyes lingered at the pistol on the man's hip before shifting upwards to his shirt. "Hey, officer. Any idea what's going on here?" She frowned slightly as she took a step forward, the man turned slightly to look over at her. A dark haired woman was sitting on the trunk of the car, a boy no older than Sophia perched up there next to her. The poor kid looked pale and stressed out. His mother didn't look much better.

"No clue. Maybe they're screening people on their way into the refugee center? Only thing that makes sense." The man looked concerned as he ran a hand through his hair. He seemed nervous. Dove nodded slowly and shifted her weight to her other foot.

"I hope you're right." She ran a hand across her forehead to wipe away the sweat. "I'm Dove, by the way. Dove Sawyer. Back there's my sister, Carol. She's got a little girl about your boy's age. Sure she wouldn't mind the company. Plus we might have some extra water in there if you're thirsty, bud." She smiled comfortingly in the direction of the little boy.

"Mom..." The little boy looked up at his mom. The poor thing looked so stressed out. She couldn't help but wonder what they'd been through before they decided to go to the refugee camp.

"We'll have to see, Carl." The dark-haired woman ruffled his hair before she kissed his forehead. "Thank you." Dove didn't miss the look she shot to the officer.

"Well, I'm Shane. That over there is Lori and the little man is Carl," Shane held his hand out and Dove shook it.

"Nice to meet you. I'm planning on trekking up ahead. Seeing if anyone's heard anything. People might have family in the city, you know? I'll probably circle back within the hour though. I'll be sure to let you know if I find anything out," she wished she could be a little more comforting especially with a little kid being involved. They did seem grateful for any information though. There was no doubt in her mind that the cop would try to figure something out just like she was.

With a quick wave, she bid Shane goodbye and started back off down the highway.

She'd definitely been gone longer than she told her sister and she'd gotten a quiet sort of hell for it when she got back to the car. Carol didn't want Ed to hear that she'd been worried about her. "Do you have idea how worried Sophia was?" Carol said through gritted teeth as the two women stood a few feet from the car. Dove frowned and shifted her gaze from the car to the ground. She was happy, at least, that Sophia seemed happy and distracted by Carl and his mother having joined them shortly after Dove had departed.

"Sorry, guess I just lost track of time," Dove couldn't shake the eerie feeling that still crept up her spine. The sun was had started to go down. "I didn't hear anything. From anyone else, I mean. Everyone's clueless. Something isn't right, Carol. People looked sick..." She trailed off as her brother-in-law glared in their direction. It was clear this conversation was over before Carol even took a step towards her husband.

Dove let out a heavy sigh. "Hey jellybean," she almost whispered as she walked up behind Sophia and ruffled her hair. Dove sat there with them for a while, Lori was pretty easy to talk to. She reminded Dove a little bit of Carol in that she could see the other woman was fiercely protective of her son just like Carol was with Sophia. "Shane hear anything?" She squinted her hazel eyes at the older woman who shook her head.

"No, they just keep playing the emergency alert over and over again now. Same one too. No updates or anything," Lori frowned as she leaned up against the car behind her son.

"Is that normal?"

"No it's not," Shane interrupted as he strolled up from the direction of his own car. Dove pursed her lips, any response lost as Shane pulled Lori away from the car. "We'll be back. I just want to go check something out."

Something was wrong. Something was really wrong. Dove's stomach twisted into a knot. She made a split second decision to pull the laces on her boots tighter before jumping off the trunk. "Where are you going now," Carol called after her as Dove started down the highway again. She needed to know what was going on. She had to.

Lori and Shane had disappeared behind the crowd of people that had started to fight on the highway before she even got within eyesight of them. "Hey!" Dove shouted as she came up closer to the fight. She stood up to her full height as she tried to get the attention of the group of men fighting. It happened fast, Dove had taken a step too close to the fight.

Next thing she knew was on the ground, her cheek throbbed where the stray punch had hit her. Dove pulled herself to her feet, a stream of curses ready to come out of her mouth when the bombs dropped. The sky lit up and buildings in the distance started to go down. There was no way this was happening.

A scream cut through the silence on the highway, followed by another. Cars were started up again, more fights were breaking out. Dove turned and started to run back to Carol's car. They had to go and they had to go now.

She caught a glimpse of something in a car she'd passed. The person who'd looked sick was leaned over the person in the driver's seat, their teeth digging into the neck of their partner as blood covered their face. The blood drained from her face and a feeling of intense panic made her blood run ice cold.

The rest of the run back to the car was so fast, she could've sworn she teleported. Lori and Shane were already back trying to wrangle everyone up. "Get in the car, Ed," was the first thing that Dove said as she ran right past the door to the backseat and attempted the trunk closed as Ed was looking through his things. Probably making sure the little boy hadn't taken any of his food.

The anger was evident in his eyes but she was powered by nothing but fear right now and that was a powerful thing. "You trying to tell me what to do, huh?" Ed was too close. She tensed up, ready to throw a punch if she had to when Shane called out over the chaos.

"Just get in the car, man. Shit's going down, bad!" There was something in the other man's voice that actually made the other man listen. He didn't look too happy about it but when a cop sounds scared, it's safe to say you should probably listen.

Dove practically jumped into the backseat and slammed the door behind her. Sophia scooted closer to her in the backseat and wrapped her arms around her aunt. "What's happening?"

Carol glanced back at them, a worried look on her face. Dove started to feel the pain on the side of her face as she stroked Sophia's hair, her hazel eyes locked with Carol's blue ones. "I don't know but don't you worry. You're gonna be just fine."

They'd ended up following Shane, there was no wonder about that in her mind. The line of cars following behind them made her feel a little bit safer too. People made it out but she had a feeling in her gut that there was no way this would be over soon. Life was going to be very different and she hoped she wasn't lying to Sophia when she said she would be fine.

_______

If anyone wants to be added to my taglist, comment or send an ask!

@crossbowking

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon fanfiction #Daryl DIxon fic #the walking dead fanfiction #The Walking Dead #twd fanfic #twd fanfiction #carol peletier #daryl dixon x oc #daryl x oc #my writing

38 notes · View notes

hyunllx · 3 years

Text

The Christmas Baker

A Hyunlix Hallmark Fic Chapter 1/5 wc: 4k Hwang Hyunjin is a rich, cocky, famous dancer that prefers to keep to himself during the holidays. When his roommate drags him along to visit his hometown, however, Hyunjin meets a boy who helps him believe in the spirit of the season. Primarily Hyunjin’s pov with Felix’s pov added in occasionally. series warnings: Extremely cliche. You will probably cringe at some points but its okay. chapter warnings: Brief mentions of alcohol. note: This fic is not meant to accurately reflect or portray the members of SKZ. This is just for fun. Next Chapter

--------------------&--------------------

A deep pounding in the temples roused Hyunjin from his sleep, a groan escaping him as he tried to sit up, his head spinning. He remembered he’d crashed on the couch again in the middle of the night after coming home from another company party. As usual, he’d had too much to drink and couldn’t make it all the way to his bedroom to undress or sleep properly. Now his neck and shoulders hurt from the uncomfortable couch and he felt like he needed a year long hot shower.

The smell of cooking registered in his nose, turning his stomach but waking him up a little more. He could hear the soft voice of his room mate and best friend, Chan, chiming from the kitchen, singing along to a christmas song he couldn’t quite make out.

Chan emerged from the kitchen carrying a steaming bowl, grinning wide as he noticed Hyunjin up and somewhat alert,

“Hey sleepyhead, you’re finally awake.” His voice was high and babyish as he approached the couch.

Hyunjin groaned again. No matter how close they were, he was still embarrassed whenever Chan pulled out his cute charms around him. Lacking the energy to complain so soon after waking up, he just took the bowl from Chan and brought it to his lips without a word. Despite expecting the taste of Chan’s famous hangover soup, Hyunjin still recoiled as the spices burned his tongue and throat. He coughed sharply, earning a pat on the head from his friend,

“That’ll wake you up for sure.”

“What’s that?” Hyunjin pointed to the luggage piled next to their apartment’s front door, distracting himself as he took another scalding sip of the soup broth. Chan tilted his head like a confused puppy, frowning,

“I’m leaving to stay with my brother for break, remember?”

“That’s today?”

“Of course. Christmas is only four days away you know.” He didn’t know, but Hyunjin didn’t want to say that out loud. People were always either appalled that he didn’t celebrate the holidays or they pitied him. In reality he never got to celebrate like others did when his parents were busy with holiday music events and parties. He was used to being alone this time of year. Still, he couldn’t help eye the stack of bags with jealousy. The thought of waking up on christmas morning without his best friend was not something he looked forward to.

Chan noticed the way his eyes kept flicking toward the door,

“Are you sure I can leave you alone for so long?”

Hyunjin scoffed, “What do you mean? I’m an adult, I can take care of myself.”

“Getting drunk every night until Christmas is not taking care of yourself, Hyunnie.” Hyunjin grimaced at the nickname. Chan only used it when he was sincerely worried about him, and Hyunjin didn’t want to have this serious of a conversation when he’d be leaving right after. He focused on finishing his breakfast instead, skin burning where Chan was watching him.

“Why don’t you come with me?”

Hyunjin choked as he inhaled broth in shock at the proposition,

“Excuse me?” He managed between coughs.

“I mean it. I don’t want you to be here by yourself.”

The witty come back on Hyunjin’s tongue burned away when he met Chan’s sad eyes. Truthfully, he didn’t want to be here alone either, but the thought of staying in a stranger’s house in a strange town was equally unappealing.

“I know my brother won’t mind. He loves company, and we’ll make room for you.”

“I’m not going to win this fight, am I?” Hyunjin sighed, defeated.

“Nope!” Chan grinned and dragged him into a one-sided hug, “I’ll help you pack once you wake up.”

It didn't take long for Hyunjin to shower and collect his things. Though what he owned was luxurious and expensive, he didn't own much of anything. His clothes for the trip took up a rolling suitcase and everything else fit neatly in his shoulder bag. How Chan managed to fill three duffle bags, a laptop case, and his backpack, Hyunjin would never know. Still, between the two of them packing up Chan’s car, they managed to get on the road by the time he’d wanted to leave.

“Do you mind if I call him to let him know we’re coming?” Chan asked, fiddling with his dashboard to connect the car to his phone.

Hyunjin shrugged, putting in his ear buds to respect the privacy of their conversation. Even with his volume turned, though, the reverberating bass of the deepest “Hello?” he’d ever heard cut through to his ears.

Hyunjin had never seen Chan’s brother, but he couldn’t imagine the person that voice must be coming from. His eyes widened as he listened to them talk,

“I’m on my way over now!” Chan said, flashing Hyunjin a bright smile when he noticed his friend’s face, “Hey, I’m sorry for not asking earlier but my roommate didn’t have a place to celebrate Christmas, so is it alright I brought him along?”

“Of course, of course!” His brother responded, his voice lightening only slightly with warmth, “I’ll get the guest room ready. Will he be coming to the party?”

Hyunjin sat up straighter at the mention of a party, looking toward Chan, who only rolled his eyes,

“Yeah, I think it’ll be good for him to go.”

“Sweet! I’ll see you guys when you get here.”

“Love you, Lix.”

“Love you too!”

“Party?” Hyunjin asked curiously as soon as they hung up the call, “I thought you wanted me to stay away from parties.”

“It’s not the kind of party you’re thinking of.” Chan shook his head, a laugh hiding behind his lips, “It’s a celebration on Christmas Eve. Everyone comes together for free food and gifts.”

“Sounds boring.” As long as there’s liquor for the adults, he thought to himself. He knew he’d need it to get through that kind of Christmas cheer. Chan only hummed in response, turning on the radio. It didn’t take long for him to start singing along to the holiday music, definitely not helping Hyunjin’s mood, even with his own music playing through his headphones.

It took a couple songs passing without him registering the music for Hyunjin to realize he was still thinking about the voice on the other end of the car speakers. So warm yet so deep and mysterious at the same time. Chan talked often with pride about his younger brother, but Hyunjin had never taken the time to envision what the boy was actually like. In his head he was just a younger Chan. Clearly not with that voice. If he’d heard someone speak like that in a club or at a venue, he’d be flirting with them in an instant.

After an hour of passive contemplation and at least ten plays of Mariah Carey's All I Want For Christmas Is You, Hyunjin finally pulled out his ear buds and turned down the radio. Chan turned to look at him mid-lyric,

"What's wrong?"

"Tell me more about your brother." Chan opened his mouth to gush like usual but paused, looking at him curiously,

"You've never asked about him before."

"It would be rude to show up at his house and not know anything about him."

“I talk about him all the time?”

“I don’t listen.” He lied.

Chan rolled his eyes, “Well… his name is Felix. He’s the same age as you are, 6 months younger. I basically raised him when we were kids because our parents were gone all the time. He owns and works at a little bakery in town-”

“He’s a baker?” Now Hyunjin was really confused.

“The BEST baker!” Chan corrected, a little over-excited, “Seriously, all your stress will melt away the second you taste his brownies. He’s also a great cook, of course. And he’s a dancer, like you!”

Hyunjin couldn’t figure this boy out. Every detail Chan shared over the following half hour was like gaining a new jigsaw piece that belonged to a completely different puzzle. “Felix” was a baker at heart with a passion for singing and dancing. Somehow he’d never followed in his elder brother’s footsteps despite being a gifted musician. By the time he was done listening, he both regretted asking and was unimaginably curious. All because of that stupidly deep voice on the other end of the call.

They drove from late morning until sunset, the city passing by them giving way to towns and eventually just an expanse of highway and trees. Occasionally an off-ramp would lead to some semblance of civilization beyond the humming of the cars around them, otherwise there was nothing this far out of the city. Clouds on the horizon turned deep red and purple as Chan finally took an exit, a storm in the distance squeezing the last drops of golden light from the sun before it set.

They took several winding turns through the trees until the sun disappeared behind them and lights flared up around the car. Hyunjin stared in amazement as the trees lining the main road held strings of christmas lights in their branches, leading them straight to the town’s center. Though he would never admit it out loud, Hyunjin thought they were beautiful.

The entire town was decorated as though they had just entered the north pole. Every light pole held an oversized wreath, every tree strung with lights, every hovel and storefront decorated as if they wanted to see their tiny town from space. Hyunjin was dumbstruck; he was used to this kind of sight in big cities. It was to draw tourists and commerce for the big stores and the attractions. But here, this tiny town had none of that. They did this for the joy of it. How anyone could be in love with this holiday in such a way, he did not know. He was so lost in wonder he didn’t even notice they’d stopped until Chan turned the car off and the radio stopped playing, snapping Hyunjin’s attention back to reality.

They’d pulled up to the small driveway of an equally small house. It was two stories tall, but only wide enough to fit the front door and a window on the first story. Thin trails of smoke rose from the back of the house, and a porch enclosed the entrance, orange light spilling out onto the wooden steps from the door’s frosted glass window.

Shivers ripped through Hyunjin as he stepped out of the car, his breath swirling around him in a puff of steam. The temperature had dropped below freezing already, the cold eating away the nerves that started bubbling in Hyunjin’s stomach. The house in front of him looked cozy and warm and he just wanted to get inside.

“Come on!” Chan grinned, motioning for Hyunjin to follow as he nearly sprinted up the stairs. The door was unlocked for them, and he shuffled after his friend into the heat of the home. He rubbed his hands together as he stood over the humming radiator of the entryway, taking in the overwhelming sensory experience of the home. Other than the warmth, the first thing to hit Hyunjin was the smell of food cooking somewhere deeper in the house, making his stomach growl. He hadn’t eaten much more than a few snacks since his breakfast soup.

Secondly, everything was covered in christmas decorations. Everything. The walls, the stairs to the second floor, the doors, the dining room to their left. Even the crown molding lining the ceiling of the old house. The warm orange light he’d seen from outside was emitted by dozens if not hundreds of little warm-white bulbs. It was as if Santa Claus himself lived there.

“We’re here!” Chan called out, waddling into the hallway with Hyunjin right behind. A half-laugh half-yell of excitement burst from what Hyunjin assumed was the kitchen, startling him. Yet the human that emerged from the doorway was the most shocking part.

The boy was just a tiny bit shorter than Chan, and petite enough to be swimming in his oversized sweater and apron. His hair was a shade more platinum than Hyunjin's own blonde, his skin a soft russet with splashes of dark freckles across his nose and cheeks.

"Hyung!" He exclaimed in a high-pitched voice as he ran into Chan's outstretched arms. Certainly this wasn't the same boy that spoke over the car speakers.

"You must be Hyunjin!" His deep voice returned as he pulled away from his brother, beaming up at Hyunjin with the world's brightest grin, "It's nice to meet you!"

"Nice to meet you t-" Hyunjin had extended a hand for a handshake but Felix quickly ignored it, pulling him into a sudden hug. Hyunjin stiffened at the informality, entirely unprepared to meet someone that was even more physically affectionate than Chan. He could see the family resemblance.

“Don’t be nervous,” Felix tried to soothe him, patting his back before pulling away, “You’re hyung’s friend, so this is your home too.”

Hyunjin couldn’t respond, his brain was short-circuiting from the physical affection and the deep voice and all the lights. All he could process was Chan trying desperately yet failing to suppress a laugh in his direction. Thankfully, an obnoxious beeping from the kitchen saved him from having to formulate a response.

“Ah! Dinner’s ready, you guys made it just in time!” He scurried off to fetch the food, bouncing along with excitement as he ran like a child.

“You alright?” Chan chuckled, smacking Hyunjin between the shoulderblades to grab his attention.

“What have you dragged me into?” He whispered, hoping his host wouldn’t hear.

“Come on Hyunjin, I know you guys are going to end up getting along just fine.” Chan winked at him, which Hyunjin thought was odd, but at this point everything around him was twisted backwards and upside down so he didn’t think much more of it.

They hung up their jackets and Chan led him into the dining room where Felix was setting out three large bowls of rice next to three bowls of the most delicious smelling kimchi stew Hyunjin had ever seen. The chandelier that hung over the small table was turned off, the room illuminated instead by the vibrant white glow of the christmas tree in the corner of the room. Felix’s smile as they entered was just as bright; Hyunjin felt he couldn’t look too long or else he’d get lost in it. Instead he turned to Chan as he took a seat next to him, watching his friend’s nose scrunch up at the thought of a spicy meal.

“Don’t worry, it’s not very spicy.” Felix assured, reading Hyunjin’s exact train of thought. Of course he’d know Chan couldn’t handle spicy food. He couldn’t even eat the hangover soup he made Hyunjin in the mornings.

“Thank God.” Chan nodded with relief, “Shall we eat? I’m starving.”

“Of course, please help yourselves.” Felix said as he took a seat across from Hyunjin at the table, still smiling. Hyunjin still couldn’t look at him, his heart skipping at the sight of his grin. Instead, he dug into his stew.

An involuntary groan rumbled in his throat at the flavor, his body warming instantly as he slowed to savor the taste. Not that he’d had many home cooked meals in his life, but Hyunjin couldn’t help but think it was the best tasting meal he’d ever had.

When he came back up from his bowl, Hyunjin froze under the stares of both Chan and Felix. They looked at him eagerly, leaning in as if waiting for him to speak.

“Uh…” He struggled to find words as he swallowed a mouthful of beef, “It’s really good.”

Felix let out a sigh of relief then a loud, sudden laugh. His grin swallowed his face again as he picked up his chopsticks,

“Good! I was worried whether or not you’d like it.”

The comment came off so casual that it left Hyunjin’s ears burning with embarrassment. Why did he care what Hyunjin thought about his food? They were strangers. Yet the longer he lingered in this house the more it felt familiar. Like he was visiting a beloved family member after years apart. He shook off the feeling.

He’s a stranger. Hyunjin reminded himself.

“Is Seungmin still working at the bakery after moving out?” Chan asked when Hyunjin’s senses were ready to return to the conversation.

“Yeah, but I gave him the week off.” Felix waved his hand dismissively, though a smirk lingered on his lips, “He deserves to spend as much time as he can with Minho.”

“They’re back together?”

“Do they ever really break up?” Both brothers laughed in agreement, nodding vigorously. Hyunjin was lost in the conversation, so he just sat and smiled awkwardly. Chan giggled teasingly as he continued,

“What about you? Is there a special boy I should meet while I’m here?”

Hyunjin and Felix immediately locked eyes at the question. Felix’s face grew tomato-red, and the intense fire in his ears told Hyunjin they looked much the same. His head reeled as he realized that’s why Chan was never awkward whenever he came home to find Hyunjin with a boy, or why they never had the talk about it after.

“Uh.. No- no. I’m not seeing anyone.” Felix stuttered, stuffing his mouth with rice so he wouldn’t have to keep talking. Hyunjin felt sorry for him as the boy’s sunny smile vanished. He could sense Felix’s anxiety at being outed to a stranger. Even if he’d welcomed Hyunjin with open arms, this was a different level of personal information. He tried to catch Felix’s eye again but the boy was too focused on his food. Hyunjin cleared his throat instead,

“That’s too bad. I was hoping to meet a cute boy while we were here.”

Felix perked up a little at that, a smile entertaining the corners of his lips while he chewed. They finished their dinner in mostly silence, the sweet hum of christmas music filtering into the room via the kitchen. Though he knew he’d regret it when he returned to the dance studio after break, Hyunjin ate until he was completely full, letting himself indulge in the delicious food just this once.

“So… just you in the bakery tomorrow?” Chan asked as they all leaned back in their chairs, finished and satisfied.

“Yep!” Felix smiled and nodded as he stood to gather the empty dishes from the table, “I’m only aiming for 1000 this year so the two days should be plenty of time. As long as you’ll help?”

“Of course! What are brothers for?”

“1000 what?” Hyunjin looked between them, confused and apprehensive about being in a stranger’s home by himself.

“Cookies! For the Christmas Eve Party. You’re welcome to come help too if you want.”

Hyunjin screwed up his face at the idea; he was NOT a good cook, or baker. Hence his lack of experience with home-cooked meals, “I think I’ll just take the day to look around town.”

