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astralaffairs · 4 years

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concept: first lady mc reads of fotp!tjeff’s speeches and edits them for all the things she thinks are stupid or unethical. and he’s like “sweetheart, my party isn’t ready for universal healthcare. i can’t be pissing people off within the first month of my presidency.” but she couldn’t give a fuck and continues marking up his speeches with a red pen all while insisting he gets a new speech writer.

y'all need 2 STOP hitting me w concepts i like this much i have 0 self control and WILL write every damn one of them. there are like 4 sitting in my inbox rn smh.

(by which i mean pls keep sending me concepts like this i love writing fotp drabbles)

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"What're you still doin' up?"

Y/N's eyebrows shot up as she looked up; a small, tired smile graced her lips as Thomas entered their bedroom, shaking his blazer off as the door fell shut behind him. "Hey. I'm glad you're back," she said softly. "I've just been tying up a few final loose ends with what I've been working on before I go to sleep."

"Can it wait until the morning?" he asked. He laid his blazer on the back of a chair at the side of the room before immediately starting to loosen his tie. "It's gettin' late. And I miss spendin' time with you. You work too much."

She scoffed, but her smile was only growing at his words. "Did you, the President of the United States, just tell me that I work too much?" He rolled his eyes as she spoke, just discarding his tie on the floor beside their bed. "That really is rich coming from you."

"Yeah, yeah, make fun all you want," he said, crossing the room to join her on their couch, "but you always overwork yourself, and you know it. You've been doin' it for as long as I've known you."

"Alright, I'll come to bed in a few minutes." He took a seat behind her, and when he rested his hand on her inner thigh, it sent shivers rippling across her skin. She looked up. "You go get some sleep. I'll finish this quickly. I promise."

"What're you workin' on, anyway?" She didn't protest when he withdrew the paper from her lap, glancing over it, and the corners of his lips quirked up. "Is this the address I'm givin' on Friday?"

"The very same."

"You shouldn't be losin' sleep over this," he said matter-of-factly, turning his head back toward her as he squeezed the top of her thigh lightly. "Either lose sleep spendin' time with your dear, sweet husband who's fucking sick of thinkin' about legislation, or just come to bed, hm?"

He passed her back the paper, instead looping an arm around her waist as he kicked his legs up onto their coffee table, and when he pulled her in to rest against his shoulder, she put up no protest.

"Just five more minutes. I promise." The barely-concealed yawn in her voice made Thomas look down at her skeptically.

"Alright, but I'm holdin' you to that. If you're still working in five minutes, I'll carry you to bed myself."

"No complaints here." She turned her head to kiss the corner of his mouth gently before she turned back to her paper, fidgeting with her red pen as she reached the last page of the document. Thomas's eyes had fallen shut; he was more than content to just sit there with her until she finished, as he had no desire whatsoever to think anymore about pushing his healthcare bill through Congress.

He opened his eyes when Y/N scoffed. Her pen ran down the page in a long slash, and she was pursing her lips as she jotted notes in the margins, but it made Thomas furrow his brow.

"Hey, now, what was so wrong with that paragraph?"

"Seriously?" She raised a skeptical eyebrow, glancing back at him. "You keep treating healthcare like it's some privilege that poor people should have to grovel at the feet of the rich to have access to. It can't be conditional like this."

"I'm not actin' like that," he defended. "I'm just sayin', hiking up taxes threefold isn't a sustainable way to fund this. It'd be an overreach from Congress. We've gotta use money efficiently."

"You fucking libertarian," she muttered. "The part of the bill about work requirements is gonna get killed in Congress. There's no way the House Democrats will vote to pass it unless you get rid of that."

"What's that got to do with my speech?"

"You're misrepresenting the legislation if you keep that paragraph," she said, proceeding to scribble out a sentence in the paragraph after. "And get rid of this. If you're trying to implement a public option, focusing on the private sector will get you nowhere. You're just gonna make people angry."

"I'm not 'misrepresenting' anything." He scowled. "Both those things are important for the bill."

"But this isn't a bill, Thomas; it's a speech," she huffed. "Anyway, the legislation needs to be universalized, or you can't 'mitigate poverty' how you claim to. Do you have any idea how many of the people who can't meet the work requirements on healthcare are going to end up in poverty because they can't afford the care they need?"

"I hear you," he started, "but this is the best way to make it more affordable without tankin' the economy."

"Have you even considered capital gains taxes?"

"That's gonna kill entrepreneurship."

"You're so full of it sometimes," Y/N scoffed. "'Entrepreneurs' won't be affected. It only affects, like, Jeff Bezos and Mark Zuckerberg, and they have so many assets that it literally doesn't matter."

