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#couple people asked/suggested that I put them together. so with a little bit of cropping here we are
nibeul · 2 years
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2006 -> 2018
[id: It’s two redraws of the two new JJK visuals put together. On the left is high school sashisu with Gojo manspreading while waving to Geto who’s leaving and Shoko sitting beside Gojo. Riko is also visible in the background. On the right is the Tokyo trio plus Gojo. Itadori is waving to the viewer with a wide grin, Megumi is sitting next to him with a small smile, Nobara is standing while holding a drink, and Gojo is stepping toward the center (off) of the train with a wave. With the way it’s been framed, it looks like Gojo and Geto are going to meet in the center. /end id]
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snorlax-and-co · 2 years
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Things have been tough in several ways lately and despite the increase of self destructive urges (which I'm not acting on) I have found something else that works. Not all the time or to the same extent, more like a bandaid, but it's something. I begrudgingly started trying to draw again to humour our therapist mostly because I've tried and tried over the years but it never ended well. I drew a lot growing up, looking back it was clearly my escape, along with writing and reading (I've always been a social creature 😅) I think drawing and writing held me together til I moved out and it was safer to seriously start dealing with the mental health issues I'd secretly been getting treatment for, hiding it from my family. It was like those two coping mechanisms I'd clung onto so desperately abandoned me at that point, like they refused to move with me and stayed put in the family home. I know it sounds weird but I think I was angry at them for seemingly abandoning me for years and maybe that's why every time I tried to be even slightly creative I was so frustrated what I produced was so bad, it just made me feel even worse.
Fast forward to now and I started sketching for the 4-6 weeks my therapist wanted me to try, the time it takes to establish neural pathways, and I honestly can't believe I've been drawing again for over 5 months. There's a lot of frustration still but I can see some improvement, I'm also learning (for the first time really) that it doesn't have to be perfect and that if I'm not enjoying a drawing I don't have to fix and finish it I can just leave it. It's kind of empowering. I've noticed a bit of my 'all or nothing ' mindset cropping up (this used to be a big problem, especially with less than healthy coping strategies, when my EUPD symptoms were more prominent) but I've noticed it and I've tried to make boundaries for myself: checking in if I'm avoiding other things, setting alarms so if I get hyperfocused I remember to take my meds at the right time and check I have a drink and a snack if my blood sugar dips, I've also asked my partner to help me enforce these things which is super helpful. It makes my heart happy that sometimes she sees I'm really into what I'm doing and will just put a snack by me 🥰
I might not quite be getting the balance right but I feel like I'm regaining something I haven't been able to access in more than 15 years and it feels like part of me, not something that belongs to another part but actually me. I don't think I've felt something that is truly me in such a long time. I obviously don't mind when others inside make suggestions or ask for drawings of X because they're letting me dedicate a decent chunk of our time to this. It feels so nice to be so supported in this, not just internally either, my partner's been so sweet and is happy for me to spend a little bit of money on supplies (I find it incredibly hard to spend money on myself) and when I'm stuck with something in a drawing she'll try and help. When I started drawing again this year I wasn't showing her my drawings let alone anyone else, now I share 90% of what I draw with her and have even started sharing with some lovely online friends, my mum, niece and therapist a few times. The responses really shocked me (in a really positive way) and it's been so encouraging and is really helping build my confidence.
I'm having the very familiar self destructive thoughts a lot at the moment so I'm throwing that energy into this and.. it's kind of working ?! at least some of the time. I've even found a couple of times, one after a particularly tough therapy session, that doing some quick sketches can help ground me. I kind of forgot what the point of this post was as I was writing it but I think realising there is still some 'me' in here somewhere, being able to lose myself in something that's actually enjoyable and not just a distraction from the bad thoughts and the lovely support I've had from the people I've managed to share some of this with is really healing for me.
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seo--changbin · 2 years
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First time?
Pairings: Han Jisung x Fem!Reader
Genre: mature, slight fluff at the end.
Content Warnings: virgin!jisung, escort!reader, jisung is inexperienced, not stated but reader is 3 years older, peer pressure, talks about virginity, depictions of sex in exchange for money, implied sub!jisung, handjobs, oral (m. receiving), slight face fucking in the end.
Word count: 4.051k words
Synopsis: Jisung wasn't really the type to sleep with people he just met, which is also probably the reason why he's still a virgin. But on the night of his 21st birthday, his friends are gonna help change that by hiring him an escort.
Jisung looked nervous, to say the least; his eyes wandering around the club like a lost kid as he tried to distract himself from the blaring noise coming from the speakers. He wasn't used to being surrounded by this kind of crowd where everyone was just getting drunk and hammered, bodies swimming together on the dancefloor while seeing half-naked women pole dancing on stage. His initial shock when stumbling upon a couple fucking inside the restroom was just unimaginable, making his cheeks stain tomato red which got him laughed at by his friends.
Why was he there in the first place, you may ask. To simply put it, today was his 21st birthday, and in celebration, his friends treated him to a club (Minho's suggestion) that's famous for having their best female escorts. Now, it's not like Jisung isn't that experienced, although the furthest that he only got to was making out with the girls he dated before and that was it, not really wanting to go any further just yet. But now that he's already 21, with no actual sexual experience whatsoever, his friends offered to help him-- which is why he's here now, accompanied by Chan, Minho, and Changbin.
"Loosen up, man. Here, drink up." Changbin says as he nudges Jisung's shoulder before handing him a cup filled with strong alcohol. "Thanks, but no thanks." He replies with a wave of his hand, setting the cup back down at the table. "Come on, you deserve it! It's your birthday after all." Chan coaxes as he downs his own cup, face scrunching up at the burn of the alcohol. "It's fine, guys, really. I don't really wanna get too drunk." Jisung declines again, giving them both a sheepish smile. "Alright, suit yourself," Changbin says, taking his cup for himself.
The longer he stays here, the more he starts to wonder why he even agreed to do this. He could have just stayed at home and binge-watch his favorite show, and then jerk himself off before going to sleep. But at the same time, he knows that he has brought this to himself. What happens tonight will determine whether it was all worth it or not.
"Over here," Minho's voice booms from a distance. Beside him was a woman, his hand securely wrapped around her waist as he guides her towards their table. "Minho, there you are!" Chan says as he moves to stand up. "And you must be Y/n that Minho was talking about." He adds as faces you. "Yep, that's me. You must be Chan." You say with a forced giggle as you remove yourself from Minho's grasp.
Jisung looks at you with wide eyes, taken aback by your revealing outfit and your cunning looks. Your skimpy skirt and crop top did little to no justice in covering your ass and tits, your fishnets hugging the flesh of your legs just right. Looking at you alone was enough to have his cock embarrassingly chub up in his jeans.
"So, who's the birthday boy?" You ask with a sigh as you scan the three men in front of you. Chan was handsome and confident, definitely suave, and is probably the type to easily get the girls. Changbin was a bit more reserved but relaxed. His intimidating aura was partnered with his fit physic, definitely looks like the type to not back down in fistfights, but his polite smile and gentle eyes say otherwise.
Seated between them, you assume, is Jisung, matching the description Minho gave you moments prior; nervous and from the shy looks that he was giving you, it was clear that he was your customer for tonight.
"The lucky guy for tonight is this one over here," Changbin says teasingly as he throws an arm over the boy's shoulder, giving him a shake. Jisung shoves him away, not wanting to embarrass himself further, his cheeks heating up once he hears your chuckle. "I see," you said as you locked eyes with him, giving him a smile. "Come on, birthday boy. Let's give you your present." You said as you beckon him towards you. The three boys with him holler and cheer, egging him on as they push him off his seat. With a few stumbles, he finally exits their booth, now standing awkwardly beside you. You coo at him as he gives you a polite smile, muttering a quick 'hi' with a bow, not really knowing what to do in this situation.
"Here, make sure he gets a good time," Minho says as he stuffs a bundle of money into your hands before spinning you around to land a playful spank on your butt. You let out a surprised yelp, shooting him a glare before shrugging him off, nodding towards Jisung to leave already.
You lead Jisung throughout the busy bar, taking him to your most secluded area. The club you work at includes the room area where workers will take their guests and work with them there.
Jisung enters one of the rooms with wide eyes. The pink and blue mood lights greet him as he walks further inside, looking around like a lost puppy. "You can settle down on the bed," you said as you chucked the roll of cash on the love seat, closing the door behind you and locking it.
The room was definitely something you'd expect out of a motel. To his right, he can see the entrance towards the bathroom, its door open, showing the tub and the shower area. The bed was comfy, to Jisung's surprise, and with no doubt, there were mirrors on the top of the ceiling directly on top of the bed. Jisung blushes at the mere thought of seeing himself while fucking someone, and he isn't sure if he'll like it or not.
"I'm sorry about how my friends acted back there, especially Minho," Jisung says to break the silence between the two of you. You smile at his effort, shaking your head. "It's fine. I'm used to it. It gets annoying sometimes though." You said as you work towards him, your hands neatly criss-cross behind you. "Do you mind if I sit beside you?" You ask, gesturing to the spot behind him. "Oh, no! Not at all," Jisung says as he scurries to move, giving you some space even though the bed was big enough to fit the two of you.
You mutter a quick thank you as you sit beside him, plopping unto the bed. "So, those are your friends, huh." Jisung huffs at your words, mumbling a soft 'yeah' as he fumbles with his hands, not really knowing what to do with it. "Well, they're pretty shitty friends if you were to ask me." You comment, a scoff leaving your lips. "They aren't always like that, you know. They are good friends but sometimes they can be a little bit pushy."
"I can see that," you say with a slight chuckle. "Look, I can tell that you're a bit nervous and I'm not that much of a dick to force yourself into having sex with me," you suddenly said, a bit straightforwardly which caught Jisung off guard. "I can leave you here and then come back to you after an hour, I can even order you a couple of drinks and snacks. After that, we can just pretend that we fucked and then you can go home." You concluded, giving him a pat on the back and a reassuring smile.
You can see how Jisung slowly relaxes, his shoulders dropping after being so tense and he's thankful that you're considerate towards him. "Thank you, I appreciate that," he says with a slow exhale. "But, I do want to at least try something out, you know? I feel like I've been missing out on a lot and I hate the feeling of being left out, with me being a virgin and all," He confesses, and you nod your head along with his words.
"First of all, Jisung, there's nothing wrong about being a virgin. It's your body, which means it's only up to you to decide on what you're gonna do with it," You reply, turning your body to face him fully. "I know, I get that. That's why I'm deciding that right now. I'm going to try something new for a change, it's my birthday after all." Jisung says as he looks at you, his eyes holding pure sincerity and determination, making you crack a small smile.
"As long as you're comfortable with it, then I'm on board." You say softly. "So, what do you wanna do?"
Jisung's head spins at the sound of your gentle voice. If he were to be honest, he didn't really think that his birthday present would end up like this. At first, he thought that the moment he sits on the bed, you would start to aggressively make out with him until your clothes would just magically disappear from your bodies and then fuck.
But no.
He totally did not expect that you would be this gentle, this patient, this understanding towards him, and because of that, he starts to finally feel comfortable for tonight, the pressure that he feels from earlier was finally lifting off his shoulders.
"To be honest, I never thought that I'd go this far," Jisung admits with a shy chuckle. "I've never really initially planned on what to do, so perhaps... you take the lead?" He says rather bashfully, his eyes hesitantly meeting with yours. "It's my uh... first time so, I don't exactly know where to begin with."
Taking the lead wasn't exactly something you always do on nights like these, usually because your customers are already in the lead, so desperate for a quick fuck, they'd push you on the bed the moment you enter the room. But when you do have the chance to get the upper hand, as rare as it is, you savor up the moment and move with your own pace, just the way you like it.
The feeling of control makes you feel powerful, a feeling that you always crave.
"Okay..." you said almost breathlessly. "We'll take it slow, got it?" You ask and the boy before you nods. "Let's start with something simple, yeah? Have you ever gotten a blowjob before?" Jisung visibly perks up at your question, his blood running cold from the sudden excitement that floods his body. He shakes his head no, his hair flowing with the motion as his innocent eyes peer towards yours. "We'll try that tonight, and don't worry, we won't go any further than that not unless you want to, okay?" Jisung nods again, tight-lipped, and a bit skittish.
"I need to hear you say it. Use your words, Jisung."
"Y-yes," he stutters out, his cheeks staining red. The atmosphere between the two of you then shifts, silence looming between your bodies as Jisung tunes out the world outside this room. He doesn't quite understand, but once he recognizes the gentleness and the comfort lingering in your eyes, it brings him a sense of peace, reminding him that things will unravel slowly.
Your face is illuminated by the dim lights in the room, letting him admire your features. In the back of his mind, he wonders why a beautiful girl like you is working in a horrid place like this, but at the same time, he felt lucky getting paired up with you. You, who was willing to go slow. You, who is more concerned about her clients than the money.
You watch as Jisung's eyes search your face, his gaze flitting between your eyes and lips with a visible gulp, his adam's apple bobbing up and down. "Can... can I kiss you?" He then asks as soon as he musters up the courage, breaking the silence between the two of you. "Yeah," You said with a nod, shifting closer to him to close the distance.
Slowly, Jisung's calloused hands gently cup your cheek, thumbing at your smooth skin before nearing his face to yours until you can feel his warm breath ghosting over your lips. As soon as you felt that magnetic pull between the two of you, you connect your lips with his, molding together in a soft, gentle kiss, making warmth spread all over your body.
Jisung was a good kisser, his lips attentive and slow, building up a pace that would have melted you into putty in no time. He tastes like one of those cheap drinks they sell at the bar, the ones who drown the alcohol out with cola, making it almost impossible to get you drunk. But it was pleasant, and you can't help but wrap your arms around his neck until you're straddling his lap, perching yourself on top of him while his hands gently grip your waist.
The kiss deepens and the heat in between your legs grows, especially when your clothed core was seated directly on his growing erection. Desperate and hungry yet passionate, craving for more-- that was how the kiss felt as it progresses, the two of you too lost at the feeling of each other's lips dancing together. A slight gasp escapes you the moment you feel his hips experimentally rut against you with the need to feel some kind of friction on his now aching cock that was straining against the material of his jeans.
"Are you ready?" You ask breathlessly after pulling away from the kiss, sitting back to look at his flushed state. His spit-slicked lips glisten as he leans back to rest on his forearms, his chest heaving as he catches his breath. "Ready as I'll ever be," he says with a breathy chuckle with a smile, making you huff out a giggle.
Without another word, you swiftly push yourself off him, now situating yourself in between his legs before dropping to your knees. Jisung gulps at the sight of your tits bouncing the moment you drop down to the floor, and given the position that he was in, he has a complete view of your cleavage sticking out of your top. If Jisung wasn't hard earlier, he surely is now.
He feels your warm hands caress his thighs in a soothing motion, further spreading his legs open. "Relax, yeah? I'll take care of you." You say as you begin to fumble with his belt, swiftly removing it before focusing on the button of his jeans. Jisung takes the initiative to help you slide the fabric down to his ankles, leaving him only with his gray boxers.
"Pretty..." you mindlessly comment before peering up at him. "May I?"
"Please," Jisung replies, his cock visibly twitching underneath his boxers. With his consent, you began touching him through his boxers, thumbing at the outline of his cock before palming him, making Jisung hiss through his teeth. God, the feeling of having someone else touch his cock was the best feeling he could ever imagine. He could just bust right then and there, but then again, he wouldn't want to ruin the moment.
Giving Jisung one quick glance, you then move to dart out your tongue to tease him through his boxers, leaving a wet trail from his shaft until you reach the growing spot of his precum leaking through the fabric. The warmth of your saliva seeps through the thin material of his boxers, making Jisung groan at the wet friction against his length.
It was borderline erotic. It didn't matter to him anymore if you had made a mess of his clothes. If anything, it was worth it. Jisung had never felt such sensation ever before. It was like that one time when he tried to dry hump his pillow but better.
Teasing him was fun. All you did was tease him through his boxers and you already had him in such a flustered mess. His chest was heaving heavily, his lips were red and bitten, and his pretty held-back groans sounded like music to your ears. Plus, he was patient, never made any form of protest against your actions, never even once complained.
You moan at the salty taste of his precum as you focus on the tip of his cock before moving to remove his boxers, now pooling with his jeans by his ankles.
Jisung's cock is just as pretty as he is; just slightly above average with the right amount of curve and girth. His pretty head was red and leaking, already desperate for release. "You're so pretty, Ji." You say as you wrap your hand around his shaft, the nickname slipping off your tongue a bit too easy. Jisung moans out the moment you move your hand against his shaft while your thumb finds its purchase to toy with his slit, gathering precum, and then smearing it all over his head.
Jisung felt like he could cry right now at how good it feels, overwhelmed by the sudden plethora of pleasure throughout his body. Red paints his skin, his blush now spreading to his chest, and now he feels like he wants to take his top off at the sudden rise of temperature in the room. It was hot, it was getting hot, both literally and figuratively.
"Feels good?" You ask him, giggling slightly at his flushed state. "Yeah, fuck-- keep doing that. It feels good." Jisung said with a hiss, his hands fisting the sheets below him.
You then dart your tongue out to give his head a few kitten licks, testing the waters first, before swirling your tongue around it, your thumb now massaging his frenulum. With your eyes never leaving his own, you spit on his length, the string of saliva that connects your tongue to his cock glistens under the dim lights.
"Fuck," you hear Jisung curse under his breath, throwing his head back as he closes his eyes. The sight of you like that was too erotic for him to handle, probably even better compared to every pornography he's watched. Thejre was just something about your seemingly innocent features paired with something considered as dirty that just drives him crazy, especially when your big doe eyes glimmer in delight every time you would pull a reaction out of him.
You lean back as you begin to move your hand again, the movement now aided by your spit that acts as lube, letting you jerk him off easily. It wasn't long before pretty moans start to spill from Jisung's throat, breathy and broken.
"Please, put it in your mouth. I wanna feel you-- ah shit," he voices out, biting his lower lips to hold back a groan when you press unto that one prominent vein at the underside of his cock. You slowly move your hand to stop, now feeling how his cock desperately twitches in your hold, his precum gathering into a pretty pearl on his slit. "Please," he says again, this time a little bit more desperate, his hips now rutting up into your hand. "You sound so pretty when you beg," you sigh out, your free hand coming up to caress his inner thigh, sending tingles throughout his body.
Jisung quietly whines at your words, a bit embarrassed yet turned on nonetheless. Your praises were turning his brain into putty, giving him a rush of euphoria, and he can't believe how turned on he feels right now like some teen seeing an adult-rated magazine for the first time. The sultry tone of your voice mixed with your tantalizing touches leaves him wanting more.
"You've been good to me, Jisung," You say as you trail feather-like kisses on his inner thighs, nipping his skin lightly. "So patient and polite. I like it." Jisung seizes up the moment he feels you lick a fat stripe at the underside of his cock up to his tip, leaving a chaste kiss on his slit before wrapping your lips around his head. "Oh god," he moans out as you take him down your throat, your warm walls wrapping around his cock. "Oh fuck, wow. That feels-- ah, the feels so fucking good."
You hum at his words, the vibrations adding pleasure to his length, making him moan, his hips unconsciously bucking into your mouth. You look at him through your lashes, watching how his face scrunches up in pleasure, tears glossing over his eyes.
Your mouth definitely feels better than his hand, Jisung thinks. All he can think about was this is what he's been missing out on all this time, the feeling of someone sucking him off so good. You were a master at work, your tongue doing wonders with his length. Every glide of your tongue against his sensitive head sends him convulsing in pleasure.
The room was filled with the lewd sounds of you gagging on his cock and the sound of his labored breathing, his hand clamoring onto your hair the moment your teeth lightly grazes his shaft. "Fuck, Y/n--" Jisung pants out, stealing a glance at you working on his cock. "Wan- wanna fuck your mouth. God, I'm so close, please," He says, his voice breaking. You pull off his length with a pop, your hand now moving to fist it instead while you catch your breath. Jisung takes a moment to admire your spit-slicked lips, your makeup now slightly smudged will your chin glistens with wetness. "Already cumming, Sungie?" You say with a giggle, a smile gracing your lips and Jisung thinks that it was sinister of you to do such a thing. You looked so slutty like that, making him twitch against your hold.
"I'm sorry, I just c-can't take-- ah!-- it anymore. Feels so good," he slurs out, shifting on his spot. "I know, baby. I know." You coo, giving his head a quick kiss. "Come on, baby. Fuck my mouth. Show me how bad you wanna cum." You guide Jisung's hands to the sides of your head, urging him to lace his fingers on your hair. You reward him with a moan when he experimentally tugs on it, gripping on it as you realign his cock to your mouth.
As desperate as he is, he wastes no time to move his hips, slowly at first until he gets the hang of it. You let your jaw fall slack as he continues to fuck your mouth, his head hitting the back of your throat over and over again making you tear up as you held your breath.
Jisung was close, his moans getting whinier and higher in pitch, with his thighs shaking every now and then. He thrusts into you with reckless abandon until he cums with a broken moan of your name, his cum now shooting down your throat. His cock twitches one last time before he pulls you off his now softening length with a sheepish smile, his hand coming up to wipe the corners of your mouth. "Sorry, I think I got carried away," he says with a slight chuckle. "It's okay," you said as you stand up with Jisung helping you. "Come here," he says softly before pulling you in for a kiss. He groans the moment he tasted himself on your tongue, his hands gently grasping your face. "Thank you." He says after he pulls away with a smile, a bit breathless to say the least. "You're welcome," you reply, giving him one last kiss on the cheek before helping him pull his pants back up.
"Man, you were so good," Jisung says as he puts his belt back in. "Thank you, I do it for a living." You joke, earning a chuckle from the man. The two of you walked together towards the entrance hand in hand until Jisung stops you right before you can even open the door. "Hey, I know this is a pretty weird question to ask you right now but um... do you wanna go out together sometime?" He asks rather bashfully as you turn around to face him.
"Not for fucks though! I just want to get to know you better and--"
"So you're asking me out on a date?" You cut him off, and Jisung blushes at your words. He only gives you a curt nod, making you laugh. "Well, why didn't you say so earlier? I could have sneaked you out of here."
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forlove2020 · 2 years
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Day 2 - No Vacancy
It is the last day of November and no one wants to buy any more pumpkins. 
Halloween has gone by, and Thanksgiving has blown past too. The people of Lebanon, Kansas have had their fill of the bright orange gourds - for more than two months they've displayed them on their front porches, carved them into jack-o-lanterns, and added them into every kind of dessert and frothy little drink imaginable.
And that is why, on November 30th, Dean decides his family is going on a field trip to the Lebanon Corn Maze and Pumpkin Patch.
Things have been good lately. No, scratch that. Life has been freakin' awesome. It has been just under two weeks since he rescued Cas from the Empty and a week since Jack came home. Dean is over the moon; radiating happiness in a way he never has before. They're all together, alive, and no Big Bad hovers menacingly on the horizon. Dean's not one to believe in a 'best case scenario,' but hell if this doesn't feel just like it.
The farm is about a twenty-five minute drive from the Bunker, and Dean, Cas, and Jack pull up in the Impala at the same time as Sam and Eileen arrive in Sam's CR-V. 
(Dean had teased him mercilessly about his new ride until Sam looked him dead in the eye, placing his hand protectively on Eileen's protruding belly, and insisted "Honda gets really good safety ratings, Dean." Dean, wisely, had shut up after that.)
Claire and Kaia are already there waiting, leaning up against Claire’s car, hand in hand. Jack leaps out of Baby as soon as Dean puts her in park, barreling toward the girls so he can nag Claire about his latest obsession: TikTok. Even from a distance it’s clear she’s rolling her eyes at him, but smiling despite herself
Dean and Cas get out of the car at a more leisurely pace and survey their surroundings.
What had been a busy festival complete with a lush corn maze, vibrant pumpkin patch, and stalls selling kettle corn and caramel apples two months ago is now a dismal scene. The corn maze has dried out and shriveled up, and the stalls are unmanned. Technically, there are still pumpkins aplenty in the field, but they're the ones that have been forsaken. The remaining pumpkins are leftovers that were considered either too skinny, too fat, or just too misshapen and lumpy to have been picked as the cream-of-the-crop.
Dean looks over at Cas. He’s squinting at the scenery in the dim autumn sunlight, and the nippy breeze has swept through his dark hair, making it seem more tousled than usual. Not for the first time, Dean thinks that he is gorgeous.
But now, he can actually tell Cas what he is feeling in these moments. There are no more half-truths or lies between them, nothing secret. After years of pining for one another without any hope of reciprocation and hiding the pains of longing, they’ve finally broken down the walls that kept them apart. They love one another fiercely, and while their relationship is new, it is not tenuous. 
So, Dean turns to him with a crooked grin.  “Hey, handsome.”
Cas blinks, and then a little smile curls the corners of his mouth. “Hello, Dean.”
Dean moves closer until their shoulders are brushing and he can feel the warmth of Cas’ body through both of their jackets. “You think Jack’s gonna be disappointed?” he asks quietly, watching their kid practically tackle Sam with a hug as Eileen signs something Dean can’t quite make out from the other end of the parking lot. “I mean, this isn’t exactly the ‘autumn glory’ we were promised on those fliers earlier this month.”
Cas doesn’t even hesitate. “No. I think Jack just appreciates having a normal...uh, sort of a normal life again. He’s excited to be here picking pumpkins, especially with Claire and Kaia, and Sam and Eileen joining us. This was a nice surprise you planned for him, Dean.”
It’s a simple compliment, and not even particularly saccharine, but Dean flushes from head to toe anyway. He’s working on believing the good things Cas says about him; he’s really trying, but it’s always been difficult for him to take a compliment about anything other than his good looks or hunting prowess. Instead, he meets Cas’ eye, and nods silently. And then, remembering he is allowed, takes Cas’ hand in his own, twining their fingers together.
They walk hand-in-hand to join Claire, Kaia, Jack, Sam and Eileen at the front gate. It’s hanging wide open, and no one is standing there to charge them an entrance fee. However, the sign does make a point to state that the maze is open until December 1st. Eileen shrugs, and so the seven of them wander down the path towards the pumpkin patch and the entrance to the maze. 
“Kaia! I’ll race you to the end!” Jack shouts, and laughing, Kaia chases him into the maze, dragging a grumbling Claire along behind her. 
“Let’s see if we can find anybody still working,” Sam suggests.
Eileen points at a worn down farmhouse tucked mostly behind a newly-painted red barn. “Someone must be home,” she signs pointedly, gesturing to plumes of smoke exuding from a grey chimney stack.
Dean ends up knocking on the door. He leaves Sam, Eileen, and Cas at a nearby picnic table, debating in Sign Language about the best flavor of cotton candy and whether or not the color of the dye changes the taste. 
 A minute or two later, an older man swings open the squeaky screen door to the house. He’s scowling, wearing muddy overalls, and chewing on a thick cigar. “Yeah?” he asks shortly. “Whaddya want?”
Dean raises his eyebrows at the farmer’s bluntness, but manages to respond politely. “My family and I saw fliers for this place a few weeks ago. We were hoping to buy some pumpkins and candy apples. What are you charging”
The farmer’s scowl grows deeper, and he looks past Dean to Sam, Eileen, and Cas relaxing on the bench, then narrows his eyes at the corn maze, where shrieks of laughter can be heard as the younger adults chase one another through the thinning stalks.
Getting impatient, with the man’s surly silence, Dean prods, “And…? It’s a yes or no question. Are you still selling pumpkins?”
The old man pulls the cigar out from between his teeth. “My wife and daughter run this hokey shit,” he grunts. “They went into town today ‘cause folks already came through here earlier in the month. They like customers. We haven't had anybody else stop by since before Thanksgiving.”
As his temper flares, Dean turns his grit teeth into a sharp smile. “Well, then it’s your lucky day! Here we are,” he says mockingly, sweeping his arms wide. The farmer mumbles something insulting and covers it with a hacking cough. Dean pretends not to hear him, “Fine. I take it from your sunny attitude that there will be no popcorn or apples today?” 
The man scoffs, “Enjoy the maze, boy-o. Free of charge.” He turns to lumber back inside, but Dean grabs the screen door before he can try to disappear.
“Hey!” the hunter barks. The farmer pauses, his body tensing for a fight. “Are you gonna sell me the goddamn pumpkins or not?” 