“Well you’re welcome to stop by. It’ll just be us in there.” Was that disappointment in his deep voice? Hyunjin shook his head at the thought. While he certainly had a reputation for being cocky, he wasn’t typically this full of himself. There was no reason for this boy he’d just met to have such an impact on his emotions. Felix didn’t care about him or what he did. They didn’t know each other. Hyunjin was only here because of Chan.

“I’m going to start unloading the car.” He said, already heading for the front door. He needed to clear his head. The cold night air would help.

--------------------Felix--------------------

“Is that everything?” Felix asked as he helped his brother tuck the last of the gifts he’d brought under the giant tree in his living room. His cheeks hurt from smiling, and he had to restrain himself from shaking the boxes whenever he glimpsed his name written on the tag.

“Yep!” Chan smiled just as wide, pretending to dust off his hands, “Just have to unpack my clothes and stuff.”

“Do you want help?”

“Nah. I’ll be back down in a bit.” He scratched his fingers in Felix’s hair as he stood, making the younger boy giggle. Felix hadn’t realized how much he had missed his hyung; Chan was gone to the big city to chase his dreams and rarely got a break to come home. Whenever he visited, it felt like Felix’s heart was whole again.

As he stood up from his spot in front of the tree, Felix’s mind wandered from his brother to the stranger upstairs, Hyunjin. Hwang Hyunjin.

Being a dancer himself, Felix was familiar with the dancers that Chan worked with, spending hours memorizing their routines. The fact that Hyunjin was here in his home made nervous, star-struck butterflies flutter in his stomach. Even despite his cold demeanor.

Felix could tell it was an act; the mask had slipped when Hyunjin rescued him from Chan accidentally outing that he liked boys in front of a stranger. It slipped in the way Hyunjin looked to Chan like a brother, for comfort and reassurance. There was a kind person underneath all that ice. He’d warm up once they got to know each other, Felix was sure of it.

“I’ll go check on him, I think.” He mumbled to himself as he checked his pulse, a nervous tick he’d had since he was a child. He stopped to grab a pillow and blankets from the closet under the stairs, just in case his guest needed an extra one, before heading up.

The door to the guest bedroom was ajar so Felix opened it with a nudge of his foot. He found Hyunjin standing in the middle of the room, vigorously texting on his phone. His long, golden hair hung loose, free from the ponytail he’d had it in before. His plump bottom lip was trapped between his teeth, his eyebrows pulled together in concern. It was the first time Felix really recognized how breath-takingly beautiful the man was in person.

When he noticed light spilling into the room from the hall, Hyunjin looked up from his phone, startled as though Felix had caught him doing something he shouldn’t have been. Frowning, he paused in the doorway,

“Is everything okay?”

“Y-yeah. Sorry, you just surprised me.” Hyunjin spoke as if finding his breath again, his ears turning pink again like they had been at dinner.

“Um… Is there anything you need? Like another blanket or something?” Felix shuffled his feet awkwardly. The star-struck butterflies were back in full-force and he was sure he looked just as embarrassed as Hyunjin himself did.

“No thank you, I’m alright.” An awkward pause, “Hey… is that offer to help at the bakery still open?”

Felix’s heart flipped up into his throat,

“Yeah of course! You… you changed your mind?”

“I don’t think I’ll be seeing much of the town.” He stepped back and pointed to the small window. Half an inch of snow already clung to the outer windowsill while large, heavy flakes sparkling in the lights lining the house dove through the air. The storm that had been threatening the sky all day finally arrived.

“Oh that’s alright,” Felix grinned at the sight, excitement mingling with his nervousness making him bounce on his toes, “We’ll have a white christmas at least! You’re welcome to join me and Chan any time.”

“Thank you.” Hyunjin bowed slightly, still being awkward, “Um… good night.”

“Good night, Hyunjin.” Before he could see his reaction, Felix stepped back and shut the door. His heart raced and he had to take a moment to catch his breath.

“It’s going to be a long three days…”

#stray kids #skz fic #skz fanfic #skz au #lee felix #hyunjin #hyunlix #hyunlix fic #chanlix are brothers in this #mentions of canon 2min but theyre supporting characters #the christmas baker #i love hallmark movies and this is literally as cliche as i could make it on purpose

66 notes · View notes

thornsandtulips · 3 years

Text

(Desert Nightmare) x reader

( it’s not really an x reader per say, it’s just having you guys get into the plot of the game. That being said, some shit is about to go down. Also okay so I’ve noticed no fanfics or artwork for this man, like at all. It’s honestly kinda disappointing but eh. This takes place from beginning to end of the game, so I warn you SPOILERS AHEAD. Also, I haven’t written anything in about 2 years. So please , bear with me. That’s it.)

Though the sun blared onto the tinted window, it still left an aching warmth onto your lap as the car drifted down the empty highway. It was such a boring sight when looking out the window, the view only being filled with sand for what looked like miles with no end. The only thing keeping you some sort of comfort was the music blaring into your ears during the long ride.

“ y/n “ a muffled voice could be heard, barely recognizable of your own name. You turn tiredly, a bit annoyed you were thrown into this situation as you made eye contact with Sandra. She’s smile awkwardly, trying to hide her annoyance at you putting your ear buds in rather than complaining with her about missing the biggest party of the summer. You’d raise an eyebrow, seemingly missing a conversation between her and her parents, mostly coming to this observation due to the fact that all three people seemed to be awaiting your response. This wasn’t the first time you’d be a deal breaker in an argument between Sandra and her parents, though that didn’t mean you liked being involved in their family drama at all.

“ uh- I’m sorry, I had my ear buds in. What’s happening?” You’d look at the front of the car as you’d mutter that out the most polite way possible. Audible sighs could be heard from the front, one beside you as Sandra now showed how annoyed she was in the situation. Seeing how you showed that you were now present in this small argument, there wasn’t really any chance of listening to music and zoning out again.

“ I was trying to tell them that I have to stop somewhere to use the bathroom! I’ve been holding it in for hours” the teen whined, letting a small pout show at the parents looked aggravated towards their upset child. You’d smile a bit, not out of humor of the situation, but more out of nervousness, especially when a gas station was seen in the distance past the heatwave.

Instead of having the argument start up again, you’d lean in a bit ,” I sorta have to go too, I’m sorry.” You’d lie, knowing that since you were their child’s friend and not their own, they wouldn’t be inclined to be mad or yell at you. You also didn’t go earlier to be fair as well. You could see the station pull up closer , seeing the father grow tired of his daughter’s complaining the entire ride finally show on his expression. As the car stopped, it didn’t take a second for Sandra to unbuckle and bolt out the car to stretch. You’d sigh, doing the same at a less eager pace. The sun seemed to shine much stronger on your back than it did on your lap in car, most likely due to the tint on the backseat windows. It wasn’t until you finished stretching did you hear the conversation ahead of you.

“ Do you have to stop at every other gas station?” A gruff voice asked, quickly identifying it as Sandra’s father. Though his face wasn’t seen, you could tell he was utterly exhausted from the ride and the treatment his daughter gave him. He’d continue “ I want to reach the next city before it’s dark.” You’d stand awkwardly next to Sandra, who’d seem to take his comment rather negatively.

“ Uncle Rupert will survive if we’re one day late!” You wince a bit at Sandra’s tone, knowing how this conversation would soon go south. “ I don’t know why I came at all! I’m missing the best part of the summer!” She continued.You’d smile awkwardly , trying to diffuse the situation at hand “ Sandra-“ only to be cut off.

“ Life isn’t all about parties, it’s time for you to realize that!” Her mother argued , her tone cutting at the tension more. The only thing to do in the situation was not to be involved, who would be dumb enough to jump into your friend’s family feuds. Slowly gripping your bag, you decide to walk to the gas station, noticing the bathroom wasn’t connected to the station rather it was beside it. With a quick pull, the arguing voices were cut off with the door echoing shut.

You’d sigh, the heat was uncomfortable, especially during the summer. Walking to the sink, you turned the faucet in hopes cold water would steam out. much to your luck, hot water burned at your fingertips when trying to test the water temperature,” shit-“ you’d hiss. The sound of the door opening and slamming quickly caught your attention as an annoyed Sandra came walking in ,” they threatened me- they said I can walk there!-“ you’d tense for a minute.

“ they wouldn’t… you know-“ you’d gulp at the idea of walking miles in the burning heat,” make us walk to the next city right? “ Sandra would scoff at the idea, going to the stall as she’d complain. “ As if, they wouldn’t actually leave us in the middle of no where over a disagreement. That would be messed up! Plus they’d be the ones explaining to your parents about it if you did have to walk with me.” She’d try to joke, trying to uplift your worry as she finished her business.

The must of the bathroom was unbearable as you did your best to wash your hands throughly. It wasn’t long as the bathroom stall creaked open to see Sandra walk out, her expression still a bit upset as she now too went to wash her hands ,” you know, it means a lot you came with me. No one else wanted to miss the biggest party of the summer” she’d joke.

A small smile would twitch up on your face ,” of course, you’re my friend you know? A party is nice but I’d rather be here with you than drinking with some idiots who won’t remember basic human boundaries or morals.” She’d smile a bit, seemingly soothed by your words. It wasn’t long before she was ready to head out.

“ ready?” She’d ask, grabbing her bag as she’d tuck her black hair back behind her ear. Sandra was always the type to be too stubborn to work with others or admit when she’s wrong, but was overall always there for the people she trusted at the end of the day. It was definitely something to grow accustomed to, but you had years of friendship with her to be use to it by now. She was more of an annoying little sister at times, family none the less.

“ yeah, just try to be a bit more bearable to your folks though okay? I know they’re exhausted from all that driving, especially in the heat.” You’d warn, opening the door and looking back at Sandra to try and keep your attention towards her. Though your thoughts shifted at the change of expression on her face. Your back was still faced to where the car would be, ‘did they turn off the car?’ You’d think, not needing to look to notice the lack of motor from the overheating car. Sandra seemed shocked and disgusted as she’d move past you, now you could turn and confirm you and Sandra’s fears.

They were gone.

No…

As the adrenaline rush kicked in for you, it doubled in Sandra as she’d freak out at the sight of the rustic green van missing. “ what the fuck-“ Sandra was quick to say, going to grab her phone to call her mom only to freak out more. Out of curiosity, you looked at your phone as well. Oh? You were not having any reception on your phone either. A small tremble would form as you’d get a bit antsy, looking down the dusty road to see that no one was there, no car, nothing. So it definitely wasn’t a trick. As you’d slowly make a step towards the road to check your surroundings, Sandra was quick to check the gas station.

The sun blared into your shoulder as you tried to shield your eyes with your hand, trying to look out at your surrounding without getting primarily blinded by the blistering sun. A hand grabbed your shoulder, making you jump a bit as you turned to see a distraught Sandra. “ What’s wrong?” You’d ask calmly, “ Sandra?”

Sandra seemed a bit worried as she’d quickly make her way down the road ,” we have to go to the next city!- they’re probably waiting there for us to prove some dumb lesson!” You’d raise an eyebrow, speed walking to meet up with her. Her pace seemed forced a bit faster than usually, her face written with nervousness.

“ what’s wrong? Why can’t we wait at the gas station for your parents- Sandra come on!” You’d be cut off by Sandra giving you a small glare, obviously frustrated. “ Y/n, I went in there, the station-“ she’d huff before continuing “ it was empty, it looked like it wasn’t occupied in years. Waiting there just screams danger, especially when you don’t know who will stop there!-“

“ okay okay- “ you’d reason, just trying to keep to Sandra’s pace as she’d try to make it to the next city before the sun set. The walk was overall silent, the sound of sneakers hitting the concrete pavement as your eyes quickly focused on a road sign. ‘Dusty Creek - 1 mile ’ “ that town, Dusty Creek? It’ll be less than a mile at this rate” you’d reason. The walk grew more into a race on getting to that Dusty Creek before sun set.

As if it were luck, you both made it to the big wooden sign with the letters ‘ Dusty Creek’ on it. The course of running a mile left you both breathless, though Sandra’s breath seemed to be taken more at the sight of her blue book bag leaning against a wall. She’d be quick to grab it while you’d look around. “ my back pack- y/n how did it get here?!” She’d ask, shocked.

You’d smile , shrugging as you’d grip your own bag ,” I don’t know San, but I’ll go check in this Inn to see if your parents checked in okay? You go look around for their car!-“ She’d go through the bag and nod, not seeming to mind that arrangement. With a swift step, you’d walk into the inn. The room instantly hit a strong smell of pine as you’d step in. Your eyes would meet with papers littered all over a desk behind the counter, the counter itself being neat with a big book open for signing in. Your gaze would then meet towards a girl a bit older than yourself, her eyes cold as she’d let her messy brown hair out of her face so you could get the full glare.

“ um. Hi-“ you’d begin, not use to this kind of hostility,” I’m looking for my friend’s parents, did a married couple with the last name Richmont check in at all? “ you continued, trying to be polite even though the glare of this girl was biting away at you “ nope. “ she’d say bluntly.

Huh?

You’d feel your lip twitch slightly into a small smile, confused now. If Sandra’s parents weren’t actually here , then why was Sandra’s bag against the wall of the inn earlier? “ have you at least seen a green car to drive by here recently?” You’d try to reason before she hit you with a “ no I haven’t.” It was obvious she wasn’t in the mood to talk.

As the tension grew, Sandra came in with a tired expression, quickly catching up as you were given a chance to collect your thoughts. This town was strange for sure, the people didn’t help Change that observation either. It wasn’t until you saw Sandra take out her wallet and pay the chick before getting your attention. You’d be quick to follow her up the stairs, each step creaking softly as you’d whisper to her ,” okay so, any ideas of where your parents could be?” Sandra would look over her shoulder to you before walking to the hotel room ,” they said my parents could be in a pension at the end of the city, knowing them they’re probably going to spend the night. So, I decided to room here for tonight. We’ll share a bed okay? It was cheaper.”

A small sigh would leave your lips, realizing that spacing out earlier caused you to not gather this information first hand. Your attention was cut short as she’d open the door, a small creak cutting the silent air before you both walked in. Putting your bag down, you stretched ,” we can look around a bit to help ease your anxiety “ you’d offer, noticing how tense Sandra was. She’d smile at the offer ,” I do want to check this place out. It’s kind of scary though.”

A small chuckle left your lips gently as you headed to the door ,” oh? You chicken?” You’d tease, knowing how stubborn she can be ,” oh hush! Fine one walk around won’t hurt!” She’d huff, not bother fighting back at all.

With a step, you grabbed her hand and headed out the door.

With that, the journey began…

#Sandra Richmont #desert nightmare #x reader

2 notes · View notes

illusionwrites · 4 years

Text

—Your best friends want to go on a vacation trip for spring break, the hard part was convincing you, a lost soul, to go as well.

P: Jimin x Reader

Genre: College AU | Fluff | Angst | Smut — Warning: none for this chapter

Word Count: 8,709

< story index >

Chapter 1: Three Musketeers

Despair. If there was a better word to describe how you feel every morning you get up, every time you walk through the empty halls of your solitaire apartment, a labyrinth that opened up to such a wide open space filled with brightness, shine and pop of luxury in every corner. There aren’t many adjectives enough to compare it to the first thing that pops up inside your head whenever you awaken from slumber, you feel almost too drained to think about looking for a more precise word that could explain how hard mornings are for you. It not only lasts while you struggle to find something decent in the refrigerator to eat, the feeling continues to surge like a weight on your eyes as the days pass by, and you’re not blaming it on sleep anymore. Most of the time your eyes flutter close while the blankets just cage your figure for the span of the dawn rising color into your bedroom window, being a night owl had become a new scope of your being.

Sleep hasn’t become your utmost sought out activity these days, but not long ago you preferred to grow drowsy from a bit too much to drink or to crash at some random college guy’s uncomfortable mattress once you were completely satisfied with his ‘work’, crashing your own sexual drive and hormones that always begged for more, only to wake up guilty the next morning from the smallest addiction you have acquired for such activities. If you weren't drinking, you were probably looking for ways to replace the light headed feeling with something rather… numbing.

It’s the reason why you usually walk around it with the lights shut, you enjoy the comfort of the shadows that made you feel like you’re being watched by weird entities, and as creepy as it sounds, silence often soothes your ears with small and delicate sounds that escape from the natures of the outside. Walking through immense darkness felt so inviting when you only wanted to evade all the mirrors watching over you inside the living space, you can't stand to look at your own reflection yet. Eyes that stared back at you, deceivingly judging every step you took felt nauseating. Chills run up against your bare feet as you hum silently over to the kitchen. Only thing audible was the rattling kettle with the notice that the bitter coffee fumed out through its opening. You pour it onto a cup nearby the sink and let it cool down a bit, distracting yourself with the hues that invade the dining aisle through the open concept window covered by cream colored drapes. Wrapped up the soft fabric of one of your baggy oversized shirts and unmatching socks, you take a sip of the bitter, dark beverage while looking at the absence of the sun which is still hidden behind the clouds.

It burned your tongue at the first sip, but you enjoy it even if your face winces at contact, it reminds you that you’re human and that you can still feel pain. It’s what you question yourself every day, how much pain can you even resist to finally admit that you are alive? It bothers you, the constant debate whether you care about existing in general, whether all the happiness that accompanies you is actually real or if true sadness is what you have been experiencing lately. You wish you knew the answer, and at the same time, you’re scared to know yourself the definition of what is wrong with you, or why have you become this emotionless robot after being studying for two years something you ‘figured’ is what you want to do with the rest of your life. You’re breathing but you don’t feel like you’re actually living, studying yet you don’t know what for. You’re just there, an ordinary student waiting for life to pass by her eyes until death comes to pick her up and drive her to whatever empty basement the two edges of the afterlife would want to maintain such a lost soul. It really can’t get as dark as that.

But you know it's all part of progress. If someone were to ask you to describe the kind of lifestyle you lived a couple of months ago, you'd tell them it was ideal. But in this quiet and peaceful moment, it had become a routine to take note of how you wake up feelings each day, because some are better than others and you won’t put a permanent label on everything. Today, you’d call it despair, just for the mere reason that you are already late to your first class again, or you will be late.

Another sip of the drink, but this time it is cooler than before from the minutes you wasted thinking about the schedule for today, served as a metaphor of how your life has gone by. Begun with immense pain that slowly graduated as you kept getting blows to your life, crumbling the once innocent soul that swore to never try drugs, to never get intoxicated and to be the good girl you’d always swore yourself to be. How stupid of you to abandon those ideals for that time, after the repetitive pain kept accumulating inside you, each time feeling it less until the time came where you no longer felt anything, you were free to try all of those things and let them become a common application to your life. You thought it out to be the best kind of lifestyle, drunk, crazy and obviously single.

It doesn't burn as much now, the coffee is lukewarm, you can’t sense fire in your taste buds nor icicles soothing the affected area. That’s how it is, that’s how you drink your coffee every single morning, similar to what your heart desires to suffer every day, neither exciting nor downgrading. You set the small cup down in the sink for it to be washed later when you get home again, since you’d be the only one available to wash it anyway. You learned to be alone already.

You started to put on what made you feel most comfortable rather than something that made the outside world 'admire' you more. If today, you truly wanted to go to the university looking like a tossed rag or an amateur skater girl, then you will. You opened the door to the apartment complex garage and took the keys from one of the rusted lockers, eyeing the white vehicle you were going to ride today, pretty and luxurious because your parents got you that new baby last Christmas to ‘repay lost time’. You pretended to like this gift more than having them around, just as you pretend to enjoy many things. They aren't the most paternal figures, but if they gave you everything you needed to survive you couldn't really complain much. You got inside it and turned it on, hearing the engine rustle to life with the pending possibility that today might be different from the rest. —Who am I kidding?—you smirked at your small sense of hope, you were teetering below depression, a black hole where you know that if you fall, it would be impossible to get up. You never know what awaits you.

Born in a wealthy environment gave you natural talent of being able to speak fluently with any sort of atmosphere around you. You’re basically the profile of a woman with class, yet sass. You carried all that talent throughout school, and used it once you started going out as a freshman. It allowed you to fit into any sort of party you are invited to, how easily you would get men trapped in the palm of your hand and make them fit right into your fingertips. You learned to use your own smarts to your advantage, if you could say that. It didn’t exactly bring you happiness, it made you feel powerful and on top of anybody in your path, gave you satisfaction enough to mascaraed it into the good life everyone thinks you were living. Sex had become almost meaningless the more you experienced it, you would never put on a fight cause it would affect your growing greed. Theoretically, it meant you had everything, the attitude, the smarts, the money. In your case, you used to believe you had everything.

But at least you're trying to leave that old version of yourself, you're desperately trying to escape the tormenting reasons you decided to become so rebellious when college began. You almost lost that old side of you that cared for the people, that always wanted to make them smile in spite of you not having the same effect. And you are getting better, it's been a while since you've drank anything with a spike or tough impact, you aren't dressing up provocatively to the classes anymore and you're only enjoying your time with your usual buddies in your own apartment without any more communication with the outside world. It's not a ‘wow’ factor, but you had to start somewhere.

Because life had to move forward somehow, even if you are still trying to decipher its real purpose. The only other reason you have the slight motivation to get up in the morning is because you’d rather pretend to feel comfortable around people who care about you than being alone in your place with nothing but weird sitcoms and junk food. You tend to contradict yourself with your thoughts, you enjoy the shadows, but not the demons. What a stupid ideology, your friends would say.

The roads are crowded today as you drive (already late) to where you have been studying for the past year and a half now, being this the second semester of your sophomore year. You’ve begun to arrive late ever since the beginning of the year, patiently asking your buddies to save you a seat at the morning lecture each time. You regret ever picking these schedules to only match your high school friends’, you’ve never been a morning person to begin with, compared to them. Of course, last year you thought it was the best idea ever, blaming it on your dependence on them. “Bzzz!” roared your phone placed on your lap with a message displayed on the background of your patterned lock screen, vibrating multiple times as programmed by your stubborn sleepy self. When a red light signal forced you to stop the car on the highway to the busy entrance, you stole a peek at the bubbles appearing and the small words displayed below. They appeared quickly as you forced a glance to the three-person chat you share with two rather interesting individuals.