"I'm not gonna sit here and argue with you about this. I'm not sayin' you're wrong, but I am sayin' this bill needs to be somethin' I can convince the Senate to pass," he said, and Y/N rolled her eyes.

"Then write a new bill that doesn't mean the people who are the worst off don't get coverage," she said, jotting that down on the side of the paper, "because this doesn't resolve the issue."

"I'll bring it up when I get the chance," he assured her, and she glanced back at him with a grateful smile. "Can I ask why this is so important to you?"

"Because I'm an empathetic person, and I care about people?" she replied, tone scathing, and he raised an eyebrow.

"Woah, there. That wasn't an attack, sweetheart," he said. "What's got you worked up?"

"I'm not 'worked up,'” she bit back, but when he gave her an apologetic look, gaze soft, her annoyance began to subside. “This is just a sore subject for me." Y/N finally lowered the paper in her lap, turning her head toward Thomas. "I know I've told you about how long my parents spent in the hospital before they passed."

"Yeah. Yeah, you have," he said softly. He turned, orienting himself in Y/N's direction so he could pull her into his lap, and while she sighed, she laid back against his chest.

"When they died, I was left with most of their healthcare debt," she continued. "I was living far below the poverty line for almost a decade because of it."

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, and she laced her fingers into his with his arms around her waist.

"It was a long time ago," she replied. "I just don't want anyone else to end up in anything like the situation I was in. Nobody deserves that."

"No, they don't. I'll see what I can get past Congress." He kissed the side of her neck, and she hummed contentedly, squeezing his hands. "But I've still gotta discuss my plan for healthcare on Friday, so stop demolishing my speech."

"You asked me to look over it," she said frankly, and though her eyes had fallen shut when she laid against him, she cracked one open to glance at him skeptically. "These are my edits. Change the bill."

"That's an awful weighty edit, sweetheart."

"Hey, I also improved your phrasing," she went on, holding his paper up where they could both see it. "I'm making your speech better, don't complain about it."

"You cut my section about deductibles?"

"No one wants to talk about deductibles, babe." She tapped the paper with the back of her pen. "They want to know whether they'll be insured or not. They won't listen to the nuances of your bill in your public address. You're going to need a press release for that."

"And the part about family values?"

"It was useless." She shrugged. "I know you're just pandering to your party and all, but it sounded stupid in the context of the speech."

"Harsh," Thomas said, and the offense in his voice was mostly dramatized. Y/N pursed her lips. "But I can't be breachin' party lines in this speech. I'm not gonna get anything done if I turn the Senate Republicans against me."

"Listen, I'm not a political strategist, so that's your prerogative," she said matter-of-factly. "But if you don't like my feedback on your speeches, then hire a damn speechwriter, Thomas."

He hummed reluctantly. "But havin' you review my speeches gives me an excuse to spend more time with you. I don't have a whole lotta interest in having even longer meetings with White House staffers."

"Then take my edits to heart." She pursed her lips. "You know very well that I'm the only reason you have bipartisan support. If I didn't pick fights with you once a week about green energy, all the Democrats would still oppose all your stances on it."

"I'll look back over the speech in the mornin', then," he decided, and she shifted on the couch to face him, legs still draped over his lap. "I trust you."

"Good," she replied, and she looped her arms around his neck as she pulled herself up to kiss him. "But stop exploiting my degree in journalism."

"I'm not exploitin' it."

"Then what do you consider asking your wife to edit your speeches pro-bono to be?"

"A nice li'l side effect of managin' to convince someone so smart to marry me." She laughed as he pulled her back in to kiss him, but she gasped when he bit her lip teasingly, and his mouth drifted down her neck. "I love you," he murmured against her skin.

"I love you, too."

With that, Thomas hooked his arm up under her legs, and his smile widened against her neck when she yelped as he picked her up. "Now, I seem to remember sayin' something about carryin' you to bed if you were workin' for more than five minutes, so you don't get to negotiate anymore."

She squirmed in his grasp, but any of her efforts to get out of his arms weren't in earnest. She huffed. "So much for respecting personal liberty. Just wait until your voting bloc finds out all that rhetoric was just a lie."

"Oh, hush, let's not pretend you mind," he said as he tossed her down onto their bed, and she bounced when her back hit the mattress. He didn't hesitate to climb on after her. Though she tried to pull herself up to rest on the throw pillows, Thomas was on his hands and knees above her; she didn't have much of a range of movement when he dipped down to kiss her. "If you did, you wouldn't have married me."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, Jefferson," she grumbled, despite wrapping her arms around his neck. "Talk all you want, but I dunno how smug you're gonna be when I up and leave you one of these days."