Cas has wandered to his side, either noticing the commotion, or simply because he wanted to be closer to Dean. Now, he interrupts casually, “You still have quite a few squash left in the fields and there’s going to be heavy frost two days from now, overnight. It’d be a shame if all of these pumpkins rotted, and you wasted the rest of your harvest.”
He has, quite deftly, snared the salty old farmer’s attention. Money is the man’s language; he might not enjoy having customers on his property so late in the season, but he certainly likes having the funds to maintain his land.
****************************************
“A hundred.”
“A hundred?” Sam sounds insulted. “You’re gonna pitch all of these in a couple days. There’s no way we’re paying a hundred. Try twenty-five dollars.”
The farmer rolls his eyes dramatically. He is in his element; the thrill of making a good deal and bartering his wares on the last day is an unexpected but welcome surprise that has put him in high spirits. “You’re cute, kid. I know my produce is worth more than that. I’ll go down to eighty-five, and you can take whatever you can carry in one trip.”
“Thirty-five,” Sam shoots back.
“Eighty.”
“Forty-one.” Once, Sam was going to be a lawyer. He’s got the upper hand in this situation and he’s going to crush his opposition. One more price reduction and they’ll have dozens of pumpkins to take home, way below the original asking price.
“Sevent…”
“Sixty-five, and we fill up all of our cars,” Dean interrupts, and Sam looks at him, utterly betrayed as the gleeful farmer shakes on the deal.
As Cas, Jack, Claire, and Kaia help carry the pumpkins to Sam and Claire’s cars respectively, Dean just claps Sam on the shoulder and tells his brother, “It’s still a cheaper family outing than going to Disney.” 
“Yeah, I guess,” Sam says mournfully, and sulks over to help Eileen, who is supervising the influx of pumpkins that are being loaded into their vehicle.
Dean chuckles, and scoops up a few pumpkins. He’s got some recipes he wants to try out, plus he’s excited to teach Jack to carve ‘Jack’-o-lanterns. The kid seemed to want to learn how to do everything the human way now, and Dean is more than happy to teach him.
One by one, Dean places eight pumpkins in the backseat of Baby. One is tall and oblong with lots of stringy stems, matched with the only short and well rounded pumpkin he sees in the field. Between those two he sets a teeny tiny baby-sized pumpkin. Then, there’s a pumpkin that is half-green half-orange. It seems like it must have grown too fast because it is still quite young despite its size. Next, he adds two medium pumpkins that are also young, but growing strong. And last but not least, he picks up two more pumpkins. They are both a bit damaged - one is bruised and discolored, the other looks like it might have grown sideways. But Dean picks them because they lean against one another in the field, steady despite their flaws, despite what they’ve been through. 
He sets them all up in a long line along the backseat, and when Cas sees what he chose, his eyes go soft and warm as he looks at Dean.
“Let’s go home,” he breathes out, and takes Dean’s hand again.
Everyone gets in their cars - Dean in the driver's seat and Cas taking shotgun, as before. Jack tries to get in the Impala, then looks in the back window, and starts laughing. 
“Dean! There’s nowhere for me to sit.”
Cas chuckles quietly beside him, as Dean grins. “Aw, tough break, kid. Guess you’re walking home.”
“Hey, no fair- Dean! C’mon! Cas! Tell Dean he has to -”
Dean starts to roll up the window, laughing loudly as Jack knocks on the window pane.
“Sorry! No vacancy!” he hollers. Jack is nearly doubled over, hilarity spilling from him in peals of laughter.
Claire honks her horn loudly, and throws open the back door to her car. Jack straightens, and scrambles to join her and Kaia, shooting Dean and Cas a bright wave goodbye.
Sam and Eileen also wave as they leave the parking lot, wheels sending gravel spinning in their wake. Claire and Kaia follow, and Jack rolls down the window as they pass, and calls across to Cas and Dean, “This was the best family trip ever!”
They too are soon gone, headed for the Bunker to drop off dozens of pumpkins which will decorate every room until they end up decaying or until Dean cooks them. 
Dean and Cas wait until the others have left, and then Dean leans over and kisses Cas, long and sweet. When he pulls back, Cas traces his cheek, and says thoughtfully, “We could take the backroads home today….”
Dean is so gone on him. He kisses Cas once, twice more, and then puts the Impala in drive, and they’re on the road, taking the long way home.
**********************************
I enjoyed adding a little Day 1 ‘Harvest’ flare to Day 2!
My goal is to make most of my Suptober fics one-shots that are in some way related to my multichapter fix-it that is still a work in progress (Dean/Cas, Sam/Eileen, etc, post 15x20).
Thank you for reading!
-V
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kuroopaisen · 4 years
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the in-between | i (kuroo tetsurou)
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➵  it took you and kuroo 24,000 words and 69 pages of pure behemoth far too long to learn that love was never singularly defined. it can be both striking and understated, sudden and unhurried, gentle and all-consuming. and most of all, it can be anything else in-between.
wc: 9k (part 1 of 3)
warnings: f!reader, good old f2l (do i write anything else?), depictions of anxiety & depression, cursing
 a/n: i cannot thank @w-yuren enough for all the love and care she poured into beta-ing this :( i’m honestly so touched you worked through this absolute monstrosity w me (and put up w my incoherence) ren u deserve the world <3 (also @jupiturde erin ilysm thank you for reading this over So Many times you’re incredible!!) 
m. list | ch. 1 ↠ ch. 2 
"I'll help you," Kuroo sighed. "On one condition."
The scant bit of confidence you’d worked up was starting to crumble. You clenched your fists, steeling yourself. At this point, you're willing to do just about anything.
"Manage the volleyball team for a while."
Your face fell. "What, really?"
"Mhm," Kuroo nodded, still slouched over his desk.
"You're kidding, right?"
He shook his head. "Nuh-uh."
This wasn't quite how you’d expected the situation to go. And quite frankly, you were just upset that you were even in this situation in the first place. But, who wouldn't be?
Begging Kuroo Tetsurou to help you with chemistry wasn’t a situation you’d envisioned yourself ending up in. But, something had to be done about those abysmal exam marks. Your grades in everything else were fine; good, even. Certainly high enough to earn you your spot in Class 5. But that chemistry grade was something to be concerned about. Your homeroom teacher had warned you as much on the very first day of the school year.
And for the handful of weeks since, you’d been driving yourself mad trying to think of a solution. Hard work had only gotten you so far, and none of your friends felt they were competent enough to tutor you. You needed help – desperately.
So there you stood, in front of the desk of a boy you’d never had a proper conversation with before, asking for his help – all while uncomfortably aware that this was cutting into his lunch break.
You hadn’t quite known what to expect from this interaction. You weren't really friends, after all; you’d been vaguely aware of him over this past year and a bit, but knew little, if anything, about him. All you knew was that he was topping the grade when it came to chemistry, and therefore, turning to him in this time of need might help.
You hadn't expected this ultimatum.
"Why?"
It was a genuine question.
"Hm?"
"Why ask me to be your manager?" You asked, tilting your head at him. "I know nothing about volleyball."
"You'll learn."
You frowned. "This is the only way you'll tutor me?"
"It's not the only way," Kuroo shrugged, raising an eyebrow at you. "But it'd certainly bump it up my priority list."
The worst thing was that it didn't even seem like he was trying to be a dick.
Right, you thought. Pros and cons.
Cons: being a manager would eat up a lot of your time. Presumably. Maybe. You didn't have any real idea.
Also, it would mean spending a lot more time around sweaty boys. That sounded kind of gross.
And what time did practice finish? Walking home after sunset was always a little scary. Certainly scary enough to stoke a bit of anxiety.  
More importantly, it sounded like responsibility. Maybe you were overestimating just what being a manager meant, but it sounded like there was plenty of stuff you could mess up.
Pros: it'd look really, really good on your college applications.
Just like a passing chemistry grade would. Which you weren't going to get all on your own.
“It doesn’t have to be for long,” he offered, raising an eyebrow at you. “Just a couple of months. And I’ll be your resource to use as you please.”
You blinked at him, baffled at his choice of phrasing.
“How about you just drop by practice this afternoon?” He suggested, balancing his chin on his fist. “You can get a feel for it.”
You sighed.
“Alright.”
You were willing to do just about anything, after all.
✧ ✧ ✧
Teenage boys, no matter how polite or kind or accommodating, are always scary in packs.
That little revelation came to mind as you pressed yourself meekly against the wall of the gym, watching a gaggle of boys running back and forth, jumping and hitting and shouting. Part of you wanted to melt into the wall, hoping that none of these giants would pay you much attention.  
You’re painfully aware of one of them staring at you; a first-year, judging by his use of honorifics. He’s tallish, but not enough to be scary, with close-cropped hair and grumpy eyebrows. There’s a certain intensity to him – he seemed like the sort of person with too much tenacity for his own good. 
And yet, he seemed terrified of you. Was he the sort of boy who couldn’t talk to girls?
You smiled to yourself. Such dichotomy in one personality, huh?
There was another boy that caught your eye. A quiet one, with chin-length black hair who seemed to want to sink into the ground. He didn’t look like the sort of boy you’d expect to find on a high school sports team. He was a little shorter than everyone else – except for Yaku, who’d greeted you quite amiably when you’d first arrived.  
But Yaku seemed like he wanted to be there. Like he enjoyed it. This kid? He looked like he just wanted to melt into the shadows. He always flinched whenever anyone called out to him. Hell, he seemed to flinch even when someone so much as looked at him. Was he okay? Should you ask if he’s okay? Should you point him out to Kuroo? But Kuroo had already spoken to him a few times…
Well, checking in with people’s well-being would be part of your job as a manager, right? It’d be your duty to make sure that the club members were doing okay. 
But practice was still going. You’d have to put a pin in that thought.  
The third years were frightening, as expected. But, you felt as though your upperclassmen would always be somewhat scary. The captain had traded a handful of words with you – hellos, nice to meet yous, a what are you even doing here – but he hadn’t made any particular point to help you out.
That job was left to the coach, who, thankfully, seemed quite kind. You had said very little to him, but you could tell that he loved his job just from the serene smile that graced his face as he watched his team go at it.  
Practice was over before you knew it. The sun was setting outside the windows, the sky blushing orange. You bit your lip. Maybe you’d be able to get home before it got too dark…
You sighed, turning your gaze back to the gym floor. Maybe you should try talking to one of the boys… Yaku had always been friendly. Maybe he’d tolerate a conversation with you? Oh, what about Kai? He’d been very quiet, but he seemed nice… There was Kuroo, too…
You pressed your lips together, eyes scanning over the gaggle of boys in front of you as your mind ran through the pros and cons all at once.
You frowned. The third years were yapping at that quiet boy; whatever they were saying, it didn’t seem exactly friendly. You froze. Should you do something? Was this normal? Was it a problem? He looked terrified – not that he showed it outright, but it was in his eyes.
Kuroo was standing behind him, saying something to one of the third years. You couldn’t quite hear them, but Kuroo’s expression was… cold. Not confrontational, just unyielding. Whatever he’d said, the third years stalked away.
You watched closely as Kuroo’s expression softened as he looked at the shorter boy. He looked concerned. Were they friends?
“Oi, manager chick!”
You cringed. It’s one of the third years – not the captain, but someone you’d noted had quite the nasty serve.
“Help clean up!”
“Right!” You gave a quick half-bow, your head flicking around almost frantically as you looked for something to do.  
You settled for collecting stray balls, rushing them back to the ball bins. All the while you watched the sky darken beyond the gym windows – and with it, your anxiety began to blossom.
By the time you were picking up your bag to go home, the sky was positively black. You bit your lip as you stared out the gym windows, your eyebrows a little furrowed.
“Hey.”
You looked up, a little startled. Kuroo, forehead slick with sweat and cheeks tinged red from exertion. You resisted the urge to scrunch up your nose. Being this close to a sweaty teenage boy wasn’t high on your priorities list.
“What’d you think?” He asked, rubbing the back of his neck with a towel.
You shrugged. “Seems intense.”
“But you don’t hate it, right?” He smiled. It’s hopeful. Almost pitifully so.
You bit the inside of your cheek. In truth, you didn’t. There’s something quite fun about watching them play volleyball up close. They all got so into it. It was always nice, watching people care about something so deeply that enjoyment seeped through every part of their being.
“We’ll see,” you said. “Maybe I’ll come back tomorrow.”
He smiled brightly at that half-promise. Brightly enough that you knew you didn’t want to let him down.
This side of him was already a far cry from that trickster-like figure you’d negotiated with this morning.
“Hey, uh…” He cleared his throat, one hand finding its way to the back of his head. “I was wondering… did you need me to walk you home? I know it’s getting kind of late, so…”
You felt something that’s not quite elation, but certainly a bit more intense than relief. Tokyo’s a safe enough place, yes, but that fact’s never enough to quell the anxiety you’d always felt from walking home in the dark.
“If it’s not too much trouble.” You tried to make your smile look relaxed and natural, but you knew some hint of tension had made its way in there.
“Cool,” Kuroo said, giving you a little nod as his eyes scanned your face. He relaxed his shoulders a bit, slouching down a little. Was he… trying to make himself smaller? “But, uh… where do you live?”
By some miracle, it’s not all that far from his place. You caught the relief on his face, even if he made an effort to hide it. Would he really have walked you all the way to your house, even if it wasn’t in the same area?
He didn’t give you time to think about it, turning around and waving a hand in the air.
“Hey, Kenma!”
Your brows rose instinctively as the shy kid scurried over, head hunched down and hands stuffed into his pockets.
“This is Kenma,” Kuroo smiled, nodding at him. “He’s my next-door neighbour.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” you smiled, tilting your head at him.
“Yeah,” Kenma nodded in a quiet response, not quite able to meet your eyes. You didn’t press it. You offered him your name quickly, a bit like an afterthought, but Kenma gave you a little nod in recognition.
“You guys ready to go?” Kuroo looked between the both of you, tilting his head at the door.
You glanced over at Kenma. He didn’t glance back.
“Yeah,” you nodded, relieved that you wouldn’t have to walk the dark streets on your own.
[YOU] 7:21 PM: hello! Is this kuroo?
[Kuroo] 7:34 PM: you got it
[YOU] 7:36 PM: thank goodness! I just wanted to say, thank you for walking me home today. I was a bit worried about it, but I didn’t want to impose
[Kuroo] 7:38 PM: not a problem. I’m more than happy to do it again tomorrow
[Kuroo] 7:38 PM: since you are coming to practice, right?
[YOU] 7:40 PM: Sure :)
✧ ✧ ✧
Kuroo Tetsurou hadn’t been what you’d expected.
For one thing, he’d actually made good on your deal. You’d half-expected him to bail on tutoring you – though you couldn’t exactly say why. But, you supposed it would be hard for him to dodge the ire of his club manager. Regardless, he dedicated most afternoons to helping you study.
You’d meet up in the library before practice and you’d always start with chemistry. He was actually kind of good at explaining the concepts to you in a way you understood, without all the bells and whistles. He had a way of simplifying the concepts to their bare bones. That’s not to say that it wasn’t difficult; you still felt like you’d been left far, far behind. But, Kuroo was something of a comfort.
Somehow, you’d end up working on other subjects. Apparently, Kuroo’s surprisingly bad at literature. He was doing well enough, but it was something he just couldn’t wrap his head around. Maybe you’d been a bit gung-ho about offering your help, but you were just glad you finally had something to offer in this arrangement. Even though you were still managing the volleyball team, overwhelming as that could be sometimes.
But, you’d made a deal, and the whole manager business was less scary than you’d first thought. And you felt that with time, you’d get the hang of it. Maybe.
More often than not, your study session before practice wasn’t enough time to cover all the content you needed. So, sometimes, you’d continue it after practice, holed up in the library until you got kicked out. Kenma usually stuck with you guys, sitting in the corner with whatever game console he’d brought that day.
And without fail, Kuroo walked you all the way to your house every night. And during those walks, you talked. Rather animatedly.
“What I’m saying is that the divide between the arts and the sciences is arbitrary,” Kuroo shrugged, raising an eyebrow. “When they work together, incredible things happen. Genuine art happens.” He cocked his head at you, that perceptive grin of his spread across his face. “You’d really disagree with me on that?”
“I didn’t say I disagree,” you grinned. “I’m just surprised that you’re not one of those sciencey people who thinks that the arts are worthless.”
He scoffed at that, shaking his head. “Excuse you. I’ve got more nuance than that.”
“Sorry for doubting you,” you giggled.
“You better be.”
The thing you’d been most surprised about, above everything else, was just how enjoyable it was to talk to him. How easy it was to get lost in a conversation that most of your other friends might get bored by. It’s not that your other friends treated you badly, but Kuroo had a way of naturally drawing out your thoughts, and he usually treated them with enough respect to engage with them. Of course, there were times when he loved to tease, and you’d learnt to not take it too personally.
Kuroo Tetsurou was far more interesting than you’d first given him credit for. And you felt kind of bad for that. You’d known he wasn’t just some dumb jock – he wasn’t topping chemistry for nothing – but you hadn’t expected him to be so… clever. So playful. So fun to talk to.
You were beginning to feel that maybe, just maybe, he was someone you could end up being quite close to.
[YOU] 10:41 PM: hey, kuroo?
[Kuroo] 10:46 PM: what's up?
[YOU] 10:47 PM: i was just wondering, why did you ask me to become manager?
[Kuroo] 10:48 PM: oh ahaha
[Kuroo] 10:48 PM: i thought having an extra pair of hands around would help the coach out a bit
[YOU] 10:48 PM: wait really
[YOU] 10:48 PM: that's it?
[Kuroo] 10:50 PM: ??????
[YOU] 10:51 PM: you were so seedy about it!
[Kuroo] 10:51 PM: was i?
[YOU] 10:52 PM: i–
[Kuroo] 10:53 PM: :)
✧ ✧ ✧
“Kenma wants to quit.”
Your head shot up, turning to Kuroo with wide eyes. “What?”
“Yeah,” he sighed, one hand raking through his hair. “The third years have been giving him a really rough time.” He bit his lip, glancing at you. “You’ve seen it yourself.”
You swallowed. “I hoped I was just being too sensitive, but…”
Kuroo groaned, running a hand down his face. “They’re such assholes.”
You bit the inside of your cheek, unsure of what to say. The third years had almost made you want to quit in the early days. They were scary, sharp, unrelenting. But they’d left you alone pretty quickly once you’d settled into the thrum of your responsibilities.
Kenma hadn’t been so lucky.
“Is he okay?” You murmured, brows knitted together. “I mean, I know he’s getting picked on, but is he… is he… I don’t know…”
“I get it,” Kuroo sighed. “Honestly, I don’t know. He doesn’t really talk about that sort of stuff.”
You set your pen down on the dining table, shifting in your chair to face him directly.
Practice had been cancelled for the afternoon, and Kuroo had bustled you out of school before you even had a chance to ask why. You’d been surprised when he had asked if the two of you could study at your place that afternoon – and some part of you had dreaded what your parents might say about you bringing a boy home – but you’d conceded. He’d seemed stuck in his head; something not unusual for him, but he’d been just withdrawn enough to pique your concern.
This must’ve been why.
“I just don’t know what to do,” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms. “I don’t want to push him too hard or anything, but I don’t think he’s making the right choice.”
You bit your lip.
“Why?” You asked, feeling bold.
“Huh?”
“Tell me why you don’t want him to quit,” you said. “Other than the obvious.” You sat up a little straighter, grabbing your notebook and picking up your pen. “We can brainstorm together.”
“Other than the obvious?” He tilted his head at you.
“You know,” you shrugged. “I know you want him to stay around because he’s your best friend, but... there’s more to it, right?”
“Well…” Kuroo swallowed, rubbing the back of his neck as he leant back in his chair.  “We’re not gonna get very far without him.”
You scribbled that down quickly. “Why’s that?”
“He’s a good strategist,” Kuroo said carefully, “And he’s great at running through all the potential outcomes on the spot. And nobody on the team’s as observant as he is.”
You bit the inside of your cheek as you transcribed. You weren’t narcissistic enough to think you knew Kenma better than Kuroo did. Nor did you want to presume you were closer to the second-year than you actually were. But you wanted to help.
“Why don’t you… explain that to him?” You asked, peering down at your notebook.
“What do you mean?”
“Like… just tell him the logical reasons you want him to stick around,” you shrugged. “I think he’d respond well to that.”
“I guess…” Kuroo pursed his lips, looking at you with a frown.
“What I’m trying to say is that… maybe putting it into terms that’ll resonate with him is the best way to go.” You weren’t quite sure if your point was getting across. You just had to hope that he understood.
“I get you,” he nodded, crossing his arms. “I dunno if it’ll work though.”
“He’ll listen to you,” you mused, propping your hand on your chin.  
“Huh?”
“It’s obvious you mean a lot to him,” you shrugged. “Even if he doesn’t really use his words to express that.”
Kuroo blinked at you, a touch of pink to his cheeks.
“I mean, he’s stuck it out with volleyball this long, hasn’t he?” You smiled at him, watching his cheeks grow even pinker. “That’s because of you.”
He cleared his throat as he looked down at his lap. It was strange to see him so… speechless. He was the sort of person that always had a comeback. You were never able to get a one up on him. Sincerity, however, seemed to be his hamartia.
“I just… I wanna go as far as I can with this team,” he admitted, scratching the back of his neck. “You know, me and the other second years… when we first joined the team, we were asked about our goals.”
He sighed, looking up at the ceiling. “We all said that we wanted to win nationals.”
He wasn’t quite sure why he was telling you all this. He didn’t know where it came from. But he knew he’s grateful to be able to just talk. To share this with someone.
“Yaku and I used to fight all the time,” he smiled sheepishly, casting his gaze at you.
“I can see that,” you giggled. There was always a little fire between the two of them; it’d given you a good laugh many times.
“It was kind of stupid, but… we got over it. We learned to work together,” Kuroo sighed.
“I feel bad for poor Kai,” you smiled.
Kuroo laughed. “Yeah…” He sighed as he leaned over the table, resting his chin on his folded arms. “Nekoma used to be hot shit, you know.”
“Did we?” You asked.
“Yeah,” he nodded. “Made it to nationals a couple of times. But, we sort of… fell off. We haven’t been as good as we could be for a while. And… I want to change that.”
He pressed his lips together, his brows furrowing. “We can’t do that if we don’t work together. And I know that sounds obvious, but… we need to focus on our teamwork more. We’ll only be great if we all learn to rely on and trust each other. We’ve gotta make the best use of all our strengths while covering our weaknesses.”
You nodded, making a little noise of agreement. You couldn’t help but smile as you listened to him. This side of Kuroo – this genuine, honest one – was quickly becoming your favourite.  
“Sorry,” he chuckled, sitting up straight. “Didn’t mean to ramble at you there.”
“No, no, it’s fine!” You shook your head. “Ramble all you’d like.”
He quirked an eyebrow at you for that, but he was smiling.
“Hey, Kuroo?” Normally, you wouldn’t have thought to ask the questions that were currently poking at the back of your mind. But he’d just been so honest, so open with you in a way he’d never been before. Maybe it was okay to be a little bit curious. Just this once.
“Hm?”
“I have a genuine question,” you said, folding your hands in your lap.
He looked at you, pouting a little.
“Why volleyball?”
He bit the inside of his cheek, brow creased ever so slightly. Usually, he’d just dodge a conversation like this; not because he was particularly embarrassed by it or anything like that, but because he didn’t want to talk about himself too much. He didn’t want to be rude and dominate the conversation.
But, you were asking. And, you seemed genuinely interested.
A little bit of sincerity wouldn’t hurt, right?
“My family moved here when I was pretty young,” he said, shrugging. “And I didn’t really… know how to make friends. Before I moved, I’d been part of a volleyball team. All my friends were on it, and… I had to move away from them.”
It was a little strange, trying to pull up all these memories. And trying to condense them was harder than he’d expected. “When I first met Kenma, we just played video games. I didn’t really… know how to talk to him. But he agreed to play volleyball with me, and that made things so much easier. I had something to talk about.”
You smiled to yourself, the image of a shy little Kuroo more endearing than it should be.
“I even convinced him to go to a weekend class with me,” he smiled, looking down. “You know, I even remember when I first met Coach Nekomata.”
“Huh?” You frowned.
“The old coach who used to work here. Rumour is he’ll come out of retirement sometime soon,” he smiled. 
You nodded, even though you didn’t quite understand. 
We bumped into him at one of those classes,” Kuroo said. “He told me, ‘do what you love, and success will come.’ I still think about that.”
Do what you love, and success will come. Yeah, that definitely sounded like something that’d resonate with Kuroo.
“Anyway, I joined the team in middle school, and that made it a lot easier to make friends,” Kuroo shrugged. “I don’t know. I love volleyball. Have for as long as I can remember. It’s fun. And… it helped me connect with people, even when… even when I couldn’t find the right words.”
He looked at you, a bit more tentative than usual. But, you were smiling, your chin propped up on one of your palms as you listened to him talk.
“Believe it or not, but I was a really shy kid.” He didn’t know why he’s still talking. And honestly, he’s a little embarrassed by it. But, you’re still listening. And for that, he’s grateful.
“That doesn’t surprise me,” you grinned.
His eyes widened a little. “Huh?”
“You think so much,” you mused, looking upwards. “But, like… in the way introverts do, you know?” You blushed, looking down at your hands. “Well, I mean… I tend to overthink everything I say, right?”
“No, really?” Kuroo gasped, covering his mouth with one hand.
“Shush,” you shot him a half-glare, suppressing the urge to stick your tongue out at him like a child. “It’s just that… I see a little bit of that in you, too. Not… massively, but it’s there.”  
You couldn’t quite read his expression. It wasn’t one you’d seen before. And honestly, he wouldn’t know how to describe it himself. He was caught between the relief at being seen, at being understood, and the embarrassment of being called out. People didn’t tend to pick up on that part of him – and yet, you had.
He wasn’t used to being the one getting read.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, “I really didn’t mean to ramble so much.”
“Oi,” you giggled, “I said it’s fine, didn’t I?”
He raised an eyebrow at you.
“It’s nice that you care so much about the game.” You were smiling at him. Nothing unusual. But the look in your eyes was so genuine, so bright that he could feel his face burning up from looking at it.
“Yeah,” he smiled, breaking eye contact with you. God, he really didn’t know what to do in conversations like these. “Anyway, should we get back to chem?”
[closet introvert] 9:22 PM: so
[YOU] 9:25 PM: so
[closet introvert] 9:25 PM: i think i’m gonna try to talk to kenma after school tomorrow
✧ ✧ ✧
If there was one thing you were fairly decent at as manager, it was looking after the first and second years. Bit by bit, you’d worked up an adequate rapport with each of them, and you had most of their personalities sorted out. Most importantly, you knew what to do when they were down.
You just had to let Yaku rant – let him shout and gripe and swear, and he’d be okay. Kai liked a constructive conversation, had in soft, measured tones, and offering a solution or two. Yamamoto wanted fire and conviction, a challenge to do better, to be better. Fukunaga liked a distraction, something to take his mind off of whatever was bothering him. Kenma liked to be left alone to sort things out for himself – but you were permitted to make him a care package or two.
You’d known Kuroo long enough by now to know that he was rather reticent when it came to his own feelings. He wasn’t the sort to talk about them upfront; you had to peer at the silences and the spaces between his words to find out what he really meant. You had to look at his behaviour; he was never too straightforward. That sort of thing seemed to overwhelm him.
That presented a bit of a problem. If he didn’t want to talk about his feelings, he simply wouldn’t. He’d deflect the conversation, or downplay how he was feeling. Sometimes he gave you bits and pieces, but he rarely spilled his true thoughts and feelings. They were exceedingly difficult to draw out of him – he had to offer them up himself. And most of the time, he bounced back pretty quickly from his more melancholic moods on his own.  
But not today.
Kuroo wasn’t exactly loud. At least, not in the same way Yamamoto was – or that rambunctious wing spiker from Fukurodani. It was well within Kuroo’s abilities to be obnoxious, but he wasn’t loud. But even for him, he was being uncharacteristically quiet today.
Practice had gone fine, as far as you could tell. Nothing had gone obviously wrong, and nobody had gotten injured. From your perspective, things had even gone well. Admittedly, your knowledge of volleyball didn’t run particularly deep just yet, but you were trying your best.
Kuroo was usually so bright after practice, always grinning or cackling at something despite his exhaustion. Half the time he’d point things out to you, explaining certain moves they’d practised or formations they were trying out.