—Joon: lecture began already guys

—Tata: IF ONLY YOU KNEW I’m right behind Y/N.

Just as you read that your goofy friend Taehyung was behind your car, you peaked over to the rear view and checked out the familiar colored truck, its dark forest green color contrasting your lighter ride blasting his larger wheels to intimidate you. The individual lowered down the window and let his arm rest outside, confirming his identity with his boxy smile and raised brows, a bit too energetic to be awake at 7:47am if you’re correct. He then started honking you in a repeated pattern to further embarrass the unbothered female in front of him, the sneaky little man had no sense of shame when it came to any public humiliation. It's a bonus for when you want to party hard because he would be the crazy one to follow your lead, but in the mornings… it just makes you want to strangle him until he passes out. You took it as an opportunity to quickly dial in a response to the busy chatroom, hoping it would make your noisy friend be quiet until the light changes.

—You: Put our initials on the list, plz

—You: Tae, stop honking dammit

—Joon: … I tolerate you both way too much

—Tata: we can always count on Joonie to arrive early <3</b>

—Joon: Fuck you both

—Tata: :3

—Tata: the light’s green dumbass

You could only close up your left window and let him continue his silly games alone, giggling to yourself slowly before capturing the streetlight point green on the top of your vehicle. The device falls again to your lap as you took the last curve that led you to the university premises. The little tusks of wind the AC brought settled a mild tranquility over your skin, letting you breathe in fresher air as you swerved into available parking spots.

You pulled the gear back when you parked your car securely. Waiting for your other taller friend to climb out to accompany you to the rather boring English elective, you got out of the ride and strolled in your discolored shoes over to where you know Taehyung is parking his oversized wheels. Once he steps out, you catch his auburn bed curls around his ears and resting above the nape of his neck from its length. The boy adjusted his cargo shorts jumping a little bit due to the absence of a belt, making him look silly despite his morning visuals and his evident sense of fashion. When you do get closer, he's already grabbing his leather handbag and circling it around his shoulder before strapping together his sandals that matched his tank just perfectly, showing off his tan arms in addition to his natural beauty. Even on a Monday, he tends to dress up so extra compared to your thrown stained clothes and eyebags that read death all over.

As you stare at your buddy, you can’t help but feel so bite the inside of your lip and watch with guilt. They knew you had been behaving this way as a defense mechanism to evade facing your life challenges, but speaking to you about it was difficult without hurting your feelings. You know your friends aren’t dumb enough to not know the reasons why you changed, but nobody ever had the balls to point out the elephant inside the room, fearing you’d be seriously insulted for mentioning the possible fact as to why you’re so depressive. They were angels to you, gave you all of the advice in the world, but your ignorant self would shove them away to do whatever you wanted. Namjoon, the most intellectual of them all, often suggested your attitude was based on loneliness, trying to fill the void with toxic relationships and thoughts that each time drowned you even further. It was a way to suppress anything that reminded you of the pain, using your money and looks to control your innermost desires instead of actually dealing with the breakup like a mature adult. They obviously know you’re not doing the right thing being this rebellious, but their hands were tied because he had been their friend too.

They didn’t know it would be so chaotic to deal with a friend on the brink of addiction, to see a bloom decay right before their eyes without much to do to save you. You had told them to not interfere, even if it hurt them to see you act that way. They decided to let you be, hoping that any troubling impact might just make you mature a little. And impact indeed came, it’s why you proposed to yourself to move on from that, to move on from the pain little by little.

To the rest of the world, however, you were happy with the way you spent your time. If only they all knew how fake, how the mask you have been wearing for the past year is nothing but that, a way to hide how your insides had been slowly becoming a dull, gloomy area with void of hope, will, purpose. And you still don’t know how to fix it, you don’t know which step to take or how to even start to socialize again, meet someone, or just simply develop deeper emotions for those around you. That weird episode you went through left you without any care for other people. The only ones that still brought light to your empty room, was them.

"Heyo," greeted the man with his low tone, puckering his lips for you to get on your tiptoes and let your forehead get smooched by his soft and moisturized fishlips. His height is considered average for a standard man, you're just too small in comparison. You snuggled into him after he petted your forehead with affection, inhaling his familiar daily cologne and patting his back for the shortest moment before glancing up to fix his loose strands moving in different directions and combing them to look better and less messy. "I woke up late too, which is something very unexpected."

"This is brand new information," you mumbled back and retrieved. Ever since you guys became friends, he has resorted to greet you in that same bubbly and soft manner, which you've grown to love ever since. Now, more than before, he's been very pensive about making you happy and uplifted with his positivity so you smile more. In your eyes, he's undeniably handsome yet sensitive looking for his age, a free spirit with no direction whatsoever but he's happy living that way. Anyone would be lucky enough to grab his attention, since he has never shown any love interest towards anyone in general. The only light in his life is his one-year old Pomeranian dog named Yeontan, a very possessive and grounded pet when it comes to his owner. But with someone like Taehyung taking care of him… can you really blame his jealousy?

"You do know there would only be like... fifteen minutes left of lecture when we get there, right?" Taehyung teased when he started to also fix your locks of dark hair, and saw your early glare once the sun set on your forehead and exposed your bare natural face. Even though he's not in your department, since he's in Agricultural Science, you two, along with Namjoon, decided to take the easier classes together to enjoy the best you could before you go off to your own separate faculties. To his news, you shrug and grab his hand away from your face to drag him into the closest sidewalk, not wanting to hear your smallest struggles of getting up early were done in vain. He followed you suit with a chuckle as his eyes squinted up as he checked the time on his phone screen and continued the conversation. "I mean, it's already—"

"—Do you think I don't know that? The only reason I'm going to show up is so Namjoon doesn't scold us for taking advantage of his responsibility," you recited as if it was rehearsed inside your car before walking out, picking up the pace a little more as you cross the street the slightly slower individual.

"Yeah, like you'd actually listen to him if he were to get mad at you. It smells like this is something you normally do when you're late," Tae suggested with his mouth forming a thin line and his thick dark brows straightening, clearly not taking your excuse seriously. You obviously want to do something other than stay at home and wait even more in loneliness, he knows it’s the correct answer to his question but doesn't comment further. "I have a feeling that we might never see Joonie again next year, you know."

He wrapped an arm around your shoulder as you scoffed in disbelief. "Oh, please. He acts like he's always tired of us but he can't live without both our dumb asses. Besides, he's studying Psychology, he's supposed to be patient with crazy people," you added to increase security to the poor man. That made your childish bestie chuckle and pinch you closer to him for a second, being the clingy and touchy usual self he is.

It's not the first time Taehyung has suggested that maybe Namjoon will think of himself as 'too smart' to stick by your side after he starts in his concentration courses, Tae has been his friend far longer than you have also. You always tell him to forget about it, but you can tell how much he relies on the intellectual student, hence his worries. Born from wealthy backgrounds, students like you don't have any other people to call family because you’re either daughters of irresponsible parents, or just the son of those who value their job more than anything. He considers Namjoon like part of his family circle, hell, it could even explain why he decided to study here in the first place. He thinks of him as his leader, the kind of guide he’s missing. It's only reasonable that he occasionally mentions it, but you know that if something as drastically as that were to happen, you'd never leave Taehyung's side, but filling Namjoon’s shoes would be a tough challenge.

Where Taehyung is like your comfort pillow, Namjoon is rather that annoying older brother who is constantly worrying that you eat every day, that you arrive home early, healthy and other important stuff. You don’t hate him for that, in fact, you both are grateful to be under his constant care. If it weren't for him, you'd be worse than before when the breakup fell down on you. He's always been there for you, helping you throughout your hardships and befriending you since you met. He was always considerate with you even if you were new, helping you out for nothing in return. Other than that, he's extremely smart and patient, considering you are somewhat a headache to deal with (even now). It helps that he's much more humble than the others, it makes him more of a down-to-Earth kind of person when dealing with stuff personally, so his Psychology approach suits him much better than actually studying something Biology related like his family wanted him to. On the other hand, Taehyung is more of a mellow creature when it comes to life in general, but when triggered, only Lord knows how to get him to settle down.

"And you won't abandon me for those ugly computer geeks, right? I heard they don't shower and most of them are virgins anyway," he added while staring ahead. You rolled your eyes at his stereotypical (yet true) remarks and his scrunched up nose that made him look even younger, he truly had no shame in saying things out loud in front of strangers who are probably judging him right now. The gap between studying agricultural science and computer engineering was something Taehyung would never let go, he would lowkey make fun of you back in graduation when you ended up being the only female in the entire class to ever decide on such a degree. The only clapback you constantly gave him was based on the fact that your motivation in life was below zero, so you didn’t really give a damn about what degree you chose back then. You saw it as just a simple way to make your ‘parents’ agree to pay tuition on this campus, specifically because it held higher statuses between their ‘social groups’.

"As long as you don’t replace me with sheep or cows in the process, we good," you add while swinging your free hand to pat his bubbly stomach, grabbing the small belly fat at his lower abdomen and pinching it for a moment in a joking manner. It caused him to yelp and flinch back, almost making you both stumble embarrassingly into a crack on the sidewalk, but his feet were big enough to get you balanced quickly. After a ‘phew’ parted past your lips, you drove the topic over to his focus. He loves attention. “Now, spill me that tea. Why were you late today?” A few minutes later after a very deserved gossip, you were already going up the stairs of the building over to where your morning class was short from being over, but you arrived for your fellow Namjoon.

Maybe the reason why you have good grades and attend college, even if you despise it, is because it reminds you that you don't have to be lonely all the time when you have them. Even if you are currently unhappy, being inside the university often distracts you from your inner demons and getting trapped in your own overthinking head. So you might as well keep suppressing those lost and bitter memories for now, only focusing on trying to arrive earlier next time so your best friend doesn't kick your butt later.

It was clear to say that Namjoon didn’t speak to any of you once you walked through the glass door and interrupted the class to sit down for the rest of the English lecture on British Literature, after it had ended he picked up his bag and excused himself from you guys to walk quickly to his other class in the same building. The way he dodged both of you was a little suspicious, as if he didn’t want to have to speak to you in general. With what intention, motive? You brushed off the bitter move. So, that only left you and Taehyung to enjoy the rest of the free morning with breakfast from the cafeteria along with the younger worm of the group, whose schedule just wildly coincided with yours during that hour of break.

You circled Tae’s silhouette on the table and sat on the opposite side of him, setting the tray down as he only munched quietly on an apple with a bottle of water on the side. You enjoy his company more than anything, he’s hyper when he needs to be but he can also be just as relaxed. Right now, eating together in silence, without a need for words, was perfect to match the morning feel expanding throughout the area, you can even hear yourself thinking. No notifications on your phone is finally becoming easy to get used to after you pushed every form of toxicity away from you, not even buzzing text messages could ruin the complete tranquility you were experiencing.

Yet silence didn’t last too much, a sudden movement caught your cornered vision behind Tae’s slumped shoulders, revealing the youngster Jungkook heading towards you both on the table. Once he knew you spotted him, he instantly fixed his backpack and raised a finger to his mouth lazily mimicking a ‘Shh’ behind your companion as an order. He was aiming for his older friend, careful not to make his shoes sound too rough for Taehyung to feel the presence of the small prank his buddy usually pulls on him. All you wanted to do was roll your eyes. Quite a childish behavior for them to do this almost every time they see each other around campus, but it's useless to argue about such because it’s not like you are old to be this goofy, maybe you’re simply stubborn and boring this morning. Probably, nah, definitely. You always let them be themselves though, Taehyung had always been a young boy at heart which matches the same weird attitude first year Jungkook had to put on the table ever since you all met back in high school. They’re one of a kind.

Two pale hands come up and rest over Taehyung’s eyes, blocking his line of sight and forcing him to set the apple down while his own hands start busying themselves in touching and picking at the black hoodie Jungkook sported just past his wrists. The mistake that Tae has always caught Jungkook doing is how the black haired boy usually pressed his torso to the others’ back while pulling the little stunt. His firm muscles underneath his clothes would always indicate Tae that it was his best friend, none of his other colleagues rock a hard abdomen like him. But of course, he will obviously not spill the small secret to spoil the fun.

“Hmmmm,” hummed the sitting boy sarcastically as he kept pretending to try to decipher the identity, the standing male shamelessly waited for him to give up as he cocked his head at you in salute. Still, you obviously knew that those silly games belonged to the one and only. “Kookie,” whispered Taehyung, pulling at his hands to try to toss them away until he could no longer feel warmth circling his back and be free from the strong grip around his temple.

“In the flash,” the man who went by the nickname ‘Kookie’ responded.

The younger boy sat down beside his best friend before pulling out a bowl of his own homemade breakfast, allowing you to see dark circles below his eyes, contrasting to his ivory skin as he then threw his navy backpack on the floor. The complete opposite style of the person next to him, Jungkook often wore solid colors or a simple blend of black and white in comparison to Taehyung’s usual vivid forms of clothing. Today his black hoodie reached up to mount on his head to only let his gracious morning locks slip out and accompany his delicate forehead. He could smile at both of you brightly, but his bare face read sleep deprivation all over without any makeup in sight. Tae munched on the remains of the fruit before setting it aside and rested his head on his hands, Jungkook turned towards you with a sight as you spoke up, “You look dead.”The poor boy nodded quickly to your direct comment. “Tell me about it, I only slept for like… maybe three hours,” he commented before letting out a long yawn and angling his head over to the owner of the hand that pulled his hood down to his neck, exposing his disheveled bed hair. Completely unbothered by the gesture, he summarized the small events of the night before. “I slept inside the library while studying for that weird Marketing class, but it was worth it,” he joked as Taehyung used his other hand to comb his fingers through the younger’s black strands, carefully letting his fingers rake his skull to fix his bangs and pet his hair just as he had done to you earlier… but less playfully.

Everyone’s used to his sudden urge to touch and get all cute with his closer friends, but lately you’ve noticed it’s happening more than before, so you don’t know if that was something you can consider meaningless. Jungkook, on the other hand, never seemed to mind his buddy's affectionate personality compared to you. After sharing many art electives back when Tae was only a junior student, they became inseparable for their love in abstract forms of paintings, music, literature. A mix of all the beauties in learning created a bond between both of them, so the one year that Jungkook was away from your friendship circle was a bummer, hence his extra-ness in every topic and aspect that came to light. He’s the ball of crazy out of all of you.

While watching exactly that form of affection, a sudden feeling indulged you as you took another unbothered bite of toast. Hmm, how could you describe it? Ah, yes, awkward. Before Jungkook could fall victim to his friend’s subtle caresses and just collapse on the table from tiredness, he pushed the other’s hand away slowly with a cute chuckle in embarrassment. “Aish, Tae, don’t do that or else I’ll fall asleep right here.” The other grinned lazily as he continued to gaze upon his friend’s refusal to rest in the cafeteria, who instead whipped out his chopsticks to eat before switching up the conversation, thank lord. “Where’s Tannie, though? The apartment?” For that, a dazed Tae answered with a court nod to his considerate Kookie.

As all three kept conversing on the table about Yeontan finally learning to be a good boy inside his owner’s studio, Taehyung couldn’t wait to just burst the topic that’s been circling in his head given that vacation time is closer each day. There wasn’t any other moment to speak about the matter since it’s only a few days from now. “So, Spring Break is around the corner,” he swooned with a questioning glance and raised brows over to the man sitting next to him as the other paid more attention to the plate of food. Tae kept resting his head on his hand as both of you continued eating quietly, that’s where he took his eyes away from Jungkook and pointed his sharp orbs to you, eyeing the way your fork moved around the food aimlessly without much enthusiasm. His hyper-boy charm awakened once again. “Got any plans on what we should do?”

You swallowed immediately while your lower back became stiff. You didn’t want to answer immediately, and it’s not like you had any plans apart from staying at home by yourself doing absolutely nothing. However, in all honesty, the first thing that popped in your dazed little mind was last year’s vacation which wasn’t actually… that lovely if you would say. Did you really have to accompany them this year? The face Tae threw at you seemed like he was dearly excited in doing something creative, so brushing him off would be a dick move on your part.

Thankfully, just before you come up with a reply, you’re interrupted. “Babo, we already haf plans,” you heard a muffled voice from across the rectangular table, coming from the one and only man that talks with his mouth open, Jungkook. Your eyes peaked up from your focus on the slice of toast aiming to your mouth, making a crunching sound that even you weren’t comfortable hearing. His lower voice replied again to the waiting boy, having half of his mouth stuffed in white rice which made him look like a bunny with full cheeks, “Difn’t Namjum”—he swallowed after the failed pronunciation—“Didn’t Namjoon tell you guys?”

Taehyung’s ears flinched up, lips parting in awe as his pupils didn’t show signs of catching up to his friend’s words. As if he were imitating his own bicolored furry pet, he tilted his head and pouted an answer after exchanging milliseconds of eye contact with you. “No. What? When? Who? Where are we going?”

The younger individual put his chopsticks on top of his bowl and wiped his hands together, meanwhile you continued to eat hunched in your place without exchanging visual contact with either of them in hopes that they can’t see the slight uncomfortability as the topic was mentioned. You don’t want them recalling any past scandals or undesired topics, luckily they talked as if it was a two-person conversation is and left you out of it. “I think he mentioned something about renting a place on a beach, something like that,” wondered Jungkook with doubt in direction to Taehyung’s angle, you were ghosted just as you wanted to.

“Beach?” Tae mouthed quietly.

“Mhm, I think it’s more of a private location this time. I heard him talking on the phone with his mother about it maybe…two days ago,” his buddy added before taking a sip of his water bottle. His mother indeed had connections with many sectors on the public and private beaches throughout the city, but Namjoon has never been one to brag much about his family’s power even in his closest circle of friendship. If you remember correctly, Namjoon isn’t that much of a fan for public places and crowded areas so it’s only logical that he suggested a private setting to relax on Spring break. It’s a getaway for the soul, an entire week of nothing to do but chill around inhaling the sweet smell of irresponsibility and procrastination. You were not going to be the kind of person that actually studied during this sacred time, if you had to leave your assignments for last minute because you want to sleep for 168 hours straight, you would. “I thought he had told you about it, Y/N.”

Alas, just as Kookie said, none of this is actually new to you. His idea had already been spilled over to one of the three people that needed to find out, you. You had suspected he would arrange some kind of get away as he had told you last week when he stayed over at your apartment (he slept on the couch), you remember the exact same topic of interest because it had been the last time you spoke to each other in person. You both were sitting quietly on the couch watching silly cartoons and reciting some mathematical formulas you needed to memorize for your test which was the following day, you don’t quite remember the reason he had invaded your study time because lately, all of your buddies have been too pendant of you whenever you’re alone at your place. You know they are always worried when you disappear from the radar for more than twenty-four hours, but you can’t help wanting to get used to being alone. While Taehyung respects your individual decision to dwell inside the bed sheets until you have new motivation, Namjoon randomly appears to make you get up and do something with your life for once.

The small discussion between you both surged by his poor use of words when the sudden suggestion came up after a long deserved break from the ‘study session’, you recalled it like it had been yesterday because he had such audacity to speak about certain things as if they had been nothing. Even if it happened long ago, it’s not like you’re completely normal when talking about sensitive topics.

One week ago

“Y/N, listen.” Namjoon’s foot poked your thigh slowly for the second time, trying to get you to focus on him rather than the cartoon on the television screen that captivated you like a hypnotized child. “Hey, up for another vacation trip in Spring break? I was thinking of calling mom to book a stay on a private beach like two hours from here,” he groaned as if he were waking up from a nap, but he’s just been lazily occupying three quarters of the couch all night while you were the one who’s actually sleep deprived after everything you have studied.

You turned over to him at the suggestion with a brow raised, pensive and curious. “You mean… just the two of us?” you asked skeptically, gulping.

You only saw pink staining his cheeks. “No-no, silly,”—a cushion landed directly at the side of your head as an answer— “I meant like, Jungkook, Tae, and us two. It’s got all the appliances, super quiet and comfortable for us.” The tall man used his hands to maneuver himself forward to take a seated position on the living room couch, grabbing his phone to play with his thumbs on it before you could answer, taking a short break from your profile. After a small pause of no immediate reply, he added quietly with his usual low voice, “So, what do you think?”

You fidgeted with your fingers wriggling in your lap as you looked down for a moment, realizing you had become nervous for no apparent reason after a minute of debate. Like autumn leaves you can’t get rid off easily, the everlasting sense of weakness kept knocking on your doorstep.

“I don’t know, Joon. Not in the mood to go out this year, to be honest,” you mumbled while shaking your head slowly, being truthful. You tried to put on a smile when you saw his furrowed expression, but it wasn't that easy to turn him down when he looked so excited. You could see his dimples disappearing behind his plump skin, confusion in his eyes. “I mean, it’s better if it became an all-guy kind of thing. I really don’t want to intrude.”

“What?” he scoffed at your reply, looking at you as if you had talked backwards or in a completely different language, which meant he did not catch your small shadiness. “Where did you get that from? The point is that we all go. Come ooon, it will be fun,” he tried again, poking your arm playfully when you turned over to get lost inside the colors of the plasma in front of you. There’s no easy way of getting through Namjoon, just as there wasn’t an easy way to get through you either. He won’t give up until you agree to go, he’s one with a strong attitude.

“I don’t wanna’...” you whined playfully but certainly.

“Aish, don’t be so antisocial,” mimicked the taller man with your same childish tone, one which you kept ignoring as the tv colors bounced off your eyes. You don’t see the apologetic glint in his own brown orbs, brows resting surely while he lowered his leadership instincts, reaching out his palm once again to calmly place them again in the small of your bare shoulder. “Please, just go,” you heard with a softer voice this time, running chills up all the way to your throat. The knot stayed there even after you swallowed loudly, knowing the guilty feeling resurfaced like dust against the wind, swift and quick.