He grinned. "You know I don't buy that for a second." She rolled her eyes, but the corners of her lips twitched upward when he kissed her forehead. "You love me too much."

Despite everything, Y/N could feel herself flush. "Just go put on some pajamas so we can go to sleep."

"Alright, if you insist," he huffed, rolling off of her. "Be right back."

"You'd better hurry, or I might run off with Dolley and elope," she called after him, and Thomas laughed.

"'S cute, but we both know you aren't goin' anywhere."

"And why not?"

He raised a confident brow. "I'll tie you down if that's what it takes to keep you here, sweetheart."

"Wouldn't be the first time," she mumbled, turning to discard the throw pillows from the bed onto the floor.

When she looked back at him, his grin was still wide, smug, but the look in his eyes was soft. She pursed her lips as her own smile broadened. "Now go change. I'm not going to sleep without you."

"Fine. You need some rest.”

“Yeah. So do you.”

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lets-get-kraken-boys · 4 years

Text

FatGum (Taishiro Toyomitsu) X Chubby! Confectioner/Baker! Reader: Sweets and Treats~

(Description: Woo, I’m so excited for my first story on this account! This inspiration came to me after thinking about our one and only, favorite chubby pro hero and me wanting to see some puppy love for you two. Also, the title says Confectioner/Baker, I want to clarify that Reader isn’t truly a baker but I feel like “Confectioner” wouldn’t reach as large of a crowd as “Baker” would, not a big deal but just FYI. I hope my first fic is enjoyed by those who choose to read, thank you for the support.)

Fanfiction Lingo

(Y/N) - Your Name

(H/C) - Hair Color

(E/C) - Eye Color

(F/C) - Favorite Color

“Normal speech.”

‘Inner thoughts.’

Requester: No One!

Reader Gender: Female (She/Her)

Style of Story: Oneshot // Entirely fluff, a pinning love on both ends, and a happy end to boot! There is one little heartbreak moment, but it’s over in a second.

Word Count: 4.5K Words

WARNING(s): None, unless you see adorable, tooth-rotting fluff as a crime!

“Morning, Tammy! Lovely day, isn’t it?” you greeted your employee with a bright smile as she stumbled through the door into your bakery.

She huffed, still rubbing the sleep from her eyes, “Sure, but I’ve hardly been up long enough to notice it. How are you always so peppy this early?” She pointed to the mechanical clock ticking from the left wall that read ‘4:04 AM’. You glanced outside and saw hardly anyone walking through the streets, except the occasional drunkard or lonely soul.

You bashfully shrugged your shoulders, “Well, after years of suffering waking up at three in the morning, you kinda get used to the torment! But, hey, so happy we got the shop far away from the center of the city, you can actually see the sunrise from here!” you tried to help her look on the bright side as you handed her one a cup of one of your homemade coffee brews. She took a sip of the drink and let out a content sigh through her nose, a small, but thankful smile on her face.

“You know, for being a confectioner, you make some pretty solid coffee. What is that?” her eyebrows furrowed as she asked, taking another swig to figure out the secret intense flavor.

You giggled, “That’s probably the nutmeg I added. Is it good?”

“More like fantastic, (Y/N). Trying out new recipes again?” she asked over her shoulder, hanging up her light jacket that protected her from the early morning breeze while grabbing her apron. Though, it being July in Japan, she probably wouldn’t need it again for a while.

“Yeah, I think this one will really please the early risers. It gives a special sort of kick to the taste, don’t you think?” you asked while gently sliding open the glass case that held all of the beautifully decorated pastries, grabbing a pair of tongs and a small floral ceramic plate, carefully placing a fresh Apple Strudel onto the plate, and setting it down on the counter.

“Totally. Hey, can I have a--,” Tammy stopped mid-sentence as she turned around to see the delectable treat already waiting for her.

“Your breakfast awaits, m’lady~,” you slurred out in a fake British accent with a cheesy smirk and a dramatic bow.

She scoffed, “You dork. Am I really that predictable?” she asked, scarfing down the pastry in a matter of seconds as she leaned on the counter.

“Yeah, you kinda are,” you joked as she playfully shoved your plush side.

“You know,” she continued, looking down at the gooey food, “It’s a shame you aren’t more popular with the people. You have a great location, an amazing personality and work staff, if I do say so myself, and don’t even get me started on the incredible stuff you make,” she praised.

“Oh, stop it, Tammy. You’re gonna make me blush,” you flushed from her sincere words, “Besides, I’ve only been open for two weeks, it’s going to be slow for awhile. It’ll ramp up eventually.”