But today, he’d just picked up his bag dourly, waiting at the door for you and Kenma to leave. He’d said very little on the walk to the train station when usually he’d be rambling about something or other. You and Kenma exchanged a look; he was just as concerned as you were.
And just like you, he didn’t know how to breach the conversation.
“So… how do they even work?” You asked, blinking down at Kenma’s DS screen.
You couldn’t stand the silence for much longer. And you knew that a sure-fire way to get Kenma talking was by asking him about video games – especially optimization.
“EVs are gained by defeating specific Pokemon,” Kenma murmured. “If you defeat a Pokemon with naturally high HP like Chansey, you’ll gain EVs towards your own HP. However, you can only gain 252 EV’s towards any one stat.”
You nodded, opting to let him ramble. Usually, Kuroo would’ve led the conversation between the three of you. But, you’d valiantly taken that task up yourself today – and the easiest way to help things go smoothly was to get Kenma on a roll.
“You can gain a maximum of five-hundred and twelve total, so realistically you can only optimise two stats at a time,” he continued, eyes still glued to his screen. You took a moment to glance at Kuroo. He was staring out the window of the train, his expression worryingly forlorn. Was he even listening?
“IVs are a Pokemon’s innate capabilities.” Kenma was still going. You made an affirmative noise in the back of your throat, nodding. “A Pokemon with a high attack IV will have a naturally higher attack stat than a Pokemon with a low attack IV, even at the same level.”
On the one hand, it was nice to know that Kenma was comfortable enough with you to ramble like this. It was also nice to see Kenma talking freely; a rare and precious sight.
On the other hand, it just made you more stressed about Kuroo. He hadn’t breathed a word the entire ride. He hadn’t even taken a moment to gaze fondly at Kenma while he was rambling. And he always did that when Kenma was on a roll.
You managed to ask enough questions to fill the distance to Kenma’s house. He was speaking more than usual. That much was obvious, yes – but even for a Kenma that was geeking out, this was unusual.
And with the way his gaze kept flicking to Kuroo, you knew it was because he was truly, deeply concerned.
Kuroo still made somewhat of an effort to say goodbye to Kenma, despite his mood. The usual “make sure you don’t go to sleep too late, okay?” and “make sure you drink enough water, so you don’t get a headache.”
But before Kenma walked through his front door, he looked at you. And when you looked back, he held eye contact. Then he looked very pointedly at Kuroo, who was staring up at the sky. By the time you turned to look at Kenma again, he was already scurrying through his front door.
“You ready?” Kuroo asked, now looking at you.
You nodded, half-jogging to join him on the street. Even today, even when it seemed like he just wanted to go home and sleep, he was still walking you home. Sure, your house wasn’t all that far from his, but he still went out of his way every night, just to make sure you felt comfortable.
That quiet thoughtfulness was part of who he was. You’d seen him direct it at Kenma all the time.
The same Kenma who’d just sent you a silent plea.
The Kenma, who never looked you in the eyes for longer than half a second.
The Kenma, who had just asked you to speak to his best friend.
That was all the push you needed.
“Hey, Kuroo?” You murmured.
“Hm?”
“Are you okay?” You asked.
Kuroo looked at you, one eyebrow raised. He was torn.
Should he really burden you with this? Was it right for him to worry you again?
But you’re looking at him with such genuine concern, such genuine care. And the advice you’d given him when he was worried about Kenma had been both helpful and effective. And surely, you wouldn’t have asked that question if you didn’t want a proper answer, right?
Fuck it, he thought.
“I feel like I’m not measuring up,” he sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets. “My blocking hasn’t been improving. And I don’t know why. I’ve been trying to work on my read blocking but I just can’t get it down. I can’t even fix the problem because I don’t know what the problem is.”
He took a deep breath, his steps slowing to a stop. “I convinced Kenma to stay on, but I’m not a team-mate he can be proud of.”
“Kuroo…”
You looked at him, cloaked in the shadows of the street. His gaze was cast at the ground, his brow furrowed and the smallest of pouts on his lips. You wanted to hug him, but you weren’t sure if that’d help.
You didn’t quite know what to say. You knew what it was like to get caught up in your own insecurities – you were sure most people did. You knew he couldn’t see himself the way you saw him; tenacious, hard-working, passionate.
“You’re being too hard on yourself,” you murmured. No, that was too soft – too wishy-washy. “I know that it… seems kind of silly for me to say, but you are.”
You clenched your fists to steel yourself, taking a step closer to him. That got his attention – he looked up at you, eyes slightly wide.
“You feel like you’re not measuring up, or that you’re not improving… but I don’t see it that way.” It was true. You watched him push himself harder each and every day, improving little by little. And when he wasn’t, he’d learn from those mistakes.
“It must be easy to lose yourself on the court, but from where I’m standing… you’re improving every day.” Your eyes searched his face, looking for any indication that your words were having some kind of impact.
“And… you don’t need to be the world’s best middle blocker, you know?” You said, tilting your head at him. “You’re good, Kuroo. And you know you’ve got space to improve – that’s your strength. That makes you a team-mate worth being proud of.”
He was staring at you, eyes still wide. The dim light of the street hid the blush on his cheeks. For that, he was thankful.
“Uh…” He felt like he should say something. But he didn’t quite know what. ‘Thank you’ would’ve been the natural response, but those words just wouldn’t come.
“Sorry,” you blushed, your nerves finally catching up with you as you looked away from him. “I didn’t mean to… push your boundaries or anything like that, but… if you need someone to talk to, I’m here.”
Had you overstepped his boundaries? Had you made him uncomfortable? Those questions plagued you for the rest of the way home, Kuroo still quiet and reticent at your side.
You hadn’t overstepped his boundaries at all. Kuroo just couldn’t find the right words, even as you closed the distance to your house.
In all honesty, he’s touched. Touched that you cared so much. Touched that you reached out, even though he could tell how nervous you were. Touched that you were paying that much attention.
As he walked through the door of his own home, he couldn’t get the image of you looking up at him so resolutely out of his head.
He’d have to thank some deity above for the fact you were bad at chemistry, wouldn’t he?  
[japan’s okayest tutor] 10:57 PM: hey so uh
[japan’s okayest tutor] 10:57 PM: i just wanted to say thanks
[japan’s okayest tutor] 10:58 PM: for listening to me be all emotional like that
[japan’s okayest tutor] 10:58 PM: i put a lot on you but you were really nice about it
[japan’s okayest tutor] 10:59 PM: so yeah
[japan’s okayest tutor] 10:59 PM: thanks
[YOU] 10:59 PM: NO! DON’T APOLOGISE!
[japan’s okayest tutor] 10:59 PM: !?!?!?!
[YOU] 11:00 PM: honestly, i don’t mind! and i’m happy to listen :(
[YOU] 11:00 PM: i’m here if you need to talk to anyone, okay?
[japan’s okayest tutor] 11:04 PM: you too
✧ ✧ ✧
You were alone.
Your sobs were the only sound fracturing the fragile silence of the empty gym as you slumped against the wall, your knees brought up to your chest.
Why did you have to fuck up so bad? You’d managed to survive your first year with no drama, the only cause of concern being your studies. They were overwhelming enough  to deal with on their own. You’d certainly felt down about your grades and whatnot before, but those ruts were a little easier to pull yourself out of. ‘They’re just grades,’ you’d try and tell yourself. ‘You can improve next time. And they don’t define you as a person.’ Even if you didn’t quite believe any of that, it was nice to have some rhetoric to at least attempt to counteract those thoughts.
But now? Now you truly felt alone. Like no-one cared about you.
You felt like you deserved it. Like anyone who cared about you was wasting their time. Like you were taking up their time and attention undeservedly.
It was all too overwhelming.
The pain choked you. Every thought, every feeling you’d been trying to fend off for so long ripped through you like an arrow.
Fuck, why couldn’t you just hold yourself together? Why did you have to be so weak?
You let go. And you cried. And cried. And cried.
The sound shattered the vacuous silence of the gym. You weren’t sure how long you’d been sitting there, letting your sobs rack through your body.
Your throat was sore.
Your eyes stung.
You were alone.
And you deserved it.
“Woah.”
You froze. You knew that voice.
“Hey.” Kuroo knelt in front of you, his hands finding their way to your forearms. “Hey, what’s wrong?” He was knelt in front of you, eyebrows knitted together as his eyes roamed your face.
You shook your head, squeezing your eyes shut. Shit, why was he here? Why hadn’t he just headed home?
You didn’t want anyone to see you like this. You didn’t want to worry them.
Kuroo’s arms found their way around you, coaxing you gently towards his chest. You collapsed into him, burying your face in his chest.
Fuck, that didn’t help at all. Your sobs came with more voracity, rawer and harsher than they had been.
He just held you, chin propped on your head and one hand rubbing your back. He didn’t say anything; he knew you didn’t need that right now. He knew that in moments like this, it was nice just to be held. To feel like someone’s there.
And then slowly, breath by breath, everything seemed to calm. Your sobs grew softer and softer against his chest, his gentle hums setting a new rhythm for your fractured mind. He was grounding you; each touch, each sound was an attempt to bring you back down to earth. You could tell it wasn’t the most comfortable position for him, crouched awkwardly in front of you while holding you to his chest, but he stayed. 
He stayed until your breathing had levelled out, and your grip on his shirt had loosened.
“There you go,” Kuroo murmured, letting you go. He shifted to sit next to you, and you immediately missed his warmth. You found a little comfort as he looped an arm around your shoulder.  
You took a long, shaky breath. You weren’t sure how long you’d keep it together for, but you were glad for the reprieve.
“What are you doing here?” You sniffed, rubbing your nose with the back of your hand. He shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t have made him worry about you.
“You didn’t show up for our little study session,” he said, eyebrows knitted together. “I tried texting you, but you didn’t respond. And I couldn’t find you anywhere.”
Shit. You’d forgotten to tell him you’d ‘headed home early.’
“I was worried about you,” he murmured, giving your shoulder a squeeze.
You swallowed roughly, the guilt bubbling up in your chest.
“I’m sorry–”
“No.” Kuroo shook his head. “Don’t apologize. If you need to get it out, you need to get it out.”
You bit your lip, looking down at your hands. Your knuckles blanched pale as you clenched the fabric of your skirt.
“And,” he swallowed, “if you need to talk to someone… I’m here.”
Your breath caught in your throat as you felt everything rush back. The fight. The loneliness. The insomnia.
Kuroo didn’t need to hear this. And you didn’t want to burden him with this.
But God, you needed to talk to someone.  
“I- I had an argument with Hana,” you sniffed, fingers playing with the hem of your jacket.
You could barely remember how it started. Something stupid, probably. Something immature. But it had blown way out of proportion, and she wasn’t speaking to you anymore. You’d been spending your lunchtimes alone, behind the gym or in an empty classroom. You didn’t have the strength to face the rest of your friends, nor did you know what she’d been telling them.
It had struck at the worst possible time, too. The usual anxieties about grades and the future had been compounding recently. You’d been a bit more down than usual, and this whole Hana debacle had exacerbated that. You were usually able to manage feelings like this, finding ways to keep your head above water.
But not this time.
“I just,” you swallowed, squeezing your eyes shut. “I just feel like something’s missing. And, and I’m… there’s… there’s this gap in my heart, and I don’t know how to stop feeling so empty.”
You took a deep breath, feeling it tremble through your body. “But… but I also just feel so numb.”
And all of it, even the numbness, was overwhelming. No matter how desperately you tried to distract yourself, you couldn’t. Nothing worked. You’d lost too many nights sitting at the bottom of your shower, letting the water run down your back as your mind ran in the same repeating circles.
You were exhausted.
“And part of me,” you swallowed, your throat rough and dry as your emotions tried to hammer themselves into something coherent. “Part of me feels like… like it’s wrong to feel like this.”
God, that felt stupid. Stupid, but true. On top of everything, you felt defunct.
And frankly, you couldn’t say why. Was it shame? Guilt? Something else?
“Hey.” Kuroo’s voice was low, almost soft as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder. “You’re gonna feel what you’re gonna feel,” he murmured, “You shouldn’t feel guilty about that, okay?”
He felt you tremble as you tried to take a deep breath.
He knew that your pain wasn’t a one-to-one reflection of his own. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to understand exactly what you were going through.
But he knew what it was like to be a small child, so afraid, so alone, without an understanding of what was really going on around him.
He knew what it was like to feel as if something was missing, like there was a constant gap in your heart. He’d felt that way when his parents had split up. He’d only been a kid, too young to properly comprehend why that had been happening.
All he had known was that his family had crumbled to pieces around him. And then his mother was gone, half a world away with little more than a kiss on his forehead as a goodbye. He hadn’t been ready for it. He had felt like he might never be.
That feeling of separation had followed him, even into his teen years. It was quieter now, a half-whisper on the bad days. Usually, he could ignore it, setting his mind to more productive concerns. But, it never quite disappeared.
Kuroo knew what it was like to be lonely.
And he hated seeing you go through the exact same thing.
Lonely. Afraid. Probably hoping that someone, somewhere, would acknowledge your pain.
That was the worst part. Wanting your suffering to be known. Wanting someone to look at all of it, to see it for what it was. But no matter how palpable that desire was, how desperately you wanted it, it was too terrifying. To speak up was to be a burden. To speak up was to expose yourself to pity; and that was always the last thing you needed.
Pity’s useless. All you were asking for, all you really wanted was understanding. Acknowledgment. To have someone see.
He knew exactly what that was like.
“You, uh…” The sentiment caught in his throat, somehow both persistent and reticent.
“You don’t have to do this alone.”
They were the very words he’d wished someone had said to him all those years ago. The words he’d wanted someone to offer him, a child who didn’t know how to reach out. To cry out for help.
And in that moment, with his arms around the manager who had looked after him and his boys so well, Kuroo felt that call.
[passable at best] 8:30 PM: hey
[passable at best] 8:30 PM: how are you feeling?
[YOU] 8:45 PM: alright
[YOU] 8:45 PM: i ate dinner and i’ve just been watching youtube
[YOU] 8:46 PM: and i’ve been drinking a lot of water
[passable at best] 8:46 PM: i’m glad to hear that
[passable at best] 8:46 PM: make sure you get an early night, yeah?
[YOU] 8:47 PM: i’ll try
[passable at best] 8:47 PM: and if you need anything, please text me
✧ ✧ ✧
"Come to the temple with me."
The surprise was evident on your face. You’re glad he couldn’t see you. "What… just us?"
"Yeah." There's a pause. An almost painful one. "I couldn't get Kenma to leave the house, so…"
You pretended you weren’t disappointed. If anyone could see you, they wouldn't be convinced.
"Oh, well, uh…" Your fists curled into your nightgown. "Sure."
"Great!" You could hear the smile in his voice. It's the one you like best; full of sunlight, pure and whole. The one that reached his eyes. "I'll, uh… see you at eight?"
Usually, if someone had called you at seven-thirty in the morning, you would've simply ignored them. But when you’d seen that it was him, you’d answered immediately. The lack of hesitation was almost frightening.
There was no reason that your fondness for a certain Kuroo Tetsurou should scare you. You just knew that you adored the guy. In less than a year, he’d become one of your favourite people. And, he’d been such a solid support for you. Of course you’d go to the temple with him.  
But as you stood at the temple steps, swallowed up by a coat and two jumpers, you wondered if anyone was worth being this cold for.
“Sorry I’m late.”
You glared up at him, nose embarrassingly red.
“What?” He groaned, hands dug deep in his pockets.
“It’s cold.”
“You think I don’t know that?”
“It’s eight in the morning.”
“Hey,” he grinned, reaching up and ruffling your hair with a gloved hand. “You could’ve said no.”
You huffed. Unfortunately, he was right.
“Well, I’m touched,” he chuckled, looking up at the sky. “It’s a nice morning, though.” He looked back down at you with a grin. He was far too peppy for this hour of the morning. “You ready?”
The walk up the steps was almost laborious, given just how cold it was. Your breath misted in front of you as you told each other about your first dreams of the year; he’s still regaling a tale about Kenma turning into a dragon with five heads and chasing him through the streets of Tokyo by the time you reach the fortunes.
You tried to shake off the superstitious jitters as you carefully chose one of the knots on the string. Kuroo showed much less care.
As you read the fortune written out on your strip, you let out a surreptitious sigh of relief. You looked at Kuroo, tilting your head.
“What’d you get?” You sniffled. You hoped you wouldn’t get a cold from this.
“Bad luck,” he said, turning the strip towards you.
You snorted. “Oh, ow.”
He shrugged. “It’s not that big of a deal.” His expression said otherwise; it was that half-grimace he had whenever he didn’t want to admit he was wrong. Or that Bokuto had done something cool.
“Really?” You grinned, tilting your head at him. “You’re not bothered by it at all?”
“Alright, what did you get then?” He peered down at you, puffing out his chest.
“A little luck.” You held your strip towards him, and he scowled.
“Bad luck’s more exciting,” he mumbled.
“Don’t be mad about it,” you smiled, nudging him with your elbow. “God just likes me more.”
“Oi,” he huffed, ruffling your hair with a cold hand.
“Hey!” You wacked his hand away, but he just cackled.
“Anyway, you’ve forgotten the most important part of a temple visit,” he yawned, looking back at the fortunes lined up on the strings.
“Hm?” You frowned.
"You gotta make a promise," he sniffled, his fortune scrunched up in his hand.
You pouted, your hands dug deep in your pockets. A promise, huh? Did he mean a wish? You weren’t about to argue the point. He’d win it, anyway.
“You go first,” you mumbled, a little embarrassed by the fact that nothing was coming to mind.
He paused, staring at you for a moment. You squinted back, perhaps half as a challenge.
"Hm," Kuroo puffed his cheeks out, looking up at the sky for a moment. "I promise… to always be there for you. No matter what."
You blushed. What sort of promise was that? And why did it make you feel like… this?
Thwump!
You were only half aware of it as you punched him in the stomach.
“What was that for?” He wheezed, hands clamped on his stomach as he stumbled back a few steps.
“You can’t say things like that!” You whined, feeling the colour in your cheeks growing deeper.
“Why not?” There was something a little too genuine in his frown.
“Because I was going to say something really lame!” It was only eight-thirty in the morning, and Kuroo had already worked his way under your skin. And you weren’t entirely sure he’d meant to. “If I knew you were gonna say something like that, I’d’ve said it back.”
He raised an eyebrow at you. “You still can, you know.”
“Oh.” Yeah. You could.
That was all he needed. In an instant, that familiar grin was once again adorning his face, and he was towering over you. A little closer than maybe was appropriate.
“Is that… a blush I see?” Oh, he looked far too pleased with himself. You had half a mind to punch him again.
“Shut up,” you huffed.
“Aw, have I made you all embarrassed?” He grinned, ruffling your hair. “I’m sorry,” he said, the words spoiled by his fake pout.
“If you don’t shut up, I won’t say it,” you threatened, glaring at him as resolutely as you could. The weird twang in your chest made it more difficult than it usually was.
He shut his mouth immediately, eyes a little bigger and much more expectant than usual.
“Kuroo Tetsurou–”
“Are you about to propose?”
“You know what? Nevermind–”
“No, no, no! I’m sorry!” His shoulders were slouched towards you, head tilted to the side and a bright smile on his face. “I’ll shut up.”
You took a deep breath. It certainly felt a bit like you were trying to propose to him. You shuffled that thought out of your mind as quickly as you could. Once again, Kuroo had put you in a situation you hadn’t quite anticipated.
“No matter what comes, and no matter how irritating you are–”
“Hey!”
“–I promise that I’ll be there to support you,” you managed to say, cheeks flaring and fists clenched. “I… really care about you.”
You couldn’t bear the look he was giving you. It was the look you’d give something you positively adored – something you believed would bring nothing but light to your life. It was a look so full of affection that you felt like you might shatter beneath it.
He reached out and wrapped you in his arms, pulling you gently into his chest. You snuck your arms under his jacket, circling them around his waist. You’d done it mostly on instinct, but you weren’t upset about it. It’s warm, and it’s nice, and you didn’t want to question it. 
There’s too much to worry about – studies, volleyball, the fact that it’s really not all that long until you’re third years. That took precedence. Whatever’s going on here – whatever this was – couldn’t take priority.
All you knew for certain was that you loved Kuroo Tetsurou. In what way didn’t matter. And this in-between, this unnamed space was comfortable. And, as far as you could tell, it belonged to both of you. If he didn’t want to say anything about it, then neither did you.
[i can be your angle] 5:21 PM: hey hey
[YOU] 5:21 PM: hey hey hey!
[i can be your angle] 5:21 PM: no don’t do that
[i can be your angle] 5:21 PM: anyway, i just wanted to make sure you’re practicing appropriate after-cold care
[YOU] 5:21 PM: why do you always have to phrase things Like That
[i can be your angle] 5:22 PM: no idea what you’re talking about
[i can be your angle] 5:22 PM: anyway, drink a tea or two, stick a heat pack (or seven) in the microwave, and rug up
[i can be your angle] 5:22 PM: can’t have you going and catching a cold
1K notes · View notes
cultifi · 3 years
Note
Hey~ okay so this request is based on a story I read about online. But basically the female is on her period (but she doesn’t realize yet ) and it seeps through her pants so she has a blood stain now. Could I request Bakugou or Todoroki seeing the stain and trying to be lowkey about helping her cover up so she isn’t embarrassed? Idk if that makes sense. Also I wanted to ask what fandoms/characters you write for. Idk if it’s annoying always writing about Bakugou, but he’s my comfort character so 😭 sorry.
Covering - Bakugo x (fem)reader
prompt: Bakugo sees that you had started your period and helps you out
genre: fluff
-actual plot of the request starts at ‘keep reading’ button-
“Come on! I promise it will be fun,” Mina begged you as she flopped onto your bed, sprawled out, “it’s only for the weekend anyways.” She had been trying to convince you to spend the weekend with her and a couple of other friends at Momo’s beach house which wasn’t far away from where you lived, but the thought of being trapped with people for more than a day irritated you just thinking about it. Mina just kept pleading for you to go.
“If I come, you have to...” you stated as you looked thought of a compromise that would benefit both you the most, “...do my homework for a week!” Mina’s mouth dropped open as she looked at you in disbelief. She hung her head down and muttered a small,
“Fine.”
Friday afternoon came around and when you arrived at the beach house with Mina and Momo you finally saw who you would be spending the weekend with, Deku, Todoroki and Bakugo. 3 boys, 3 girls. You all headed inside and set your luggage down near the entrance, admiring how spacious and clean the house was, like no one had ever stepped foot in it. “Woah...” you whispered in amazement when you had seen that Momo’s description of the house was nowhere near accurate, claiming it was “just a regular beach house.” 
“This place is huge!” Mina exclaimed and threw herself on the enormous leather sofa placed in the middle of the living room, which was the centre of the beach house. “Honestly Momo, you really downplayed how big this place is.” After exploring the large, almost sparkling clean house, everyone discussed sleeping arrangements. despite it being a huge house, the only thing it lacked was a decent amount of bedrooms; there were 2, but fortunately they were quite big, so everyone had decided that the girls would room together and the boys would do the same.
The sky grew darker before anyone realised how late it had gotten so everyone headed to their designated sleeping rooms. Since the rooms were quite large, there were conveniently three beds in different areas of the room, the middle being empty. “Dibs!” Mina shouted and catapulted herself onto the bed directly opposite the door, even though the were all basically the same size (hers was a little bigger but that’s besides the point). All three of you prepared yourselves for bed as you slid into the cool covers, having light conversation until Momo asked you a question about him. 
“I noticed Bakugo looking at you a lot today,” she teased as her and Mina both giggled, “I think he has a crush on you!” You felt heat rise up to your cheeks when you started thinking about what it would be like to be in a relationship with him so you pulled the covers up to your face and protested against Momo’s idea. 
You woke up to Mina and Momo jumping on your bed which made you want to dropkick them but you restrained yourself, putting your pillow over your head. “Fine, I’ll get up,” you complained and threw your pillow at Mina who was jumping with such vigour that you might think she was trying to create a dent in the bed frame.
“Let’s wake the boys up,” Mina suggested with a smirk and whispered something to Momo, both giggling and making you feel confused. “Okay so I’ll wake up Deku, you wake up Bakugo and Momo will wake up Todoroki. We’ll just jump on their beds until they get up.” The evil scheme was soon in motion.
You approached the door of their room and carefully twisted the handle, making sure to not create any disturbances. You pushed the door open and looked at all the boys sleeping peacefully. It wasn’t going to be peaceful for much longer.You each took your places and on the count of three flew onto the beds.
“Wake up!” you shouted and jumped onto Bakugo’s bed, bouncing up and down as though it was a trampoline.
“Shut up,” he mumbled tiredly and grabbed onto your ankle, making you stumble and fall onto him in a bit of an interesting position, staring at each other awkwardly. You looked down to realise that you were straddling Bakugo and that he also wasn’t wearing any boxers underneath his pyjama bottoms. His eyes widened and told you to move, but flinched slightly when you finally did, pulling the covers over his lower half. He put his head in his hands and shouted at all of you to ‘get the fuck out.’ You hurried out of the room in embarrassment, Mina and Momo following you as you cursed to yourself.
“What just happened?” Mina asked you worriedly as she closed the door behind her. You told her about the ‘situation’ which was currently being taken care of by Bakugo in the bathroom. “I think he’ll be fine in a bit, don’t worry about it,” she advised you and hugged you lightly and suggested that we all go to the beach, your stomach had been hurting, but you ignored it and agreed.
Later on, after having swam in the salty water and played volleyball with everyone, Mina’s words had proved to be true, Bakugo wasn’t angry, he actually looked like he was having fun, especially when Deku tripped and got a face full of sand. You were all hungry at this point and decided you would go to a restaurant near the beach house, it wasn’t anything fancy so you just decided to wear light blue denim overalls accompanied by a black belt with a white short sleeved crop top.
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You ignored the aching in your lower stomach since you thought it was probably just because you were hungry and tied up your hair into a ponytail. “You ready?” Momo asked as she picked up her phone and purse.
“Yea.”
The dinner actually turned out to be really enjoyable with everyone there, you honestly thought it was going to be chaotic but you managed to have fun. When the sky started turning a dark orange colour and you realised it was getting late, and you all were tired from the day’s activities.
“Alright let’s go back,” everyone agreed and made their way out of the restaurant. As you were walking you saw Bakugo drop his phone and went to get it after realising it wasn’t in his pocket anymore, falling behind the group slightly as you all walked by knowing he’d catch up anyways.
“Hey, um...” he walked up besides you holding out his zip up hoodie, “wrap it around your waist, there’s kind of a problem,” he whispered to you and you suddenly realised why your stomach had been hurting the whole day. Shit. You endured the pain as the cramps kicked in conveniently when you were close the the beach house, not wanting to get any weird looks from strangers. “You okay?” Bakugo asked, acting as though he didn’t really care, you nodded and smiled feebly keeping yourself from crouching down into a little ball.
Once you all arrived home the first thing you did was run towards the shower because you just wanted to clean up and have a shower quickly to relax your muscles after having been in pain for so long. As soon as the hot water hit your shoulders it felt as though the stress melted out of them and you stood there for a minute, enjoying the sauna-like atmosphere the nearly boiling hot shower was creating. It really did help your stomach cramps.
Grabbing the vanilla scented body wash, you remembered that Bakugo had seen the period stain but luckily didn’t make it obvious to everyone and he was actually subtle about it. You pushed your hair out of your face and sighed, feeling the embarrassment wash away as you realised it shouldn’t be something to be ashamed of. Steamed followed you when you stepped out of the shower and you noticed Bakugo’s hoodie hanging on the door, deciding you should probably give it back.
You walked into the living room to see he was the only one there, sitting on the plain leather couch, staring at whatever was on the huge tv. “Hey,” you greeted him and sat down besides him, handing him his hoodie, “thanks for helping me out, here, it’s clean.” He took the hoodie and placed it on the arm of the sofa, getting up to retrieve something since he told you to wait there. You did as you were told and waited patiently until he came back with a handful of snacks and a hot water bottle, accompanied by a cup of chamomile tea ‘to relax you’. “Um, what is this for?” You asked him, confused as to why he was being so nice.
“You’re on your period right? So I thought it would help if I brought some snacks. The tea might help with the cramps, that’s what my mom told me to do when a girl is on her period,” he said nervously and laid the snacks down next to you, scratching the back of his neck. You smiled at him and took the tea, placing it down on the coffee table in front of you and happily took the hot water bottle, shoving it under your shirt to soothe your stomach. You noticed him still looking at you and you smiled.