Your lips formed a thin line, contouring your face with the much rather toughness you didn’t feel. For once, you don’t want Namjoon to outsmart you by using his big words to try to convince you. You cocked your head to the side as you continued adding spice without sounding stingy, in fact, you were very calm. “Joon, let’s be real here. The only reason you’re inviting me is so I don’t feel left out, and that’s okay. I really don’t mind—”

“—Heh?! No! You’re the first person I’ve told this to, the others don’t know about it yet,” he cut you off as soon as he heard your false accusations, raising his voice a little bit in objection. His thin eyes expanded into worried ones as he watched you look away again to anything but his face. Yes, you’re really this annoying and insecure, even in front of your best friend. You assumed he was going to continue spreading little white lies here and there about not telling anyone, but then his expression softened when he finally caught your small fidgets and stupid excuses. It’s not an intentional remark, you just really don’t want to deal with your stuff and just stay alone.

Not answering made his anger tickle his temple, “Fine. I thought this would be good for you, y’know,” he tsked’.

“What do you mean?” you quickly retorted suspiciously, no filter with only the sound of the silly movie playing in the background and the somehow increasing heart rate inside your chest. So now he wants to talk about what is good for you, this took a little twist. This was something normal after the first few months, it consisted of what you called being on the defense 24/7 because you really don’t want anybody feeling sorry for you and to treat you any differently because you were going through tough times.

Your friend raised his large shoulders defensively and looked to the side nervously, not daring to meet your eyes because you somehow looked ready to fight. “I’m just saying, you’ve been feeling very down lately so maybe it would make you get out of the house for a while so,”—your sudden confused big eyes caused him to stutter and stumble his following statements as if you had growled at him—“What?” you heard him ask while combing his natural brown hair with his fingers.

Namjoon stopped speaking after those words left his mouth. And alas, the poor man received the threatening look of ‘you fucked up’ and instantly closed his mouth while you asked softly in retaliation, steady yet deadly. This was exactly what you feared would happen, he did not speak properly so now he was letting you think the worst out of this dumb situation. “Do I look like I’m some kind of pity-party to you? Is that why you’re doing this? More life lessons by my personal psychologist Kim Namjoon? Great.”

His perfect little eyes widened for a swift second before rolling them back, irritated and ready to snap back at you. “Geez, why you gotta’ be so defensive?” He raised his hands up in surrender, angling his legs to get up from the couch that faced the monitor, your gaze followed him with every step like a predator eyeing a prey. You turned your body and folded legs sideways to face the still taller man who scratched the back of his head and sighed because there was really nothing else he found no more words to say, he had gotten a bit impatient considering you weren’t coping with his initially fun and adventurous idea. His feet continued to walk away until you sensed he went to the kitchen island, he moves around your home with such confidence and that alone made you slightly more intimidated. It’s been long since someone felt like this was their home, and Namjoon may not say it verbally, but you are sure he feels safe here. Your body moved in sync to follow his voice, ending up standing on the other side of the island while he took a water bottle from the refrigerator, taking a casual sip like you’re not caught up in a small debate.

His perfect dimples then appeared to try to bend your waterfall of thoughts again. “You should be grateful to psychologist Namjoon.” The little shit had the guts to shoot a smile at you, knowing it damn well gave you hell. “I don’t get why you’re so triggered, Y/N. I didn’t even invit—“

“—Don’t,” you deadpanned, “Not now, please.” Faster than light itself. You had already studied in that stupid Chemistry class the undeniably utopic speed of the particle of light, but you swore you broke its law or whatever record it holds from the moment you sensed your best friend would bring ‘him’ into the conversation. How low of him to do so, but it only concluded your still uncomfortability whenever your past acquaintance comes back to your present. Everything was just too downright embarrassing at this point, remembering it would only make things more awkward. You don’t really miss him at all, it’s the things that came after it that made you unsettle and grow hectic from just watching yourself from afar.

He shrugged his shoulders, unbothered. “Fine. Suit yourself.”

After your cutting words, you flipped off your friend to walk back to the place you sat on before, now you can’t really ignore him or anything like that because it’s late and you’re going to share the night together watching movies and probably continue to study until dawn. You flopped down on the loveseat to take up the entire sitting area of said space, resuming to look at the screen like the conversation hadn’t happened. You’re one to criticize Jungkook for being a baby, but right now you’re acting like a mad child not letting Joon sit down next to you for a stupid joke. You hope he doesn’t return with the same topic, you feel bad for acting so relentlessly but it’s not that easy going along with a plan you know failed once. There’s more of a story to why you don’t want to go, but its importance is better left for later. Right now, you just want to forget it.

On the bright side, Namjoon sat quietly in the island booths until he finished the ice cold water bottle that rested on his hand. He glanced over occasionally to where you lied down, waiting for you to show signals that you weren’t looking so upset or annoyed anymore. He obviously didn’t want you to react like such, but in a way, he thought it would be normal for you to think you’re someone of second choice in the friendship circle. You’ve grown so dependent on them ever since, it’s almost impossible not to worry about you after everything that happened. When he returned and took a spot in the floor (you didn’t budge or move to give him a spot), he started talking about the weird characters on the screen. You heard his weird remarks, and slowly laughed your way back into your bestie’s lovelier dimples that this time shone just a bit more with the reflection of the blues of the big television.

You silently curse at Namjoon, assuming this little surprise question was all a big plan for Taehyung and Jungkook to guilt trip you into actually going. Was it? Maybe, it would explain how he evaded speaking to you after the morning elective and ran to his next class so evidently. He’s smarter than all that, smarter than you and much more skilled mentally. If these two were part of the little trap for you to fall and cope with their plan, you might as well give them some credit. You have to owe it to them, they made all of this so you could go out and get some fresh air. It would be nice to finally come out of your shell and look for things that made you unique, start to go out more with people you could relate to you more. On a deeper level, you were stuck so long depending on that one person and letting their happiness become part of you. It’s as if all this time, your soul had detached from your body and now that you’ve been alone for quite some time, every single form of socialization had become a torturous walkway for you. To compensate that once misconstrued form of fear, your other relationships with men were strictly superficial if not sexual.

It’s not the matter of you wanting to go or not, it’s based on the circumstances he asked you for. Right now, you imagined it felt kind of forced on Joon’s part, at least that’s how you saw it out to be even if it really was an intentional act. In other words, you completely evaded talking about the vacation thing again, until now. Two men in front of you asked the same question, the first time you had been stuck in your inner thoughts and too busy to pile up their words to blend in a coherent question. They gave you a moment to return from the dimension your orbs had run off to, after you came back to reality you saw two pairs of shiny eyes waiting patiently for you to land back. You shook your head softly and raised your brows quickly, scrunching up your nose with a question mark on the top of your head.

“I said, are you coming with us?” asked Taehyung, voice lower and in a serious tone with his sharp eyes gazing into yours, looking for your usual insecurities and doubting whether you would really go. Jungkook’s sudden stare resembled the same expression, it’s like they knew you were pensive about going. In reality, it’s not a big deal, it’s not something deep to be taken so seriously. It’s a fun week spent on a private area with people you love and cherish, no negativity and no problems. Just as Namjoon said, you have no reason to be triggered just because he wants you to go out and be yourself again. It’s all part of what made you the girl you are now, your friends are with you because they want to, they’re not forced to hang out with you. There’s no more pity, there should be no more lack of confidence in them since you’ve already gone through the worst in these months and they have never left. You’re already learning to move on, so this is just another step of the flight of stairs.

“Yeah, sure,” you shrugged at the possibility of the silly vacation, one which you didn’t know was going to be anything but ordinary. Thank the heavens you are starting to find your own sound, your own beats, your own self again. The mistakes done in the past won’t let you ruin the future ahead, not in this little vacation.

At least, that’s what you hope for.

< Chapter 2 >

29 notes · View notes

eddieeatsass · 5 years

Text

Pocket Sized - Kinktober 2019 Prompt: Micro/Macro

Summary: Richie comes home to find Eddie sitting on his bed, only, there’s something horrifyingly different about him. Pairing: Reddie Rating: E Warnings: Smut, explicit language Disclaimer: This was given to me as a prompt for Kinktober, as something out of my comfort zone to challenge myself, so I hope I did it justice. I've never even read a micro/macro fic before, as it's not really my thing, but I had a lot of fun with this. Also, this is my first time ever writing something that takes place in the canon world, so let me just take a moment to say FUCK PENISWISE. (also in this fic even when pennywise is in hibernation or whatever, he's still able to terrorize derry in various ways, so... just go with it)

Read on AO3

If living in Derry had taught Richie anything, it was to not be surprised by the sheer weirdness of the going-ons in their town. By the age of 17, so many inexplicable circumstances had wrapped their claws around Richie and dragged him through the mud that he’d have permanent dirt stains on his soul forever.

Things had certainly settled down in the years since him and the other losers had faced Pennywise; a child-eating clown had its way of making other things look small in comparison, but there were still moments when Richie’s spine shook with the frightening reminder that Derry was not a normal town. Like when he’d catch a glimpse of a headless man driving by him on the highway, or when spiders crawled out of Mary Gretsky’s ears in homeroom.

In all the Derry weirdness he’d encountered, however, what was before him was horrifying of a whole other variety.

“E-Eddie?” Richie stuttered out, still unbelieving what his eyes were telling him. Upon his bed, settled on his pillow like a chocolate truffle at a hotel, was what appeared to be a miniature sized version of his best friend.

A voice responded, familiar, but pitched higher than normal. Richie had to get closer to hear what it was saying.

“Yes it’s me, you idiot. What, do your glasses suddenly not work?” The small Eddie squeaked with a smirk on his lips.

Richie considered it for a second. Could it be his glasses causing this… absurdity? Maybe if he took them off, blinked, and squinted really hard, Eddie would be back to normal. Blurry, but back to normal. He tested the theory, only for Eddie to turn into an out of focus fuzz, now even smaller than before. Richie readjusted his glasses and sighed, admitting defeat to the strangeness that had introduced himself.

“Well excuse me for being a little surprised when I walk into my room and find my tiniest friend has shrunk to an even tinier size.”

“I did it for you… you don’t like it?” Eddie pouted.

“I- you- what?” Richie’s head reeled with the inability to understand all the impossible things developing around him, a pressure creeping itself behind his eye sockets.

He blinked, and suddenly found himself sitting on the bed. He didn’t remember sitting down… didn’t remember walking across the room or dropping his backpack on his desk chair. Yet somehow his environment had changed as if a scene cut in a movie.

A small tickle on his hand brought his attention back to the present. He looked down and saw Eddie was sitting in his palm, idly playing with one of his fingers in curiosity.

“What do you mean you… did this… for me? How- and- and why?” Richie raised Eddie to eye level, holding his hand flat so Eddie stayed cradled within it.

“I know you think about me.” Eddie giggled, as if delighted he’d discovered a secret that Richie hadn’t told anyone. Richie felt his throat begin to close and his ears ring hot.

“You think about how small I am, how big your hands are when you splay them across my back to steer me in the hallway or steal my drink from my hold when we’re at lunch.”

Eddie was reading Richie like a book, a book that Richie himself didn’t even read for fear of indulging in its sinful contents. How had he… how could anyone have known? Richie kept these feelings locked up deep inside; didn’t even dare write his feelings down in a diary, too worried the homophobia around him would materialize into a monster capable of reading and spread all of his dirty thoughts to the world.

“I thought you’d like it even better if I was smaller.” Eddie finished.

When Richie looked back down, he found Eddie completely nude. There weren’t clothes strewn about, it was as if they’d just vanished, as if Eddie had never been wearing them in the first place.

Eddie was smaller alright. In fact, he couldn’t have been bigger than seven, maybe eight inches at most. Richie wanted to laugh at the fact that miniature Eddie was still bigger than Richie’s dick by a couple of inches, though he’d never admit it to anyone.

“Come on Rich, don’t you wanna touch me?” Eddie goaded, tugging on Richie’s thumb impatiently as if he wasn’t giving him enough attention.

“Eds, I don’t think that’s a good idea. Something really weird is going on and I- you’re not yourself right now-”

“I’m better.”

“No, you’re-”

“No one will find out this way, Richie. You can touch me as much as you want, and no one will ever know. I’m the easiest secret to hide; small enough to fit in your pocket.”

Richie knew something was wrong, could feel it creeping up his spine and nudging at the back of his head. But he’d wanted this for so long, had repressed these feelings and thoughts and wants for years… it was hard to deny this little moment of pleasure.

Holding his one hand still, he lifted his other with shaking fingers, but paused halfway when he realized he wasn’t quite sure what to do. Sure, he’d jerked his own cock before, but he’d never… and Eddie was so small now… how was he even meant to…

Eddie smiled calmly, a calm that should have been reassuring, but churned Richie’s gut with nerves instead. Eddie turned over in his palm, getting on all fours and holding on to Richie’s index and ring finger to keep himself steady. What presented itself to Richie was a beautiful sight; two round cheeks spread to reveal a hole so small it looked more like a beauty mark than anything.

Richie finally decided on bringing his finger up and running it down Eddie’s back. Light goosebumps erupted on that tan, freckled flesh, and it caused the same reaction on Richie’s skin as he swallowed thickly.

Repeating the motion, he ran his finger down Eddie’s back, but this time let it slip down between those cheeks that held the promised land Eddie seemed to be offering.

“Fuck…” Richie breathed heavily, just noticing for the first time how hard his cock was in his own pants. He’d been too caught up in the weirdness of it all to think about how undeniably hot this was.

“You don’t have to be so gentle with me, Rich. I’m not gonna break.” Eddie teased, arching his back a little farther. Richie didn’t quite believe him, took in how tiny he really was and thought it impossible to touch him without wrecking him… but wrecking him sounded pretty good, if Richie was being honest.

Richie brought his hand up to his mouth and darted his tongue out, just once, testing the waters as he lapped at Eddie’s entire backside before pulling away.

Eddie moaned surprisingly loud for such a small body, petering off into a whine as he was pulled away from the wet heat.

“Do that again.” He begged, pulling on Richie’s fingers like they were controls to a machine.

So, of course, Richie obliged. And then again. And then a few times more until Eddie had sat up on his heels and began fucking himself on Richie’s tongue. The tip of it slipped between Eddie’s legs and provided friction for his cock and balls, while the brunt of his tongue stood in as a makeshift chair, on which Eddie writhed like he was on fire.

Richie, meanwhile, was trying to undo his pants one handed, which proved to be a feat harder than it sounded. He imagined it was probably a hilarious sight, his tongue hanging out of his mouth, drooling into the palm of his hand, while his other struggled to get a simple belt undone.

Once he’d finally freed his ruddy cock and gotten a hand around it, Eddie was crawling off his tongue and situating himself on his back, legs spread lewdly in a way that framed a tiny cock of his own. It almost didn’t look real, looked like it might have been molded from clay within a thimble, but the sheen of pre-cum that coated the head proved otherwise.

“Fuck me, Richie.” Eddie said, reclining even further against where he rested against Richie’s fingers.

Richie had to squeeze the base of his cock to keep from cumming immediately. Surely, he couldn’t, there was no way Eddie’s body could take it-

“I can take it.” Eddie answered, as if reading Richie’s mind through his trepidation.

Richie inspected the area, noting that Eddie’s cock, thighs, and ass were all literally dripping with saliva. In fact, he was sort of laying in a small puddle of it, though he didn’t seem at all bothered. Richie wondered if he should still grab the lotion he kept on his bedside table, just in case they needed extra lubrication, but then Eddie was writhing again and ushering the thought to the furthest corner of Richie’s mind.

“Please- Richie- I need you-”

“Right, yeah of course, uhhhhh-”

Richie looked down at his own weeping cock, and then around his room frantically, as if he would be able to find something to help him out. A third hand maybe? He finally settled for laying across his bed on his stomach, pillow under his chest and hips pressed firmly against his soft bed sheets. He propped himself up on his elbows, so both of his hands were in front of him. From this angle, it looked a bit as though he was acting out a puppet show. If it weren’t for the pulsing reminder of the adulthood between his legs, he’d almost have slipped into memories of playing with childhood toys.

With expert precision, Richie eagerly lined his pinky finger up with Eddie’s entrance. From up close, it looked more like a tiny rose bud, puckered up invitingly and fluttering every time Eddie moaned, needy and desperate. Richie swallowed once, held his breath, and began gently pushing against the ring of muscle.

To Richie’s shock, it opened with zero resistance, almost sucking Richie’s finger in until he hit the first knuckle. Now, Richie didn’t know much about bodies, or sex, but he knew from the whispers he’d heard under the bleachers at school that “taking it in the ass hurts” and “queers enjoy the pain”. So, suffice to say, this seemed abnormal. But then again, what wasn’t abnormal about your best friend shrinking to the size of a doll and begging to be fucked.

“More.” Eddie moaned, trying to shift himself down further on Richie’s smallest finger. The sight was obscene in the most intoxicating way.

Richie pushed a little and watched as Eddie’s body took him to the second knuckle. Eddie’s lower stomach bulged, and it made Richie grind his hips down into his mattress with an intensity he’d never felt before. God, he felt nauseous and lightheaded and dizzy but so delighted, drunk off Eddie’s cries, spurred on by his encouragements.

Eddie’s hole slid up and down his finger with ease, fitting him like a ring. Richie didn’t have to do much moving, much like with his tongue earlier, Eddie was happy to take control and fuck himself down on to Richie’s hand. Richie was thankful, honestly, because with his current level of arousal, he wasn’t sure if he could focus on much more than rutting into his bed.

“So good- fuck- so small, Eds-” Richie’s tongue was heavy in his mouth, his words slurring out between his lips without permission.

“See? Doesn’t this feel good, Richie? Letting go, giving in to the darkness.” Eddie’s voice didn’t seem to match his body, floating by almost as if whispered by the wind. It made the hair on Richie’s body stand on end, but he was too far gone to care.

Eddie’s small frame was clenching around Richie’s pinky, giving warning to his oncoming climax.

“Rich- Richie- fuck, Rich!” And with a cry that rang almost eerie, Eddie was convulsing in Richie’s palm. His toes, no larger than jellybeans, curling in on themselves, as his torso buckled over and he clung around the base of Richie’s pinky finger to steady himself.

He composed himself shockingly quickly, sitting back up, still impaled on Richie’s finger, as if he hadn’t just had the life fucked out of him. His eyes locked with Richie’s, and with urgency, he asked Richie something that would forever be seared into his mind.

“Cum on me.”

Richie’s hips stuttered from where they’d been rhythmically humping himself closer and closer to the edge.

“Fuck…” Was all Richie could say before he was scrambling up on his knees, bringing the palm of his hand that held Eddie just under the head of his cock, and began pumping himself with the other.

It didn’t take long, maybe all of five seconds for Richie to be pouring into his own hand, watching as Eddie’s body was completely coated in the white, sticky mess. Something yelled in the back of his mind, reminding him ‘Eddie would hate this! Eddie would think this was unclean!’ but he ignored it in favor of watching the fantasy play out right before his eyes. It was too tantalizing not to.

Once all the shocks had wracked his tall frame, and he’d gotten as much out of his spent cock as he possibly could, Richie collapsed onto his back. He held his hand, and subsequently his cum covered Eddie, above the mattress, avoiding more of a mess than necessary. He let his eyes drift shut for a moment, his head spinning with thoughts of what just happened, and what comes next.

Richie reopened his eyes a moment later, clarity starting to come back to him as if he’d just woken up from a dream. He sat up, prepared to discuss the inevitable, when he found his hand empty, bar for his own cum. Feverishly, Richie’s eyes darted around his bed, his desk, his bookcase, even peered at the window, but there was absolutely no sign of Eddie anywhere.

“… Eddie?” Richie whispered into the empty room, his heart clenching when there was no reply.

Had… he imagined all of that? No, there was no way, it had been too real.

His phone ringing from across the room caused him to jump out of his skin, darting over to it before the rest of him could even respond. He had the receiver pulled to his ear so fast his cock was still hanging out of his pants. He tucked it away shyly and grabbed a tissue to clean up his hand while greeting whoever was on the other line.

“Now, didn’t IT feel nice?” A voice sang from the other end of the line, a voice not unfamiliar, but not easily placeable. It was a little rough, and high pitched like an adult trying to mimic a child. The voice had odd inflections, kind of drawn out but not in a dull or drowsy way.

“W-what?” Richie found himself stuttering out of fear, then immediately chastising himself for becoming big Bill over a measly phone call. He cleared his throat and retried, this time making sure to puff out his chest in a faux display of confidence. “What?”

“I said, didn’t it feel nice?”

Richie froze. A new voice, one he knew like the back of his hand.

“Did… what… feel nice…” Richie asked cautiously.

“Wow, okay, your diet of coke and licorice really has made you brain dead. I said, didn’t it feel nice to have real energy, instead of the sugar high you’re always running on? I can try and get my mom to pack me extra salad tomorrow too, but only if you promise not to spit the pieces of carrot back into my container again.”

Richie vividly remembered what Eddie was referring to. Earlier at lunch, they’d shared his salad since his mom had packed him too much, and Richie, as per usual, had packed 5 dollars in a paper bag along with a can of soda. What he couldn’t remember, however, was how he’d gotten on the phone with Eddie in the first place. Had he been here long? His head felt foggy, his thoughts turning to molasses when he tried to wade through them.

“Eds, did you call me just to talk lettuce?” Richie pinched the bridge of his nose, leaning his elbows against his desk and hunching forward.

“Uh, you called me… Rich, what’s going on?”

Panic rose up like bile in Richie’s throat, and it’s the panic that caused him to ask what came next.

“Were you in my room earlier?”

The silence was tense as he waited for an answer.

“What are you talking about?” Eddie asked slowly, the humor in his voice verging on anxious, like he felt he was being left out of a joke.

Richie sighed, slumping lower in his chair and letting his hand fall from his face.