“Yeah, I guess, but you can’t deny that your baked goods are better than most of the others in the country! One day, when people get their heads out of their asses, these little gifts of magic are going to make you RICH!” she threw her lanky airs up into the air and around your shoulders. She spun your smaller frame in a circle while the two of you laughed.

“Ha! Yeah yeah, I know! Now, stop your messing around and come help me fill the rest of these Cream Horns.” you concluded while you pat her taller shoulder. She groaned at the request but gave you a tiny nod. Tammy turned around while tying her short, brown hair into a messy bun, readying herself for the busy day ahead. You smiled while she retreated to the kitchen but before you went to follow her you decided to look out the window again.

Shuffling your legs over to the windows, you got a clear view of the rising sun and all its glory, the hints of yellow, orange, pink, red, and even blue from the night's previous dark veil still clung onto the brightening sky. Somehow you had this weird feeling that today something life changing was going to happen. You didn’t know if you should be excited or worried, but you decided to push those thoughts aside and continue on to the back of the shop where you could already hear the clutter and clang of falling pans, no doubt Tammy’s handy work.

Oh, if you only knew how right your hunch was…

~ Timeskip to a little later in the day and a P.O.V change to FatGum ~

“How much longer do I have for patrol?” I asked myself, pulling out my phone to check the time. The time read ‘9:12 AM’ and I huffed, still a couple more hours to go. Putting the device back in my pocket with a grimace but quickly faked a smile as I continued down the bustling street. The active community, excited civilians, and eager children usually never fails to put a smile on my face, but today everything just felt like a drag. I was sluggish, unfocused, and I couldn’t understand why. I shook my head, get your head in the game, Taishiro. You don’t have time to let your mind wander on duty.

After what seemed like hours, but was more than likely only 15 minutes, I felt my stomach let out a rumbling growl which made me groan. I stopped walking on the sidewalk and took a second to consider the situation, wandering the city for a couple of hours with nothing too exciting to do really works up an appetite, and I do need to keep up my strength. I’m a hero after all, and denying myself is like ignoring my civic duty to protecting the people! At this point, I’ll take any excuse to get out of this pointless shambling. But the REAL question is, what to get? I glanced around the street and noticed a few shops further down the block that looked to be food related. I smirked, perfect.

I wove through the few people occupying the area, past a few excited teenagers who asked for autographs, and eventually made it to the shops. Looking around I saw some insurance shops, an enticing Pad Thai sit down, and few others, but the one that caught my eye was a cutesy, (F/C)-painted bakery named, “Queen of Tarts”. Chuckling at the interesting name choice, I looked inside the establishment through the plexiglass windows.

The inside carried a light, fluffy atmosphere, pastel colored walls combining with the checkered tile floor caused a small smile out of me. A few small tables with delicate iron chairs here and there, but the real prize were the copious amounts of sweets that were displayed in the glass cases. Each were different colors, sizes, but they all looked delicious. Feeling my stomach grumble, I grabbed the door handle, flung it open, and walked into the scrumptious smelling shop. After walking in, the tiny jingle of bells alerting the workers of my presence, I finally saw the most stunning sweet of all.

“Hi, welcome to the Queen of Tarts, how may I help you today?” the gorgeous woman at the counter asked but it didn’t register in my brain because I was already lost in thought. Her adorable (H/C) hair framed her face to show her soft, chubby cheeks, her eyes glistened in the sunlight, and her smile, oh, it completely lit the room with its radiance. Curves in all the right places, I felt my cheeks heat up as I let out a nervous laugh, cursing my inner self for not holding it together. Seriously, I can face the nastiest of villains but throw one pretty lady in front of me and I fall apart? Fantastic. Realizing I wasn’t answering, I quickly stepped forward and cleared my throat.

“Uh, yeah. Hi,” ‘Wow, so smooth, Taishiro,’ I criticized in my head, “I...haven’t seen this store here before, you new?” I offered a smile, which she returned tenfold, making me even more flustered.

“Yes, actually! I set up shop here only a few weeks ago, finally settling in with the hustle and bustle of city life.” she finished, leaning in closer against the marble counter with her arms crossed.

“City life? You didn’t grow up here?” I asked.

“Yeah,” she shrugged, “Grew up on more of the countryside style of life. I love the city though, do you?”

“Yeah, you gotta get used to it when you spend all your time protecting it.” I let a hint of boasting attitude out, hoping she’d realize who I am.

“Ha, I hear ya! I do my own share of ‘protecting’ around here too. Well, if you count making goodies, that is.” she giggled, standing up and walking over to the glass containers. I deflated a little, guess that wasn’t going to work this time. I shuffled over to where she was standing and looked down at the treats they offered.