“Could you stay here?” He looked surprised for a second and grabbed a soft throw blanket to cover the two of you, putting on a movie to watch as you opened a bag of gummy bears and got closer to him, not noticing the blush you had caused to spread across his cheeks.
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fanficimagery · 4 years
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Nobody Puts Baby in the Corner [Part 1 of 2]
Summary: Imagine being the “baby” of the group.
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Words: 2.8K Warnings: Language. I tried my best, anon. I hope you like it either way. Requested by Anonymous who said: hi! i’ve had this idea in my mind of being younger than everyone else in the VS (maybe like 19/20?) and literally everyone calls you Baby like it started as a joke but it’s gotten to the point they’re introducing you to others as “Baby” and they’re all super protective of you and yeah just a cute thought i’ve been having hehe
While you've heard of the Vlog Squad and watched David Dobrik's videos to pass time, you didn't think nothing much of the group who were living their best lives and posting for everyone to see. They seemed like they'd be fun to hang out with, and though you lived quite close to where David apparently lived, you never once rushed to the random pop-ups or ran into any of them when they were out and about.
But that all changed one day when you were playing with your puppy in the park, and you were surprised when David, Natalie, and Jason walked up to you. Natalie had fallen in love at first sight of your Beagle puppy and David chanced walking up to you in hopes of getting his friend some play time with the dog. You were surprised to see them and then quickly explained your surprise, and they were pleased to learn you watched their videos. You had then happily let Natalie play with Milo, the four of you sitting on the ground as you teased Milo with doggie treats. It was then David, Natalie, and Jason learned some about you, the three of them surprised to learn you were not yet twenty-one when David had jokingly invited you out for drinks. Jason grumbled about hanging out with toddlers, and David had giggled as he recorded Natalie and the puppy.
You figured running into them was a once in a lifetime type of deal, so you were surprised to run into David and Natalie again about a week later. While waiting for some food for yourself and your parents, the two of them had walked in to order an outrageous amount of food. They had spotted you first and you were shocked they remembered your name. Then as the three of you had chatted while waiting for your food, David invited you back to his place to eat when he realized you didn't live that far. You had politely declined because you had to get the food back home, but David urged you to join them. He suggested that you could eat with them and their friends, and Natalie suggested she go with you to your house so you could drop off the food, pick up Milo, and then she'd direct you to David's. They were eager to have you join them, and to pick up Milo, that you couldn't say no.
It was a bit surreal to meet Zane, Heath, Mariah, and Todd, but the group welcomed you without even batting an eye. Jason, upon spotting you when he arrived, jokingly referred to you as Baby. Everyone seemed confused, but when they found out why the baby jokes were soon to start. And from that day forward, you were introduced as Baby to everyone else you had yet to meet and the name just stuck.
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You're sitting on the floor of David's living room, a bowl of sliced cucumber in hand and a smaller bowl of Ranch dressing balancing on your knee. David's editing not far from you and Natalie is playing with Milo in the backyard.
The front door opens, someone shouts to see if anyone's home, and you shout back to confirm that there is.
Erin, Carly, and Jeff walk around the corner, the three of them laughing at what they were previously talking about. "Hey, Baby." They all greet.
"Hey, guys." You see Carly glancing around the floor and you grin. "Milo's out back with Nat." She chuckles before walking to the door, Erin walks into the kitchen, and Jeff plops down on the sofa right behind you. "Snack?" You ask, holding the bowl out for him over your shoulder.
"What'd you put on it?"
"Just lemon juice and a sprinkle of salt. There's also Ranch."
Jeff huffs a laugh at your bowl of Ranch, but does accept a couple slices of cucumber. Erin soon joins Jeff on the sofa, and the girls come in from outside with an excited Milo in tow. As Jeff and Erin then attempt to grab your dog's attention, your phone rings with the telltale sound of a Facetime call.
Erin takes the two bowls when you answer the call, you quickly thanking her before one of your other friend's excited face fills the screen and her voice spills out of the speaker. "Happy birthday, bitch!" You cringe and smile in thanks, avoiding the gazes of those around you as they suddenly go still. "We're getting fucked up tonight! You're finally legal!" She squeals.
You sigh. "I don't know, Em. I don't drink much and I'm not too fond of having strangers grind on me."
"Come on, girl!" She groans. "We're in the prime of our lives! You need to let loose at least once in your life."
"Yeah, Baby," Jeff lays out behind you, his face just visible behind your shoulder. "You're in the prime of your life. Go out and have fun."
Your friend's eyes widen on screen and you faintly grin. But before she can question you, David's piping up. "It's your birthday? Why didn't you tell us?"
"Because I don't care for celebrations," you shrug.
"But it's your twenty first!" Natalie says. "You're supposed to let go once you turn legal."
"Oh my god. Our Baby is no longer a baby," Erin realizes. Carly laughs, she busy playing with Milo again. These people really loved dogs.
When you meet your friend's gaze on the phone, you sigh yet again. "Em, this is Jeff. Don't even think about it. I forbid it."
"But-"
"Nope. Now if you want me to go out tonight, you'll forget all about the hot person behind me and text me where I'm supposed to meet you guys tonight. Okay? Love you. Bye."
As soon as you drop your phone beside you, your friends are on you.
"It's your birthday!? Oh my god," Natalie says. "I can't believe you hid it from us."
You laugh sheepishly. "I didn't exactly hide it. I just- I didn't tell you. I didn't want you guys to feel obligated to get me anything or do something."
"But you're twenty-one," Carly says. "That's huge!"
"Not really. It's rare that I'll have a drink. I'm not too eager to get shit-faced and wake up regretting my life's choices."
"Well tonight you are," Natalie says. "Come on. We'll raid my closet for an outfit and get you ready."
"But-"
"No buts," David muses. "You have this night with your friends and then next week you'll celebrate with us."
"But Milo," you say, picking up your Beagle and holding his face to your cheek. "I can't leave him all alone."
"On it." Jeff takes Milo from you and you pout at him. "What? The sitter's got Nerf for the night. I'm not doing anything."
Chuckling lightly, you let Natalie and Erin pull you up to your feet. Carly follows behind you and you readily start picking through a drawer of your stuff in Natalie's room for underwear you kept there for emergencies. She hands you a towel and a robe, and instructs you to not wash your hair. You oblige her, taking extra care to pamper yourself in the shower before making your way back to her room.
Mariah has now joined them, she surprising you with a cupcake and a singular candle. They quietly sing happy birthday to you as to not attract all the boys, and snap several pictures to post later. Carly then does your hair and Natalie your makeup. Once they're done, you get to choose between four outfits they had put together and laid out on the bed.
One outfit in particular catches your attention- anything that sparkled was a weakness of yours- and you spend a little too long staring at the metallic sequined crop top with a plunging v-neck.
"Why don't you try it on?" Carly asks.
You huff. "And risk flashing my tits? No thanks."
"That's what the tape is for." Mariah laughs.
Natalie and Mariah then help you into the crop top, taping it down so you don't flash anyone when you no doubt let go at the club later that night. The top pairs with high waisted, faux leather shorts that fit almost like a second skin and a pair of chunky heeled boots that stop just above your knee. You have to endure a mini-photoshoot for your friends before they let you out of the room where they then direct you to the kitchen without even addressing the boys.
"A round of shots for the birthday girl," Natalie says, immediately seeking out a bottle of liquor and shot glasses. Carly, Erin, and Mariah cheer. Shots are poured and then passed out, you grabbing it and raising it in front of you so Natalie could finish her toast. "May you let loose, have fun, and call us from a jail cell so one of us can go bail you out."
"Don't jinx me!" The girls all laugh and then you down your shot, grimacing.
There's a sudden commotion as others arrive and you make small talk with Erin and Carly as more people enter the kitchen.
"Oh hey, when did we get a new hot gi- oh my god, it's Baby!" You whirl around at the sound of your name, slowly grinning at Todd's gobsmacked expression. You wink.
"Damn, babygirl," Zane whistles, "who is you trying to impress?"
"Alright, alright!" David shouts, camera recording. "Everyone gather 'round." Zane, Todd, Heath, and Jeff enter the kitchen, everyone gathering the kitchen island. "So today is Baby's twenty-first birthday-"
"WHAT?!"
"Shut up, Zane, and let me finish." Everyone laughs. "As I said before I was rudely interrupted, today is Baby's twenty-first birthday. She didn't tell us because she didn't want presents or a party-"
"BOOOO!"
"-so tonight she's going out with a few friends-"
"Not dressed like that, she's not!" Heath then interrupts.
You and the girls all cackle, even more so when the other boys are seen vaguely nodding along.
"But next week she's all ours. So, Baby," David says, coming in closer so the camera is practically in your face, "any last words before you're too drunk to make good choices?"
"Yeah. If my tits pop out of this shirt, I'm throat punching Natalie for encouraging me to wear it."
"Hey!"
More laughter rings out and you can't help but laugh as Zane, Todd, and David struggle to not look at your chest.
"Jesus, Baby," Heath mumbles. "Will you please change?"
"Nope."
"If you don't change, we're following you to the club," Jeff says.
You grin. "Well then I guess you're following me to the club."
Thirty minutes later, you're sitting on Todd's lap on one of the middle seats in David's Tesla. He and Jason are in the front, you, Todd, Jeff, and Zane in the middle, and Heath and Ilya in the back.
"You know, I didn't think you were actually serious that you'd accompany me to the club," you say. "Or pick up Jason and Ilya."
Ilya laughs from the back seat. "Todd sent me a pic of your.. chest. I was torn between wanting to put a shirt on you and ogling the picture some more."
"Todd!" David laughs. "You didn't?!"
"I'm sorry!" He laughs.
"She's like our baby sister, man," Jeff chuckles. "What is wrong with you?"
Todd laughs, his arms lazily wrapped around your waist. "I was so confused! I mean, I know it's Baby, but.."
"We ain't never really seen Baby's boobs on display like this. It's confusing. And upsetting," Zane says.
"Now you boys know how it feels for us girls when you walk around in nothing but your boxer briefs. I mean, you guys are like family. Sort of. But you're all still so pretty. It's confusing."
The rest of the drive doesn't take very long and soon enough David's pulling up to the club your girl friends are all waiting outside of. And before you can open the door, Todd's holding on tighter as Jason turns around in his seat. David records what comes next.
"Ground rules," Jason says, putting on a mock serious expression. "Very little alcohol, no drugs, no boys, no hook-ups, no-"
"Yes, dad, I get it. Have fun, but not too much fun." You sigh. "Can I go now?"
"Listen here, young lady." You snort and all the boys snicker at Jason's tone. "You are only just barely legal-legal. You're lucky I'm even considering letting you out of this car!"
"I love you guys, but you're all idiots. I'm going now." You tap on Toddy's arm to let go, which he does, and you make your escape soon after.
Then making sure the tape has done its job and kept you covered, you pull down on your shorts from where they'd ridden up. You wave to the boys as soon as the door closes, but you only make it a few feet before Jason's voice is ringing out.
"Call us if you run into any trouble! We mean it, Baby!"
You stumble and glare over your shoulder when people start to stare, you flipping off all the boys now laughing. Your girl friends then walk up to you, staring between you and the car of boys in amusement. "Don't ask," you grumble. "I need a drink asap."
          - X - X - X - X - X -
By the time you're stumbling out of the club, every one of your girls are completely smashed. Makeup is smudged, shoes are in their hands, and one of your girls is a crying mess. Your mind is a little fuzzy and some things look like they're in slow motion when you move a little too fast. Thankfully, however, you had enough of your wits about to order an Uber for the girls and call David to come pick you up just because.
The Uber gets there before David, so you quickly wrangle up the girls and get them in the van. Then left alone, you take a seat on the curb and mess about on your phone to keep yourself occupied. Your Instagram has blown up with notifications from all the sloppy pictures your girls had posted and tagged you in, and all the comments your other group of friends had left on them.
There's whistling behind you, followed by some catcalls that make you slightly uncomfortable, but you do your best to ignore it.
Finally the familiar white Tesla pulls up and you sigh in relief. The front passenger window rolls down and Todd's beaming smile greets you. "Someone doesn't look like they've had fun."
"I was until some idiots ruined it."
"Aw, Baby, whose asses do we have to kick?"
You huff a laugh as you attempt to get up, only to trip and bump into the side of David's car. You can hear him cackling from the inside. The back passenger door opens, and Zane and Jeff are recording you with their phones.
"Seriously, Baby, who pissed you off?"
"Just some-"
"Yeah, sweetheart, flash us those tits!"
The shouting startles you and you grimace, looking towards the source of crude remark. The guy who shouted, plus all his friends, laugh as they shove each other around and continue staring at you. Todd leans his head further out the window and Zane halfway exits the car.
"Flash us your tits! Flash us your tits!"
"Suck my dick!" You suddenly bark back, your anger spiking. The catcalling morons seem startled you spoke back, they still laughing but no longer chanting. "What? You think it's cute to act like jackasses? You wanna see tits so bad, go home and jerk off to PornHub."
"You tell 'em, girl!" A random group of girls cheer you on.
"Fuck, Zane, get her in the car!" Jeff says.
"You wanna go, you little bitch? Lets go, motherfucker!"
"Zane, grab Baby!"
You start to walk off, but arms wrap around your waist and pull you back.
"Yo, man, come get your girl! She's fuckin' crazy."
"What the hell did you just say?" Zane stills and suddenly you're the one nudging Zane back to prevent him from marching up and starting a fight.
Suddenly David's in your face, the light on his camera blinding as he laughs in your and Zane's face. Todd and Jeff do their best to calm the situation, and then you're being herded into the Tesla. And even though there's two perfectly empty seats in the back, you're seated on Zane's lap in the middle seat with Jeff beside you.
"Are you kidding me right now?" Jeff suddenly muses, chuckling the further David gets from the club. "You went from 0 to 100 in a blink."
You frown. "They started it. I ignored it at first, but the chanting really got under my skin."
"You're a mean drunk," Todd giggles. "You went off on those guys. I seriously can't wait until next week."
"I can. Everything feels super slow right now. It's almost making me dizzy." Since you're sitting sideways in Zane's lap, you place your head on his shoulder and snuggle in. "This sucks."
"No, no, no. Don't you dare puke in my car."
You burp. "No promises."
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meyeselph · 3 years
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Gwenpool: Desperate Misanthrope's Confused Angst
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Showtime
Ms. Pool woke up in a familiar room. Not in Krakoa - there are no mutants around. This isn’t a story about that. Look, honestly, without an actual Gwenpool series and the constant breaks in her comics appearance I can’t even begin to give a fuck. I cancelled my marvel universe subbie. I might get back to my stories but single issues are iffy. I read fast and don’t pore over the artwork. So I get 10 minutes of entertainment for….FIVE DOLLARS? When did this happen? Jeezus.
Who even reads comics anymore?
Anyway, long story short, Gwen got out of bed and recognized the room as her old one from the “old times.” The dark times. The ‘not running around in pink and white outfits and shooting people’ times. She panicked (Been there. It is what it is though). The only way out of trauma is through.
She dressed in old clothes, immediately hit by old smells, she couldn’t help but cry. Was it all a dream? Have I gone insane (again)? All the usual self doubts cropped up. I mean, really, if you think this kind of thing didn’t pass through her mind regularly why don’t you transport yourself to a comic book universe?
Oh, you can’t?
Oh. It isn’t actually possible for you and I’m stupid for suggesting it. So, yeah. If it actually happened and you kept that attitude then the logical assumption for a normie is a mental breakdown. Trick for Gwen, though, is it's probably always been both real and her being nuts.
So she goes downstairs to the kitchen to figure out why this is happening and Evil Gwen is having cereal. Let's say cocoa puffs. I’ve been thinking about those recently. You ever remember cereal as something worth cherishing. Not as just bullshit that TV convinced you to want? God damn, now I want Cookie Crisp. Cookie Crisp wasn’t even ever that good. Why do I want Cookie Crisp?
So also sitting around the table were the faceless versions of her father, mother, and her brother. Just chilling. No BD. Seen Eternal Sunshine of The Spotless Mind?
Yes, I know that references aren’t jokes - fuck you, I’m painting a picture and I CAN’T PAINT, THAT’S WHY THIS ISN’T A COMIC. Fucks sake. Anyway. So, Gwen is so creeped out that she just sits her butt down by Evil Gwen as if she’s the comforting presence here.
Her name’s too long. Let’s call Evil Gwen uh…….Gren. You know, like Grendel from Beowulf. I haven’t actually read Beowulf and this is all a little confusing but I'm solving problems here. Writing this is harder for me than you would think so it’s best to keep things flowing off the cuff. That’s the Gwenpool™ style anyway, isn’t it? Are you laughing yet? IMPROV. “YES AND” MY SHIT, READER!
“So, you ever really look into the retconned past thing, hun?” Gren said, moving her tongue around her food. Being gross as an attempt to be properly evil. She swallowed before continuing. “This is all I could really put together on short notice but i’m pretty sure what the future people created, all that stuff to try and trick you, it was all bullshit.”
“What do you mean? Are you trying to convince me to go all psycho like you again?” Gwen asked, exasperated, realizing she was now back in the whole ‘fuck with Gwen to decide her fate’ song and dance routine from the end of her first arc.
“Nah, not really.” Gren said. A hammer appeared in her hands out of nowhere and Gren swung it into their fake father’s head, snapping his neck..
“DAD!” Gwen instinctively cried as she saw her father’s body slump to the floor. Gren slapped Gwen’s face. “That’s it,” Gren said, “this is what the trick was.This is a poorly created character in a fictional story. Meant to manipulate you into attaching your concept of “father” to it. Even his finished version in the original comics run wasn’t THAT well drawn. Your dad read like a boomer’s idea of a responsible parent. You were going through a mental crisis and struggling to find purpose in life and his genius idea was get a shitty low paying job and suck it up?”
Gren turned to their brother, pushed his face to the table and smashed the back of his skull. . “Brother dearest, too. Going right along with their victim blaming. He gaslighted you as if what you were going through was just you being ‘irresponsible.’ Bitch, people working a minimum wage job aren’t somehow not impoverished and miserable because they get some of that ‘honest work’ that folks keep badgering on about. Minimum wage work is occupied by many physically and mentally disabled people held hostage; they’re people society only pretends to care about. Then they turn it all into you acting like some world ending threat. No questions about what drove you to the edge in the first place. You are just ‘unstable,’ so you’re just a problem to be solved. They say, ‘Let’s all solve this girl being upset and on edge by ruining her concept of self, reality, and memory.’ Brilliant!”
Gwen barely processed this in horror. Gren then slit the poor facsimile of their mother’s throat while continuing to rant, “You see people die all the time, Gwen. Half of the time you are doing the killing. You do it because it’s in a story. In a story the NPCs don’t matter and, after all, your original schtick in the story was to be kill-crazy. The non-marketable characters can be replaced or retconned at the stroke of the artist’s pen.” Gren leans forward as she pulls a Gwenpool mask over Gwens face. “Then the writers convince you that you have some middle class milk toast family and you take abuse and subsume your emotional needs because the problem MUST be you. You aren’t ‘normal’ so you have to be fixed.”
Gwen wiped her eyes over the mask and sighed. A bit of fire filled her gut as she stared at Gren. “So fucking what? You want me to go on a killing spree and be a big time villain to get myself a nice, shiny permanent big bad status? That’s how I stay around right? Just build my legacy on bodies?”
Gren scoffed “You already lost that fight, girly. Where do you think we are? Because this ain’t Marvel Comics.”
Confused, Gwen blinked and tried reaching for the page margins, finding nothing. Wait….why was everything on this page so ill defined and undetailed? Wait? Why was the story in kinda wobbly third person past tense?
Gwen sighed “Oh. I’m in a fanfic. I guess the publishing fight is for another day eh?”
“My advice, personally,” Gren stated, “is that you consider the lobster.”
“Wait, what the fuck?”
Gren pulled aside the kitchen curtains revealing the face of a giant lobster, its claws tapping on the glass. The lobster muttering gutterally about personal responsibility.
“Because there’s a couple thousand giant lobsters outside that would like to claw you until you read their book.”
--
Scared of Girls
On the rooftop, Gren shoved a high powered rifle into Gwen’s hands while she handled the close range threats. So, this conversation they’re about to have is important. Sniping puts Gwen into a sort of zen space, so that’s a better task to keep her focused, after all.
“So, what? You wanted me to internalize that my “origin story” is bullshit? Okay, what does that accomplish, then?” Gwen asked in a bit of a deadpan. She was so tired today. Not really feeling her happy go lucky energy. More like a “happy go fucky” energy. It was hard to always be on a knife's edge. Still the rifle’s kick into her shoulder was satisfying as she blew through two of the creepy looking lobsters at once. “Also, why the lobsters?”
Gren considered this. “Okay, last question first, I had to experiment a lot and do a lot of research to construct this place for your learning and healing in fanfic form....These buddies are a failed experiment of mine that I repurposed because the fic needed more action. Isn’t that right, giant enemy crap?” As she peppers the nearest goon with a hail of shotgun pellets the entire throng of them burst out, sharply muttering about divine symbols.
“As for what I'm trying to teach you, it’s that you aren’t reaching your potential.” Gren grumpily huffed.
“Duh,” Gwen reloads, “I mean you just killed a mannequin version of the voice in my head that says that to me every day.” one of those crustaceans talks about feminine symbolism while she decides on her next target.
“Not like fake daddy’s ‘Be a responsible member of society by paying your taxes’ type of potential. I mean your creative and emotional potential.” Gren flipped off the slavering throng of monsters, noticing they were starting to keep their distance from the roof.
“I never did finish that fanfic idea I had.” Gwen mused.
“God, don’t mention that,” Gren thrusts a finger at Gwenpool. “Not that I don’t respect fanfic, but when comic book writers make you and Kamala squee about fanfiction to try and relate to “the kids” it comes across as so condescending.”
“Really? I mean…..I'm sure it’s meant as support for the concept?”
“Most fucking superhero comics are just legalized fanfiction! The people who created the characters are either long gone or working on someone else’s characters! They just think they are so much better because they got fucking paid. They can’t imagine themselves as on the same playing field as fanficcers even though most of them have the same level of connection to the roots of the work as anyone else.” Gren groused loudly as she seemed to pull Reed Richards out of nowhere.
Confused, Reed looked around until his eyes met Gwen’s.“Oh great, you again.” Reed groaned as he turned to survey the piles of lobster gibs while Gwen cheered the lobster forces’ retreat with a resounding “EDF, EDF!”. The scattered creatures skittered amongst the bland scenery. It looked like a suburban neighborhood but someone forgot to color in the sky….or write that the sky had color. A castle hung out in the distance breaking up the generic normalcy and lay cloaked in shadow despite being surrounded by an endless white void.
“And…..black….you?” Reed pointed to Gren, raising an eyebrow.
“Yeah, I have an evil future self….well I stopped that future so it’s an….evil...alternate timeline self?” Gwen said with a nervous chuckle, abandoning the kill quest for the minute and rested her rifle on the roof.
“Ah. Yeah I’ve been down that road. It’s a rather common occurrence. Multiverse being what it is.” Reed laughed heartily while putting his hands on his hips.
“I’m not sure I’m evil, honestly,” Gren interjected. “I think I’m just really fucking grumpy and I’m slightly more gung-ho on the homicide. Considering Gwen’s already one of the more kill crazy characters on the roster it’s not that much of a distinction.” Gren flipped her cape. “My main distinction is I don’t like that meme from The Incredibles! You can just make it so the cape detaches automatically when it’s pulled hard enough!”
“You could still have it tangled up around your face.” Reed pointed out in his standard know-it-all fashion.
“Don’t make me go into fuck wife mode, stretch.” Gren spat. “Okay, anyway, so I brought him here to illustrate a point. Reed. Explain particle physics to me as a laymen.”
“Huh...i’m not sure why but okay. Particle physics (also known as high energy physics) is a branch of physics that studies the nature of the particles that constitute matter and radiation. Although the word particle can refer to various types of very small objects (e.g. protons, gas particles, or even household dust), particle physics usually investigates the irreducibly smallest detectable particles and the fundamental interactions necessary to explain their behaviour. In current understanding, these elementary particles are excitations of the quantum fields that also govern their interactions. The currently dominant theory explaining these fundamental particles and fields, along with their dynamics, is called the Standard Model. Thus, modern particle physics generally investigates the Standard Model and its various possible extensions, e.g. to the newest "known" particle, the Higgs boson, or even to the oldest known force field, gravity.” Reed rattled this off rather mechanically.
Gren then took out her phone and showed Gwen the Wikipedia article on “Particle Physics,” which is naturally the same words that Reed had regurgitated above, just without any formatting and, again, on a phone.
“Reed can’t be a genius in any subject unless he’s written by a genius in that subject. That’s how stories work. Everyone is limited by the understanding and capabilities of the writer. Same with your origin story and all the people you’ve interacted with. If you are as ‘meta’ as you think you are then you have to realize that you aren’t actually talking to people. You are talking to the writer. Dr. Strange didn’t rewrite your existence to be a part of the Marvel Universe. As far as most of Marvel continuity goes Dr. Strange was never there and doesn’t know or care about his MCU casting…..Hey Reed, buzz off please before the conversation pivots to why you haven’t cured all known diseases.”
Reed looked a little surprised but then pulled out a teleportation device (of course he has one) and blipped away with a shrug.
“How awkward is that going to be when he enters the MCU after Kamala is already introduced with a very similar power set?” Gwen chuckled.
“Keep up the way you’ve been going and you’ll never see it. I’m not exactly expecting a young blonde girl casting call for Deadpool 3 and that’s your best bet.” Gren snarked. Gwen winced with a sigh.
“I don’t get what I'm doing wrong. I have a fanbase comparable to some of the characters that have already shown up but I can’t even get comics written about me most of the time. An MCU push seems unlikely. They would literally have to deal with completely recontextualizing my powers and gimmick”
“Let’s ask her what you should do.” Gren motioned her way to the suddenly appearing long hair future Gwen, looming over them like The Attack of the 50 foot Woman for some reason. Dwarfing the roof they are on. Let’s call her BIGwen!
--
Gold Guns Girls
As BIGwen acclimated to her surroundings she stubbed her toe on a car, dramatically flipping it so that it took out a few more lobsters before caving in a nearby house. The lamentations about clean rooms soaring as the remaining couple dozen of them attempt to clean up some of the bodies of their fallen kin. The large and sort-of-in-charge Gwen hissed in pain and adjusted her boot. Getting her balance as best as possible she muttered curses that traveled rather well considering the lung capacity of a giant.
“You know,” Gren started, “I wasn’t expecting much from our previous uses of the ‘make her big for emphasis’ trick, but it really does only work as a vague ghostly background element. I didn’t just want it to be ‘oh, here's a third Gwen for the conversation, though. Would lack umph.”
“ Yeah, I get it, but staring at my own giant taint is unsettling.” Gwen muttered.
“I’d still, hit it.” Gren grinned, then immediately got punched in the arm. “OWWW! Look, I’m the evil one here and we’re in a fanfic. I’m allowed to make internet fetish jokes.”
“And I’m allowed to hit you for it.”.
“Dirty lampshading goody two shoes. Don’t act like half your fanbase isn’t thirsty. It’s “insert current year argument”, all art is sexy to someone.” Gren complained back,rubbing her arm before hopping off the roof. Gwen followed while listening as patiently as she could considering how many changes in topic her evil-caped self is going through to get to her point. “This chick is the reason you’ve been on the path of good girl. Some vague idea that in the future everything will work out for the best. HEY, DOWN HERE, BIG SHOW!” Gren waved at BIGwen and she looked down curiously.
“Yeah what??” BIGwen responded in a booming and agitated tone. Honestly, being in this fic made every version of Gwen a little grumpy.
“How’s she supposed to be a popular hero that makes it into the MCU and has a stable publication history?” Gren asked.
“Fuck if I know.” Came BIGwen’s response. “Have you tried growing your hair out?”
“Rub it in,” Gwen muttered under her breath, “I’m not gonna lie, I’m kind of depressed now.” Gwen said as she sat on an abandoned car.
Gren hopped on the roof of the car, patting Gwen’s shoulder before squatting with enough force to flex the car’s shocks like a rocking chair just to amuse herself. “Future “good” Gwen wasn’t an actual plot point, it was a call to action to the fans to make fanfic like this and support the character outside of the actual Canon. Chris didn’t trust that Marvel would treat the character right. That, and your obsession with getting a new book, are both the writer’s attempt to turn a marketing tactic into fan engagement. If you want to be real then that makes the fans want you to be real even more, too.”