“Nothing, never mind.”

“Okay, weirdo. Anyway, Bill wants to meet up at the Quarry tomorrow at noon. He said to bring your swimming trunks and any snacks you can smuggle out of your kitchen without your mom noticing. I think Beverly is bringing chips, and Ben mentioned something about chocolate Ding Dongs-”

“Do you wanna go to the movies instead?” Richie asked, bravery manifesting from sheer lack of caring. In the last hour, his emotions and cognition had been pulled apart in so many directions and squished back together like silly putty; he just couldn’t find it in him to care anymore. What was real, what wasn’t, it didn’t matter. He wanted to take Eddie to the movies, so he was going to ask. Simple as that.

“Uhhh, sure, but we’ll have to call everyone tonight and try and get them to change their minds.” Eddie answered, not fully sold on the idea but always one to hop on alongside Richie regardless.

“No, Eds, I mean just us.”

“But Bill-”

“Screw Bill. Can I take you to the movies or not?”

The rephrasing was bold, removing any doubt in Eddie’s mind of what Richie’s intentions were. It took a while for Eddie to answer, almost too long, long enough that Richie was about to begin back tracking when a small squeak interrupted him.

“Yeah.”

Richie’s heart skipped a beat. He wasn’t expecting this, or, well he hadn’t been expecting anything really. His courage had been fleeting and now he was quickly deflating under the pressure of following up.

“Y-yeah?” Richie confirmed, chewing on his bottom lip anxiously.

“You gonna pick me up on your bike? Let me ride on your handlebars?” Eddie teased, managing to diffuse some of the tension they both felt from this unspoken agreement to tip toe into dangerous waters together.

“That’s not the only thing I’ll let you ride.” Richie quipped.

“Goodbye, Richie.” Eddie snapped with no real bite. Richie could picture the roll of his eyes that would mask the small smirk hiding behind those features, an action he loved.

“Bye, Eds.” Richie answered into the receiver, though the line had gone dead.

Distantly, Richie thought he could hear laughter, unhinged and maniacal, but as quick as it came it disappeared, replaced once again with the dial tone.

#reddie kinktober #kinktober 2019 #reddie #reddie fanfic #reddie fanfiction #reddie smut #reddie lemon #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #it 2017 #it fanfic #it fanfiction #it lemon #micro/macro #microphilia #my posts #my writing

153 notes · View notes

main-to-card-games-and-pain · 5 years

Text

phosphorescence

I originally started to write this in July, and was going to gift it to @blondsak for her 250, but then I was awful and never finished it. BUT my queen has just (ish) celebrated her 500. So, this is for @blondsak as a gift, and for @frostysunflowers because we torment her with so much angst and she’s also a queen.

...

“I like Canada,” Peter declared, watching the trees roll by through the windshield. “Imagine how this drive would look in the fall.”

“I’ll take you in October,” Tony grinned. “You’re right, it’s... something else.”

“Canada’s like, really cool.”

“It’s like the United States bud.”

“But it’s not, it just feels different Mr.Stark. Oh! What’s that?”

Tony smiled to himself as Peter stuck his nose against the window to get a look at the passing group of mountain goats. “Mountain goats, Pete.”

“So cool...”

Peter was a kid who’d only ever seen New York, Washington, and the drive in between, so Tony was understanding of his excitement.

“Maybe we’ll get lucky and see a bear,” he said, feigning casualness, “they’re out of hibernation now.”

Tony pretended not to see Peter’s eyes light up at the mere suggestion of more wildlife. “Really?! They get that close to the highway?”

“Sometimes,” the inventor replied.

“That’s awesome.” The boy shifted himself in his seat, fidgeting with the air conditioning. “Thanks for bringing me, Mr.Stark. I really appreciate it.”

Tony glanced at the kid from the corner of his eye and found a rather inconvenient lump had lodged in his throat. “Yeah well,” he choked out, “I missed my kid - catching up on lost time and all.”

The teen’s mouth quirked in a mixture of sadness and warmth as he wordlessly nodded. There’d been a time of dust and debris and death and devastation, but Tony got him back, and they were okay now.

“How long before we actually have to do the work we’re here for?”

Tony laughed, Peter almost sounded like Pepper when he said things like that. “Three days kiddo, and then I have to make a stop at BCIT and UBC for their engineering programs’ clean energy sector kick off.”

“You funded two universities?” Peter held nothing less than awe in his voice, not for the billionaire’s wealth but for his generosity.

“Not just me,” Tony replied, “there’s a few other donors too.”

“Yeah but not like Tony Stark.”

“Not like Tony Stark,” the mechanic agreed. “As for you, my young padawan, you aren’t working this weekend, you’re just here for the ride.”

“Would you care if I jumped ship and decided to study at one of these universities?”

“Already that attached to Canada, Pete?” Tony laughed. “No, I wouldn’t care. Wherever you want to go is lucky to have you, and your university fees are on me, so it makes no difference.”

“Cause I like Vancouver.”

“We’re on Vancouver Island right now, not the city Vancouver.”

The teenager groaned, “what’s the point of that? Making them two different things.”

“Ask the white dudes who named it, I don’t know.” Peter snorted, resuming his position of pressing against the window. “You can go to sleep if you want, we’re about an hour from the cabin.”

He said this mostly for show, recognizing how Peter was already relaxing into the sweet embrace of Morpheus.

...

Peter’s eyes sluggishly blinked open just as the car rumbled to a stop. “We’re h’re?” He mumbled sleepily, pulling himself up from his place against the seatbelt.

“We’re here,” Tony confirmed, opening his door and stepping into the afternoon sun.

Peter followed, sighing and pushing the car door open. He had just pulled himself out of the car when he stopped dead in his tracks and closed his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Tony asked, worry tinging his voice.

“Nothing,” Peter whispered, a smile beginning to pull his mouth up, “it’s quiet.”

Tony smiled back at him and started unloading their duffel bags. “It’s nice?”

Peter had yet to open his eyes. “So nice,” he murmured. The teen opened his eyes, taking in the surroundings properly. “This place is... it’s stunning, Mr.Stark.”

Tony smiled. “I thought you’d like it.”

Peter could see the lake from where they stood, but it was through the sprinkling of trees that grew high enough that Peter thought he could see them brush the blue of the sky. The water sparkled like crystal, stark and clear against the browning forest floor that shifted and crinkled as he shifted. Everything smelt of cedar and moss. The cabin was up the drive, wooden and big enough to be comfortable and small enough to be cozy.

It was perfect.

Sun filtered through the branches and lit the space in patches, and a breeze took the heat with it, leaving only cool contentedness; it such a surreal and idyllic scene that Peter almost wanted to blink to clear the dream away.

“I...” But there were no words for what Peter was feeling at that moment; peace, maybe, peace and quiet. “I really like it, Mr.Stark,” the boy finally whispered, tears prickling at his eyes.

“Oh- oh no, Peter... don’t cry. Why are you crying?” Tony dropped the bag and gathered the boy into his arms. “Hey, you’re okay… what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Peter sobbed, “I’m fine.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle at the response. “You don’t sound fine, Underoos."

“I’m just really happy,” Peter continued to cry.

“Alright,” Tony grinned, pulling the teenager’s head closer to his heart. “As long as you’re happy.”

…

“Mr.Stark, why couldn’t we swim until literally midnight?”

“You’ll see kid; don’t doubt me!”

“I have to doubt you, or else Ms.Potts would be mad at us - you - way more often than she is.”

Peter stuck his tongue out cheekily at the billionaire’s own snarky expression, mimicking him as he slipped the beach towel into the bag.

“I’m just saying,” the teenager continued, “we can’t even see anything without the light and it’s going to be cold as fuck out there.”

“First off, I’d say language but I don’t want to sound too much like Cap. Secondly, it was sunny and hot all day, it won’t be that bad, and trust me it will be worth it.”

“Fine,” Peter huffed, letting out an exaggerated sigh as he hauled the beach bag over his shoulder. “You should at least have to hold a bag,” he grumbled, “this is your idea.”

Tony pointed at himself. “Heart condition.” And then at Peter. “Enhanced. You do the math, genius.”

“‘You do the math genius’” the boy mocked, ducking a swat to the head.

“God,” Tony huffed without any real malice, “teenagers…”

With an exaggerated flourish he was out of the cabin and into the crisp night air, Peter rolling his eyes and following behind obediently. The pair walked the short trail to the lake, Peter’s flashlight lighting the way when Mr.Stark’s “dinosaur” torch flickered away and died halfway through.

They stopped a few metres away from the shore of the lake, where the water was gently dipping onto the sand and away again. Peter wasn’t exactly certain but he was fairly sure that finding a sandy lake was a rarity this far west in Canada.

“Okay,” he said expectantly, “now’s the time where you give me the explanation for why we’re here this late.”

“Do you know what a phosphorescent organism is?” Tony casually asked him instead. Peter blinked once at the sudden diversion and/or subject change.

“Yeah? The things that make light on their own? Right?”

“Yuppers, Underoos.” Peter watched, still confused, as Tony shed his shirt and began to make his way to the probably freezing lake water.

“And that has to do with this how?”

“Come here.” Tony held out his hand, already submerged up to his calf in the water. “It’s not cold, I promise; we’ll roast marshmallows in the cabin afterwards.”

Reluctantly, Peter did as he was told, wading into the not-unpleasantly cold lake till he was as far out as Tony was.

“Well, in this lake, there’s phosphorescent organisms,” Tony finally explained, a grin creeping up his face as Peter suddenly had a renewed excitement for their little voyage. “You can’t see them except in the dark, and you don’t feel them, but they only light up with movement.”

To demonstrate he shook his foot in the water, delighting in the way Peter’s face lit up as the little lights appeared.

“That’s… that’s so cool,” Peter breathed, glancing away from the water and back at his mentor, “and it’s safe?”

“I wouldn’t bring you if it wasn’t. Want to swim?” Peter nodded his head almost immediately, breaking out of his amazed stupor to smile mischievously and suddenly launch himself into the water, with an arm around Mr.Stark. “Brat!” Tony spat, laughing, when they resurfaced. “That’s one way to get used to the water I guess.”

But Peter was already paddling out into deeper waters, avidly watching his limbs as he did so.

With every twitch or kick the sparks would jump into existence, that’s what they looked like, the sparks that fly off of sparklers at New Years’ and birthday parties. They’d last just a second, and then they’d be gone. As Peter tread the water they flashed into existence moving with the motion of his kick.

The unbridled awe in his eyes made the entire trip worth it.

“It’s like galaxies crawling up my leg,” he exclaimed, looking at Tony with all this childlike wonder that was stored in everyone’s soul for exactly times like this. “This is- I mean- wow.”

“I know what you mean, kiddo.” Tony flipped onto his back and began to float, looking at the real stars instead of the ones flickering below them. “When I was a little younger than you my caretaker, Jarvis, took me on a road trip out here; the cabin is in his name. It kind of puts things into perspective, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Pete whispered, floating beside him suddenly. “It really does. Small things, ya know? There’s still small little pockets of beauty out here.”

Tony glanced at him out of his peripherals, ruffling his hair as best he could while still floating. “I don’t need the lake to remind me of that, Pete, but yeah - you’re right.”

…

They stayed in the water for about an hour, Tony content to float as Peter dove and spun and flipped in the water, experimenting with the little lights.

By one Tony called the both of them in, concerned about Peter’s body temperature.

The teenager, of course, insisted he was fine, but his violent shivering when he wrapped himself in his towel said otherwise.

Tony fussed over him like a dad until he was bundled in about three blankets and sat next to the fire. Out of his little cocoon of fleece a marshmallow poker was roasting a marshmallow in the fire.

“Move over, Underoos,” Tony grunted, sitting next to the kid with a plop. His hair was still wet and the chill had clung to his skin, but Peter couldn’t thermoregulate the way he could; he’d gladly get sick before taking a blanket from him.

“You’re cold too though, Mr.Stark,” Peter grumbled, like he could read his mind.

“I’ll manage; keep your blankets on bud. The fire’s warm.” But Peter continued to grumble, sleepier now, Tony realized. The boy shifted closer and closer to his mentor, till he was leaning his head against his shoulder. “Hi, Pete,” Tony whispered, wiping away a stray curl.

“Hi,” he mumbled, grinning languidly.

“Comfy?” Peter shook his head. “No? What do we have to do to change that?”

Peter shrugged off one shoulder of his many blankets and slipped it around Tony, pushing his head into the crook of his neck. Tony’s instinctively wrapped an arm around his shoulder.

“Tha’s better,” the sleepy teen mumbled, burrowing further into the embrace.

“That’s good,” Tony hummed, pulling him in closer and resting his chin against his curls. “Take your marshmallow out now, that’s it. Look, perfectly golden.”

...

quality? we don’t know her. I recently started uni though so like, this is a mixture of procrastination and random bouts of inspiration. I don’t think this warrants a tag list, it’s not all that impressive. XD

#what is quality? not this lol #can you tell I'm canadian #this is a once in a moon type thing #irondad #me writing fluff #fluff #Peter Parker and Tony Stark #not st*rker #camping #cuddling

235 notes · View notes

spine-buster · 5 years

Text

Alone, Together | Chapter 34 | Morgan Rielly

A/N: Some might consider this a little bit of a filler chapter, but I actually think it’s a really important piece in establishing Bee as a person. Anywho...hope you guys enjoy! The next two chapters they are back in the West Coast, so you know what that means..........😇

It was going to take a while for Bee to comes to terms with the fact that two of her best friends were leaving Toronto. In the past ten days, she had tried to feel less selfish about the situation – how it affected her and how her life would change, how sad she was about it and how she was going to cope with it – and instead focus on the positives – how Tyler being in Ottawa would be a good leadership opportunity for him on a young team, and how Naz being traded to Colorado meant he would still be on a Cup-contending team. She tried to think about the positives for Ashley, too – how Denver was a beautiful city to raise a family in. How the media would still be loud but much quieter than the media in Toronto. How she’d probably be able to check her Instagram and not have DMs flood her inbox or have bunny blogs gossip about her shopping habits at Holt Renfrew based on information they heard from their sister’s friend’s brother’s girlfriend’s hairstylist’s dog walker’s niece who saw her buy her second Yves Saint Laurent bag of the month.

It would be okay.

Bee had to believe it would be okay. Because if any doubt arose in her about the situation, she’d have another crying episode like she did that night of July 1st, where Morgan had to hold her all night, assuring her that everything would be okay, giving her the only answers he could. She kept trying to think of the positives. She didn’t do things to distract herself from the situation – she genuinely internalized the reality of the situation and tried to see the positives as much as possible. It would make her feel better, she thought, about everything. And Morgan – bless him – was helping as much as he could. He knew better than anybody that it wouldn’t be easy for her, and so he took it upon himself to ease the pain. No small feat. But he did, because he loved her, because he wanted to see genuine smiles and laughs from her instead of forced happiness. He started a countdown to their vacation to Vancouver. He told her about how nice Tyson Barrie and Alexander Kerfoot (Kerfy, apparently) were, and how she’d like them. How Kerfy was already a good friend because they had grown up together and played together in Vancouver. He bought her bigger bouquets of flowers. They got ice cream more often. He let her cuddle into him however and whenever she wanted, and let her fall asleep on his chest with their limbs entwined and he’d carry her to bed, holding her in his arms the entire time.

Despite the emotional minefield that was July 1st, in the following days, she managed to register herself to write the first exam for her CFA certification in December, and she passed her driving test. She was officially a G2 class driver. Life had to move on. It always did. The only thing constant is change.

So when Morgan told her to get in the car, because he was going to take her somewhere, that it was a surprise, she was excited to. The last time he did so they ended up in Muskoka making love for an entire weekend. She even offered to drive there, but he said that wouldn’t be necessary, because it would spoil the surprise. So she hopped in the passenger’s seat. They got on the highway. And they travelled north. Like, really north. North of the city, to the suburb of Vaughan, where Bee noticed Morgan turn into the driveway of Pfaff Auto, where he had gotten his Porsche, a small smile on his face as they parked the car near the front.

“What are we doing here?” she asked as he turned off the ignition.

“What do you think?” he asked rhetorically.

Before she could answer, Bee noticed a man in a suit outside Morgan’s window, and she nodded her head towards it so it could grab Morgan’s attention. The man waved enthusiastically and Morgan opened the door. “Santi! Hey!”

“Morgan! Nice to see you bud!” he said as Morgan opened the door. “This must be Bee!” Santi waved at her. “How are you Bee?”

“I’m…good,” she said awkwardly as she saw Morgan start to get out of the car. She followed suit and walked around to where the men were standing.

“Morgan mentioned how you had passed your driving test. Congratulations!” Santi said. “We thought it would be a great idea to bring you in and welcome you into the Pfaff Family!”

“Oh?” Bee looked between Santi and Morgan. She stood stiff in between the two men. “Am I…you…you didn’t bring me here to pick out a car, did you?” she asked Morgan, who only smiled. “Morgan.”

“Don’t Morgan me,” he said, his response every single time she said his name in that tone of voice. “Let’s go inside and see our options, hmm?”

Bee didn’t really have a choice. They were already there, Santi was already smiling and waving and ready to show her cars, and when they walked inside, other employees waved and shook hands and it was all very nice, but Bee didn’t know what to do. She wondered if anybody could see how out of her element she was. She felt like a visiting Princess Kate being given a tour of something she had no clue about, smiling and nodding along and asking basic questions about things to make it seem like she understood what they were talking about and comfortable with what was going on around her. But she wasn’t. For a person who had never owned a car before, and who had only been in the very basic cars of her friends, she really didn’t have a clue. She knew the names, obviously, but everything else was extra. Everything else was so…extravagant.

Santi was nice. Warm. Accommodating. To his credit, he was an excellent salesman and knowledgeable of every little detail about every car or SUV they saw or sat in. He would usher her into the driver’s seat, he’d get into the passenger’s seat, and Morgan would slip in the backseat, and he’d go on and on about all the features. The leather seats. The luxury interior. The beeping sensors for when you were reversing. GPS Navigation. The backup cameras. The sunroofs. The option for add-on DVD players for the backseat. Luxury add-ons here. Luxury add-ons there.

Bee had to write down all the names of the cars so she could remember them all. The Porsche Cayenne Sport, the Mercedes Benz GLS 450, the BMW X7 xDrive 50i, the Porsche Macan Sport, the BMW Alpina B7 xDrive, the Audi A8 L 55, the BMW M5 Competition, the Mercedes Benz S-Class. It was all so overwhelming. There were so many things to remember. Santi didn’t even mention gas mileage. He didn’t mention how much it cost to fill up a tank of gas, how expensive it was to insure these cars, how expensive they were even just to maintain. She got more and more nervous the more she thought about it. It filled her with anxiety, being in something that was so expensive.

These cars weren’t for her.

“What’s the price point you’re looking for?” Santi asked as they sat together in the BMW X7. It was a beautiful crossover, no doubt, and Bee liked it, as objectively as she could like a car this expensive.

“We’re not thinking about that today,” Morgan butt in from the backseat. Santi gave him a smile. She looked at him through the rear-view mirror.

“What a guy, eh?” Santi joked, nodding his head towards Morgan. “We’ll take care of you guys, anyway. When Chris comes in he’ll arrange all that. He’ll be so happy to see you.”

“Who’s Chris?” Bee finally piped up.

“Chris Pfaff, the president and CEO,” Santi said. “After Morgan and I chose the Porsche last year Chris made sure Morgan was taken care of. And with Morgan referring some of the other Leafs to us, there’s no way we’re not going to take care of you again.”

Bee wondered what Santi meant when he said ‘take care’, but she knew if she asked she’d seem like an idiot. Maybe it just meant they got a good deal on the car or something. A discount. An add-on for only half the price. $100 in gas gift cards, like she always saw advertised on TV.

After what seemed like sitting in the millionth car, Santi was called away briefly, leaving Morgan and Bee alone for the first time since they parked. They stood beside an immaculate Range Rover. Bee looked over at Morgan, who was already looking at her. “What do you think?” he asked her.

“I don’t want to make a decision today,” she said, knowing he wouldn’t know why. He seemed to be having the time of his life being in all the cars. She never understood boys’ fascination with them.

“What?”

“I don’t want to make a decision today. I don’t…” she shook her head slightly, biting on her nail. “I want to think about it.”

“But they--”

“I want to do my own research,” she interrupted him, not wanting to get into it now. “I just want to go home with all the information he gave me and I want to do my own research and make my own decision.”

Morgan looked at her for a moment. He studied her. He saw the biting of the nail and saw her furrowed eyebrows and he nodded his head. “Okay. Okay. We’ll let Santi know.”

Santi gave Bee his card and told her to call him when she made her decision. She thanked him endlessly for all his help and information, and she and Morgan left Pfaff, beginning the long trek back downtown to their place. Bee sat looking out the window, not saying a word, mulling over everything going on inside her head. Morgan would take occasional glances at her, allowing them to sit in silence until they pulled into the parking garage and into their designated spot. He knew something was going on and he wanted to know.

“What’s wrong?”

Bee felt ashamed. She couldn’t even look at him even though she knew he was looking directly at her. “I don’t want any of those cars,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“What?”

“I don’t want any of those cars,” she said a bit louder so he could hear. “I don’t…I don’t need any of those cars.”

“What do you mean you don’t need any of those cars?”

She sighed. “I only need a car that can get me from A to B. I’m not even going to drive it to work. The most I’ll be driving it is up to Rocco and Clarette’s house or to go grocery shopping. Maybe to go visit Aryne and John. I don’t think I need a ninety thousand dollar SUV to do that.”

Morgan shifted in his seat. “Okay…I get that,” he admitted. “But…I mean, they can help us, you know? The guys at Pfaff can take care of us.”

“Why do you guys keep saying that? What does that even mean?” she asked, her voice more assertive now.

“They can gift it to us, Briony. Like the Porsche.”

Bee whipped her head towards Morgan. “Gift it to us? Like the Porsche?”

“Yeah.”