“So, kind stranger, what is it you’ll be having?” she asked after a minute of me inspecting the pastries. The problem with not being picky about what you eat, means there are tons of more options than that of others, and when all the items look equally as delectable, you get a little overwhelmed. Plus, the fact that a beautiful woman whom I would very much like to not embarrass myself in front of is waiting for my answer doesn’t help.

I gulped, “I don’t know, they all look amazing. What’s your favorite?” I asked, hoping to know a little more about her.

“Oh, gosh, let me think…” she pouted, resting her head on the palm of her hand while looking deep in thought at the treats. The adorable crease of her eyebrows scrunched together, the tip of her tongue poking out in concentration, her lovely, curvalicious body...that’s it, I’m so screwed.

“I think I’d go for the Chocolate Cream Puff,” her answer drawing both me and her out of our distracted states, “My dad taught me years ago this amazing chocolate ganache recipe and I drizzle that all over the tops of homemade pastry puffs and the whipped filling, ugh! It’s to die for, seriously!” she finished, a sparkle in her (E/C) eyes that fueled the fire in my gut. She spoke about food just as passionately as I did! She’s perfect.

Without thinking, I quickly said, “I’ll take ten.”

~ (Y/N) P.O.V ~

“Alright, there you go, 10 Chocolate Cream Puffs. Have a wonderful day, sir!” I said with a bright smile.

“Please, call me Taishiro. And you are..?” he asked.

I flushed, I’m such a klutz, “(Y/N), pleasure to meet you, Taishiro. I hope you enjoy them and come back to visit m...us! Come visit us again!” I hastily fixed my wording.

As he smiled and waved goodbye, I rolled the tension out of my shoulders and breathed a sigh of relief. It’s okay, he was nice...and cute...and...really handsome. Wow, I am I sweating?

“HOLY CRAP!” I jumped as I heard Tammy squeal out behind me, I spun around to look at her standing in the doorway to the back, watching the leaving guest with an awestruck face.

“What?! Where’s the fire?!” I shouted running up to her, grabbing the edge of my apron.

“(Y/N), look at me,” she grabbed my shoulders and forced me to stare into her hazel eyes, “Do you know who that was?”

I shrugged my shoulders as best as I could under her vice grip, “A customer, right?”

“A custom--ugh, curse you for not keeping up with the media,” she yelled while flinging her arms to the sky in exasperation before shoving them back on my shoulders, “(Y/N), that wasn’t just any old customer! That was the FatGum!”

I blinked, “Uh, who?”

“Aarrghh! The rank 58 Pro Hero in Japan! What did you say to him?!” I paled as her words sunk in. My legs felt like jelly and I wanted to lie on the floor and die of embarrassment as she raved on about my ignorance.

‘Oh, so I’ve fallen for a Pro Hero. Awesome.’

~ Timeskip to a few weeks later, same P.O.V ~

Who knew meeting a Pro Hero and potentially having a crush on him could be so amazing? After Taishiro, who is apparently a hero named FatGum, left the store, he personally posted on his main platform of media about the shop and how incredible the desserts were! Of course, to get a compliment from a hero who's Quirk is literally based around food, who’s eaten hundreds of thousands of different dishes, for him to specifically point out your’s brought the media swarming. Business went from nearly dead to tons of people coming in at all open hours! It was fantastic, and the handsome gentleman kept his promise of continually coming in and buying heaps of pastries.

You sighed, leaning against the marble counter after helping a few beautiful ladies buy some tarts, watching their desirable, attractive forms leave the shop and walk past the window. Looking around the busy lounge area, all of the customers were stunning, unique, and most of all thin. You glanced down at yourself, insecurities filling your mind about your appearance and unsurprisingly flickering back to the man plaguing your thoughts. You poked the chub, would he? No. He probably already has someone and even if he didn’t, why would he go for you? You’re a no one to him, someone who just sells him baked goods to fuel his Quirk, nothing more.

“Hey, boss man, what’s up?” Asher, a friend and employee of yours, asked while spinning you away from the counter to face him, drawing Tammy’s attention from her place on the stool behind the counter.

“Oh, it’s nothing, Asher. Just distracted is all, I’m fine!” you sighed and faked a smile.

Asher pulled a skeptical look and without looking at Tammy he said, “She’s thinking about him again, isn’t she?”

Tammy, like it was her sixth sense to pick up on gossip, flung herself to Asher’s side with the same skeptical look, “Yep, it’s so obvious.”

“I-It is?!” you yelped, pulling your hands up to your cheeks to hide your growing blush.