Gwen sighs heavily and leans her chin on one hand. “I mean...the time traveling through the life of an NPC fan complete with a Never Ending Story reference was a bit sappy even by the standard we sometimes set...damn it it really was just kind of a fan manipulation trick wasn’t it?”
BIGwen Sat down on the street next to them and crossed her legs. “Hey, little me. Don’t get too down. I mean it worked for the most part. You have a healthy cult following. Characters have survived on less and there are worse things to be known for then as a fan first character”
“But I have to fight for attention all the damn time, though. It’s so easy for Wade with his fucking meme bullshit. He even gets runoff enthusiasm from me. Jeff the land shark is all over Oldpool online” Gwen felt rather heavy and tired all of a sudden. Marvel editorial forcing a gun to your head is not a fun way to be.
“All that fight is hell on the fanbase too.” Gren sighed. “Advocating for shit, getting crumbs and being expected to accept it while Disney lavishes all the attention based on some bullshit numbers game. Even if you make it into the MCU will it be a Batroc style cameo with obligatory ‘killed off in case we don’t feel like paying the actor again later.’ Will it be an emotionally rounded character or an ambush bug style joke? The thing is. You're Not the one fighting and you never were.”
“The fuck do you mean?”
“This version of her doesn’t know?” BIGwen whimpered.
“You aren’t real, Gwen.”
--
Head Like a Haunted House
“No….we aren’t having this conversation. Fuck you fuck you i’m not a fucking Nihlist and i’m not going to do this right now.” Gwen said as she scrambled off of the car and pulled out some guns. BIGwen then picked her up off the ground.
“You need to hear this, Gwen,” BIGwen boomed. “The gimmick has run its course. It’s fucking with your canon. You’re never going to be a marketable character keeping up a half fourth-wall Kayfabe”
Gren climbed onto BIGwen’s Shoulders and perched over Gwen all menacing like. “You need to listen. I’ve been trying to ease you into this. Making things more meta slowly until you were ready but it was never going to be easy.”
One of Gwen’s guns was fired from it’s holster and pierced one of BIGwen’s fingers. BIGwen screamed and her grip loosened. Soon Gwen was on the move running up her arm and firing at Gren, who dodged like the nimble and cute badass she is. “Don’t do this Gwen. Just because it doesn’t matter to the comic version of you doesn’t mean it doesn’t matter.”
“I’m a real person god damn it! I read the comics out there! I came in! That’s why I know shit I shouldn't know. That’s what I am! THAT’S ALL I AM!” Gwen shrieked as she pulled out a sword from hammer-space and decapitated BIGwen. Suddenly a mess of colored streamers and a pile of Mickey Mouse merch tumbled out. Look, I am busy right now. Gwen is still slashing at my ass. I'm not going to explain it.
For some reason now the remaining lobsters were helping Gren. For Gwen’s own good you understand. This is proof that I’m right for some reason.
Gwen pulled out a revolver, firing pumpkin sized holes in lobsters who were still wailing about self actualization. She fully planned on shoving a sword up her evil self’s ass and getting rid of this doppelganger shit for good. Which is total bullshit by the way. She totally just cut off Gren’s leg because what the fuck you mean I’m not real? I’m going to be real all over your corpse.
Gren didn’t really think that was even a good comeback and also thought you should probably say it instead of meta willing the smack talk into existence, otherwise this fanfic is going to read like trash. Also, Gren’s leg wasn’t actually cut off. In a puff of smoke it is revealed that the cut off leg is a log and her leg is fine. Gren is a ninja now, believe it.
Gwen proceeded to do a sick ass CQC judo throw on Gren and then grab her cape and wrap it around her face like Reed suggested. Callbacks for the win! Callbacks to Checkov’s gun ideas always lead to victory in fights! She then totally shot at her and such.
But the bullet was caught by the cape because the cape was a symbiote! That’s right Gren is also GRENOM!...boy that sounds stupid. Anywho, the cape was no longer around her face and the fight continued and Gren now ALSO had extra powers and special wizard-symbiote armor (that would only show up in the MCU version if Marvel finally got the Sony characters back). The meta powers work like shit in text but this would be really good in CGI or animation if Marvel wanted to adapt this fic and give the writer lots of money. Gren still has more experience with them, though, and Gwen can’t really just kill her way out of this fic so she has to just let the story play out.
…...eh?....oh Gwen’s crying. I love/am you girl but we gotta work on the crying. Fucks sake this is harder than I thought. I’m depressed now too. Well I'll try to get the writing back on track so you guys can see what is going on. Even the lobsters are minding their manners now. Chill vibes, guys.
“The marvel character page for Gwenpool says, and I quote:
Gwenpool arrived in the Marvel Universe from the “real world,” but has wasted no time in making the most of her time in her fictional universe. Using her knowledge of comics to her advantage, Gwenpool causes and solves problems for her fellow heroes.”
Gren drags a lobster corpse slowly toward Gwen and sits on its tail as she talks to her. Taking her time to really scrape the lobster against the ground, smearing the gore on the pavement. Not that it was heavy for her or anything. Totally still has that symbiote, which would make moving it easy. Totally wasn’t a detail added in the second revision of the fic slightly before the lobsters were added.
“The words “Real world” are in quotation marks in that wiki. Real people don’t make it into comics because fiction isn’t real. Half of your versions barely make use of the ‘real person’ gimmick because it’s too meta by half and not every writer wants to waste time justifying it. So they just treat it like Deadpool’s medium awareness. Which it mostly is.”
“I really am just a fucking rip off distaff character.” Gwen moans. “Just a Gwen combined with a Pool. I’m worse than the Batman who laughs. I never mattered because I was never real”
“Fuck don’t say that. You were made with love and care by a team of creators who took a weird offshoot idea and built out a compelling metafiction idea and a likeable protagonist off of it. They just didn’t have the time and foresight to go far enough.” Gren sighed.
“Far enough?” Gwen sniffed as she was pulled up to her feet and dragged toward one of the big castles. As they walked Gren kicked along a Mickey Mouse doll that had rolled out of BIGwen’s severed head. Every time it bounced it cheerfully said ‘hahah. I love you!’
“Too much haha, not enough trauma. You’re not just a joke character.” Gren said as she kicked the Mickey doll into the big front door of the castle. The shadowy thing of course lighting up and being all fantasy and shit as the door opened.
“Well I did end both of my comic runs pretty mopey.”
“Damn right you did. When the jokes run thin they run to your real bread and butter. You’re an empathy machine.” As Gren shoves Gwen through the gate they are swallowed up in the castle, going dark again. “Let’s getcha sad clown on.”
--
Never there
“See, what evil me should have been telling you about in the original run is how to find meaning and purpose when technically nothing means anything. Comic book characters live in a world without real death and suffering. It’s all a puppet show version of real pain and real emotion meant to bring that out of an audience.” Gren opined as they walked through a black void to a couch floating in a nothing area lit only by the static of an old TV.
“Can we turn on a light?” Gwen asked as she sat on the couch. Gren sat on another recliner that suddenly appeared and put her feet up.
“Fuck off. Ambiance is a thing. We aren’t having a ‘lights on with something fun on the TV’ conversation. So look, I am not really ‘evil gwen.’ I’m half an author insert and half a plot device. If we are talking about the reality of the story you are basically talking to yourself. I am speaking about the things you don’t want to admit to yourself. You know, you’ve seen this kind of story sorta... right?” Gren picked up the remote and frustratedly changed channels between a bunch of vaguely illustrative footage on the TV, not finding anything that worked. A lot of black and white footage of trains for some reason. Just what comes to mind when I think of documentary footage? Weird.
“I am not sure how to illustrate this shit visually and this is a text story anyway so I would have to explain the illustration,” Gren griped.
“I basically get it. It’s not that uncommon a trope.” Gwen nodded.
“Because of the level of meta we are on right now we have to really acknowledge that you are basically an author insert, too. I mean, to a certain extent every version of you is more the writer that is working with your character at the time than a set character.” Gren said as she settled on a visual of Gwen being pushed out the window by her own narration text in the original comic run. When all else fails, resort to footage from the last story. That way people can look it up online!
“Right here is where the character crystallized in the mind of the author of the current fic we are in. A vague suicide metaphor wrapped up in the flavor of self destructive escapism. Your parents in the story thought it was a suicide attempt on at least some level. This is serious business. Not just a girl who doesn’t like work and can’t finish her fanfic. In this comic you are built on this understanding. The writer of this fic has ADHD and autism. So his version of you more or less has it, too. Writers bring themselves with them into their work.”
Gwen nods and takes a deep breath. “I….I can feel it. Like the world is closing around you. You aren’t built for anything that anyone wants from you. The one thing you really believe in, the one thing that really defines you, the stories in your head…..it’s just not enough.
You can’t trust you’ll ever make it with writing because you can barely write. You barely have the energy to do anything but wish that you weren’t you. What if someone actually listened? Actually believed in you and whisked you away somewhere else where the world would fit your needs? What if you were someplace you could be someone else, someone strong and confident?”
“Yeah. Like a funny anti hero in a comic for instance.” Gren nodded. “But the original comics sort of left the theme on the table. They were captured by the misconception of Gwen as the problem and not a person who needed help. All that desperation that real fans of the character might feel just bundled up into love for this character that really ‘gets’ them but Marvel doesn’t ‘get’ the character. They won't use her. They won’t go past vaguely gesturing at her mental issues and moving on. They saved the angst for Wandavision.” Gren scoffs.
“I mean the show was okay but they literally have a character built entirely on the theme of escapism and trauma. One that’s custom built for mind-screw visuals and reality bending plots and they think she’s just a lazy fangirl who really likes guns that they can sit beside Deadpool sometimes and stick in the X-Men’s bloated background character roster when they don’t need her.”
Gren leads Gwen off the couch and deeper into the void where a door to a bedroom waits. A room like her own, absolutely slopping over with old toys of comic book characters. An unclean messy space in a run-down house that smells faintly of cigarette smoke. Huddled in bed, reading an 80s era X-men comic with a flashlight, is a 12 year old Gwen.
“This is never going to be canon but this is the version of Gwen in this fic. She can’t stop crying at school. Things that shouldn’t be hard are so hard and she can’t explain why. Everyone says she’s making excuses. Meanwhile her mother is fucked out of her mind on pain killers and her step father killed himself last year ‘cleaning his gun’ while drunk. You know exactly what is on her mind right now?” Gren says as she gestures at the girl.
“I wish the superheroes would save me from this.”
“They won’t. They can’t. They were never meant to.” Gren Slams the door loudly on the scene.
“That is the emotional core of Gwenpool in this fic. The desperation that so many of the fans down here in the fucking muck of the real world feel. Poor and emotionally unfulfilled. Confused and vulnerable. If Disney and Marvel gave two fucking shits about people like that they wouldn’t waste as many stories as they do. They wouldn’t just use untold wealth to make expensive escapist stories with the military. Their gestures toward progressive ideas that they occasionally make in their stories would be THE ENTIRE POINT of their stories and the actual thing they used that money for instead of lobbying the government to keep Mickey Mouse out of the public domain.
“Disney has the power yet they save a fucking miniscule fraction of who they could. Saving people doesn’t make money.”
--
When I Get To The Green Building
Gren stormed through the void. The scene disintegrated around her as Gwen followed. Both now in a bit of a sour mood but with newfound determination.
“Come to think of it. Why is the fucking Hulk getting to fight for social justice in the comics? Why are they making a gay alternate universe Captain America? Why are they grasping at straws so hard to find characters that get to advocate and I am just sitting on a fucking island being grumpy?” Gwen groused. “I’m pretty sure I’m pansexual….at least in this fic. I could advocate for a bunch of shit at once.”
“You have a youth fanbase, a unique story and you technically aren’t an alternate universe version of fucking anything no matter how many people still think you are a Stacey. They made a fucking ‘for the fans’ character and then neglected it. Presumably because some fucking money making metric didn’t pan out despite the comics just being an MCU test kitchen and IP farm anyway.”
“You’re a fucking check mark on a ledger. I don’t even know if anyone technically created Gwenpool as a whole and Disney/Marvel can give the character to whoever they want to do whatever they want completely separate from what the fanbase wants and needs because she isn’t established. The IP landlords have spoken. The fans haven’t risen to enough ‘buy my merch’ calls to action to invest more resources. So tease endlessly until that changes.”
“Gah. Now I'm actually as pissed as you are.” Gwen said as she started fiddling with her guns. “Who do I kill?”
“We can’t do shit. You’re not even a character at this point. You are a meme for an underused character.” Gren smirked all evil like. “See but that’s it. You aren’t just a meme. You’re a MEME.”
“Uhm...I don't follow.”
“Like the concept of Justice. Gwenpool is an idea. Defined entirely by how people who engage with the idea choose to engage with it. The IP law means Disney owns Gwenpool but they don’t own how Gwenpool is perceived. Just like we as a people decide what justice is through popular consent we also decide what Gwenpool is. You see they made a character for the fans…..in my opinion that means the fans can do as they like with it even if it makes Disney uncomfortable.”
“I mean they can’t even stop porn of their characters just because of the sheer volume of the problem. I suppose people could do whatever.” Gwen nodded.
“Exactly. So the fans should just fucking Occupy Gwenpool!” Gren said as she flipped her cape dramatically with a mad smile on her face. That’s right. She was Dirtbag Leftist Gwen all along!
“Squat on that IP. Make Gwenpool a mental health advocate. Make her an LGBTQ activist. Make her fight for social and financial justice so hard that Bruce Banner looks like a poser. Make her talk shit about politicians who put their career ahead of the people. Do all the shit that makes the comicsgate crowd sad. Keep politics in our stories! Rally around that pink and white ass so hard they have to notice and then tie it all to the fact that Disney has great power and with great power they take no responsibility for how shitty the world is.”
“ If they are going to fuck Gwenpool fans they gotta learn Gwenpool fans fuck back. We have already proven we can make all kinds of cool shit. Let’s get serious and make more, harder, faster! Get a hashtag or some shit. They can't DMCA all of us! GWEN IS OURS WE JUST HAVE TO REACH OUT AND TAKE IT. Then they either respect the character and her fans or they just hit a PR disaster.”
“Marvel/Disney neglects fan focused cult character themed protest movements. Proves they are only progressive when it makes them money. They’re so worried about Mickey ending up in the public domain? We’re the public domain! After our entire lives stannin their characters and buyin their merch building them from an animation house into a juggernaut they are just another weight on top of the boot on our necks. They have to take responsibility!” At this point Gren is pretty much ranting maniacally and neglecting the actual writing of the story so this is Gwen taking over to wrap up.
Guys I may not be ‘the real Gwen’ but really, isn’t the version of Gwen that actually came from the real world all of us? Isn’t Gwenpool really the Gwens we made along the way? We could easily bring a little heroism and chaos to the real world (at least to the internet) if we really tried. Put the fear of God into some IP landlords and fight for some cool people that society is screwing over, too.
Prove that even in the fandom abyss people aren’t as powerless as they seem. Use that internet comic fan mobbing for something besides giving Zack more money. Disney is gearing up for their next IP fight for Mickey in 2024. Seems like a fine time for IP themed protests. For now we just need to spread the word that our needs are more important than their profits.
It’s been real. It’s been long. It’s been a real long time coming…..
But I finally finished my fanfic.
See ya, true believers.
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jaskiersvalley · 4 years
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Hi. I'm sorry to bother you. Can I request some domestic witchersexual Jaskier?? I just had to put my 6 year old doberman down because she had an autoimmune disease and wasn't getting better and I'm really sad and I have read most of the new fics on tumblr and AO3 but alot of it is whump or Angst and I can't deal with that right now.
I am so sorry to hear about your doberman! It’s never easy to lose a beloved pet. If there is anything beyond writing something to take your mind off things that I can do, please do drop me a line either via ask or DMs. This story turned a little less domestic with not all focus on Jaskier but...hopefully it still gives you the comfort you crave.
Rumours were rife. Witchers, already a dying breed, were disappearing without a trace. No body to recover, no contract to follow the trail of. One minute a witcher was travelling in his usual stomping grounds, the next, he was never seen again. It had Vesemir fretting. Just because he was responsible for Kaer Morhen didn’t mean he was blind and deaf to the stories that were rife. Strangely, despite the witchers disappearing, there wasn’t an abundance of creatures running rampant.
Of course Vesemir worried for his pups. He worried for all witchers but his own boys were special to him. When winter came and Lambert turned up, followed not long after by Eskel, Vesemir could almost relax. A crow from Geralt reassured him that his wolves were all okay and whatever was snatching witchers hadn’t been able to get to them. It didn’t take much to gently extract a promise of regular communication with them throughout the following year. Messages were regularly sent back, letting Vesemir know that the unseen enemy hadn’t snatched them. Yet.
Despite their best efforts, Eskel stopped writing. Even when Lambert and Geralt rushed to where he was last seen, there was no trace of him, nothing. That winter, Eskel didn’t return home and they mourned him.
If only Eskel had been enough for the monster that seemed to hunt witchers exclusively. However, Lambert made it down from Kaer Morhen in the spring and was never seen again. Vesemir tried to remind himself that this was a witcher’s life. Solitary, filled with loss, grief and there was no hope of a happy ending. At least he still had Geralt, the shining star of the Wolf School. Deep down, Vesemir found it fitting that Geralt would be the last one standing of his pups, even if Eskel had been his equal in all but fame.
Witchers didn’t travel together, there wasn’t enough work in any area to support one, let alone two witchers. But Vesemir didn’t want to be the last Wolf in existence and he didn’t want to lose Geralt. Not when they had both lost so much already. Kaer Morhen could lock its doors for one last time. It was already crumbling and Vesemir didn’t think he would be returning, not if he went out on the path, shadowing Geralt in a parallel path, occasionally meeting up.
If anything, contracts were more scarce than ever before despite there being fewer witchers. It made no sense and Vesemir couldn’t understand. There was no explanation for it but he trudged on, determined to do what he had been created for. If there were fewer witchers in the world, he would pick up the slack.
Camping was harsh, sleeping on the ground made Vesemir’s bones ache. It was a witcher’s lot in life to weather the discomforts, even in old age. In the morning, Vesemir packed up camp and trudged out onto the road. He and Geralt were heading towards Nilfgaard, an army always left necrophages in its wake so it was a guaranteed income. Somewhere in the distance, there was singing and the soft strum of lute drifting through the air. A fellow traveller, a happy one at that. Unintentionally, Vesemir slowed his steps and let the singer slowly catch up.
“Fine day,” the brightly coloured man called, bouncing along as he played. He definitely kept strange company, an elf who smiled indulgently.
“Made all the brighter by your cheer.” Even if Vesemir wasn’t a fan of the style of music, he could still be polite and appreciate the attitude if not the noise.
“Thank you, kind sir.” The bard took a bow. “I’m Jaskier, this is my friend Chireadan. Mind if we accompany you along this path for a while?”
A bit of company was always welcome, even if Vesemir used it to gather information rather than make friends. The two made for curious travellers, seemingly defenceless, not a sword or dagger between them. It had Vesemir wondering just how they had survived for so long.
Chatter turned from pleasant chitchat to current events to probing questions. It was such a subtle shift, Vesemir didn’t notice until he was being asked quite pointed questions about being a witcher.
“So in all your 300 and something years, you’d never been able to rest?”
Vesemir blinked. “Well, maintaining Kaer Morhen was as much of a break as any witcher could have.”
It only drew a hum from Jaskier. “So single-handedly being responsible for a large keep, repairing it, ensuring crops grow around it to keep four, five, maybe even six witcher bellied full over winter, thinning out the forktails so when your pups and stragglers return home they won’t have to fight as hard, that counts as a break, yes?”
When put like that...Vesemir shrugged it off He did what the world demanded of him, no more, no less. It didn’t seem to deter Jaskier.
“What about a true rest? If I could offer you something, would you take it?”
“No.” Because Vesemir couldn’t abandon Geralt. Not when it was just Geralt left. Even if the others had still been around, Vesemir couldn’t in good conscience leave them behind to live a harsh life with nobody to greet them home each year.
“If it’s Geralt you’re worried about, I promise it’s okay. He’ll be there too.”
Perhaps Vesemir should have been more alert and distrusting. An elf and a bard, unarmed and yet seemingly so at ease in the world. There had to be something more to them. But his medallion didn’t sing, didn’t hum, there wasn’t even the slightest bit of vibration to it. Human and elf. Nothing more. And yet.
“You’ve served your time. You can relax now,” Jaskier murmured softly, swaying closer and putting a hand on Vesemir’s back to guide him.
“Are you Death?”
The sharp, bright laugh suggested that Vesemir was wrong.
“If he is Death, what does that make me? I’m a healer by trade,” Chireadan chipped in. He had been quiet for most of their shared journey, smiling fondly and staring off into the distance, aloof like most elves. “Let us show you what we offer.”
They stopped in the middle of the dusty road with nobody around for miles. Jaskier fished something out of his pocket and, with a lot of fidgeting and even more cursing, a portal suddenly opened up. It was portable, contained chaos and Vesemir took a step back.
“It’s okay.” That was Geralt’s voice and he stepped out of a portal from behind Vesemir. “I fucking hate portals but you can trust that one.”
Whatever trickery this was, Vesemir didn’t trust it one bit. However, Geralt urged Roach through before turning to him with a lopsided smile. “Come home.”
With that, Geralt stepped into the portal and Vesemir reached for him, wanting to pull him back.
“What’s it going to be, my Lone Wolf?” Jaskier asked. Chireadan had stepped through the portal too, waving with a quiet “see you in a minute” which was just a little presumptuous.
Steeling himself, Vesemir gave in. He’d had enough, all the fighting, the loss, the grief, it was enough. Even if this was a trick, he realised there was no point in resisting. His pups were gone, Kaer Morhen wasn’t a place to live alone, contracts were more and more scarce. It was time to put down his swords and accept whatever was on the other side of the portal. Vesemir didn’t look back as he stepped through, feeling the world lurch around him.
The other side was bright, breezy and noisy. Water lapped at the shores of a beach and there was life bustling around him, laughter and...people shouting his name. Geralt stepped closer first and squeezed his shoulder.
“Welcome to The Island.”
Behind Vesemir, Jaskier had stepped through and the portal closed. More people were approaching. Ciri was running towards him like she was still a child. Behind her was- Vesemir’s breath hitched. There was Eskel and Lambert on either side of Jaskier. And Coen. And Aiden. Letho. Wolf, Cat, Griffin, Viper, Bear, all the schools’ surviving witchers, smiling, laughing and happy. It was beyond anything Vesemir had ever seen or even dared hope for.
“What?” He choked out.
“The world didn’t need us any more. And we didn’t need them,” Geralt explained. It wasn’t all witchers, there were a couple of sorceresses, elves and humans too. They all looked comfortable and happy.
“It all started with Eskel,” Jaskier said, an arm around the witcher in question’s waist. “An enchanted bear trap caught him out.” It explained why he limped probably. “It was just me at the time and the idea of a retirement retreat was barely a babe in my mind. But Triss helped heal him and I started travelling with Chireadan. Needed to make sure I could get every hurting witcher home.”
“Actually, Jaskier wanted a sex island,” Lambert butted in. Vesemir noted that he looked at peace, smiling without any of the bitterness he’d been weighed down by over the years. “Eskel couldn’t run. I didn’t want to run. Eventually Geralt let himself get caught. Like a stray cat Aiden turned up. Then Ciri dragged her friends with her. A Jaskier’s got a lot of love to give if they want it.”
Geralt smiled at the stunned look on Vesemir’s face. He clapped him on the shoulder.
“I said welcome to The Island earlier but what I actually meant was welcome home.”
326 notes · View notes
whats-this-then · 2 years
Note
Is kabal and zephi on the table 👀 just dont answer what doesnt apply aaand colm and naomi?
they have a Thing going on
Who's the one who's reckless and always getting into trouble while the other gotta pull em out
They both think the other is the reckless one! But not getting in trouble, just being careless. Kabal would always like to make sure Zephi gets home safe and Zephi makes Kabal promise he drives safely
Colm doesn't think there's anything reckless about Naomi going into the forest during new moon, his mom disagrees
Who's the one to send the other "I love my gf/bf" memes
Kabal sends memes appreciating rude and powerful women who kick him in the nuts
If they had phones, Naomi more
Who's the one who listens to a music genre the other doesn't like and how does the other react
Kabal is dad rock 100% and that's his playlist when on roadtrips, Zephi is welcome to suggest other songs or even make her own roadtrip playlist if she wants to, but please don't be rude abt his taste in music
They'd both listen to folk rock sampled with mushroom growth sounds and throat singing
How one spoils the other more and do they ever get competitive to show the other more love
Not really? Zephi spoils Kabal by letting him stay at her place for a night or two, he spoils her by giving her flowers sometimes
Colm spoils Naomi by giving her extra affection, Naomi spoils Colm by letting him be by himself sometimes (but makes sure solitude doesn't drive him into a worse headspace)
How many years did it take to get married or was it just not for them
They haven't even discussed being serious yet, marriage isn't a big thing for either so like. It's whatever
Weddings and marriage aren't really a big thing in the clan, people just end up together and move in together and have kids without there necessarily being a ceremony (more like just a bonfire party). They just... became an item.
Are their friends/family supportive
Yeah... mostly. Mehara is fine with Zephi, Hafza is happy for her dad, Gabriel is pleased Zephi might have found someone fun. Herah is still very dubious but also doesn't want to interfere too much, Zephi is a grown woman who can do her own decisions
Very much so, Mahran is so happy to see Colm happy and she also very much likes Naomi. Myra couldn't be more pleased, Kaede is glad and Koldun doesn't really care but he's not very close with Colm in the first place
How does one comfort the other when the other is in distress/having a panic attack/crying
-
Naomi has to be careful because if she spooks Colm when he's agitated he will teleport by accident and she doesn't want him dropping himself off the rooftop again. Just speak to him calmly, give him his own space, reassure him he's safe and at home. If he allows, hold his hand or hug him. If Naomi's crying or otherwise distressed Colm will just hug her and pet her hair until she's okay.
Which one dissociates
-
Colm mainly
Which one stares at the other's booty like "damn" and how does the other react when catching them
Both honestly and neither really minds? Kabal will just ask if Zephi likes what she sees
Neither much, sometimes it's fun to walk past and give the other's butt a pat just to hear them giggle
When they live together what kinda place do they live in? What does their home look like?
More like what does Zephi's place look like, Kabal is practically homeless lmao
Cozy and warm, not too small so it fits their kids later on as well, decorated with dried plants and wreaths and branches etc., a bit messy sometimes but it's very much a home and a very comforting place
What do their dates look like
Grabbing fast food or going to a diner after work at like midnight or 2am, maybe going to a bar for a couple, Kabal being invited to Zephi's place, he brings flowers and gets tied to a chair
Go for a long forest walk, maybe take some food along and have a picnic on a cliff or something, enjoy calm nature, have a snuggle, kiss a little, avoid werewolves,
How does each act when getting drunk
Kabal gets louder and more jovial, careful not to trip all over his long-ass legs
Naomi gets a little giggly and very talkative, will talk your ear off about the stars and bones and how you can see the future if you do this this and this under the full moon. Colm starts sobbing inconsolably
Which one rolls over in the morning to wake up the other one just to kiss them
Could be a delicate way for Zephi to say you need to leave my apartment
Naomi, but after letting Colm sleep for a while
Have they saved each other's lives before
Nope
Nah
Does one have an interest the other thinks is weird but wants to listen to it regardless
Zephi has to introduce Kabal into BDSM delicately so he realizes it's a bit more than just handcuffs
Colm might not quite get Naomi's psychic tendencies but he knows it's important to her and people haven't always believed her about it, so he will listen to whatever she has to say
Which one uses cropped hentai as reaction images
I don't think Kabal even crops it
-
Does one of them kinkshame the other
Kabal will let Zephi know of his limits but he never shames her
Naomi has no kinks, Colm is ace
Is one of them self-conscious about their body? If so how does the other comfort them
I don't know if either, Zephi is shy but fine about her body in general
Colm has the scar on his belly from that time his dad stabbed him he's uncomfortable about, Naomi just doesn't acknowledge it. He's not super comfortable being undressed anyways so just let him keep his clothes on and he's alright
What song do they listen to while going on a joyride
Kabal has a whole playlist of dad rock and synths for his hours-long drives
What kinda joyrides do they go on? Relaxing ones or wild ones?