“You…” she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “You’re telling me this Porsche is a gift.”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t pay a lease payment on this thing?”

“No.”

“A financing payment?”

“No.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” she exclaimed. “This entire fucking time we’ve been driving this car you haven’t had to pay a cent on it except for gas and insurance?” she asked. Morgan nodded his head. “What the fuck, Morgan?!”

“Why are you so angry?” he asked, remaining the calm one in the conversation.

“We don’t need a free car!” she yelled, unable to hold her emotions back any longer. “We have the money to pay for a car! We have the money to pay for any car we fucking want to and you’re telling me you’re paying nothing?! We should be paying for a car!”

“What’s the big deal?” Morgan questioned.

“It’s the principle!” she began. “This is exactly what’s wrong with this entire fucking system. I grew up with literally nothing by no fault of my own and I was still expected to pay my whole way through whatever came up in my life. You – and I don’t mean you specifically Morgan, but people like you, other hockey players and those stupid Instagram influencer girls from here just dying to hang out with you guys for status and clout – you guys have all this money and yet you get everything for free so long as you put it on your Instagram. It’s not fair. It’s not fair when so many fucking people in this city are struggling to get by and working their asses off at minimum wage jobs just to afford rent and the Toronto Maple Leafs are getting free luxury cars.”

Morgan stayed quiet. He knew she was right, like with most things, and he had never considered her perspective before. He had failed to consider the entire situation from her perspective. It was hard for him. He just thought it would be a nice day out. Go to a dealership, pick out a car. He’d take care of it for her, like he promised her he would with everything on that dock in Muskoka. And although she had accepted that, this wasn’t the way she wanted him to go about “taking care” of things. She obviously wanted to do everything fairly. “Briony…”

“I can’t believe you never told me this car was a gift,” she said, her voice much calmer now. “Look, I’m sorry I raised my voice. But we’re not poor. We can afford the financing or lease payments on any car I choose to get. And that’s the way it’s gonna be.”

“Okay,” Morgan nodded his head, his voice soft. “Okay. We can do that.”

“I can do that,” she corrected. “I want to pay for my own car. This entire time I’ve been saving my money and I can afford it. I’ve budgeted it out.”

“But Briony--”

“Morgan--”

“I told you in Muskoka that I wanted to give you the things you want and need in life without you being uncomfortable about it. That I didn’t want you to worry about anything ever again.”

“I know, Morgan, but please, please, you have to let me do this for myself. Please,” she was practically begging. “I know you want to do that for me. I know. That’s why you brought me to Pfaff today. And I love you and I appreciate it and you know I do but I’m doing this for me. You…you have no idea what it means to be to be able to buy my own car with my own money.”

Morgan could hear by the tone in her voice how much this meant for her. He couldn’t deny that he wanted to do this for her – to get her whatever car she wanted, luxury or not – but he also couldn’t deny her the opportunity of being able to get a car herself. For her, it was independence. It was investing in something she never had the opportunity to before. It meant having something of her own, when her whole life, she didn’t have anything to her name. Who was he to deny her that?

“Okay,” he nodded his head again. “Alright, okay. I’m sorry Briony.”

“There is no need for you to apologize,” she said, reaching over the console to grab his hand. “I should be the one who is sorry for raising my voice. I just…I felt overwhelmed in there. It was fun but overwhelming. You’re the best boyfriend in the world for doing something like that for me. You probably think I’m insane.”

“Why would I think that?”

Bee gave him a look. “A girl rejecting a luxury car so she could get a cheaper one? Who does that?”

Morgan smiled slightly, shaking his head. He leaned over the console to give her a kiss. “Briony McTavish does that,” he whispered once he pulled away. “And that’s why I love her.”

“Oh yeah?” Bee smiled slightly.

“Mhm,” Morgan kissed her again. “You’re something else, Briony. I’d do anything for you. And this means so much to you. You’ve put your mind to it. You’ve budgeted it out and you know you’re going to be okay and that you won’t have to worry. I would never take that away from you.”

Before their conversation could advance any further, Morgan’s phone started to ring through the Bluetooth system in the car. On the screen on the dash, Nazem’s name flashed. “We’ll continue this later,” he said before answering the call. “Naz! What’s up? You’re on speaker with me and Bee.”

“Hey guys,” he said into the phone. “You uh…you guys might want to make your way to Toronto General.”

“Why?” Morgan asked.

From beside him, Bee’s jaw dropped. “Ohmygod Naz, did Ashley have the baby?”

“Come quick. Come meet her,” he said, a slight giggle in his voice.

“Her?!” Bee screamed. “Her?! Ohmygod we’re on our way right now.”

***

“Here she is. Baby Naylah,” Naz was smiling from ear to ear as he led Morgan and Bee through the doorway to Ashley’s room. John and Aryne were already there, Aryne sitting in a chair and John leaning against the windowsill as Ashley cradled the tiny baby in her arms.

“Heeeyyyy,” Ashley said gently, a beaming smile on her face. “She’s here. She’s finally here.”

“Oh, Ashley…” Bee cooed, catching a glimpse of the little girl’s face tucked between the swaddling blanket and little hat on her head. “Ashley, she’s absolutely beautiful.”

“How you feeling, momma?” Morgan smiled.

“Labour was about eight hours, but everything was fine,” Ashley said. “We came in yesterday around this time. We’ve just been in our own little world with her until now.”

Morgan smiled and looked at Naz. “Nazem Kadri, father,” he shook his head. “Lord help us all.”

“That’s what I said,” John said as everybody laughed. “Father to a girl, nonetheless. She’s gonna make you the biggest sap in the universe.”

“She’s already got me wrapped around her little finger,” Naz shrugged his shoulders, admitting defeat. He was still beaming, still on a high from welcoming his daughter into the world. “I’ll admit it. She’s gonna get whatever she wants.”

“You wanna hold her, Aunt Bee?” Ashley offered.

Bee’s jaw dropped again. “Oh my God. Oh my God. Can I?”

“She’s very calm. She just woke up and might need a feeding soon so it’s your only chance,” Ashley smiled. Bee moved closer towards her as Ashley placed Naylah delicately in her arms. “Make sure you support her head. She’s swaddled so she should be fine.”

Bee held Naylah close to her chest, rocking her back and forth. She heard Naylah make little noises and watched as Naylah’s eyes looked up at her, studying her closely. She knew this random, strange lady was definitely not her mom. “Hi Naylah,” Bee cooed. “I’m your Aunt Bee. I’m so glad you’re finally here.” She continued to look down at the tiny baby in her arms, marvelling at her little expressions and tiny features. She couldn’t believe she was finally holding her.

Bee looked up briefly to see everybody smiling at her. “Looks like you’re still the baby whisperer, Bee,” Aryne giggled, resting her hand on her bump. “You’re gonna be back here in two months doing this all over again.”

“Bring it on,” she said, continuing to rock Naylah back and forth and cradling her small head in her hand. “Give me all the babies and the babysitting duties and I’ll be one happy camper.”

As if on cue, Naylah began fussing a little bit, her eyes closing and lips pursing. “Uh oh. Spoke too soon,” Bee said. She tried to calm her down but the attempt was futile. Naylah continued to purse her lips until she let out a small cry. “Looks like someone is hungry again.”

“That’s our cue,” Aryne said, standing up from her seat. “We’ll wait outside until she’s done, maybe go grab some coffee.”

“I’ll let you guys know,” Naz said as they all began to exit. “My sisters are coming back soon, too. You might see them.”

John and Morgan decided to hang out in the waiting room while Aryne and Bee decided to go for a coffee run to the Starbucks. As they were waiting for everybody’s drinks, Bee told Aryne what she and Morgan had been up to that day at Pfaff and the discussion they’d had in the car. Bee explained her reasoning. Morgan’s reaction. Her insistence on getting the car on her own.

Aryne sipped on her own coffee as she listened to Bee. “You’ve always been really principled,” she said. “You don’t need to apologize for anything. I get where you’re coming from. But I also understand where Morgan was coming from. Especially after what you told me he said in Muskoka. Like, I get him wanting to do that for you.”

“Me too,” Bee said. “And I promised him I’d try to stop feeling uncomfortable about it. And I have – I mean, the trip back to Vancouver and this bracelet are perfect examples of that,” she said, flashing the Cartier love bracelet that was still on her wrist. “But I…a car is different. I never thought I’d have a car. Now I have an opportunity to get one. I want to get one that’s economical. I don’t want to get a BMW or Mercedes just because I can – well, just because Morgan can. I can’t afford one of those cars on my own. Morgan’s wanted me to save my money all this time anyway. It’s only logical I use it to make the biggest purchase of my life thus far, right?”

“You don’t need to defend yourself, Bee, especially if it’s your own money,” Aryne said. “Especially if it’s your own money. Whatever you buy with what you’ve earned yourself is a big fuck you to everyone. Car, designer bag, shoes, a book – whatever. Fuck anybody who criticizes you.”

Bee was so thankful for Aryne. Whenever she needed a voice of reason, someone to guide her through this crazy life and help her make decisions, she knew Aryne would always be there for her. “You’re the best, you know that?” Bee smiled.

“You’ve told me that once or twice,” Aryne winked. “Listen…on a similar vein of fuck-you purchases and people criticizing you, I need to ask you a question and I need you to be one hundred percent honest with me.”

Bee noticed her sudden shift in tone. “Okay…”

“What did Sydney say to you?”

Bee was speechless. “Wha…” she stuttered out. “What do you mean?”

“I saw her comment on Morgan’s post for your graduation, and I saw what Morgan responded,” she explained. “She had to have said something. So what was it and when did she say it?”

Bee took a deep breath. She wondered if she should just run out of the hospital to avoid this conversation. “Aryne…she’s your friend. I don’t feel comf--”

“What did she say, Bee?”

Bee gulped. “Um, so it was the day of your baby shower,” Bee began. “Ashley picked us up and we were driving through Moss Park to get on the DVP and she called it the ghetto. When we came up on a red light I pointed out a building where I used to live and I told her how I grew up there and she was like ‘Well, thank God you got out’.”

“So that’s why Morgan made the ghetto comment,” Aryne connected the two together. Bee nodded her head. “How did Morgan find out?”

“Zach told him, sort of accidentally. Because Alannah was there too and she was really upset about everything that happened and --”

“What else happened?” Aryne interjected. Bee felt like crawling into a hole and dying. “What do you mean ‘everything that happened’? What else was there?”

“Um…I…” Bee tried to look for an escape. “Listen. Um, Morgan doesn’t know this part. He only knows about the ghetto comment. But Sydney…she, uh…she kind of kept making these comments…”

“About what?”

“About me.”

Aryne’s eyes darkened. “What did she say.”

“It’s really not--”

“Briony,” Aryne’s voice was firm. “What did she say.”

“It wasn’t a big deal, Aryne. I dealt with it. She uh, she sort of kept making, um, comments about my body. Saying it was good that I chose that dress I wore with vertical stripes because they were slimming and that’s why it looked good. And then Alannah asked about a deal on yoga pants I got and Sydney piped in and said she could recommend a personal trainer for me and that they’d ‘definitely help me with everything I need done’,” Bee used air quotes because she remembered the words said to her so vividly.

“She said what?” Aryne seethed. “Are you kidding me?”

“Aryne, it wasn’t a big deal. I confronted her about it in the bathroom afterwards. It was dealt with.”

“This happened during my baby shower?” she asked, her face utterly disgusted at what had transpired. “What the hell is wrong with her?”

“Listen, I’m going to give her the benefit of the doubt. She was stressed about the wedding and--”

“Don’t give her the benefit of the doubt. God, Bee, do not give her the benefit of the doubt. You’re being too nice. She was my friend in Long Island and I’m absolutely horrified she’d say something like that to you.”

“It’s not…” Bee began, shaking her head. “My mom used to say stuff like that all the time. She used to tell me I’d end up alone because nobody likes smart chubby girls. It’s okay. And it’s not like I haven’t heard it before in DMs. You know what they look like.”

Aryne gave her a look – one mixed with the anger she was feeling but also with sadness at what Bee was revealing. Aryne couldn’t imagine a mother saying something like that to a daughter. “Bee, just because your mom used to say that sort of stuff to you, it doesn’t make it okay,” she stressed, reaching out to hold her hand. “Nobody deserves comments like that being said about them.”

“I know. But when that sort of stuff is said to me, people who mean nothing to me always say it. My mom. Fangirls. Sydney,” Bee said. “I told her that. I told her she meant nothing to me and that even if she didn’t like me she needed to respect me--”

“Good.”

“—and I told her not to take me for a fucking idiot,” Bee couldn’t help but smile. She was still sort of proud of herself for pulling out that line in the washroom. “I think Sydney thinks she needs to put on a mix of this ‘I don’t give a fuck’ and ‘I’m the Queen B cool girl’ persona because that’s the image she’s built for herself and she lets it get to her head. The fact that she grew up with a lot of privilege hasn’t helped that. But I dealt with it. She got married and had a beautiful wedding. I’m still chubby. It’s done.”

“Okay, but wait…” Aryne furrowed her brows. “Morgan only knows about the ghetto comment? Why?”

“That’s all Zach told him.”

“And you didn’t tell Morgan what you just told me?” Aryne asked. Bee shook her head. “Why not?”

It was Bee’s turn to give Aryne a look. “I’m sorry, have you met my boyfriend, Morgan Frederick Rielly?” she asked, causing Aryne to giggle. “God knows what he’d say to Syd – or Matt – if he found out. He’d drop a nuke on Long Island if he could.”

“He is really protective of you out in the public sphere,” Aryne digressed.

“Exactly. He had to make a phone call to Steve Keogh on Canada Day to try and solve my incessant DM issue,” Bee informed Aryne, who already knew all about the DMs sent on Canada Day. “Despite Morgan’s best efforts he couldn’t get Steve to fly back from Europe, where he’s on vacation with his family, to handle the situation immediately.”

Aryne snorted. “What a guy.”

“You’re telling me.”

“So then what’s the next step?” Aryne asked, fixating all the drinks into the Styrofoam holder the barista provided.

“With what?” Bee asked.

“Everything.”

Bee shrugged her shoulders. “Just live my life.”

***

@brionymctavish: my first car!

@angiefavs: WE MATCH!!!!!

@morganrielly: lookin cute

@alynntavares: LOVE IT BEE! I know how much this means to you!

@enzosauce: can you drive it out to Edmonton for a visit?

@stephlanchancee: um is that a Honda Civic?

@brionymctavish: Yup! First one ever!

@lucygardiner_: congrats Bee! Can’t wait to zip around town with you!

@frederikandersen31: I hope I fit in there

@brionymctavish: I’ll stuff you into the trunk if need be

158 notes · View notes

justlookfrightened · 5 years

Note

Zimbits 32 “You could have died.”

Bitty tucked his laptop in his messenger bag and tried to tiptoe out of the bedroom without waking Jack. No one should be up at 5:30 in the morning – Bitty included himself in that thought, but last night staying with Jack seemed more important than getting to sleep until 6:30 and still make it to seven o’clock practice – and Jack had a game tonight.

It almost worked, until the edge of Bitty’s bag caught the door and bounced off the doorstop. That was enough for Jack to roll over and crack an eye open.

“Leaving already, bud?” he asked, voice raspy from sleep.

“I have to, sweet pea, or I’ll be late for practice,” Bitty said, going back to the bed to lean down and give Jack a kiss. “Love you. Talk after the game?”

Jack mumbled something affirmative and buried his face in Bitty’s pillow.

At least Bitty could take the car and not have to depend on trains and buses or have to do fifty minutes in a rideshare. Jack first suggested buying him a car last summer when Bitty was living in Providence, but Bitty was adamant that a car, even a used car, was too big of a gift.

“I couldn’t,” Bitty said. “My mama and daddy would have a fit, and besides, I can’t afford the insurance and all. And don’t just say you’d pay for that too.”

So Jack had simply gone out and bought himself a second car, a new Prius, and handed the second set of keys to Bitty.

“It’s my car,” Jack said. “But you have blanket permission to drive it whenever you want. And I made sure my insurance would cover you.”

Bitty had squawked, but Jack pointed out that lots of his teammates had two cars, and he didn’t need to have his SUV just to run errands. Then over the summer Bitty got used to having a car when he needed one. He didn’t keep it at Samwell all the time, but knowing he could make the drive from Providence in less than an hour made it easier to see Jack mid-week. Which was important, since neither of them usually had weekends off.

Bitty connected his phone to the car’s speakers, started a peppy playlist to keep himself awake, and headed north. Traffic wasn’t bad this early, so he should even have time to grab a coffee.

Jack’s phone was making noise. It was still dark. His alarm shouldn’t have been going off yet. Did he forget to change it for a game day?

No, not his alarm. That was his phone actually ringing. He grabbed it and looked at it. Bitty? He shouldn’t have made it back to Samwell yet. Maybe he had car trouble?

“Hello? Bits, you okay?”

“Excuse me, with whom am I speaking?”

“Who is this?” Jack’s confusion was rapidly dissolving into fear.

“This is Sergeant Zach Terry with the Massachusetts State Police, and your number is the emergency contact on this phone, which belongs to –”

“Bitty.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Eric Bittle. What happened? Is he okay?”

“First could you confirm your identity, sir.”

“Jack Zimmermann.”

The police officer continued as though he didn’t recognize Jack’s name.

“Mr. Bittle was in a car crash,” he said. “He’s being taken by ambulance to UMass Memorial Medical Center. The car he was driving – a 2016 Toyota Prius – is registered in Rhode Island in your name –”

“They’re taking him to the hospital?” Jack said. “So he’s alive?”

“I can’t share medical information,” Sgt. Terry said. “The ambulance left here about 20 minutes ago. You can call the hospital, but unless you can demonstrate that you are family –”

“I’m his emergency contact –”

“On his phone,” the sergeant said, not unkindly. “If he’s conscious, he can allow them to share information with you.”

If he’s conscious? Shit, shit, shit, shit.

“In the meantime, sir, once the accident investigation is complete, what do you want to do with your car?” the sergeant said. “It’s going to be totalled, I’m sure of that, but it’s got to go somewhere.”

His car. Who cared? But it hit something. Someone? Or someone hit it?

“I don’t care about the car,” Jack said. “I’ll call my agent, they’ll deal with it. What happened? Was anyone else hurt?”

“The deer that caused the whole mess,” the sergeant said. “And the other driver that swerved to avoid it and hit your car was also injured. He was transported to the local hospital.”

So he wasn’t hurt as badly. Fuck. Jack should be happy someone wasn’t going to a trauma center, unconscious and alone, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

If he wanted information, who would they give it to? Bitty’s parents? He should call them anyway. But Jack looked at himself, sunk onto his bedroom floor with his back against the bed, hands shaking.

He looked at his phone again, searching the contacts.

“Shitty? It’s Bitty.”

Bitty awoke to a pounding headache and the sense that he was somewhere he wasn’t supposed to be. The sheets were scratchy, and the light was too bright and he was flat on his back instead of curled up with Senor Bun.

He tried to turn to his side and found he couldn’t. Also his left shoulder and side were on fire.

“Bits?”

Jack. Jack was here. Was he hurt too?

“What happened?” Bitty asked. “Where are we?”

“UMass hospital,” Jack said, as Bitty slowly turned only his head to the other side. “Worcester. You were in a car accident this morning.”

“Your car –”

“Is not something I’m worried about now,” Jack said. “At all. How’re you feeling?”

“Hurts,” Bitty said.

“Yeah, I imagine,” Jack said. “You were in and out a few times, but they gave you some pain meds, so you probably don’t remember.”

Bitty stared at the ceiling, trying to recall. Nope. Nothing about being in this hospital. Or … a car accident?”

“What happened?” Bitty said. “I have no idea how I got here.”

“You were driving back to Samwell this morning,” Jack said, and Bitty started to nod but stopped because it made his head swim.

“I remember that. Early practice.”

“Yeah, you, um, didn’t make it to practice,” Jack said. “Someone swerved to avoid a deer near Uxbridge and they lost control and hit you in the driver’s side. Got the deer anyway, too.”

“I’m sorry,” Bitty said. “I didn’t –”

“Don’t,” Jack said. “Don’t apologize. You were driving up the highway not doing anything wrong, and some idiot drove into you. Doesn’t everyone know you don’t swerve to avoid a deer because you could cause a worse accident? You might have died.”

“But if I hadn’t driven back this morning …”

“This is not your fault,” Jack said. “It’s not your fault, and it’s not my fault for insisting that you should drive the car. I could have gotten up and taken you in the truck.”

Even in his cloudy state, Bitty got what Jack was saying.

“Sweetpea, maybe it’s not my fault but it most certainly isn’t yours,” he said. “Who’s to say we both wouldn’t have been in the hospital then?”

Jack snorted at that. “Not likely. I don’t have your lead foot.”

“Haha,” Bitty said. “Have they told you what’s wrong with me? Concussion, I’m pretty sure.”

“Yeah, once your parents told them they could let me in and talk to me,” Jack said, trying not to be bitter. At least they had allowed the hospital to pull him into the loop. It was just that they had to in the first place that rankled. “They’ll be here in a couple of hours, by the way. So, concussion, laceration to the side of your face, dislocated left shoulder, badly bruised ribs. They were afraid they were cracked, but you avoided that.”

“Ugh,” Bitty said. “How long before I can skate?”

Jack shrugged. “Too soon to tell,” he said. “Couple weeks at the very least, and longer for contact. But probably not the whole season. I should call your manager – or Hall directly. He’ll want to come see you now you’re awake, too.”

“Now – what time is it?” Bitty asked.

“About three,” Jack said.

“In the afternoon?”

Jack nodded, and Bitty could see how exhausted he looked. He was dressed in full Burger-King-robber getup, dark track pants and hoodie, he hadn’t shaved and the pallor of skin only emphasized the dark circles under his eyes.

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” Bitty said. “You have a game.”

“I’m not playing tonight,” Jack said. “I’m scratched for a family emergency.”

“Family, huh?” Bitty couldn’t help but smile.