“What are we gonna do about them, Tam?” he asked, still not looking at her but instead grabbing your chin and tiling your head from side to side to inspect you.

“I don’t know what else to do, Ash. He so likes her back but both are too scared to make the first move. Truly a dilemma.” she said, twirling a lock of your (H/C) hair.

“Wait, he does?! How do you know?” you pleaded but they weren’t paying any attention to you anymore, making you puff out your pudgy cheeks in frustration. Opting to ignore them, you listened to the aimless chatter of the seating area. The ambiance of the confectionery made you smile because it was exactly how you’d pictured it as a little girl, the sweet smells, the laughter, it finally felt like home after all these years in the making. All your hard work was paying off in the end. Suddenly, the ringing bells of the door opening drew your attention. Glancing back, you caught a glimpse of a familiar yellow and orange clad figure whose head almost touched the ceiling. You gasped and shoved your friends off of you and to the backroom, spun around, and greeted your favorite customer with a bashful smile.

“Taishiro! How lovely to see you again,” but you quickly noticed it wasn’t just him. Two teenage boys, one with striking red hair and a warm smile and the other trembling and hiding inside of his cloak’s hood, were by FatGum’s side, which made you ask, “And who is this with you?”

“(Y/N), this is Eijirou Kirishima and Tamaki Amajiki, they are training under me for hero internships. I wanted to bring them here so they could try your wicked sweets!” he finished, making you blush even harder.

“Aw, that’s so sweet of you, FatGum! It’s a pleasure to meet you, boys.” you finished, holding out your hand for them to shake.

The red-headed boy, Kirishima, shook your hand with a gentle, but strong grip, “Same here! I’ve heard all about this place because of the news, sorry I couldn’t come sooner!”

“Oh, that’s alright, and it’s wonderful to meet you, Tamaki.” you held out your hand, but all you got from him was a curt nod as he shrunk further into his suit.

“You’ll have to forgive, Amajiki, he’s sort of shy.” Taishiro chuckled, rubbing his hand behind his head.

You pulled your hand back with an understanding smile, “No problem, I totally get social anxiety. Happens to the best of us, I’m afraid.”

“No way,” you suddenly heard Tammy mumble behind you, no doubt to Asher, “He brought his kids to see her. Did not expect that. I respect the flex.”

“Isn’t that a little far for first base material?” Asher whispered back to her. You proceeded to shoot them a terrifying glare and subtly kick both of them in the shins, a symbol for them to scram. They gulped and hobbled off to the back to avoid your wrath while you huffed and whipped your hair out of your face with a smile.

“Anyways, since the three of you are here, what would you boys like? It’s on the house!” you confidently boasted.

Taishiro gasped, “(Y/N), no. I can’t do that to you, we’ll pay.”

“Ah, ah, ah, Taishiro. You are by far the most paying of customers and since you’re my favorite of all I want to give this to you. Call it, uh, thank you present for all the publicity you’ve given my store! I couldn’t have made it this far without you.” you grinned.

He sighed and, though it could have been your imagination, blushed a little, “At least let me pay for my portion. I get considerably more than them.”

“Nope, it’s already been decided! Kirishima, what would you like?” you changed the topic before Taishiro could argue with you again. He rolled his eyes, clear girl.

“Hmm,” Kirishima thought, “Do you have anything with strawberries?”

“I got just the thing for you. How about a Strawberry Turnover?” you directed him over to the case with the pastry. He took one glance and excitedly nodded his head and you smiled, grabbed the sweet with a clean pair of tongs, placed it on a napkin, and handed it over to the young man. He grinned and shoveled the pastry into his mouth without hesitation.

“Thanks so much, Miss (Y/N)! It’s delicious!” he praised through a mouth full of food, making you giggle at his silliness. Walking back over to the registrar, you saw Tamaki looking at you. When he was caught, he gasped, quickly spun around, and hid himself away from you by pressing into FatGum’s body.

“What would you like, Tamaki?” you patiently asked. Taishiro looked at you with doubt and started saying something but you quickly shushed him and continued to wait for the teen’s answer.

Knowing that you weren’t going to give up, Tamaki quietly mumbled out, “D-D-Do you...have anything with...b-black raspberry? I-If you don’t that’s fine too, I-I didn’t mean to sound too rude or--”

“I believe I do,” you quickly interrupted so he didn’t go into a spiraling haze of self doubt, “Would a Black Raspberry Lychee Cake suffice, Tamaki?”

“Y-Yes, Miss (Y/N)...” he sighed in relief, glancing at you with tears in his eyes. You gave him a reassuring smile and grabbed the treat for him, handing it to FatGum so he could hold on to it for Tamaki.