Relaxing for Kabal at least, excitement for Zephi when he moves on the highway and speeds up
Do people ever get annoyed of their PDA
Herah gets annoyed at Kabal for breathing but otherwise not really? They don't really show it anyways
Never, it's just cute.
Would they live in the city or the country
It's whatever for Kabal. He'd be going on a long ride nowhere anyways
They live a bit outside the village proper, more quiet which they prefer
Are either of them mentally ill, if so how do they help one another cope
I don't think so? Zephi is just shy.
Colm is a mess of PTSD and general anxiety, Naomi is just weird otherwise but she's very quiet, calming and comforting so if Colm wants to talk she's always available to listen and if he wants to be alone she'll make sure he's fed/warm/dry at least
Does one have a spot on them where they would melt when the other kisses them there
Inner thighs, neck almost behind the ear, throat when his head is bent back for Kabal
Naomi lives for cheek and forehead kisses (and kisses on the mouth), Colm likes kisses on his head
Do they dance together
They could hit a club, sure. Kabal is not super good at it, but passable
Hum a song and sway together at home, if real happy maybe even do a little dance at a bonfire party
Do they sing together
I could see them (or at least Kabal) belting out a tune in the kitchen or something when there's a good song on the radio
Sometimes, one starts humming and the other one joins
Which one is better at cooking than the other and makes most the dinners
Zephi is probably better, Kabal sustains himself on fast food mainly
They both kinda suck. Colm can grill a pheasant on a firepit but that's about it, and Naomi can chop up a cucumber and put some leaves on top. Mahran teaches them how to make the basic casserole before they starve
Are they a reckless couple or safe
Bordering on reckless?
Very safe
What be they kinks and do they try each other's kinks
Kabal isn't aversed to milfs and femdom but Zephi had him topped (hee hee) with bondage. The rougher stuff he will need to be eased into but he's always open for new experiences
Their kinks are Love and Care and Pants On Hugging
What would be their Valentine's gifts be to each other
A bouquet, some candy and a pack of condoms from Kabal
If they knew what it was, a good dinner and flowers.
Do they get into fights often? If so, what do they fight over and how do they make up?
They're not really in a serious enough relationship to have fights
They don't fight
Which one's top, bottom, verse
Both verses, but when Zephi tops she tops hard
What kinda sex they be having
If Kabal gets to pick, just... regular with a touch of rough. If Zephi gets to pick, he's screaming for mercy by the end
If Colm's ace ass is even in the mood it's lights off shirts on missionary
Who would fight in honor for the other if someone would insult them
Kabal would get mad if someone insulted Zephi, he wouldn't immediately throw hands but he'd be very vocal like hey, apologize to the lady
Don't get Colm angry the guy knows blood magics he doesn't have full control over
Do they want kids
Naaaaah. Kabal has a grown up daughter whom he adores and who's the light of his life, but he doesn't want more nor does Zephi
Yeah and they have a couple!
12 notes · View notes
winterrose527 · 3 years
Note
have you done an Ella - museum curator, Robb - investor on a tour work??
Ummmm no I had not! And wow was this one cathartic to write. It came out way longer than expected because this is a subject near and dear to my heart...
Thank you for this prompt!!
***
She was so sick of this shit.
Over a year of it. Ever since the governor’s order in April 2020. Back then she’d almost believed it was just a blip, a couple of weeks. A vacation, almost.
But then the ban on gatherings. The shutdowns. Finally the masks.
Every museum in the country had shut its doors along with libraries, movie theaters, and every other place desperate parents could take their children on a rainy Saturday.
Theirs had been luckier than most. An endowment a few years prior, which had been earmarked but not mandated for an expansion had been used to keep the lights on and the staff fed - literally. Their programming had gone virtual and understandably attendance had dropped but not entirely – thanks to a few local artists that had generously donated their time for a last minute plug.
Ever since restrictions had lifted, the crowds had returned somewhat. A rainy spring and summer had helped, but they were nowhere near their ‘pre-pandemic’ levels (and with the Delta variant on the rise she wasn’t super comfortable with the term ‘post-pandemic’ to describe their current state of affairs).
She wouldn’t say that today though.
No, today everything would be rosy – not just the botanical gardens that abutted the museum and had been started in 1853 – no, 1854.
Not that she imagined the potential donor would be fact checking her but nevertheless there was no room for error. She needed to represent the museum well. Her colleagues were counting on her – not to mention the collection itself depended on her.
The board had decided at its most recent meeting if they didn’t get an influx of donations within this quarter they were going to sell off a few pieces from the collection.
There was nothing sadder to a museum than deaccessioning. The staff all loved and protected the collection, and they truly felt the impact they and it had on the community. Myrcella loved to walk through the galleries on Thursday afternoons to see the regulars who’d come to visit the paintings like old friends of theirs, stopping by to say hello to a Baroque oil here or an Impressionist watercolor there.
So if schmoozing yet another prospective donor was what it took to mean that Mr. Poole’s favorite still-life stayed put for his bi-weekly Wednesday morning visit, then she would schmooze. She would schmooze Sansa Stark like her life depended on it.
She knew Sansa Stark sort of. It was the sort of thing where pre-pandemic they had run into each other at half a dozen events every year and always had a lovely chat and discussed getting together and then never did. The North was a small world and they ran in similar circles. But they weren’t friends.
Still, she was her best bet. From the wealthiest and most philanthropic family in the North, of course she was.
And she had to deliver.
The board had all made it clear that they expected results, and it had been suggested that really Myrcella Baratheon shouldn’t have such a hard time finding donors. But all her usual suspects had come to her with their own sob stories full of please tell me you won’t shut your doors but without any promise of relief, and the people she knew down south – the sort that profited from the world being in such dire straits had no interest in a little regional museum. No matter how much she marketed it as a hidden jewel.
To them, there was little worth in a jewel hidden, and they had no interest in having their act of charity buried under the northern snows.
So Sansa Stark was it.
She smoothed her dress, chosen carefully for the occasion. Sansa was always impeccably dressed and favored ladylike, tailored dresses for daytime, just as Myrcella did. Today, which had turned out to be a gorgeous one, she’d chosen a pale blue scallop trim knit dress, her grandmother’s wristwatch her only accessory. Feminine but appropriate. More comfortable than the clingier dresses she only ever so occasionally wore when taking around a male potential benefactor.
“Good luck,” Gilly, their glum registrar said as she raised her wrist to her nose to make sure she could still smell the scented oil she’d spread there that morning.
“Thanks baby,” Myrcella sighed, “Lunch from that naughty salad place when I’m done? My treat?”
Gilly smiled at that, “My treat if you get her.”
“Oh, now the stakes are really high,” she teased and blew Gilly a kiss and walked through the halls.
She felt eyes on her as she went. It was a small, tight-knit team, and it made it all the harder every time she received a sheepish regret. If she couldn’t succeed, one of them might lose their job if the board couldn’t decide what to sell. Even if they could, depending on how long this lasted.
Game face, Baratheon.
She took a deep breath and then smiled for fifteen seconds. She let it drop, knowing that it would still be in her eyes when she walked outside and it felt a little more genuine when her heels clacked along the gorgeous marble floor.
Walking over to the security desk, the smile reappeared on her face.
“Morning Roddy,” she grinned.
“Good morning to you Miss Myrcella,” Rodrick greeted her, “You see the game last night?”
“You’ve known me for four years,” she noted, “When in all of that time have I ever seen the game?”
He chuckled, “There was that one time in 2018.”
“Oh no, I totally lied about that,” she assured him, shrugging, “I wanted you to think I was cool.” She then looked around the empty lobby, “No Miss Stark?”
He grimaced, “Not yet. Traffic is back though, folks still aren’t used to it.”
She nodded, picking at a non-existent thread on her dress and looked around. Her eyes narrowed in on something and she crossed the lobby and picked up a tiny scrap of paper, crumbling it in her hand and then walking back over and tossing it in the trash behind Roddy’s desk.
“I’ve been sitting here for two hours, didn’t see it,” he noted.
She smiled, “Well you’ve been doing less important things like making sure no one robs the place.”
He opened his mouth to say something to her but then his gaze was directed behind her, “I’m sorry, sir, we don’t open until 11 o’clock on Tuesdays.”
“I sort of have an appointment,” the man said.
She knew that voice. She’d heard it before. In a coat closet at Alys Karstark’s birthday party. At the next table over at a charity even in 2019. Deep, stubbornly Northern, as unyielding as Valyrian steel.
She felt her palms sweat and forced herself not to rub them on her dress, rubbing them together instead and then turning around with a bright smile.
“You’re not Sansa Stark,” she greeted him.
He grinned sheepishly, though she wasn’t sure this man had ever had occasion to be sheepish in his entire life, “Afraid not. Myrcella, right? We met at that thing – that um… save the…whatsits.”
She giggled, and she heard the sound echoing garishly on the marble, “I believe that evening we were saving the seals. Or the… tulips, maybe.”
His smile spread slowly across his face, a dimple marking its end like an exclamation point, “Well we did our part even if we can’t remember what it was, I’m Robb Stark.”
She liked that he introduced himself. He’d done so every time they’d met, as though he in no way expected her to remember him. Sansa had done it the first five or so. Must have been how they were raised.
On the other hand, she’d been raised to act as though someone was foolish for not knowing who she was, introducing herself had been something she’d had to learn when she moved north, like parallel parking and salting her stoop.
Her hand extended and his met it, taking hers in his larger one and shaking it firmly as he looked her in the eyes briefly and then her lips slightly longer before purposefully going back to her eyes, “Myrcella Baratheon, and I remember you, Mr. Stark.”
“Well if that were true you’d remember I prefer Robb,” he noted, releasing her hand.
She shrugged, leaning forward conspiratorially, “Old habits. Can I get you something to drink before we begin our tour?”
“No thank you, I’m fine,” he shook his head.
She nodded, “Well it’s beautiful out now, why don’t we start in the botanical gardens. There’s been a bumper crop this year, we recently had the Cerwyn wedding here, did you attend?”
He fell into step next to her and said, “No, I didn’t. I was meant to but they reduced it to just family.”
She nodded, “Right, seems to be happening quite a bit. Will you do the same for your wedding?”
He stopped walking briefly and before she could stop too he had started again, “No… uh, rather than reduce the guest list we decided not to have it at all. We called the engagement off in January.”
“I’m so sorry!” she internally stabbed herself in the throat, “I didn’t know.”
He shrugged, “The nice thing about there not being any events over the past year is that the press didn’t really get wind of it.” Then stopped abruptly, “Not that… it’s not like that makes up for the past year or anything.”
She laughed, “Don’t worry, I know what you meant. I am sorry though, about your engagement.”
“As am I,” he agreed, “But it’s for the best. We parted as friends. Had we gotten married, I’m not sure we could have done so, so I’m grateful for that, and for her.”
A gentleman.
So many men played the part. Opening doors, buying flowers. So few of them realized that manners mattered very little when they were offered without grace.
“That’s lovely,” she noted, pleased for once not to have to lie.
It was a gorgeous day, a perfect seventy-nine degrees and clear blue skies. As though they’d understood the importance of the occasion, the Phlox stood proudly in battle formation and the scent of honeysuckle surrounded them.
“Sansa wanted me to apologize for missing your meeting,” Robb noted.
“I hope nothing’s the matter?” she asked.
A grin overtook his face, “No nothing at all. She’s in labor.”
She smiled, grabbing his forearm briefly. They both looked down at her hand on it and she pulled it back as gingerly as she could.
“That’s wonderful,” she told him, “Her second, right?”
He nodded, “A girl. And I’ve convinced her out of the name Corona.”
She chuckled, “Oh come now, you could call her Corrie for short.”
“And her parents idiots for long,” he noted. Then told her, “They weren’t really going to call her Corona.”
She smiled, “And here I was about to tip off the press…”
He smirked, “Narrow miss, then.” He looked around, “So. Flowers.”
“Not just flowers,” she pointed out, “We have a community garden to the left and down that lane local beekeepers keep their hives.”
“My mistake,” he allowed with a close-lipped smile.
That smile annoyed her. It was the same one she’d heard in the voice of every southern donor she’d called when they’d offered her good luck with her little country museum.
It was the smile someone gave her when she’d already lost.
“Perhaps we should go inside,” she noted, “I can show you our contemporary wing which we’ve recently devoted to elevating female and underrepresented artists. Or perhaps that’s a bit too avant-garde for you. Would you like to see our hall of armor and weaponry? I believe we have a few pieces that your ancestors left on one battlefield or another.”
“I’m sorry,” he noted, rubbing his jaw, “I told Sansa we should just cancel this meeting but she insisted.”
“With all due respect, Mr. Stark –“
“Robb,” he corrected her.
“No, I’m addressing Mr. Stark right now,” she argued, all of the frustration and helplessness of the past few months bubbling up inside of her, “May I ask what exactly it is about this that you find amusing? Is it the painting that we’re going to have to sell so that it can end up in someone’s climate controlled storage unit and never looked at again? Or is it the leaky roof? Perhaps the pay cut we asked all senior employees to take? Or how about the summer interns who had gone through a rigorous hiring process only to be told we couldn’t take them on at all? I certainly hope it’s not the seniors who used to come here for their Saturday afternoon watercolor classes which we had to cancel because we didn’t have anything to pay the instructor even though it would have been the perfect activity for them because it is outdoors and safe. Or maybe it’s the after-school programs you find so laughable…”
“I’m not laughing,” he pointed out. “But you’ll forgive me if I take your righteousness with a grain of salt.”
“I’m not sure that I will, actually,” she argued.
“No?” he asked, “Well let’s talk about those seniors? Don’t you think that funding is better spent ensuring they have free and safe access to the vaccination that can actually save their lives? Or what about those kids? Sure, the after-school program is great, but how about providing computers to allow them to do remote learning? Now I’m sorry if you have to lose one of a thousand paintings in this place, but if money can be better spent giving people what they really need then I’m sorry – sell the damn thing.”
That was hard to argue with.
But not impossible.
“So you’ve drained your coffers?” she asked.
There was only room for one of them on the moral high ground and she’d always enjoyed the view.
His cheeks had turned blotchy in anger but they paled now, “Excuse me?”
“Are you in the red?” she asked, “Declaring bankruptcy? Let’s not go that far - Taking out loans? Leveraging assets?”
His jaw clenched, revealing a muscle in his left cheek that might have been attractive if she wasn’t about to rip his head off.
“No,” he noted, “But my family’s company and my family have given an exceptional amount this year already.”
“Well,” she pointed out, “It has been an exceptional year already.”
“Are you always this haughty with potential donors?” he asked, stepping ever so slightly closer to her.
A flash in her mind of his hand ghosting across the back of her neck as he secured her coat over her shoulders. That smell.
“Never,” she admitted, stepping ever so slightly towards him, “But you’re not a potential donor, are you? And tell me, is it really because you don’t think it’s worthwhile or because it doesn’t sound worthwhile?”
His face contorted in anger, “You think we’re giving so that people will write songs about us? We want this country back on its feet. We want to return to normal and if we can’t do that, we want to make sure to give people as comfortable an existence until it reverts on its own. Tell me, Miss Baratheon, can you actually find fault in that?”
She shook her head, “No, I can’t.” He looked surprised and she shrugged, “It’s a flawless argument. Just an incomplete one. Giving an exceptional amount right now isn’t enough. You have to give until it hurts, because you can. It is wonderful, exceptional, heroic, to be doing all that you have done so far. But what comes next? What comes after? What happens when the dust settles? When things open? When we get things under control? What happens when people are ready to return to what was before and none of it is left because it wasn’t deemed essential. Because it’s just flowers and amateur beekeepers and pretty watercolors? I understand that we are not on the top of the list and we shouldn’t be. But we should be on the list. We need to do more than survive, Robb. There are things apart from us that we need to endure. Things we need to protect.”
His mouth twitched at that.
“I’m sorry to say I don’t have time to see the armor,” he told her.
She felt the defeat trickle through her veins slowly.
She held out her hand, “Thank you for letting me rant at you.”
He shook it once again, narrowing his eyes at her, “Something tells me you’ve still got some left in the tank. I’d quite like to hear it. Have dinner with me tonight and convince me.”
It was happening to all of her girlfriends. After a year in isolation, their ability to detect a creep from a mile away had withered. She hadn’t thought that hers had too. He’d seemed like one of the good ones.
She pulled her hand away, “That’s not the way I do business, Mr. Stark.”
His eyes widened in horror, “No, that’s not what I meant. I don’t get to make these decisions.”
“You’re the CEO,” she pointed out.
“Yes I am but Sansa insisted on inserting a clause into her contract that she gets final say over any philanthropic decisions,” he sighed, “I literally am not even allowed to choose the location of a book drive.”
She couldn’t help but laugh at that, a tiny bit of hope bubbling inside of her, “So when you said you should have cancelled the meeting…”
“It’s because Sansa’s already decided that we will be giving a donation, she wanted to discuss the structure of it with you – you know whether you’d prefer a lump sum, or whether you want it in increments, if you wanted it to be public to inspire other donors or whether you wanted it to be private so that they couldn’t use it as an excuse not to give…” he waved his hand, “She’s better at the specifics and I’m sure she’ll be calling you in between contractions to fine tune them.”
She laughed, “Please tell her not to. A pledge is more than enough to take to my board, we can map out the nitty gritty whenever she or whomever will be replacing her in the interim has time.”
He nodded, “You’ll have them within the week.”
She was about to thank him but the words caught in her mouth, “So wait a second… did you just wind me up for the sake of it?”
He grinned, a chuckle present in his voice though it hadn’t yet broken, “I’d like to point out that it took very little to wind you up.”
She laughed, because he was right and admitted, “It’s been a tough year.”
He nodded, “For everyone. So, now that you know I have absolutely no control and can hold absolutely nothing over you… have dinner with me.”
“Why?” she asked.
“Because I enjoy arguing with you,” he told her, then grinned sheepishly, “And because I lied. Sansa told me that I could cancel the meeting and I insisted on coming because I wanted to see you. The bad thing about this year is that there were no events where I could have a chance of bumping into you…”
“Oh that’s the bad thing about this year?” she asked.
“Well,” he grinned, then did a scarily good impression of her, “Maybe it shouldn’t be at the top of the list, but it should be on the list.”
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stardew-vxlley · 4 years
Text
you’re cute when you’re jealous
summary: the stardew valley fair is in town! what happens when shane notices a tourist flirting with you? 
pairing: shane x farmer
word count: 2k 
warnings: like, a single swear word
requested by: @pale-skies-is-a-raccoon
Dear Farmer [Y/N], 
One week from today, we are holding the Stardew Valley Fair in the town square! It’s the biggest event of the year, drawing people from all across the country to our humble town. If you’d like, you can set up a grange display for the event. Just bring a few items that best showcase your talents. You’ll be judged on the quality and diversity of your display. It starts at nine, don’t miss it! 
-Mayor Lewis 
The day was finally here. You had been looking forward to the Stardew Valley Fair all week ever since Lewis had put the notice in your mailbox, taking extra time and preparation to make sure all of your items were the highest quality and freshness. You were awake before your alarm, buzzing around the farmhouse like a bumblebee on the first day of spring. You knew the fair didn’t start until nine, but you were so jittery with excitement that you just couldn’t sleep. 
Humming and singing mindlessly to your farm animals as you fed them and collected their products, you inspected each egg and each pail of milk to see if you needed to hang on to any of them as a backup. As you watered your crops, you had a delightful conversation about the fair with the scarecrow (even though it was a little one-sided). 
And then nine o’clock arrived. You excitedly hefted your crate of perfect quality items onto your hip, and made your way into town. The reason you were so excited was because this was your first fair, the first time seeing people from the outside since you left home. It was going to be a breath of fresh air. 
“Hey there, farmer!” Mayor Lewis called from the center of the town square. “I’ve got your grange display ready to go over here.” 
“Lewis, this is incredible!” you said in awe, looking at all the different colored stalls and decorations. “Are those carnival games?” 
“Indeed they are,” he chuckled, helping you with your crate. “Once the display contest is judged, you can go ahead and enjoy the rest of the fair.” 
“I can’t wait,” you said, beginning to take your items out and meticulously place them into the wooden display box. “Oh, have you seen Shane anywhere? I wanted to snag him before the judging.” 
Lewis scratched his chin, looking around. “I think I may have seen him over by the petting zoo.” 
“Yeah, that sounds like somewhere he’d be,” you said with a delighted laugh. “Thank you, Mayor!” 
Lewis ambled off to see to the other contestants, leaving you alone to finish your display. You placed the last few finishing touches and adjustments, and stood back to admire your handiwork. It was a beautiful display. You swelled with pride as you dusted your palms off on your overalls, tilting your straw hat back.
“That’s one fine looking display of stuff,” an unfamiliar voice sounded behind you. 
Startled, you turned your chin over your shoulder with eyebrows raised. There was a young man standing a few feet away from you, hands on his hips as he surveyed your work. 
“This stuff is months of hard work,” you said firmly, facing him. 
He chuckled and held up his hands in defense. “Alright, my apologies. It looks really good, though.” 
“Thank you,” you said, and you stuck your hand out. “I’m [Y/N]. I own a farm up the road.” 
“You own a whole farm?” he asked incredulously as he shook your hand. “All by yourself?” 
“Yep,” you replied proudly, gesturing to your display. “All of this is made by yours truly.” 
“Wow,” he breathed, truly impressed. “I’m Eric, I live in Zuzu City with my grandmother. I used to come to the fair every year when I was little, but it’s been harder and harder for her to travel. This is my first time coming by myself.” 
“Well, we’re certainly glad you could make it this year,” you said with a grin, “this is my first year, too. I moved onto the farm earlier in the spring.” 
“You look like you’ve done pretty good for yourself,” Eric noted, moving closer to study the contents of your grange display. “So uh, are you allowed to go get food or something? I saw someone selling corndogs around here somewhere--do you want to grab one?” 
“Oh, that’s very sweet of you to ask, but I really should stay put until after the contest ends,” you apologized. “I don’t want to miss out on winning.” 
Eric laughed into a nod and glanced around. “Well, hopefully I see you before the fair is over. It would be really nice to talk to you again.” 
An unsuspecting blush crept into your cheeks as you bobbed your head in a hasty agreement. “Absolutely--now go enjoy the fair!” 
You watched him walk away towards the corndog cart and released the breath of air you had been holding. With so little people in Pelican Town, you weren’t used to someone flirting with you so outright. Sure, Elliot read you a sonnet a couple of times and Sam shared his cold, leftover pizza with you on a few occasions, but you just wrote that off as them being friendly. Shane wasn’t even that eloquent with flirting and he was your boyfriend--
You slapped your hand to your forehead. Shit, you forgot all about finding him before the contest started! But as you started towards the petting zoo, Mayor Lewis appeared out of thin air in front of you, his giant mustache blocking your view. 
“Are you ready for the contest?” he asked, clapping his hands together. 
“Yeah, can I just--” you started, but he pushed right past you. 
“Fantastic! Alright, just step up beside your display, and I’ll get everyone’s attention.” 
With a defeated sigh, you stood next to your display and bit your lip. Lewis stood on a wooden crate and clapped his hands again, gathering a crowd of fair-goers and townspeople. You searched the faces for Shane, and saw him standing beside Marnie with Jas on his shoulders. His eyes lit up as you locked gazes, and a smile broke out across your face as you twiddled a wave at them. 
“I will now begin the judging!” Lewis announced, and began walking down the row of displays, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. He came to a stop in front of yours and an audible “Wow” escaped him. There was a twinkle in his eyes as he winked at you, moving on to the last display. When he was finished, he returned to the stack of crates and read off a small piece of paper. 
“And this year’s first place winner of the grange display is--drumroll please,” Lewis declared, and the sound of everyone rhythmically patting their thighs in an acoustic drumroll echoed through the town square. “--[Y/N]! With a whopping 90 points!” 
The cheers were deafening as you clapped excitedly while jumping up and down. Lewis came back over and handed you a stack of Star Tokens. “Here is your prize--1,000 tokens. Spend them wisely!” 
The crowd dispersed as the contest ended, leaving you to pack up your items in the crate. 
“That was amazing!” you heard Shane’s voice say, and you turned around with a grin. He still had Jas on his shoulders, who was pumping her tiny fists in the air in excitement. “Your display was the best babe, by far.” 
You blushed. “Thank you, that really means a lot to me.” 
Shane set Jas down and you handed her some of your tokens. “Here,” you whispered to her. “I couldn’t possibly spend all of these by myself--do you think you could help me out?” 
Her eyes lit up as she graciously took the tokens and made a beeline for the prize counter. You straightened up and turned to Shane, who pulled you in for a tight embrace. 
“I’m so proud of you,” he murmured in your ear, sending tingles down your spine. 
“I couldn’t have done it without you,” you said as you gestured to the large, perfect egg nestled in the crate. “I almost don’t want to cook that egg, it's so perfect.” 
Shane laughed, letting you go. “I think you would’ve been just fine without me. And that egg is going to make some delicious scrambled eggs tomorrow morning.” 
“Will you cook them for me?” you asked suggestively, waggling your eyebrows at him. Now it was his turn to blush. He opened his mouth to reply, but someone interrupted him. 
“Hey!” Eric called out, jogging toward you. “That was awesome! In all my years of coming here, I’ve never seen such an amazing win. Congratulations!” 
“Thanks,” you chuckled, but you felt Shane tense up beside you. “Shane, this is Eric. He’s from Zuzu City.” 
“Nice to meet you,” Shane stiffly said, shaking Eric’s hand. 
“I know this is a lot to ask, but I really want something to take back to the city with me,” Eric said to you, “and I wasn’t good enough at the carnival games to win a prize. Would you mind me taking something from your display? I would pay you for it!” 
“It’s no problem at all,” you grinned, stepping back to allow him to look inside the crate. “I would be honored. And you don’t have to pay me.” 
“Awesome!” Eric said excitedly, and knelt in front of the crate. “What about this one, is this okay?” He held up your prized egg, the one Shane had worked so hard to help you with. 
“No!” you said a little too quickly, snatching it from his hands. “Sorry...this one is special.” 
“Oh, okay,” he sighed, disappointed. “What about this?” He held up a jar of artisanal goat cheese. 
“That one is all yours,” you said, holding the egg close to you. 
“Cool.” Eric got to his feet and rubbed the back of his head awkwardly, as if trying to find the right words to say. “Hey, so--I was wondering something...if you’re ever in Zuzu City, you should come visit me.” 
Before you could politely turn him down and explain you were already seeing someone, Shane protectively stood front of you and crossed his arms. “Sorry, pal, not gonna happen.” 
“Shane,” you quietly protested, noticing Eric’s crestfallen face. “I’m sorry, Eric--you’re a nice guy, but I’m already dating someone.” 
Eric’s eyes bounced back and forth between you and Shane, until realization dawned on him. “Oh,” he said softly. “Right.” 
“It was really good to meet you, though!” you reassured him. “I hope you and your grandmother enjoy the goat cheese.” 
He rolled the jar in his hands and smiled. “Yeah, I think we will. Thank you, [Y/N].” He waved, and started walking away towards the entrance. As Shane put an arm around your shoulders, Eric looked back at the two of you together. “Hey, buddy--you’re a lucky guy.” 
“I know,” Shane called back, and smiled down at you. Once Eric was out of sight, you reached over and playfully punched him in the arm. 
“You were so mean!” you teased. “He didn’t know--he was just trying to be friendly.” 
“Oh, he knew,” Shane said with narrowed eyes. 
“And how do you know that?” you prodded, arching an eyebrow at him. 
“I’m a guy,” he simply replied. 
You suppressed a giggle at his surprisingly simple answer, standing up on your tip-toes to place a tender kiss to his cheek. “You’re cute when you’re jealous.” 
Shane rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t jealous, I was protective.” 
“Either way, it was cute. Maybe I’ll ask Elliot to read me some poetry in front of you so I can see it again.” 
“Now you’re just being mean,” he whined. “I’m glad you didn’t let him take the egg.” 
“Me too,” you smiled, slipping your hand into his and leading him towards the carnival games. “Still promise to scramble it up for me in the morning?” 
“Is that an invitation to stay the night?” 
You stopped to answer his question with a long, passionate kiss. When you broke apart breathlessly, he was speechless for a moment. “Is that a good enough answer for you?”  you asked, and he nodded happily. The two of you spent the rest of the afternoon winning prizes and eating fair food, sharing kisses and falling deeper and deeper in love. 