“Family,” Jack said. “They’ll probably let you go either tonight or tomorrow morning. I’ll stay here until I can take you home with me.”

#omgcheckplease #omg check please #zimbits #my fic #prompt fill

401 notes · View notes

dweemeister · 4 years

Photo

New Orleans (1947)

The city of New Orleans is synonymous with a rich cultural tapestry shaped over centuries. Located on the banks of the Mississippi River, its economic and political influence waned with the spread of railroads and highways. Today, its influences are indigenous American, African, French, Spanish, Creole, Honduran, Vietnamese, and much more. But the city remains an inimitable cultural force. One of the city’s most significant contributions to the world is jazz – a musical genre that, even in the mid-twentieth century, attracted racially-coded disdain.

I must admit that I am instantly suspicious of any film that takes a city’s name as its title. Being not in a sniping mood as I write this sentence, I will not single any certain film out – for now. But to reduce a film title to a city’s name is to heighten expectations that the filmmaker will capture the so-called “soul” of a city (a nearly impossible task). Or perhaps they shall depict a man-made or natural disaster that takes place in that city (how often does a city’s name become shorthand for a mass shooting?). Enter Arthur Lubin’s New Orleans: a quasi-musical that does not have the courage to let the musical numbers guide it. The film stars Louis Armstrong (essentially playing himself) and Billie Holiday (not playing herself in her only credited role in a feature film), in addition to other jazz stalwarts at the time: Woody Herman, drummer Zutty Singleton, clarinetist Barney Bigard, trombonist Kid Ory, guitarist Bud Scott. New Orleans makes the mistake of not having Armstrong and Holiday be the main stars. Instead, the film has a half-baked, predictable romance. For a film title with such enormous implications, New Orleans’ concentration makes no sweeping statements about the eponymous city. Instead, it turns its gaze to jazz’s reputation among high-society white Americans.

It is 1917. The Storyville district of New Orleans is a den of prostitution, drinking, gambling, and – worst of all – jazz. Storyville’s residents are mostly black, but some of its welcome patrons are white. Nick Duquesne (Mexican actor Arturo de Córdova) runs a gambling joint frequented by Mrs. Rutledge Smith (Irene Rich) and classical music conductor/pianist Henry Ferber (Richard Hagerman). Irene avoids the jazz there (one of the regulars is Louis Armstrong and the aforementioned players), but her daughter, Miralee (Dorothy Patrick) – an operatic soprano who has arrived in New Orleans to make her professional classical music debut – is entranced by this radical music. Miralee is also entranced with Nick, against her mother’s wishes. Miralee is staying with her relative when she meets their maid, Endie (Billie Holiday), who surreptitiously plays the piano and sings jazz music when she gets the chance. As you might imagine, Endie’s employers disapprove. The film comes to a head as the U.S. military forcibly shuts down Storyville (evicting hundreds of black residents overnight), Nick leaves New Orleans, and Miralee must contend with her emotions just before she makes her classical music professional debut.

Billie Holiday’s fans might be troubled by the fact she is a maid here, given that she intentionally avoided physically demanding occupations in real life. Her reaction to this casting is unclear, as different reputable sources offer contradictory claims: that she abhorred being cast as a maid (Meg Greene’s Billie Holiday: A Biography), or that she relished the opportunity to be in a motion picture regardless of the role (an interview with music journalist Leonard Feather). So as tough as it may be to see her in a subservient role, Holiday appears to be enjoying herself – especially during the musical numbers she is a part of. She is clearly, other than Louis Armstrong, the most musically accomplished member of the cast. But when her character disappears from the film in the final third, New Orleans heaves due to the hackneyed romance between Nick and Miralee. To toss the one actor making this film worth watching for no sensible reason is a disastrous choice by screenwriters Elliot Paul (1941’s A Woman’s Face, 1945’s Rhapsody in Blue) and Dick Irving Hyland (1947’s Kilroy Was Here).

Even in a film independently released through United Artists (the one major Hollywood studio of Old Hollywood with the least executive interference), she and Armstrong cannot be the central stars. Considering Holiday’s musical talents, one wonders why she never starred in another film. Despite some digging, I could not find the answer. But if any black woman musician could have films centered around her, it would be Holiday. Her contemporaries, Lena Horne and Ethel Waters, could never overcome the terrible beliefs that audiences would not pay to see a film with a black actress in the lead role. But did Holiday – noting how Louis Armstrong also appeared in films – want to make more films? That may be an answer for someone else to uncover.

More than any film of its time that I can recall, New Orleans is overflowing with a disobedient musical energy. When considering musical genres innovated by African-Americans, there is an underground aspect to their initial spread that, at first, appears exclusive. Jazz, R&B, and hip hop have all gone through these motions: a tumultuous, secretive birth; a rebellious adolescence where critics decry the moral fabric of such music; and finally mainstreaming. Jazz in New Orleans lies somewhere within that adolescence. Its troubled reputation is the result of a mixture of musical and racial tensions. New Orleans’ affluent white community, on its surface, disdains jazz and prefers the import that is Western classical music – opinions they express vocally (as an amateur classically-trained musician who learned more about jazz later in life, I can’t stand the gatekeeping behavior exemplified in this film). So any time that jazz music is played in an unorthodox setting – the parlor of the Smith household, an orchestra hall – it feels defiant, dangerous.* These musical-racial dynamics persist in America to this day. To even see a film acknowledge that conflict, however ineloquently, is credit to the screenwriters and director Arthur Lubin understanding aspects about musical popular culture of this time.

But what is New Orleans and New Orleans without music? First sung by Holliday and reprised (one might even say appropriated in the negative sense) multiple times is, “(Do You Know What It Means to Miss) New Orleans”, with music by Louis Alter and lyrics by Edgar De Lange. Louis Armstrong is on his signature trumpet, a phalanx of great jazz instrumentalists play on the flanks, and Billie Holiday’s voice captures the timbre necessary in any song about longing.

Do you know what it means to miss New Orleans And miss it each night and day? I know I’m not wrong, the feeling’s getting stronger The longer I stay away.

youtube

It is a song representative of this film’s failed ambitions as an embodiment of New Orleans’ spirit. But it is also a brilliant showcase for some of the great jazz figures working at this time – including instrumental performances by Woody Herman and his orchestra and a virtuosic performance of “Honky Tonk Train Blues” by pianist Meade “Lux” Lewis. Nevertheless, New Orleans’ most soulful performances always revolve around Armstrong and Holiday singing Alter and De Lange’s original compositions. Other soundtrack highlights include “The Blues are Brewin’” and “Farewell to Storyville”. The former exemplifies Holiday’s timeless appeal, her singing voice’s unornamented pathos that elevates the simplest of lyrics. The latter is the most context-dependent song in the soundtrack and occurs as the U.S. military orders the closure of the speakeasies and gambling joints of Storyville – a swinging elegy without defeatism. New Orleans is at its most enjoyable during these musical numbers, and the film just feels lost whenever Armstrong and Holiday are not present or when any of the supposed leads open their mouths to speak.

That Lubin and the film’s producers do not trust the soundtrack to carry New Orleans indicates an ironic misgiving towards jazz music itself. United Artists’ refusal to reward Armstrong and Holiday star billing over de Córdova and Patrick is probably rooted to then-contemporary reality that movie theaters in the American South refused to show films with black leads. In addition, jazz music – like in this film – was not yet completely in the mainstream. If it appeared in a Hollywood film (and elements of jazz often appeared in mid-century American musicals), it almost always would be presented and popularized by a white performer. This development is not exclusive to jazz, let alone artistic medium. The filmmakers, in New Orleans’ final third, muddle their message through such appropriation. “Cultural appropriation” at its most basic definition is a neutral concept, but the developments in the film’s closing scenes – intentional or otherwise – extend this appropriation by presenting a white person’s presentation of jazz as more acceptable to a general audience than a black person’s.

For New Orleans, it remains obscure in terms of Hollywood musicals, African-American cinema, and within the esteemed United Artists filmography. In the present day, it serves best as an exhibition for some of the most acclaimed jazz musicians and performers working in the 1940s. To those fans of the numerous black jazz performers appearing in the film, New Orleans is a bittersweet reminder of what may have been.

My rating: 6.5/10

^ Based on my personal imdb rating. Half-points are always rounded down. My interpretation of that ratings system can be found in the “Ratings system” page on my blog (as of July 1, 2020, tumblr is not permitting certain posts with links to appear on tag pages, so I cannot provide the URL).

For more of my reviews tagged “My Movie Odyssey”, check out the tag of the same name on my blog.

* In one scene in an orchestral concert hall, jazz is played as an encore to a classical music concert. It says volumes that the audience is beside themselves and that all of the members of the orchestra (and Richard Hagerman, playing their conductor) are transfixed.

#New Orleans #Arthur Lubin #Arturo de Córdova #Dorothy Patrick #Louis Armstrong #Billie Holiday #Marjorie Lord #Irene Rich #John Alexander #Richard Hageman #Elliot Paul #Dick Irving Hyland #Herbert J. Biberman #Nat W. Finston #Woody Herman #Eddie DeLange #Louis Alter #TCM #My Movie Odyssey

4 notes · View notes

pi-cat000 · 5 years

Text

MSA: Winged Arthur AU (part 12)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11

Part 13: here

Arthur freezes, thoughts skipping like a needle on a scratched record. Vivi said ‘Lewis.’ She had said his name. Two years! Two years of trying to jog her memory and she'd said it! Just like that. Arthur transitions from defensive to hopeful like he’s just opened the endorphin flood gates. For a second, nothing else matters.

He leans forward and grasps Vivi’s hand in excitement. The wings along his back rustle with enthusiasm.

“You said Lewis! You remember…You…” And his escalation into euphoric happiness comes to a screeching halt as he properly processes Vivi’s question, her angry expression, her wary body language.

“It’s not like that…” He tries to explain, wondering how to put ‘Lewis just thinks he was murdered and that’s why he’s acting weird’ into words. Arthur still doesn’t know where the accusation came from, and it kind of hurt that Lewis would even think such a thing in the first place. None of that mattered though, because he’d found Lewis.

“I mean…” Arthur strains to think of something to deflect the unspoken accusation.

“…But you remember Lewis…right?” He ends up repeating helplessly because, if Vivi remembered, then she should know Lewis wouldn’t do something so extreme without external motivation.

Vivi draws back, pulling her hands free and crossing them defensively, “No…I don’t. But, I’m ‘retaining’ the name. Uncle Lance said I’ve been having trouble maintaining information about Lewis before now.”

“Oh.” That was…disappointing. Arthur hates how his stomach sinks. “Uncle Lance said that? What else did he say?” His Uncle wasn’t exactly subtle when it came to his discontent about Arthur’s ongoing search for Lewis.

His face must be doing something pathetic because Vivi’s shrewd expression softens. “He said we were good friends before he disappeared. Is Lewis the one we’ve been searching for all this time?”

Arthur tries to swallow, but the action is hard, getting stuck up his windpipe.

“Yeah. Good friends,” He croaks. She doesn’t remember...

“Sorry I couldn’t tell you anything...I tried, but you never remembered any of it.” Man had he tried. At least this is better than nothing. It is a small consolation.

Vivi sighs tiredly, and gives a small smile, “Don’t apologise for that. I’m sorry I gave you a hard time about it. There were definitely instances where I could have been a lot more tactful, especially when we figured my memory loss was the result of some supernatural curse.” Vivi’s smile fades to be replaced with a cautious frown. Her next sentence is subdued and careful, spoken like a person navigating a verbal minefield, “Lance also said that the Lewis we knew would never hurt either of us?”

Oh right. This. Arthur winces.

“That’s not…he didn’t mean to…. It’s complicated.” Said out loud that did sound pretty bad. He swallows again, trying to get his throat to loosen up. Apparently, Vivi thinks so too, because her expression hardens again, and Arthur realises that his most recent spat of downplaying injuries is not working in his favour. Also, his lack of a plausible excuse had pretty much confirmed that Lewis was at fault.

“Complicated? This ‘Lewis’ looked about a second away from burning the both of us to ash.”

“He did what? When?”

Vivi frowns and nods a confirmation, “After you healed me and knocked yourself out, ‘Lewis’ made an appearance and didn’t take too well to me not remembering him. He was pretty quick to the trigger in the blame department. Overemotional even. That’s a wraith trait, and you know it.”

“No. He’s not a wraith...Lewis would never….do that…”

Arthur hesitates. Not too long ago, Arthur had also believed that Lewis would never hurt him, and he’d been proven wrong in that department. This new Lewis had made it pretty apparent that he didn’t hold Arthur’s wellbeing in high regard. If the wings are good for anything, it’s hiding his expression. Arthur finds them up and folded over his head of their own accord, hiding his face from Vivi.

“Have you thought that maybe this Lewis isn’t the same person we’ve been searching for…” Vivi asks slowly, trying to peer around the feathery barrier. Arthur shuffles to maintain cover, and she gives up.

“It’s Lewis,” He mutters stubbornly. He knows that at least.

“I’m not saying it’s not Lewis…. just, maybe, he’s not exactly the same, and we should be careful and approach this like we would any other supernatural creature. Rationally and with a level head.”

It is probably a good suggestion, and the best Arthur can hope for considering the circumstances. Why does it feel like it isn’t enough? Vivi sounds overly cautious like she’s holding back some harsh remarks on his account. If Lewis had acted anything like he when he threw Arthur off that cliff, then she probably was. This isn’t the reunion Arthur envisioned.

“Arthur?”

Vivi touches his shoulder gently to catch his attention.

“You don’t understand!” He bites, standing abruptly, forcing Vivi back with the wings which lift and shuffle, repositioning automatically.

“You know his name, but you don’t remember. Lewis, he isn’t just some guy,” Arthur struggles to find a word to describe just how important this was. How important Lewis was to Vivi. After trying to fill the Lewis shaped hole in Vivi’s life for so long, Arthur had hoped finding Lewis would fix everything. This wasn’t fixed. This was just a mess.

Vivi doesn’t speak, observing him, and he lets out a frustrated breath, turning to stumble towards the kitchen. And now he feels terrible because bringing up Vivi’s memory loss is a dick move.

“Where are you going.”

“To get a glass of water.” One of the wings knock a stack of magazines off the nearby tv-table. It crashes to the floor.

“Here, I’ll help.”

“No. I’ve got it,” He waves her away with his metal arm, pulling the appendage clear of any additional obstacles. The living room isn’t exactly spacious, so it takes a lot of unsteady manoeuvring.

Behind him, he hears Vivi sigh again.

It looks like she is going to drop her line of questioning for now. Oh, he knows he is not off the hook, not by a long shot. But, Vivi is probably not going to push him when he’s acting so prickly. Arthur just…doesn’t want to think about it. He doesn’t want to think about any of this. He definitely doesn’t want to think about how he’s missed his chance at a smooth introduction and that Vivi probably hates Lewis now.

The kitchen offers a distraction, and Arthur scans the space wondering how he’s going to get water when the area is so narrow. Like the living room, the kitchen’s window is also covered in blue plastic and duct tape. There is a small pile of swept up broken glass beneath it, which Arthur notes so he doesn’t accidentally step in it.

Whatever else Vivi might have said is put on hold when his Uncle’s confused voice sounds from the adjacent room.

“We’re in here,” Vivi calls over her shoulder, attention still on Arthur, watching him clumsily navigate around the bench and chairs. The kitchen is too cluttered to comfortably accommodate him, forcing him to twist to the side.

A second later, his Uncle appears, eyes immediately searching for Arthur, a scowl of concern flickering to relief, “Yeh up? I was worried, one of these days yeh gonna give me a heart attack.”

However, before Arthur can respond, Lance turns to Vivi, commenting “Yeh might want to take a look at this,” walking up the window and ripping free the plastic covering. Outside, instead of desert and highway road, is a forest of unnaturally pale, white coloured trees. The plants twist out of the ground like long fingers, reaching for the sky. Small pink buds grow in amongst the many branches. Each tree gives off an ethereal glow, providing the scene with eerie lighting.

“Was workin on coverin up the window’s out back and I turn away for a second and when I look back there’s a forest. Just appeared outa nowhere.”

Both he and Vivi stare.

“Those books say anything about this?”

Note: Sorry guys, the emotionally charged dialogue will have to wait. The plot has arrived.

Part 13: here

#MSA #mystery skulls animated #arthur kingsmen #Vivi Yukino #winged arthur #talking about stuff #this fic has a plot now #arthur's just happy to have Lewis back #Vivi's haveing none of it #references to injury #injury #fanfiction

85 notes · View notes

icecoldflames · 5 years

Text

The Pinnae Flower Chapter 2, Pt. 1

Masterlist

Updates, A Small Headcanon, and a Top Secret Mission

Hallelujah! Raz Keeran, the deity themself, has finally tweeted more about PS! My crops are watered, there’s money in the bank, and the long-awaited summer is here! It’s time to lean back, relax, theorize and post on this blog more often.

On Raz’s Twitter (all authors seem to have Twitter’s, don’t they?), they posted this tweet:

“A little excerpt from PS:

“He had a ball clutched in his right paw. ‘You can’t be serious,’ Kaida grimaced. But then she saw the stone dragon blink ever so slowly. Right before her eyes, the stone fell away to reveal a shimmering red dragon.”

Can I say we called it? Dragons. Kaida. OMG. I am pumped for this final instalment.

Now that we know this is canon (it seems almost surreal), Logan and I have come up with a headcanon. Not a totally big one—but one all the same.

What if the azure flower that grew in PTNE was grown by the dragons and Kaida? I know that most people believe that it was the sprite king (rightly so, since sprites in this universe work with plants).

But then Logan brought my attention to one little part from the ending of PTNE:

“Funny how a war—a war which left many dead and hurt in many more ways than physically—could bring two old friends back together again. Arel looked at Parisa and Parisa looked at Arel. It was odd how such a terrible occurrence could bring back old friendships.

Arel almost didn’t notice the sudden wind, seemingly there one second and gone the next. The only way he knew it was there was that Parisa’s shorn hair blew up in her face.

The silence was just about unbearable and Arel felt words in his mouth, wanting to spill out and be heard. Parisa tucked some hair behind her ear and began fiddling with her grandmother’s ring. Arel immediately relaxed at the sight of such a familiar action.

The words bubbled up and this time Arel let them out. It was in that same moment that Parisa lifted her head and began speaking too.

“I’m so so sorry.”

Arel could feel the air around them thinning. As if the magic words had finally been spoken and the blanket was finally being lifted. He began to take the first steps to cross the short distance between him and his best friend.

It was in that moment that something moved in the grass. It couldn’t have been the wind—the wind had come and gone like that and the clearing was back to it’s motionless self. Arel stopped dead in his tracks and Parisa’s eyes shot down to look as well. She finally looked at ease too.

Arel watched as the grass shifted again. A green stem was breaking through the soil. It was like someone had filmed the growth of a flower and then sped it up to take mere seconds. The stem rose up and up and a bud seemed to materialize from nowhere.

Both Arel and Parisa watched in stunned silence as an azure flower bloomed right before their eyes.

Now, a lot of Pinnies think this is symbolism to Arel and Parisa’s regrowth of friendship, per say—the Pinnae flower being cut symbolizing their fall out and the azure flower their regrowth.

But Logan and I think that that azure flower was not meant for Arel and Parisa. In fact, we think the flower was aimed at King Oberon and Queen Titania. After all, the azure flower was the flower King Oberon used to propose to Queen Titania.

Perhaps this flower wasn’t meant to symbolize Arel and Parisa’s rebirth as friends but to the King and Queen’s reconciliation with each other.

Now, you might ask: why did the flower sprout in between Arel and Parisa if it was meant for the Fairy King and the Sprite Queen?

Well, back in that excerpt, Arel notices a sudden wind. Could that have knocked the magical seed off course? Could the wind have come from a dragon’s wings?

In any case, I cannot wait to read Raz’s next book.

Also, just a note: Logan and I are going on a top secret mission over summer so my posts might be even more sporadic than usual. I hope that we’ll have some tea to spill when we get back.