“And now, what’ll you have, kind stranger?” you grinned as he chuckled.

“I’ll take my usual then, 10 Chocolate Cream Puffs, please.” he concluded while giving a sweet grin.

You snarked, “You always get the same thing every time, Taishiro. Don’t you wanna try anything else? I promise they’re poisoned.” you smirked.

He quirked an eyebrow at you, “Are you sure about that?” he joked.

“Taishiro! What kind of business would I be if I poisoned all my guests?” you laughed at him.

“Okay, okay, I’ll try something different, ma’am. Do you have anything with pineapple?” he asked with curiosity.

“You betcha. How does a Pineapple Poke Cake sound, sir?” you interrogated. You saw stars glisten in his eyes and you giggled at his excitement.

“How many?” you joked.

“I’ll take 12!” he concluded, blissfully staring off into space.

You packaged up his request in a cutesy (F/C) box with your confectionery’s logo and, biting your lip in apprehension, decided that if he wasn’t going to make his move then you would. You quickly wrote down your phone number on top of the box in Sharpie and signed off your name with a small black heart. As you finished the lettering you stared at the box and thought about your previous insecurities. There was still time, still time to take out the pastries, put them in a new box, and forget the whole number thing ever happened.

“Hey, don’t you dare take out those treats and put them in a new box, you hear me, girl?!” you heard a tiny male voice whisper above you. Startled, you looked up to see Tammy and Asher peeking through the window that let the customers see into the back of the bakery to watch the baking happen. You glared at the two, so they had been watching you try and confess your feelings to the fluffy hero in a discreet way.

“What am I supposed to do? What if he doesn’t like me and all the signs I’ve been getting from him are me making up a love story that is never going to happen between us?! What if by doing this I ruin our relationship and he makes sure the business tanks?! This is my life's work and I’m putting it on the line for a stupid chance at love!” you whisper yelled at them, the familiar feeling of fear and pain coursing through your system from previous failed love confessions.

“You really think a sweet man like that is going to make your life’s dream completely fall to pieces?” Tammy questioned and you exhaled, shaking your head ‘no’.

“Then go out there and get yo mans! You have to at least try and snatch that, I have to see my OTP become canon!” she sent a determined glare at you, grabbed the box, shoved it in your hands, spun you around, and pushed your forward. You stumbled and almost tripped onto the floor but caught yourself on the marble counter. Standing up tall, you took a deep breath in and urged your legs to move forward. Getting to the registrar, you smiled at Taishiro and the boys and handed over the box to FatGum after giving a subtle cough.

“Thank you for everything, Taishiro, you’ve helped me in ways you could never imagine. Now, I hope you boys come back sometime!” you spoke to the teens, Kirishima grinning at you with his shark-like teeth.

“Will do, Miss (Y/N)! I couldn’t stay away from this place even if I tried, your desserts are the BOMB!” he laughed, punching his fists together in excitement.

“...Thank you, Miss (Y/N).” Tamaki shyly whispered, giving you half a grin before cowering away once more.

“Don’t mention it, loves! Now, Taishiro, remember that I said this is on the--whoa! Are you okay?” you asked the man. His face was almost as red as his student’s hair, his eyes wide and unfocused as he stared at the top of the box, where your number neatly sat. You gulped, maybe it was the wrong decision after all.

Waving a nervous hand in front of Taishiro’s face, it seemed to break him from his spellbound state as he glanced at your eyes, “Are you...feeling okay, Taishiro?”

He looked at you with a shaken gaze as he laughed off his nerves while saying, “Y-Yeah! Just, um...yeah...you...let’s go, boys! Gotta get back to the patrol! Bye, (Y/N)!” he said while ushering the confused boys away from the counter and to the door. You felt your heart shatter into dozens of pieces as you turned your head down to conceal your sorrowed expression from the rest of the lounge area. You felt your eyes wet with tears but you used the sleeve of your white button down you dry them, you have to stay strong. At least you got it off your chest. Sniffling, you turned your head back up only to see FatGum’s face, only he was suddenly a lot more chiseled in the face and body and wow, did it just get hot in here?

“I forgot one thing.” he said with a flustered smile. You, less heartbroken then before just more confused, shrugged your shoulders in question. He then grasped your shoulders, tilted his head to the side, and planted a loving and firm kiss on your right cheek. You felt your face melt into a puddle of red as he held the kiss for a few seconds longer than anticipated but eventually released your cheek, staring back at you with the same expression as you.

“Did you really think I was going to leave without paying you back, cream puff?” he chuckled with a grin.