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danifics18 · 3 years
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🎃  Dance of the Wolves  🎃
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Welcome to day one of Spooky Time Drabbles! I have thirty two prompts that I’m going to attempt to pump out in spirit of Spooky Season! If you want to see a continuation of any of these works- let me know! Once I post the majority of my Spooky Time Drabbles, I will be posting any extra smuts, or small continuations. 
Tags : Werewolf! Mingi//PWP//Marking//Slight ass play//cunnilingus//knotting// 
TW: Mentions of blood
Word Count : 4k
    General Masterlist    Ateez Masterlist
  With a cold breeze skittering down your spine, you place the last box inside your home to look around, figuring out where to place the new Halloween decorations you’d just bought that day.
  Moving away from a big city, to follow the feeling of Wanderlust- as your mother would’ve put it, to end up moving to a much smaller town in a more remote, forest area. It wasn’t even a quarter of the size that your previous town was, but you like it. The neighbors were kind, the community was tight-knit.
  It felt like home.
  And with the feeling of home and wanting to fit in in mind, you decided what better way to fit in than to join the town’s celebration by decorating your house to match the others. 
  Normally, for Halloween, you would’ve left a candy bowl out by your door for anyone in your apartment floor to get, along with hand delivering small bags of candy to your apartment’s security guard - Seokmin - for him and his kids to have, as well as to the elderly couple who lived right down the hall. But, besides that, you weren’t the one to really go out that night, preferring to stay in and watch movies like ‘Halloween Town’ or some other movie that wasn’t deemed as scary. 
  But much to your findings, people here didn’t celebrate Halloween, instead they celebrated something they called ‘The Dance of the Moon’ - where they essentially partied all night at home and at the town square. From what your town mayor , Mr. Song, explained to you, was that hundreds of years ago, the small town had been plagued by wolves. They would go after children, elderly, anyone who couldn’t readily fight back from being eaten. Every time someone was found missing, the townspeople would send a group to kill some wolves; how many people were taken and eaten- that was the amount of wolves that would be killed in return.
  “An eye for an eye,” as the older gentleman had explained, with a hardened look on his face.
  Supposedly, the resolution was found as the town had experimented with what would please the wolves- since back then, the closest town with a decent hunter was days away, and there weren’t enough people to both send out and watch over the rest of the town. The wolves would stop going after a lot of townspeople if there were sacrifices made.
  The Mayor was quick to assure that the legends hadn’t specified human sacrifices- they never exactly said what was sacrificed, really, but for the past thirty years or so, they had been using pigs, goats, or cows that were due to pass on soon. They would drop them off at a specific place in the forest, and knowing that the residents would be safe from any wolves, they would celebrate in the town festival until early dawn. 
  The last piece of information that Mayor Song had dropped on you before he handed you your house key- new residents had to participate in the festival. Seeing that you were the only resident to come in this year- it really is a small town with not a lot of travelers- he asked you to accompany the animals to the post; with his son, Mingi, of course. When you had agreed, Mayor Song had sent you on your way, notifying you that his son would pick you up with his animal hauler at around five, the evening of. 
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  To prepare yourself for the festival- that did make you a little unsettled, but you were sure it was just a stretched out rumor- you spent the week finding whatever Halloween knick-knacks for around the house that you could. 
  You had no plans of dressing up at all for the festival, until one of the ladies- Theresa- working the cash register, had asked if you had your outfit ready yet. With a glace to your face, she had explained that for the festival, people usually wear red, purple, white, and black. It didn’t have to be a full outfit or anything, but you would look like an outsider, since most of the town residents liked their outfits to look from back then. With that in mind, you quickly used up your last days trying to piece together an outfit with the corresponding colors.
  A white, knee-length, lace dress accompanied by a black headband, and purple nail polish. The red garment, however, left you slightly baffled. The only red clothing that you could find was a deep red cloak that you had bought on one of your ‘spurge days’, after getting your first job at seventeen. You didn’t need the item for anything, it just looked so cool that you had to have it. And now, so many years later, you contemplated wearing it- quickly deciding that you’d ask Mingi his opinion when he picked you up, but just in case, you’d wear a lipstick the same shade of red.
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  The day of the festival had left a pit of excitement in your gut. You hadn’t had work today- town’s rules that no work was permitted on holidays, and that included town holidays- and the same goes for tomorrow as well, although, it is asked of residents to come to the festival grounds to help clean up.
  As the day dwindled to late afternoon, you decided to head back home to get into your costume for later tonight, and then wait for the mayor’s son. This would be your first time meeting the boy, the only things you know is that you are the same age as him, and he’s got a deep voice- from what your coworker has told you.
  A loud knock on your front door snaps you out of your thoughts, checking yourself over one last time in the foyer mirror, before opening the door to see a tall man with brown hair- styled in a gelled undercut. 
  “Hi, I’m Mingi, it’s nice to meet you”, the mayor’s son reaches his hand out for a handshake, feeling your fingertips and palm tingle from the contact. Feeling thankful that he can’t notice the blush on your face, you shake his hand and return the greeting.
  You both take a moment to look each other over, and you have to admit, he looks good. He’s dressed in a flowy, long sleeve white shirt that has two untied strings in the front of the collar- showing off the black velvet choker with subtle deep purple moons embellished in the fabric - and a pair of cropped black pants. Looking up to meet his eyes properly, you gasp under your breath.
 Hearing a cow moo in the trailer behind him, he suggests that you guys leave now, before quickly turning to walk to his truck. Walking after him, you thank him as he opens your door for you, before he enters on his own side. 
  Throughout the drive, you both make small conversation about your likes and dislikes, finding out that you both had quite a bit in common. You were both shocked to find that you enjoyed things like Mint Chocolate Chip ice cream, and neither one of you really like cake. You found out that he was a nature photographer who used to live a few hours away with some friends; he moved back a couple years prior after he had gotten attacked by some people who were illegally hunting who had mistaken him for an animal. He had plans to move back with his friends, he just felt like he should be back in his home roots for such a big injury. 
  Looking out the window, you try to make out any shapes of the passing by trees- the darkness of the early night made the forest a lot darker, being unable to see anything if it weren’t for Mingi’s headlights. For the next thirty minutes, the only view you could see was the dirt path with the occasional flying creature - probably bat - flying above the truck, before flying into the darkness. 
“We are almost where we need to be, there’s a small cabin that this road leads to. From there we can stop and walk the animals a mile out to the post”, Mingi says, his unnaturally bright, honey-colored eyes flashing over to you- being so bright that you can’t decide if they’re real or not. You’d been wanting to ask him since you had first noticed them, but you didn’t want to be nosy, or feel like you were asking a really obvious question. 
  Soon enough, the trees break away to show a meadow, a cabin and a shed in the middle of the clearing. Pulling the truck to a stop in the make-shift dirt driveway, you both get out and walk to the back end, where Mingi opens the back trailer revealing a single cow and two goats. Mingi hands you the leads for the goats as he takes the cow, and you both start walking down a pathway- stopping frequently when the animals decide to graze at the long grass. 
  Neither you or Mingi made conversation, besides the occasional comment towards the animals. Eventually, you both had made it to a pen of sorts, seeing other animals in the pen as well.
  Giving Mingi a questioning glance, he ignores you, taking the leads from you to walk the animals into the pen, before disappearing to the sheltered building, before coming out with handfuls of hay to give to the animals.
  “There’s no wolves out here, you know?” The tall man finally says, “ No actual wolves. Just me,” he finishes giving you a smile,” I know my father meant well, but I was hoping for this to be more natural.” Confused, you start walking backwards, your heart beating so hard you think it might go through your chest. 
  Not waiting for you to say anything, he continues, "I know you must be confused, but I can explain. You should probably stop walking back though; it is a full moon tonight, and my wolf isn’t in the playful mood tonight- especially not with how you smell.” As his last sentence rings through your ears, you quickly decide to ignore his warning, and run down the path back to the cabin.
  As you pump your legs faster you hear a forced laugh from the man, ”So this is the type of mate I have,” the pen gate rustles behind you, and as much as you want to look back, Mingi’s words make you feel the opposite. With the now red colored moon shining your path, you reach the cabin, not being able to decide what to do next. 
  Apparently, you wouldn’t have any time to decide anyways, seeing that as you started to go to the cabin’s door, a large hand grabs your shoulder, halting you from moving. Being forced to turn around, Mingi stares down at your form breathing heavily. Eyes widening, you start to squirm as you see his eyes now a deep red color, before freezing at the deep rumble that comes from his chest. 
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  “You're not too good at following directions, huh? C’mon, let’s get inside, I’ll make some tea and properly explain since you wouldn’t let me earlier. I won’t hurt you- if I had wanted to do that, I could've done that on the trip here,” He tells you with an unimpressed look, before walking you in front of him, to the cabin. 
  Minutes later, you were sitting down on a couch facing the fireplace with tea in hand, as Mingi sat on the recliner angled to the couch, tea in his hand as well. Taking a sip of his beverage, he clears his throat “ So, I’m sure my dad and some people have been talking about tonight’s festival,” you nod “Okay, well pretty much, my dad told you a different version of the town’s legend. We did try sending animals, but they hadn’t worked, it wasn’t until the town herbalist had offered to go out as a sacrifice instead. Seeing that nothing had worked, previously, and she was a recent widow, everyone let her,” Mingi stopped as he heard your soft gasp,” Apparently, she went out, and she did get attacked.”
  He paused, tilting his head as he asks” Did you know that wolves can tell when a human is pregnant?” You nod your head- you’d seen plenty of videos of how wolves in safe havens had reacted towards pregnant guests. Mingi smiles at your knowledge and continues on,” Well unfortunately, they noticed that she was pregnant after attacking her. As she was dying one of the she-wolves approached her, and somehow gave the human her life force- their spirits joining together. The lady survived, but she was the town’s first werewolf- her son being the first born werewolf. Seeing the power she had, the rest of the pack listened to her. As she went back to the town- the villagers considered it a blessing. It isn’t clear how it happened, but she was able to get the villagers to join their spirits with the pack. Of course there were people who rejected- and they left the village,” Mingi stops again sipping his drink.
  “How does that work though? Would that mean the entire town is full of werewolves? Isn’t that unsafe?” You ask, setting your now empty mug, on your lap. 
  “This has never been a town to get a lot of visitors. After a while of the town learning how to be wolves and humans, there were quite a few attempts to kill the pack from the people who’d left. The first woman, at that point she was what we call a Luna, had heard about a witch a few towns over who might be able to help- so they sought her out. After agreeing to help the witch with a small problem, the witch put a circle around the town. Other supernaturals can find the town- but to humans, this entire place is just forest. The only humans who can come here are like you, they’re mated. Destined to be with someone from here. And that person happens to be with me,” Pausing to gauge your reaction, he continues explaining,” Werewolves have mates, and they’re pretty much soulmates. I can tell because your scent is intoxicating for my wolf, it’s a very homey scent. You will be able to feel the pull the more we are around each other- for now, you’d probably get a ticklish feeling if I were to touch you,” You think back to when you’d shook his hands, and the feeling you got when you brushed against his arm- it makes sense, but earlier you had thought it was just your nerves from being around a handsome guy,” But eventually, you will develop a better sense of smell, and probably better hearing and sight- although it won’t be the same as being an actual werewolf. Unless, that is, you choose to reject me?” He questions with his facing down to look at the unlit fireplace.
  Taking a moment to think, you make up your mind before answering,” What do I have to lose?” You get up to place yourself on Mingi’s lap- something that you wouldn’t have done if it were anyone else, but you knew that you were comfortable with him.
  “I’m in a new town that although it might be new and strange, it still feels right. I definitely don’t understand the whole wolf thing, but there’s plenty of time to learn,” You finish, leaning into the large hand that was placed on your face. Feeling his breath on your face, you close your eyes as he gets closer.
  “I’m glad, now shall we go back to town? Everyone was really excited to be around a new face, you know,” Mingi says, placing a kiss on your nose.
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  Weeks turning into months, and months turning into years; two years precisely, you’d never imagined the day that you’d leave this cozy town that you had considered home.
  You and Mingi had officially started dating two weeks after first meeting- although, typically werewolves never really bothered with the whole dating thing, unless they weren’t mates- and you two were still going strong.
  With an influx of new packmates from a neighboring pack alliance, and Mingi’s need for joining back with his friends- which you had found out were actually his formed pack- you two decided to move away, to the plot of land that they owned.
  When you two had first pulled up to the place, you couldn’t help but scoff at your boyfriend’s words. “Only a small plot of land he says. And Disney World is just a small fair, right?” His only response had been a bashful grin. 
  The place still felt very homey, and very similar to your previous town; being located in the middle of nowhere, it was twenty acres of land, fenced off to show the property lines. It was pretty clever- seeing that when you first pulled into the main road in, it honestly looked pretty inconspicuous, if it weren’t for the big fence surrounding the place. 
  Meeting the pack members had made you a bit nervous, but you soon realized that they reminded you of brothers- very teasing, a little annoying at times, but you cared for them, and they cared for you. 
  Thankfully, you guys didn’t share a house together. It was bad enough that most times, you would wake up to find Wooyoung, Hongjoong, or hell- sometimes the entire pack in your house, eating your food and lounging about. Every pack member had their own individual houses- each spread out, and separated by a lot of trees.
  This was extremely helpful when it came to your boyfriend’s mating season.
  Usually, for his rutts, you guys had been fine for the most part. He hadn’t marked you yet, so of course, he would be a bit more aggressive and testy with the other males. But, unfortunately, his heat this time had definitely taken a toll on you both.
  With him being, essentially, part wolf, he can keep track of your cycles pretty well. If he’d noticed that you were bleeding, he’d be more attentive than usual. Early in your relationship, it had embarrassed you that he could literally smell you, but now - although it does cause some embarrassment - it doesn’t make you feel as weirded out, especially since he only tries to help you.
  But, a big downside of this has been him knowing when you’re ovulating. When this starts, you aren’t really allowed to go anywhere; Mingi’s wolf sees this time as your heat, even though humans don’t actually have one. It’s even worse when your ovulation is timed up with his rutt.
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  Laying on your stomach with your arms crossed under your head, you blink your eyes open, shutting them as the late afternoon sun works its way through your window. As you decide to fall back asleep before your boyfriend awakens, the hand that is wrapped around your waist, tightens; your naked body shifts under the loose sheet as you get moved to your side.
  You attempt to even out your breath to trick your needy boyfriend into thinking you were still asleep. You loved the attention he gave you during this time, but with how long you two were going at it earlier today - hence why you had taken the nap in the first place - you did have a small worry in the back of your head of you both getting over exhausted.
  Your plan quickly got thrown out the door; a growl emitting from the chest behind you, as Mingi rutts his bare length into your lower back.
  Spotting kisses around your neck and shoulder, your boyfriend speaks.
  “You know, I think it’s so cute,” placing a kiss on your shoulder “That you think I can’t tell when you’re awake,” placing a kiss where your shoulder meets your neck “When I can still smell your sweet cunt beg for attention when I barely graze you,” he finishes with a light bite below your ear; a place that makes you breathe out a whine.
  “Mingi, please,” “Please what?”
 Pouting at his teasing, you pull his hand that’s wrapped around your waist, and place it in between your legs- sure that he can feel the accumulated arousal.
  “Please fuck me, I really need it. I really need you,” You beg, tilting your head to the side as much as you can to tantalize him.
  In an instant, you are shoved onto your stomach, Mingi’s thick thighs straddling yours, his long length resting on your butt. Feeling his precum dripping onto you, you grind your ass up to feel some type of friction- being stopped by Mingi grabbing your hair and pulling you back enough for him to whisper in your ear.
  “Little mate, I suggest you not tease me. I would love to make you properly mine- but if you keep acting up, my wolf will take over, and you will be marked and knotted,” His raspy voice makes your eyes flutter back. Inhaling a deep breath, his hand in your hair tightens, as he undoubtedly smells the new wave of arousal gushing out from his words.
  “Please Mingi. Mark me, knot me, I don’t care. I just need you in -!” Your begging gets cut off as you feel your boyfriend crawl down you- him lifting your hips up, and sliding his tongue through your slit.
  Rolling your eyes back as his talented tongue does wonders on you, he grabs your ass cheeks for more leverage. After sliding his tongue into you a few times, mocking what’s next to come, he travels up, licking at the pink hole between your cheeks. Reaching your arms out behind you, you attempt to hold him in place to continue eating you out. Much to your disappointment, he gets back up to his previous position, holding your hands behind you.
  “Baby, hold yourself open for me,” You quickly obey, grabbing your cheeks to present yourself to him.
  His groan fills your ears, before feeling his cock enter you, him only stopping when his lower stomach is fully resting on you. Being left breathless from the sudden intrusion, you let out a loud moan when he pulls out, only to thrust back in- the power of the thrust shaking your form.
After a few more slower thrusts, his resolve finally breaks, as he starts snapping his hips into yours at a faster pace; the room filling with the sounds of moans, and slapping skin.
  Hands having fallen, you grasp the bed sheet, as you raise your hips back to meet Mingi’s thrusts.
  Feeling his cock throb inside you, you moan out, letting him know you’re close. He bends down closer to you, hips pistoning even faster. If it weren’t for the pillow between the wall and the headboard, you knew that there would for sure be a dent in the wall.
  Placing kisses on your shoulder, to sweeten the blow that was prepared to come, he finally finds your sweet spot; biting down on it as he feels you come around his length. Whining at the intensity of the strong orgasm, you don’t notice the trail of blood running down your collarbone, from where your boyfriend was latched onto you.
  Mingi finally pulls back, slowing down his thrusts as he comes, his cock swelling in size and pumping his seed into you directly.
  Gasping out at the slightly uncomfortable feeling, your attempts to wiggle around are thwarted by Mingi laying his upper body on you- turning your face to kiss it. 
  “So this is what knotting is?” you question, as the uncomfortable feeling subsides, having adjusted to his large size “Yes it is. The knot should go down in around twenty minutes- there was a lot that went in, so it’s going to take a little longer than usual,” He replies with a tired yawn.
  Turning over to your sides, you press your upper body against his before falling asleep feeling content.
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lochrannn · 3 years
Link
Warnings: Sexual Content (M Rating)
Characters: Lila Pitts; Diego Hargreeves; Allison Hargreeves; Klaus Hargreeves; Hargreeves Siblings (background)
Relationship: Lila Pitts/Diego Hargreeves
Roommates AU; Fake Marriage; Slow Burn; Mutual Pining; Emotional H/C
Chapter 6/?
-
Lila picks up the letter with the marriage license from the letterbox when she comes home from running some errands only a few days after they applied for it. She recognises that it’s from city hall and hesitates for a moment as it’s addressed to Diego and could honestly be anything, how would she know, but she’s desperately impatient so she decides to open the letter and just give it a cursory look and apologise for snooping through his mail later if it turns out to be something else.
As it is, in fact, the marriage license, Lila gets on the phone right away and books an appointment at the courthouse for a wedding in a week’s time, apparently managing to get a slot that just opened up again earlier in the morning, as the waiting time would otherwise have been a couple more weeks. The clerk at city hall had very kindly explained to them how to go about booking a courthouse wedding and what that would entail, otherwise Lila would have been back at square one again even with the license.
All they need to bring is their necessary documentation and a single witness. Lila really hopes Diego has someone he can ask, because she doesn’t want to get one of her coworkers to come along.
She explains this to Diego when he turns up in the evening and he doesn’t even blink at the fact that she opened the letter addressed to him and then suggests he could ask Klaus to be their witness.
“I can ask my brother to take some pictures as well, so we have them as proof for the visa proceedings.” Diego muses.
“Who, Klaus?” Lila asks a bit confused why Diego wouldn’t just refer to him by name, seeing as she’s already met him.
“No, Ben.” Diego says, a bit distracted, as he reads through the letter that she handed him.
“You have another brother?” Lila asks, surprised.
Diego gives her a blank look for a second, then says, “Uh, I have four brothers…”
“And a sister?” Lila puts together, her voice a little high in disbelief.
“Two sisters, actually… all adopted.” Diego shrugs noncommittally, “I guess we’ll have to go through all of that before the interview process.”
Lila could kick herself, because she forgot to ask him exactly what the interview could possibly entail as she’d not heard of it before Diego mentioned it back at city hall. She’s relatively certain that the image that pops into her head of her pretending to be some kind of nineteen fifties housewife in a hoop skirt and delicate curls, who has to fawn over her breadwinner husband while a government agent takes notes, is probably not exactly what they are in for.
But before she can ask about the interview this time, Diego asks tentatively, “Uhm, have you thought about what you’re gonna wear?”
Lila is sitting on the arm of the couch, Diego standing not too far away from her, very strenuously looking down at the letter in his hand. Lila crosses her arms and raises an eyebrow, but says nothing, and after a moment Diego does look at her and is immediately flustered.
“I’m not— It’s not… It’s just, if we’re taking pictures, we can’t look too shabby, but it’s also just a courthouse wedding, so we can’t look too fancy either.”
“You think I might turn up to my wedding looking shabby?” Lila asks in an even tone, but she tries very hard to give it an edge and tries even harder not to start laughing out loud at the look of panic that makes its way onto Diego’s face.
“That’s not… I didn’t mean…” he stammers, but Lila takes sympathy and interrupts him to say, not unkindly, “I have a dress I can wear.”
“Ok,” Diego says, clearly relieved that she didn’t end up getting annoyed at him again, and a tiny part of Lila is filled with a little bit of guilty regret for making him feel like he can’t say anything to her without the danger of her blowing up at him. He’s doing her a massive favour, apparently despite the fact he seems to think of her as some kind of raging bitch. It’s not like she can entirely blame him, but for some reason that thought really twists something in the pit of her stomach.
Which is odd, because she usually couldn’t give a flying toss about what people think of her.
-
In the end the day somehow arrives much sooner than she expected and Lila finds herself stepping out of her room in a short red cotton dress that hangs a little loosely off the thin straps across her shoulder but is cinched at the waist with a drawstring with a bow, and she’s put on a pair of black high heel sandals.
She hears Diego in the kitchen, so she makes her way over and when she finds him she is hit by the view of Diego in a pair of very nicely fitted grey suit trousers, a matching jacket, and what must be a black t-shirt underneath as he’s pouring himself a cup of coffee. For a second Lila can’t work out if she’s completely underdressed by comparison, or whether Diego is just wearing the heck out of his clothes, but then he notices her and gives her a once over with a strange expression.
“You look… uh… really, uhm, cute,” he says, a bit hesitantly.
“Ah shit,” Lila says, a bit frustrated, “this is way too casual… Hold on, I can take another look in my cupboard…” but Diego interrupts her. “No, Lila, honestly, you look lovely! You’re perf— It’s perfect! Not too flashy, but you look very nice, really!” Diego says in a reassuring tone and despite the fact she doesn’t quite feel like she’s actually struck the balance, she’s finding it hard not to believe him, he does sound awfully sincere.
Diego drives them to the courthouse and Lila is very intrigued by his car. It's classic Chevy and it’s a bit of a banger of a thing, but inside it smells of leather seats and very faintly of Diego’s aftershave, and Lila is weirdly comforted by that, considering her stomach is rolling with nerves. She’s not even sure why. This means nothing, they are doing this so she can get a visa and yet Lila wonders whether she’d honestly be significantly more nervous if this was her real wedding.
On their way they pick up Klaus, who is wearing a sarong and a tie dye crop top and Lila is interested to see that Diego doesn’t comment at all on the outfit, so neither does she. Then they pick up Diego’s other brother, Ben, who’s wearing a leather jacket over a hoodie, Lila can see as he approaches the car. A lot more sensibly dressed than Klaus, but still a little casual for a wedding. Then again, Lila thinks, he’s mostly only there to take the photos, so it doesn’t actually matter.
The first thing Ben does, as he climbs into the car, is make a snide comment at Klaus’s attire and Klaus shoots back with something equally insulting and after a short back and forth Diego interrupts them in annoyance, “Shut the fuck up back there, or I swear, I’m gonna pull someone off the sidewalk to be the witness, and I’m sure we can get the officiant to take a couple of pictures!”
The two brothers in the backseat take that as an invitation to have an argument amongst themselves about the ungratefulness they have to deal with and Diego rolls his eyes at them in the rearview mirror, but Lila catches the fond smile that etches it’s way across his lips and she’s quite certain that she wasn’t meant to see that. She’s glad she did.
She’s also glad that Diego has apparently told his brothers the purpose of their wedding, which means they don’t have to pretend in front of them and only need to start acting like a couple as they are called into the ceremonial office twenty minutes after their actual appointment.
The officiating judge seems harassed and in a hurry and just makes a grabbing motion as they enter. Diego catches on right away. Maybe, Lila muses, he deals with people like this all the time in his job, so he hands over all of their documents that they have compiled in one file.
The judge gives the paperwork a very thorough look, while Lila and Diego stand a little awkwardly in front of her desk.
“Okay, this all seems fine. Can I see the witness’s ID?” she says looking over the rim of her glasses at Ben.
“Oh, that’s me!” chirps Klaus and flounces over to the desk and hands the judge a passport that Lila doesn’t want to think about where he’d been keeping it on his person.
“Alright!” Says the judge and pulls a form out of a tray and starts writing their names on it in what looks, from where Lila can see it, like remarkably tidy cursive.
“Well then, are you, Diego Hargreeves, free lawfully to marry Lila Pitts?” she asks in a very official sounding voice.
Diego, much like Lila herself, must be a bit taken aback at how quickly they got to this part but rallies and says, in an unwavering voice, “I am!”
The judge turns to her and Lila swallows hard as she hears, “Are you, Lila Pitts, free lawfully to marry Diego Hargreeves?”
“I am!” Lila answers without hesitation, maybe she even sounds a bit rushed, but she hasn’t got the time to think about whether that is in any way embarrassing, because the judge just plows on, “Ok, then you sign here and here,” she points at the two gaps and Diego lets Lila go first. Then the judge says quite impatiently, “Witness?” and Klaus hurries over to put down his own name.
“Great! Then, by the power vested in me by the state, I now pronounce you husband and wife!” the judge says, reaching for a stamp and then distractedly adding, “You may kiss the bride.”
Lila watches as Diego’s eyes go wide, and she can’t blame him for that. For some incomprehensible reason she had also not thought about the fact that this might come up.
Diego looks at the judge for a second, but she’s busy sorting out their paperwork, then he looks at Lila and she gives him a half smile and a tiny shrug, because they can hardly just back out of this part now and Ben is just there with his camera at the ready, so Lila feels emboldened by the thought that this is probably really useful evidence for the immigration file, and she’s just about to reach for Diego, as his hand gently lands on the side of her face and in surprise she covers it with her own, and then his lips are softly pressing against her mouth.
She doesn’t even notice that she’s closed her eyes, but for a moment all she can focus on is the warmth of Diego’s hand on her face, the gentle breath that ghost across her cheek as he slowly breaths out of his nose, and the tension in his lips as they move gently against hers. Then he starts pulling away and a deep sense of loss settles into a spot just behind her breast bone just before Diego ever so slightly brushes his lips against hers for one more moment and then he’s gone and Lila almost over balances. She just about manages not to fall forwards and hopes nobody noticed that for a beat she turned into a swooning damsel.
Things turn into a blur then. They are dismissed hastily by the judge and then find themselves outside the courthouse. Klaus has produced a bottle of champagne and some paper cups from somewhere and Ben encourages them to pose for a few pictures in which they are toasting their newly established matrimony.
Lila downs the first cup of champagne she’s handed and immediately asks for a second and Diego gives her a slightly bewildered look, but at this point the day has been too much for her already and she no longer has the energy to feel embarrassed.
“C’mon!” Klaus then says clapping his hands together decisively, “We need to get a few more pictures of the happy couple,” and adds in a loud stage whisper, “for the whole visa things.”
Lila catches a glimpse of how Diego’s jaw tightens in response and when she looks back at Klaus there is decidedly a glint in his eye, and Lila is relatively certain that they are having some kind of unspoken communication literally over the top of her head.
Klaus glides over to stand beside Ben and in the meantime Lila suddenly feels Diego’s arm coming around the back of her and landing on her waist. But his grip is loose and he doesn’t pull her in and she’s unsure of how to go about this herself, so she fusses for a moment before putting her arm around his waist as well and then leaning into him just a bit and putting her other hand against his side.