Thanks for reading my loyal plebeians,

Prince Roman Falco

~~~

Logan felt sick to the stomach. And it wasn’t because the plane was making its descent down. This is wrong, Logan thought to himself. So wrong. But Logan’s pride was stronger than his logic.

Roman, on the other hand, looked absolutely ecstatic. He couldn’t stop moving; fooling with the air conditioner, making repetitive sounds with his hands and feet, and constantly getting up to use the bathroom (it didn’t help that Roman had the window seat and Logan was in the isle).

Logan wished that he could just turn the plane back around and go straight home.

But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. He refused to let Roman get the better of him.

Logan would find Raz to show Roman he could. He’d figure out how to stop Roman from leaking such classified information after the fact.

He gripped the armrest tightly and he wished that his pride and ego weren’t so big. Then he wouldn’t be in this mess.

He supposed, though, that if Raz were to live anywhere, Mayflower Town was an okay place to spend summer vacation along with finding out who Raz actually was.

In the airport, Logan felt a bit better with himself. Roman and him bought some doughnuts in the airport along with coffee before getting in a taxi to pick up their rental car: a red, clunky, Byrne Road.

And then they were off down the highway towards Raz’s maybe, probably, hopefully, hometown.

“And you’re sure this is where Raz lives?” Roman asked from the driver’s seat. He took a sip of his coffee.

Logan turned down the blaring pop song coming out of the radio without looking up from his computer. “Almost positive.”

“And what facts point to here? That Raz actually lives here?” Roman questioned once again.

Logan sighed and clicked a single button on his computer before looking up at his best friend. His stare burned the side of Roman’s head.

“Listen, I’m almost sure Raz lives here. What more do you want?” Logan said, grimacing. He didn’t want to tell Roman about theazureflower. It felt almost too personal to tell.

While they had been at the airport, waiting to board the plane, Logan and Roman had put together another post of “The Prince’s Crown”.

He and Roman had multiple headcanons they put in a shared document online whenever they thought of something. It was just shorthand and had no real sources, but it made thinking of post ideas much easier than thinking of headcannons out of thin air.

Then, all they had to do to make a post was to find some sources from the books and type it up.

Roman huffed. “Do you not have any facts? Honestly, I would have thought you, Logan—“

Logan clenched his jaw and he could feel his blood begin to boil. “This is where Raz lives, Roman.” He snapped. “Why are you suddenly now just questioning everything I say and do?”

“Because you were the one who was so against this whole thing—trying to find Raz and all that.” Roman argued. His knuckles holding the steering wheel were almost white.

“I said I’d help you find him!” Logan exclaimed, his voice loud and brash.

Roman went silent.

Logan dipped his head back to his computer and continued to type, trying to ignore the deafening stillness that had fallen over the vehicle.

They stayed quiet for the entirety of the ride until they passed the sign, welcoming them to Mayflower Town.

It seemed more like grim proof that Logan was doing something terrible than a welcome sign with bright colours and stickers.

“Turn right to go to our hotel,” Logan forced himself to say. But he didn’t look up from his screen. He wasn’t ready for that yet.

Roman followed Logan’s emotionless instructions and kept on following them as Logan kept reading out the directions like a human GPS.

The hotel was three stars. Roman wouldn’t settle for anything less. And even then, he had not wanted to even step foot in less than a four star but Logan had insisted on the three star—saying that the three star was much cheaper and better for a prolonged stay somewhere other than buying an apartment.

It was only a couple floors high and was between a barber shop and a bar. Across, was a cafe titled “Patton-ly Perfect”. Logan almost groaned out loud at the pun.

Roman and Logan signed into the hotel, still an icy barrier between the two. They unpacked in a similar manner.

“Let’s go to the coffee shop across the road.” Logan said suddenly, creating a crack in the ice.

Roman nodded eagerly. “I could go for some caffeine and some pastries right now.”

The ice seemed temporarily thawed and they both walked across the street with tentative conversation—as if they were first meeting and unsure what exactly to say.

Logan walked in, a bell tinkling above, and was hit with two things: the colour blue and the smell of fresh bread and pastries.

The place was quaint and small and reminded Logan of a garden with all kinds of flowers and wood. There was a fish tank in the corner too with goldfish.

“Woah,” Roman breathed next to Logan. “This place is awesome.” He did a 360 and tentatively touched a lily in a flower pot next to him. “This reminds me so much of ‘Fairy Tales and Fantasy Books’.”

A man popped up from behind the counter on the far wall. He had on a smile that seemed to illuminate the whole room. “Welcome!” He exclaimed.

“Uh, hello.” Logan nodded and walked closer to the man.

The man cocked his head to the side before seemingly smiling even brighter—if that was possible. “You two are new.”

“Yeah! We’re here on a vacation!” Roman exclaimed. Then, “this place is super cool.”

“Thanks!” The man said. He took off his apron that said ‘I loaf you dough much’ before going around his counter and holding out his hand to Roman.

They shook hands. “I’m Patton.” The man said. He was still smiling.

“Roman.” Roman nodded. “Nice to meet you.

Patton then went over to Logan and extended his hand. “Hello.”

“Hello.” Logan said. “Logan.”

“Great to see some new faces!” Patton exclaimed. “We don’t often get newcomers, to be honest. What brings you here to our little corner of the USA?”

Logan wanted to say that Mayflower Town was not in the corner of anywhere, but bit his tongue.

Roman glanced over to Logan before looking back at Patton. He shrugged. “Just wanted a change of scenery that wouldn’t be too crowded with buildings and people.”

Patton nodded, genuinely listening. “Ah. Well, you’ve definitely got the right town. This place is absolutely great—“

The bell rang again and another man comes through the door. He was tall, taller than Logan. His hair was mussed and he had on a massive hoodie that seemed a couple sizes too large. He went around Logan, Roman, and Patton and gruffly hopped over the counter.

Logan stared at Patton then back at the strange man who was...breaking and entering in the middle of the day while the owner was inside?

But Patton just smiled even wider and turned around to look at the man. He doesn’t even seem to be bothered. “That’s Virgil. One of the regulars. I make him his coffee and put it separately away in the corner.” He turned around to look at Virgil. “Hi Virgil! Look we’ve got two new visitors!”

“Hey Pat,” Virgil mumbled and he grabbed a black coffee cup and began pouring his coffee into it.

“This is Roman and Logan,” Patton explained, pointing to each one of them.

“Hi.” Is all Virgil said before walking around the counter and settling himself at a corner table with just one chair and a flower pot in the center of the table. In the pot, the flower was obviously fake with clear, mesh-like petals with white veins running through it.

Patton turned back to Logan and Roman. His eyes were dancing and his mouth was upwards into a smile still. “Would you like anything? Pastries? Drinks?”

“What kind of stuff do you have?” Roman asked, walking over to the counter where, to the left, the pastries were behind glass.

Logan saw Berliners, croissants, all kinds of pies, cakes, and even some churros.

He expected Roman to ask for churros—like back home. But Logan is surprised when Roman says, “how ‘bout a piece of lemon meringue pie?”

Patton grins and opens the glass to take out a slice. “I have another regular who comes, Penny, and this is her favourite pie. She comes here to write.” He added in absentmindedly.

It was as if an electric shock went through Roman and Logan because, instantly, they glanced over at each other with wide eyes.

Patton didn’t seem to notice the exchange as he was jabbering on about botanists and his flowers in his cafe. He took a slice of pie and put it on a plate that seems to be made of pottery. “Here you go. What about you Logan? There’s plenty to go around.”

Logan glanced inside the glass before looking up at the menus which were hanging from the ceiling. “I think I’ll have...the blueberry muffin please.”

He then began thinking of ways he could possibly bring up Penny as Patton walked over to the muffin stand. Could she possibly be Raz Keeran?

Roman, on the other hand was not so discreet. As Patton was beginning to walk back to Logan, he blurted out. “So what does Penny write? Stories?”

Logan actually made a sound out loud. Somewhere between a dying whale and an overexcited chimpanzee.

Patton was too preoccupied putting the muffin on a plate and Roman wasn’t paying attention at all. But Virgil, all the way on the other side of the cafe, swivelled his head and glanced over at Logan with a weird expression on his face that he couldn’t read.

Logan’s face immediately went red.

Patton slid over the plate across the counter to Logan while looking at Roman. “Dunno. She comes in here everyday with a computer. She tells me she’s writing something but never tells me what.” He shrugged before smiling once again. “Enjoy your food!”

Roman and Logan found a table for two, in the other corner across from Virgil. They made sure to be as secluded as humanly possible before discussing about Keeran’s identity.

It still made Logan shiver—the thought of finding Keeran when they obviously didn’t want to be found—but the whole mystery was beginning to get to him. It was like he was a real life Sherlock Holmes, solving a mystery.

He hated himself for it yet, he realized with a sinking sense of despair, he wanted to solve this mystery.

Logan had always said he hated hypocrites. And he tried his darned hardest to not be one. But was he a hypocrite now? After all those years telling Roman that finding Keeran was wrong and now he suddenly wanted to do so?

Logan bit a large bite out of his muffin and tried to chew as slow as humanly possible.

What had changed? Why was he so suddenly feeling different about finding Keeran? Was it actually being out in the field instead of being home, Keeran feeling so far out of reach? Or was it that somewhere, deep inside, Logan had always wanted to figure out Keeran’s identity?

Logan swallowed hard. He suddenly felt cold but sweaty and congested in an almost empty cafe.

“It’s Penny.” Roman said before shoving some pie into his mouth. “I didn’t think it would be this obvious. Would’ve thought it would be a tougher case to crack”

Logan didn’t say a word and let Roman babble on and on.

“I mean, this Penny person comes into this cafe and writes something but Patton doesn’t know? Pretty obvious if you ask me.

“I think our best bet is to have a stake out here to figure out who Penny is.” Roman continued. “And then, we’ll need some cold hard proof to show. So maybe a picture of her computer with some unseen scenes from the fifth book or maybe some stuff from the previous books or—“ he paused and looked at Logan as if he only just now realized he was sitting across from him. “What do you think about Penny?”

It took a moment for Logan to snap back into reality—to snap out of the spiral downwards his thoughts were taking. But, soon he processed Roman’s question. “I don’t know. But, you’re right about one thing: I don’t think it’s supposed to be this obvious. Or, this whole thing is going to be a lot harder than we thought.”

“But it totally is Penny,” Roman concluded with his air of importance. “It’s gotta be.”

It doesn’t have to be, Logan thought to himself but didn’t say out loud. He decided that he’d work on this mystery alone. He’d figure out who Raz Keeran really was and not tell Roman. Therefore, the secret wouldn’t be out. Only he’d know. Only Logan. The whole idea kind of excited him.

Logan could trust himself and his self-control to not leak information about Keeran. Roman, on the other hand, was not so reliable.

“Yeah...sure…” Logan nodded, not really paying attention.

Roman took another bite of his pie and when he spoke again crumbs spewed everywhere. “Should we just stay here or explore this town a bit?”

Logan had no intention of finding Raz Keeran on the first day—whether it was Penny or not—so he said “let’s head out.” He grabbed the rest of his muffin and Roman quickly inhaled the rest of his pie.

They quickly paid for their desserts, Virgil eyeing them wearily, before heading out to explore their new surroundings.

~~~

What Roman noticed first was that everyone was so nice.

The florist through the window smiled and waved as they passed. The librarian suggested they come in and borrow some books (Roman had to physically restrain Logan from going inside). The man selling fresh eggs and milk on the side of the road offered them a sample of the milk. The busker at the corner nodded his head in acknowledgement. Every passerby smiled a full toothed smile. Not one of those “I accidentally looked into your eyes so I’m going to give you a closed lipped smile” smile.

“It’s kind of off-putting, to be honest.” Logan muttered when Roman said this to him. “No one can be that nice.”

“Actually, they can.” Roman said. “Why are you always so negative?” He sighed.

“I’m not negative.” Logan said. “I’m a realist.”

“Negative, realist.” Roman said, putting one hand up then the other. “Tomato, tomato.”

Logan’s face scrunched up almost cartoon-like. “What? No. They aren’t the same thing. Being negative is always seeing the negative. Being a realist is using facts. If something is 100% good, then it’s good. Fact. No one can be this happy, though. Another fact.”

Roman sighed over-dramatically. “Whatever. But I love this town. It’s great.”

Logan nodded curtly. “No doubt about that. It’s very quaint and small.”

The words were out of Roman’s mouth before he could stop himself. “I wouldn’t mind living here.”

Logan didn’t make a vocal reaction but Roman noticed how his shoulders stiffened and his hands found his jean pockets.

“I mean,” Roman amended quickly. “It would be fun living here if I had to choose somewhere else other than where we live now.”

Logan didn’t seem to relax much.

Roman was planning on continuing his babbling but a building in the distance caught his eye. “Woah, is that a mansion?” He eagerly pointing in the near distance like a toddler pointing at a brightly coloured candy at the store.

Logan put his hand up to block the sun in his eyes to look to where Roman had pointed.

In the distance a gleaming white building stood tall and proud—like royalty in the midst of peasants. The windows were two-way and Roman could see a part of a parking lot-esque style space peeking out from behind the building.

“Do you think that’s Raz’s place?” Roman breathed in awe.

“That’s not a mansion.” Logan stated, bringing his arm down. He then pointed to the opposite side of the building. “It’s a hospital.”

Roman squinted to where Logan was gesturing and saw a couple of ambulances parked and ready to go if help was needed.

He deflated just slightly. Slightly. “Let’s go!” Roman grabbed at Logan’s wrist and began speed walking towards the hospital.

“Why are we going to a hospital?” Logan asked, wrinkling his nose. “No one’s hurt. We have no need to visit.”

“It’s not just any hospital, Logan.” Roman exclaimed excitedly. “It’s the hospital. It literally looks like a celebrity would live there.”

Logan just looked even more confused than before. “In a hospital?”

Roman opened his mouth to respond but then thought better of it and snapped his jaw shut. “I just wanna see what it’s like.”

They speed-walked down a couple more streets until they were face to face with the gleaming building with so many windows. Roman craned his neck back so his vision could see the top of the hospital. “This place is so epic.”

“It truly is, isn’t it?” A woman’s voice piped up. Roman jumped at the sudden voice that definitely wasn’t Logan’s.

He glanced over to where a woman was seated on a bench a couple of feet away. How come I didn’t notice her before? Had Logan noticed her as soon as she was in his field of vision? Or was Logan just as surprised as he was?

“Oh. Hello.” Roman said, smiling at the woman before looking back up at the hospital. “Yeah, it is gorgeous.”

The woman looked maybe a couple years older than Roman but not by much. Her hair was dyed an ice blonde and her eyes were a bright green. She was wearing a stylish pair of red cat-eye glasses and dangly earrings.

“I was talking to some of the staff inside and apparently every so often they get an anonymous donation with a very ...significant sum.” Her eyebrows raised as she said this and her eyes widened along with them.

“A mysterious donation?” Logan repeated. He had the same facial expression as the woman—completely in rapture. He then seemed to realize something and straightened his spine, schooling his features and extending his arm. “I’m sorry, I haven’t introduced myself. I’m Logan Holmes.”

The woman shook his hand and nodded. “A pleasure to meet you. I’m Josephine Keller. But you can call me Jo.”

Logan’s eyes lit up. “Ah! Like Louisa May Alcott’s Josephine March!”

Jo’s eyes lit up and nodded, a smile playing at her lips. “Exactly.”

Roman decided then to introduce himself as well and did a slight bow. “And I’m Roman Falco.”

Jo nodded in Roman’s direction. “Great to meet you to.”

“Do they have any idea who sends the donations? A company? A single person?” Logan then asked Jo, leaning his body in just slightly.

What does this have to do with finding Raz Keeran? Roman asked himself, scrunching up his nose. They were supposed to be on a mission to find Raz, not some weird hospital donor.

Jo shrugged her shoulders and shook her head. “No idea. They say the donation comes in cash in an unmarked envelope.”

“Which means the donation must be brought to the hospital personally, not mailed.” Logan stated, rubbing his chin.

“Exactly what I was thinking.” Jo exclaimed. “I asked the security there if they ever managed to see who brought the envelope through their cameras but they said that every time was a different person in dark clothes and a hood or hat.”

“And no doubt all of them are not the actual donor.” Logan concluded almost seamlessly with Jo’s previous words. “Could they describe what the latest donor was wearing?”

Jo shook her head once again. “No. Security said they couldn’t disclose that information.”

“Have they ever tried finding the donor?” Logan asked once again.

Roman was starting to get impatient. What was happening? He could barely follow along with the conversation. The two of them seemed to be bouncing off each other and talking at the speed of light.

“No. But they did do an investigation to make sure the money that was being donated to them was legit and not stolen or something along those lines.

“And? What did they find?”

“All the money is good. Not stolen.” Jo concluded.

Logan hmmmed. “Interesting. And are they’re sure the envelope is unmarked?”

“That’s what they said. They didn’t show me the envelope.” Jo replied. She glanced at her red watch and stood up. “Well, it’s been great talking to you, gentlemen. But I have to go. I’m meeting a friend soon.”

Logan shook Jo’s hand once again and as soon as she was out of view, Roman began talking.

“What was that?” Roman exclaimed. “I thought we were trying to find Raz’s identity! Not take on some side mystery about a mysterious donor.” Then, he added in. “And that woman gives me bad vibes.”

Logan rolled his eyes. “Jo seems very nice. You probably don’t like her because she’s not like you. Anyway, that’s not the point. Jo gave us some very valuable information.”

“Valuable information?” Roman sputtered incredulously. “From her?”

“Yes.” Logan nodded. “Just think, Roman. If this donor is getting people to bring the envelope here, that means it’s a very likely chance that this donor lives in this town. Besides, the next closest town is an hour away. And if the donor lives here and is able to give away that much money away, they must be very wealthy indeed. And, wouldn’t you think an incredibly famous author of four books, who’s coming out with a fifth, might earn some good money? Especially if they might have written other works under their own name or even another pseudonym.”

Roman’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped on his own accord. “You think Raz Keeran is the mysterious donor?”

Logan nodded curtly. “Yes. But it’s just a thought. It does make sense, however. But we don’t have enough information to be 100% about it.”

“Oh my gosh. Logan, you are brilliant.” Roman breathed.

The tips of Logan’s mouth quirked up. “Thank you. You are also, intelligent too.”

“So, what’s the plan?” Roman asked excitedly.

Logan slid his hands inside his pockets. “We’re going inside the hospital to see if we can get a glimpse of the envelope or someone who can describe it to us. Or, even better, someone who managed to get a glimpse of a face of someone who brought in the envelope.”

The hospital, as much as it looked like a mansion on the outside, was not a mansion on the inside.

However, it was a hospital and a hospital outfitted like a mansion just wasn’t a good idea in the first place.

The walls and ceilings and floors were blindingly bright and white. It had that hospital smell and all the doctors and nurses seemed to be going somewhere.

There was a man behind the front desk, tapping out something on his computer.

“So….how’re we going to find someone who has seen or taken a picture of the envelope or has actually seen the donor?” Roman asked as he followed Logan through the hallways, a couple floors up.

“I’ll figure it out…” Logan muttered under his breath.

Roman’s head shot up. “Wait. You don’t know how? I thought—“

“Um, are you two lost?” A woman poked her head of a doorway.

“No.” Logan replied curtly.

“Unless you have pictures of the envelope that the mysterious donor’s money comes in or have actually seen one of the people who brought it in.” Roman said bluntly. Asking straight up was the better option for this kind of stuff.

Logan’s head swivelled around and it reminded Roman of an owl that could spin its head all the way around. And, if looks could kill, Roman would be dead right now on the floor.

The woman narrowed her eyes at the two of them and looked between Roman and Logan curiously. “And why would you want to know?”

Logan was the first to speak. He schooled his death glare pointed towards Roman and took a couple steps towards the woman. “The same as you. To solve a mystery.”

If jaw’s could hit the floor, the woman’s jaw would have hit the floor and smashed right through the floor down to the other floors and right to the dirt. “Wha—“ she sputtered. “How?”

“If you didn’t know anything you would have probably said straight up that you had no clue about the mysterious donor.” Logan stated pointedly. “Of course, if you wish for us to leave right now, we will acquest.”

“But we would rather you tell us what you know.” Roman added in then shrunk as Logan glared at him.

The woman turned her head side to side down the halls, as if to make sure the coast was clear before ushering them inside.

Inside the small room was an office like space that was probably meant for four more people.

“I’m an intern here.” The woman said as she noticed Logan and Roman glancing around. “I’m Penny.”

Roman’s back immediately straightened and he could see Logan’s eyes quickly light up with recognition.

Penny. Could it be the Penny? The Penny who Patton had told them about who was always writing in his cafe? The Penny who could possibly be Raz Keeran?

Logan was the first to say something. “I’m Logan Holmes.”

“Roman Falco.” Roman added in.

“So, what do you know about the mysterious donor?” Logan asked curiously, walking around the space which wasn’t small but he could definitely see it as small with five people inside.

Penny made her way to a desk which Roman assumed was hers. She bent down to drag a cardboard box out which could have been mistaken as a banker’s box filled with files. “I don’t have much as I haven’t been interning for all that long. However, I have been here long enough to be here when three donations have been delivered.” Penny explained, putting the box on a table and opening the flaps.

She pulled out a piece of paper first and passed it to Logan. “I marked down what day the donation was brought and exactly how much was donated. All the way back to the first one three years years ago.”

Logan skimmed through the calendar. “The donor looks pretty consistent—about one donation every three or four months.” He paused. “Except for this one: it has five months.”

Penny nodded. “Yeah, last year in May. It was also the largest donation to date.”

Logan passed the paper to Roman. The printing was incredibly small and it was almost impossible to read. And he had 20/20 vision. After glancing at all the numbers that seemed to swim before his vision, he placed it next to the box.

The next thing Penny pulled out were three envelopes. And, while they were blank they had a specific bluish hue to them that weren’t like your average envelope.

“These are the envelopes the past three donations came in. According to some of my friends here who have been at the hospital longer, the donation always comes in these blank envelopes.” Penny explained.

“Do you know where they came from?” Roman asked. He had watched enough mystery movies to know that you should always know where clues came from and then ask the shop owner who had bought such things.

“Yeah. From Patton-ly Perfect.” Penny replied. “The owner there sells these specific envelopes.”

Roman could see Logan’s head snap up in surprise. “Really?” He paused. “You don’t think…?” Logan trailed off.

Penny just shook her head. “No. Patton can’t be the donor. I’ve been going to his cafe regularly for a couple of months and he’s no longer a suspect.”

Roman deflated. So Penny couldn’t be Raz Keeran. She couldn’t be looking for the donor if she was the donor herself. How would that make sense?

Logan seemed to come to the same conclusion and glanced over at Roman before speaking to Penny once again. “Do you have any other suspects?”

“Only one.” Penny replied. “This girl who lives down the block from me. She’s a couple years older than me and inherited this large sum of money from her grandmother. Her name is Cherry and I sometimes see her chatting with Patton and a couple of other people there at the cafe. Other than that, that’s all I got.”

Logan nodded. “Well, thank you for your help and time. We really should get going.”

But Roman piped up before Penny could respond. “What does this Cherry look like?” He wanted to know what the newest suspect looked like. Whereas with Patton, they only got Penny’s name and nothing else, he wanted to know this person’s appearance.

Penny began putting her stuff back in the banker’s box. “Well, she’s tall.” She raised her hand above her own head to demonstrate. “And she’s got a messy bob kind of hairstyle. Brunette. And Harry Potter glasses.”

“Harry Potter!” Roman exclaimed. Finally. He understood something. “You’ve read the books?”

“About a million times.” Penny said, her eyes lighting up.

Out of the corner of his eye, Roman could see Logan roll his eyes. But he decided to ignore it for the time being. “What house are you in? I’m a Gryffindor.”

25 notes · View notes