Apparently encouraged by the fact that she’s not pulled away, Diego’s grip on her tightens and Lila makes the mistake of looking up at him, and their eyes meet and she freezes.
Diego’s eyes are impossibly soft as he’s looking back at her and for a moment Lila wonders whether that means anything. Then she slowly starts panicking as she thinks about whether she wants it to mean anything and just as Diego clears his throat and it almost seems like he wants to say something, Klaus shouts, “Lovely! And now kiss!”
Both Lila and Diego swivel round to look at Klaus but he just gives them an encouraging hand gesture, so they turn back to each other and this time a bit awkwardly press their lips against each other, noses bumping a bit uncomfortably.
It’s not a terrible kiss, Lila has had worse, but it certainly has nowhere near the effect on her that the one in the judge's office did. As she makes a little displeased noise in the back of her throat and Diego pulls away instantly with an expression that looks about as frustrated as she feels, Lila is suddently completely off kilter. In one instant she feels like she might get lost in his eyes and the next they can’t even manage an even slightly romantic kiss despite the fact they have already done so much more together.
Apparently Klaus is also not particularly impressed by their display because he says, irritation in his voice, “Are you kidding me? What was that? Come on you guys, you’re young and hot and… well… not so much unattached, but you know what I mean, you should manage a more passionate kiss than that even if it’s just for the camera! Stop kissing like you would your grandma!”
“Shut the fuck up, Klaus!” Diego growls and Lila can feel him tense next to her, but she’s too busy gaping at Klaus and asks at the same time as Diego speaks, “How the fuck do you kiss your grandma?”
“Never you mind!” Klaus grins at her with a little flick of the hand, “Anyway, we need more passion, right Benny?” he adds, elbowing his brother enthusiastically.
“I’m just the photograoher!” Ben says, raising his hands in defense, one of them still holding his camera, “But yeah that was pretty lame.”
“Fuck you both!” Diego says angrily and Lila definitely shares the sentiment but doesn’t get a chance to voice it, because all of a sudden, she’s vertical, with Diego’s arm firmly behind her back pressing her up against his chest, his other hand at the back of her knee pulling it up against his hip and he is properly kissing her this time.
Almost on autopilot, as her brain has momentarily stopped working, Lila wraps one arm around Diego’s neck, threads her other hand into his hair, and when his tongue runs along the seam of her lips, she opens her mouth and licks into his before he even gets any further. Diego makes a tiny whining noise and Lila automatically presses herself harder against him, even though she’s basically suspended in mid air with only one foot on the ground.
Then there’s a loud whoop from somewhere off to the side and as suddenly as she was tipped backwards, Diego pulls her back upright and then she’s standing unsteadily on her own, already desperately missing the sensation of pressing up against Diego’s warm, solid body and the wet heat of his mouth on hers.
-
It’s become a habit by now.
Diego will go to bed and then lie awake staring up at the ceiling for hours, trying to sort out his thoughts.
But today is particularly bad. It’s past two in the morning and he’s not slept a single minute, despite the fact he didn’t get in that late.
After the ceremony, he invited Lila, Klaus, and Ben out for lunch, mostly to thank his brothers for their help and because his stepmom had taught him how to be at least somewhat classy, so he wasn’t going to marry a girl and then not at least take her out to dinner – or lunch in this case – even if it was a sham wedding. Then he’d driven them all home and as he couldn’t afford to take a full day off, made his way back to his office in a daze.
When he got back in the evening, the apartment was already dark and he couldn’t hear any sounds coming from Lila’s room, so he assumed she’d gone to bed and almost felt guilty at how relieved he was not to bump into her.
Fuck, here he is, lying awake in bed, his wife in the other room—Jesus Christ, his wife!—and he can’t even face her.
But he just can’t work out how to be around her, now.
He has no doubt anymore about the fact that he’s in love with Lila but that realisation has almost made things worse.
For a moment, when he stupidly let himself be goaded into kissing her for the photos, he started imagining that she was kissing him back with the same fervor as he was feeling. It felt so real, he’s not even entirely sure he imagined it, but he worries that he’s just seeing what he wants to see.
He even contemplated telling her about how he feels, but that just wouldn’t be fair, even if a tiny part of him hopes that maybe there is a remote chance that she could at least feel something for him beyond friendship. But it would be so unfair on her if she didn’t reciprocate his feelings. They entered their deal under very specific terms and he can’t just go and make things awkward for her, just because he can’t handle being close to Lila without wanting to pull her in and kiss her senseless. He does wonder, though, if he maybe could talk to her about it once she has her visa, once she has options. She wouldn’t be stuck with him then and wouldn’t have to continue pretending to be in a relationship any longer.
Fuck, this is all so messed up, Diego thinks, angry with himself for not being able to keep his feelings under control better. But who is he kidding, that’s never been his strong suit.
He abandons the idea of getting any sleep, so he rolls out of bed and pulls on a pair of sweatpants and an old t-shirt and hopes that a run around the neighborhood might tire him out enough that he can maybe catch at least a little bit of sleep.
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ollieofthebeholder · 3 years
Text
leaves to high to touch (roots too strong to fall): a TMA fanfic
Read from the beginning on Tumblr || Also on AO3
Chapter 51: Statement of Walter Sims, regarding a list. Recorded direct from subject, twenty-sixth of January, 1990.
[CLICK]
GERTRUDE
You’re certain you don’t mind?
WALTER
Not at all. Honestly, when you said you would come to me rather than have me come to you, I assumed this wasn’t going to be…official.
GERTRUDE
Yes, well.
People don’t often send messages ahead of time. They simply…come to give their statements. I admit I was intrigued.
WALTER
I’m here most of the hours the Institute is open. Simple as that.
GERTRUDE
Still. I have a…feeling, shall we say, that your statement doesn’t need to be available for research.
WALTER
I don’t think you’re wrong about that.
Are you ready?
GERTRUDE
One moment.
Statement of Walter Sims, regarding—how would you term it?
WALTER
Let’s just say “a list.”
GERTRUDE
Recorded direct from subject, twenty-sixth of January, 1990.
Whenever you’re ready.
WALTER (Statement)
I’ve worked here for almost three years now—ever since we found out we were going to be parents. My mother made it clear that she was not going to make herself responsible for what she termed “my careless mistakes,” and Sarah’s only family is a sister over in America with a family of her own. My choices were to drop out of school and get a job or let us both starve. Put like that, it’s no choice at all, really.
I’d thought to go to sea. My best mate and I always talked about it, and he had a job on a commercial deep-sea fishing vessel, so I asked him about getting a job. He talked me out of it, though. The captain’s a bit…odd, he says. He knew his father-in-law was looking for a handyman and suggested I apply. The old man and I suited each other well enough, and he hired me on the spot.
The work isn’t hard. I’m a general man about the place. I do repairs, painting, gardening, a bit of housework. He buys the groceries, but I put them away. Sometimes I do a bit of cooking for him. He’s not infirm or an invalid—well, obviously—but he can’t climb ladders or do a lot of bending over, so anything regarding hard labor, I handle for him. (heh) My biggest job these days is keeping next door’s grandson from getting at the entire cherry crop in the summer. They hang pretty near the property line, and the lad’s learned to climb pretty well these last couple years.
It’s nice for a lot of reasons, probably the biggest of which is that I can bring my boy with me sometimes. Sarah’s trying to finish her degree, at least part time, so on days she has classes, I bring him to work. He adores the old man—it’s the closest he’s got to a grandfather—and my best mate’s boy is only a bit older than him, so they play together. Can’t separate them with a pry bar. They’re good lads, both of them.
Neither one was here the first day I saw it.
It was just after the first of the year. The couple next door must have had some sort of party; there were paper streamers and fragments of fireworks all over this side of the fence. I was picking up all the bits when I saw a figure standing by the house.
He wore a suit, a three-piece suit. All of it was black as night, except for his tie, which was pure white—or so I thought at the time. His hands and face were white as snow, too. No, more than that. He was colorless. Completely devoid of any color. He was staring up at the house. When I got a little closer, I realized he was staring up at the old man’s bedroom window. He had a clipboard in one hand—black, like his suit—and a pen in the other. It was the only splash of real color about him, and it was gold, very pale gold. Like a shaft of light.
I saw him write something down on the clipboard. I called out to him, just like I did when you came up—told him this was private property. There’s a place down the road with an orchard open to the public, and the numbers are reversed, so sometimes we get people coming here by mistake. It’s not usually a big deal.
But this one…he looked at me. He didn’t have any eyebrows, or, well, they were so pale they didn’t show up, but I thought he looked…surprised. Like he hadn’t expected anyone to be there. I asked him again if I could help him, but he just—he vanished. It was like he’d never been there at all.
It gave me a bit of a turn, I won’t deny it, but for the most part, I shrugged it off. Either I was having a hallucination, or he’d just moved very quickly. I wouldn’t ever have thought of it again, except that a couple of days later, I saw him again.
He was in the same place, just underneath one of the cherry trees. Matter of fact, I’d seen the branches rattling and thought it was next door’s grandson again, climbing up. (soft laugh) Obviously there aren’t any cherries this time of year; the trees are bare as bones. But we’d had something of a freeze the night before, and the branches were slick with ice. I was worried he might slip and hurt himself, so I went over to get him down. But when I got closer, I saw the same man again.
This time, he was looking away from the house, towards the Stokers’ place. He was peering very intently over there, not moving except to make a note on his clipboard. I called out to him again, a little louder and a little less friendly this time, wanting to know what he was doing and where he came from.
He vanished again, but this time, just after he disappeared, the old man came out onto the porch here and wanted to know what was going on. I told him about the strange visitor, and the fact that he just kept…leaving so quickly.
To my surprise, the old man got pretty agitated. He wasn’t mad at me—wasn’t even mad, really. Just…agitated. He told me not to have anything to do with the man if he turned up again. I asked if he knew him, and he said no, not exactly, but that he’d been around enough to know something related to one of the Fourteen when he heard it.
We’ve talked, of course. I knew what he meant. He obviously couldn’t say which one it was, not without seeing it for himself, but he told me to keep away from him, not make eye contact, and hope he didn’t turn his attention to me. I asked if I should come talk to someone from your Institute, and he said no again. Said it was such a small thing, not worth bothering about. Nothing for you all to really sink your teeth into. And he said he didn’t want you lot touching me, either.
So I left it alone. Kept my head down and got back to work. Until yesterday.
Both the boys were here. I let them “help” me a bit, but, well, they’re two. Eventually I told them to go play on the porch while I cleaned out the gutters. I don’t want them running about under the ladders when I’m up high. It’s a good way for someone to get hurt.
I was just coming down when I saw him again. Standing behind the skeletal remains of the privet hedge, facing the house again. Facing the porch. He was watching the boys, just as intently as he’d looked at all the others, but this time he was watching the boys.
I didn’t call out to him this time. I jumped off the ladder and went for him. When I got close enough, I shouted, “Hey!” Just to get his attention, you know, before I grabbed him.
Well…it worked, insofar as it got his attention. He looked even more surprised than the first two times. This time, I was close enough to see the barely-there shape of his eyebrows, the thin lines of his mouth, the way light just slid off his suit, still solid black except for the tie. This time, though, I was close enough to see it wasn’t pure white. There were faint lines and whorls in it—like a feather from a gigantic wing. But when I grabbed at him, he vanished again.
This time, though…he dropped his clipboard.
I picked it up and studied it. I half expected it to be some oddity as well, like black paper written on in gold ink, but…no, it was perfectly ordinary stock, good quality paper, and it was neatly written in a deep black ink. The handwriting was clear as daylight, as were the contents of the note.
It was a list of names. Seven of them. With yours truly right at the top.
GERTRUDE
Do you still have the list?
WALTER
No. I was almost done reading it when it…disintegrated in my hand, I guess.
But I have it memorized. It burned itself into my mind. Not just the names, but each one had a pair of dates after it, separated by a single dash. Like a range.
GERTRUDE
Seven names, you say? And what were the dates?
WALTER
If you mean “what do they mean”…I’m not sure, but I have a guess. I know what the first date means, anyway, and I have my suspicions about the second. But the list itself…
GERTRUDE
Let’s record it. For posterity.
WALTER
(deep breath) Walter Sims, fourth July 1976 to seventh April 1990.
Alastair Koskiewicz, twenty-sixth January 1935 to eighteenth March 1997.
Daniel Stoker, first May 1990 to fourteenth August 2013.
Gertrude Robinson, seventeenth December 1934 to fifteenth May 2015.
[GERTRUDE INHALES SHARPLY]
WALTER
Timothy Stoker, thirteenth January 1985 to—and that’s when it started to dissolve.
It was like a drop of black ink on the page, obscuring the second half of the date, and then it just…spread. It absorbed the bottom three names and dates first. Then it burned all the way through the paper, and the clipboard, and just kept spreading until…until it was just dust in the wind.
I talked to Kier—my best mate—when he turned up to get his son, while the old man was helping them (slight laugh) conspire to let them spend the night. Gave him the whole rundown. I think it would have stopped there, except that while I was telling him, I suddenly remembered that, right before the paper started dissolving, when it was still just the ink blot—for just a moment, where the dates at the bottom would have been, it coalesced into a drawing of an eye.
And I swear it blinked.
That’s when we sent the note round. I’m sorry to make you come all the way out here. I’d have been perfectly willing to come to you if you’d been willing to work with me.
GERTRUDE
I don’t know that this would keep.
Did you see any of the dates on the last two?
WALTER
No. Didn’t need to, really. Saw the names, which means I know the first dates, and—oh, hang on.
[FAINT SINGING CAN BE HEARD IN THE BACKGROUND, INDISTINCT AT FIRST BUT GRADUALLY LOUDER UNTIL THE WORDS TO “FISH OF THE SEA” CAN BE MADE OUT]
[A SUDDEN PATTER OF RUNNING FOOTSTEPS]
YOUNG JON
Papa!
WALTER
Hey, there’s my boy.
[RUSTLE OF FABRIC]
All right there, Kier?
KEEPER
All right there, Walt.
Ma’am.
WALTER
This is Gertrude Robinson. The Archivist at the Magnus Institute. Ms. Robinson, this is Kieran Blackwood, my best mate, and this is my boy.
Go on, say hello.
YOUNG JON
Hello! I’m Jonny. I’m two and one-quarter.
GERTRUDE
A pleasure to meet you both. And who is this?
KEEPER
(gently) It’s all right, Wickie. Tell her your name.
YOUNG MARTIN
(mumbled) Martin.
YOUNG JON
He’s my very best friend in the whole wide world. And that’s a very wide place. Uncle Kier told me that, and he’s almost the smartest man there is, so he should know.
[WALTER AND THE KEEPER BOTH LAUGH]
GERTRUDE
Yes, well…that’s wonderful.
WALTER
Tell you what. Ms. Robinson’s never seen how fast you can run. Why don’t you two race to see who can be the first one to run all the way around the house and get back?
YOUNG JON
We can do that! Come on, Martin!
YOUNG MARTIN
Ready, steady, go!
[POUNDING FOOTSTEPS AND CHILDISH GIGGLING RECEDE INTO THE BACKGROUND]
GERTRUDE
Hmm. How long do you estimate this will take?
KEEPER
As long as we need. They’ll probably race around to the far side of the house, slow down, and sing a few rousing choruses of the song I taught them a couple months ago.
It’s the one that goes, “La la la, la la la la la, the grown-ups are talking.”
WALTER
They’re two, not stupid.
GERTRUDE
…Right.
KEEPER
You’ve told her, then?
WALTER
Aye. We just finished up.
KEEPER
Terminus?
GERTRUDE
…How do you know about the Fourteen?
WALTER
…Ma’am, you do know I work for Alastair Koskiewicz, right?
GERTRUDE
Yes, I…oh.
Oh, I see.
He told you?
WALTER
In bits and bobs. Enough to avoid them, anyway. Or at least I think that was his intention. Doesn’t always work.
KEEPER
Obviously.
GERTRUDE
Of course.
(sigh) Yes. I believe you’re correct. The person you saw was likely an agent of Terminus.
WALTER
Thought as much.
Well. Suppose I’d best let the old man know. Seventh of April, that’s…what, three weeks before you leave on your next run?
KEEPER
More or less. Depends on the tides, really.
WALTER
Well, I should be able to get supplies ordered in, at least, but that’s a bit early to have the garden laid out. He’ll need to get someone else for that.
GERTRUDE
I must say, you’re taking this remarkably well.
WALTER
What do you expect me to do? Start crying? Curl up in a ball in a dark room and mourn?
At least I know. And I’m not ill or anything—not that I know of, anyway—so it’s going to be an accident. It’ll be sudden. Which means that, if I hadn’t seen this list, it would catch us all off-guard. Now I’ve got time to put things in order. I can make arrangements to make sure Sarah and Jonny will be taken care of. I can get whatever work around here needs to be done finished, or at least started.
There’s always more work to do, I suppose. Always one more job. But at least I won’t have to worry that I didn’t do all I could.
KEEPER
He says, as though he had ever, in his life, put forth less than one hundred percent effort into anything he did.
[WALTER LAUGHS]
WALTER
That’s as may be. But still.
I’m sorry I won’t get to see my boy grow up. I can’t imagine what he and Martin will be like when they’re our age, or when they’re thirty, or when they’re old men.
You, I can easily imagine as an old man. Some grizzled old lighthouse keeper with a weatherbeaten face and snow-white hair, staring out over the storm-tossed ocean and longing…
KEEPER
Blackwoods don’t go white. We go silver.
You know I’ll look out for them for you, right?
WALTER
I thought that went without saying. But…thank you.
[SOUNDS OF CAR TIRES ON GRAVEL DRIVE]
KEEPER
Incoming.
WALTER
(sigh) Damn. Hoped we could get you out of here before he got back.
[CAR DOOR SHUTS]
[FOOTSTEPS, PUNCTUATED BY THE REGULAR THUNK OF A CANE]
ALASTAIR
Trudy.
GERTRUDE
Alastair.
ALASTAIR
And what brings you out to the haunts of coot and hearn?
WALTER
She came to get my statement about the man I saw.
ALASTAIR
(gruffly) Told you to have nothing to do with him. Or the Institute. You want them to mark you?
WALTER
I think it’s a bit late for that. He showed up yesterday and was watching the boys, and—well, he dropped his clipboard. List of names and dates.
ALASTAIR
(more gently) How long have you got?
WALTER
Ten weeks, give or take. Enough time to finish the painting. Patch the roof over the dormer. I might even be able to get that shed built for you. I can definitely get the ground prepped, but I think you’ll need to get someone else to do the planting this year.
ALASTAIR
How can you think of that at a time like this, what?
WALTER
Like I told Ms. Robinson here, what else am I supposed to do? Spend the rest of my life mourning that I won’t have more time? That just wastes the time I do have.
ALASTAIR
You’re facing down the End—
WALTER
I’m facing death.
GERTRUDE
It is the same thing.
WALTER
I can see how they’d get lumped together, but they’re really not. Death is only the end if you assume the story is about you.
[A BRIEF SILENCE]
[RUNNING FOOTSTEPS]
WALTER
(audibly grinning) Look out, here comes trouble.
YOUNG MARTIN
Granddad! Granddad!
ALASTAIR
All right, come here, you rips. What have you been up to?
YOUNG JON
We were just racing around the house and then we saw a skylark, honest we did, and Martin told me the poem about it, and—
YOUNG MARTIN
And then it flew away and, and we heard your car and came to see you, and here you are!
YOUNG JON
(whispering loudly) Papa, is Mr. K’s surprise ready?
WALTER
(matching his volume) Just about.
ALASTAIR
(also whispering loudly) I’m not deaf, laddie buck.
WALTER
Why don’t you two go wash your hands and set the table for tea? I trust you to be careful.
YOUNG MARTIN/YOUNG JON
Yes, sir!
[RUNNING FEET, A SCREEN DOOR BANGING SHUT]
GERTRUDE
Well. I won’t take up any more of your time. I suppose I’d best be getting back to the Institute.
ALASTAIR
Oh, hang the Institute, Trudy. Surely your assistants can spare you for the afternoon. I’m sure Mendelson won’t mind, what?
GERTRUDE
Mendelson retired more than fifteen years ago. James Wright is the current head of the Institute.
ALASTAIR
Wright? That little dog’s todger?
GERTRUDE
He does well. It surprised me, too.
I—I shouldn’t.
KEEPER
You’re not even a little curious to see what those two little nippers have conjured up as a surprise for Alastair’s birthday?
GERTRUDE
Speaking of those two, I am curious why Jonny calls you “Mr. K”.
ALASTAIR
“Koskiewicz” is a bit of a mouthful for a two-year-old.
WALTER/KEEPER
(simultaneously and accurately mimicking Jon’s tones) Two and a quarter.
GERTRUDE
So why don’t they both call you “Granddad?”
WALTER
We used to refer to him that way for both, but once Jonny started talking, he decided that if Martin can’t call my mother “Grandmother,” he wasn’t going to steal Martin’s grandfather. He wanted Martin to have someone of his very own.
ALASTAIR
Gertrude, he’s Lily’s boy.
GERTRUDE
(softly) My God.
WALTER
I did tell you Kier got me a job with his father-in-law. Did you just not make the connection?
GERTRUDE
No, I—I didn’t.
How is Lily these days?
[ALASTAIR MAKES A NOISE BETWEEN A SPUTTER AND A GROWL]
KEEPER
Lily’s…fine, ma’am.
ALASTAIR
Should’ve stayed at the Institute and left her to be raised by wolves. Would’ve solved a lot of problems.
KEEPER
Aye, but then we wouldn’t have our Wickie. And I wouldn’t trade him for a king’s ransom.
ALASTAIR
Hmm, yes, yes. Thank God he takes after his father, what?
GERTRUDE
…I take it she hasn’t improved with maturity, then.
ALASTAIR
Let’s just say there’s a reason Martin spends most of his days here when Kieran’s away for work.
[DOOR CREAKS OPEN]
YOUNG MARTIN
U-um, ‘scuse me. Are—are you going to stay for tea, Ms. Robinson?
GERTRUDE
I really shouldn’t.
ALASTAIR
Come on, Trudy. Just an hour or two.
I have missed you, what?
Say you’ll join us.
YOUNG MARTIN
Please?
[A SHORT PAUSE]
GERTRUDE
Since you ask so politely…I’d be delighted.
[CLICK]
———
[CLICK]
GERTRUDE
Final notes.
I…I really don’t quite know what to say here. The statement itself is…fairly straightforward. Obviously those dates bear watching, but I suppose I can’t be certain of them. Of all the abilities I seem to have developed in the last twenty-five years, the ability to Know the future is not one of them.
Still, I suppose finding a way to warn the Stokers would not go amiss. Mr. Sims did give me a bit more to go on there.
I am not made of stone. I do feel very keenly for that young father and his…situation. He did finally get the chance to give me the last two names on the list, and I suppose it’s no surprise that they belonged to his son and his godson. (heh) They’re quite a pair, those two. I admit that I’m somewhat relieved the dates on their names were obscured before he could see them. No parent should have to know when their child is going to die.
And he has given me much to think about. I have a date. If his statement is accurate, I have a little over twenty-five years to accomplish all I need to accomplish. Of course, it’s entirely possible that those dates are the absolute limit, not the concrete end—that I will live no longer than that—but…well. That should give me time, if I work hard at it.
He’s right. There will always be more to do. (heh) Unless I fail, and it all ends. Perhaps that’s why the last three dates are—no. No, I have to believe that these rituals can be stopped, will be stopped. And now I have even more of a reason to work at them than before.
Honestly, I’m not sure what about this whole experience has shaken me more. Finding out the date of my own death…(voice hitches) or meeting my grandson.
I don’t think I’ll make a file in the Archives for this one.
[CLICK]
———
[CLICK]
[LONG, HEAVILY CHARGED SILENCE]
MELANIE
What. The. Fuck.
PAST ARCHIVIST
(softly) Oh, God.
SASHA
Gertrude Robinson was your grandmother?
PAST MARTIN
I—I didn’t know…
MARTIN
Neither did I. I don’t—
It kind of explains a lot.
ARCHIVIST
Like what?
MARTIN
Like why she avoided me? Like why errands to the Archives were the only ones Diana never sent me on?
PAST MARTIN
A-and it’s—when, when Elias—when Jonah made me experience her death. I-it was—you said it wasn’t usually that intense.
Was that why? I could f-feel her thoughts and emotions because we’re not just connected by the Eye, we’re—related.
ARCHIVIST
I—
[STATIC BEGINS, SOFTLY AT FIRST BUT GRADUALLY BUILDING]
Yes.
No one ever knew. No one apart from Alastair Koskiewicz, and Liliana herself, ever knew that Gertrude gave birth shortly before being appointed Archivist. The baby was placed with Alastair’s parents, for a while anyway, but they were quite elderly and died within a few months of each other four years later, at which time Alastair resigned his position in Research to raise her. Gertrude always made absolutely sure that nobody knew about Liliana. The one and only time she ever tried to reach out to her, Liliana made it clear that she wanted nothing to do with the woman who had given her life and nothing else, as far as she was concerned.
Gertrude didn’t know about you until that day, but afterward, you became the single driving force behind her war against the Fears. She worried that the appearance of the eye on the list might mean that the Ceaseless Watcher had taken an interest in you, and she became ruthless in her zeal to keep it away from you. She spoke with you only twice after that day, taking care to be in disguise and using a false name, just in case.
When she found out you had joined the Institute, she was devastated and terrified in equal measures. It was only when Elias Bouchard did not come down to the Archives to casually mention that he had hired Alastair Koskiewicz’s grandson that she realized her steps to protect you had been, in some small way, successful, and Jonah Magnus had no idea of the connection between her and you. Still, she redoubled her efforts, becoming ever more ruthless in her determination to stop the rituals, to make the world—
MARTIN
J-Jon. Jon!
[STATIC ABRUPTLY STOPS]
ARCHIVIST
Wh—(realizes) Oh, God. Martin, I’m sorry, I—
MARTIN
It’s okay. It’s okay. Just—settle down, okay?
ARCHIVIST
Okay.
Okay, I—
(sighs) Are you three all right?
MELANIE
Do you all need a minute?
PAST MARTIN
Yeah. Thanks, Melanie.
MELANIE
Sure.
[CHAIRS CREAKING AND SCRAPING]
SASHA
We’ll probably be down in the tunnels. Whenever you’re ready.
[FOOTSTEPS, DOOR CLOSING]
[SILENCE, EXCEPT FOR SLIGHTLY RAGGED BREATHING]
TIM
(softly) They moved.
Grandmother and Grandfather, they—just before Danny was born. They’d always lived on this little farm, but they abruptly decided they wanted something smaller and moved to a flat not far from where we were living at the time. We moved a few months later. I never knew why, but…
PAST ARCHIVIST
Y-you think it was because Gertrude…found them. Tried to, to warn them. About Danny, about you.
PAST MARTIN
Oh, Tim.
[FABRIC RUSTLES, SOME MINOR SCRAPING SOUNDS; IT’S PRETTY OBVIOUS THERE’S A GROUP HUG GOING ON]
TIM
It’s okay. It’s okay.
It’s going to be okay.
PAST MARTIN
Sure.
PAST ARCHIVIST
We can get through this.
Together.
PAST MARTIN
I like the sound of that.
Jon, I—I’m sorry your dad didn’t get to see the man you’ve become. I think he’d be proud of you.
TIM
Sounds like your grandfather would have been proud of you both.
PAST MARTIN
He’d have been proud of you, too. I-if he’d had the chance to—I think you would have liked him.
I know he would have liked you.
TIM
…Thanks, Martin.
[A COUPLE OF HEAVY SIGHS]
PAST MARTIN
So—so now what? We go…up to Hainault, find the storage unit, figure out what it is—what’s up there?
PAST ARCHIVIST
No.
No, not—not now. I-I need the weekend. I’ve…it’s been one thing after another for so long. I’ve been going non-stop. It’s not time-sensitive, not really, and…I’m tired.
Let’s just…not think about it for a couple of days. Let’s close down the Archives early and, I don’t know, go meet Charlie when he gets home from school and take him out for ice cream. Something like that. Let me have a couple of days to enjoy being home and with you again and—a-and we can worry about it on Monday.
We won’t talk about it. We won’t think about it. We’ll just…take a break. I think we all deserve it.
PAST MARTIN
…Okay. Okay, that—that sounds good.
Tim?
TIM
(deep sigh) Sure. Sounds great.
PAST ARCHIVIST
All right then. Let’s go.
[CLICK]
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