“I-I, um…” no longer sorrowed, your brain couldn’t catch up with the fact that he most definitely liked you back.

“Heh, you’re cute when you’re flustered for me. I’ll text you later, okay? Keep on the look out for me!” he said, backing up from the counter, only to grow immensely in size as he returned to the state you had met the hero in. He waved goodbye as he walked back to Kirishima who was practically bouncing off the walls in his excitement.

“Congratulations on the relationship, Miss (Y/N)!” the teen sang out as the three of them left the store to patrol the streets for their hero duties once again.

The entire restaurant was silent as they watched your chubby form turn into a puddle of emotions and ditzy giggles, the only thing that was heard was a loud, “YES! IT’S CANON, BABY!”

~ The End ~

#mha #bnha #mha oneshot #fluff #fanfiction #oneshot #taishiro toyomitsu #fatgum #x reader #taishiro toyomitsu x reader #fatgum x reader #kirishima #eijirou kirishima #tamaki #tamaki amajiki #chubby #chubby reader #x chubby reader #x baker reader

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oboevallis · 3 years

Text

who is he pt 2

i have a lot of prompts and second parts i need to get out, so don’t think ive forgot about them. thanks for all the support and i hope everyone’s doing well and staying safe!!

“Mommy?” Scout asked as he hoisted himself up on the kitchen islands chair. “Can I play softball?”

“That’s gonna be a no.” Amelia answered as she was cutting up carrots to put into his lunch box.

“Come on why?”

“It’s dangerous, I don’t want you cracking your head open.”

“How about soccer?”

“Still dangerous but a bit better.” Amelia anxiously closed the tabs on the Tupperware. “We’ll talk about it later.”

“So that’s a never?”

“I promise we will talk about this, but we’re going to be late if we don’t get a move on.” The neurosurgeon threw her sons lunch box into his book bag and zipped it up handing it to him, ushering him out the door.

______________________________________

“Oh hey, Meredith. I have a question for you how did you accept that Ellis wanted to play soccer? Scouts been asking to play a sport and soccer seems the most moderate.” Amelia addressed her sister as she walked into the lounge.

“Link’s here.” Meredith ripped off the bandaid. “He’s doing a surgery with Koracick, Koracick wanted the best.”

“He could’ve called anyone else.” Amelia sighed, stressfully running a hand through her hair. “How could Tom do this, he’s my best friend.”

“It’s really sad that man is your best friend.”

“Shut up Meredith.” Amelia went over to her cubby taking her scrubs off.

“What are you doing?”

“I can’t stay here if he’s here.” Amelia sighed digging through her bag for her causal clothes. “Who the hell does Koracick think he is inviting him here? He could’ve called Torres she’s good.” She aggressively pulled her pants up when her breath hitched when the door opened revealing Link and Tom. She was frozen in place before she realized she had no shirt on, and quickly scrambled to throw it on.

“It’s nice to see you Dr Shepherd.” Link charmingly smiled.

“Likewise Dr Lincoln.” Amelia quickly said before exiting the attendings lounge.

“Amelia!” A voice called behind her.

“Can I help you?” She asked turning around, struggling to contain eye contact with the man.

“How are you?”

“Oh I’m dandy, how about yourself?”

“Yeah, I’m good. I’m assuming the kid with you at the baseball game is your son, he’s a cute kid.”

“I’m aware.” The neurosurgeon said before quickly turning around to get away from the man.

“Can we get a cup of coffee?” He called as she continued to walk.

“No thanks!” She called back.

______________________________________

“Would you mind taking my kids back to your place? My sitter fell through and their in my office.” Meredith approached her sister who was leaning over the nurses station engrossed in a chart.

“Yeah sure, I was just about to get Scout from daycare.”

“Your a life safer.” Meredith patted her sisters shoulder before quickly leaving. She first stopped off at Merediths office to collect Bailey and Ellis, as Zola was already old enough to be at the house alone. The then trio walked down to daycare.

“I’ll be right back.” She told the children who refused to step into the daycare now that they were big kids.

“Link!” Bailey smiled when he spotted the man.

“Bailey.” Link hesitantly walked over, he didn’t know how Amelia or Meredith would react if they found out about this. “How are you doing?”

“Yeah I’m doing well, it’s been so long since I’ve seen you.”

“Yeah, it’s been awhile.” The man played with the skin around his nail, a habit he picked up from his former girlfriend.

“The Mariners are doing great this season, you think they’re gonna make it to the World Series?”

“I hope so. They’re on a roll so far.”

“Have you seen the new marvel movie?” He missed the man who was like an uncle to him. They were very close, while his relationship with his aunt had lasted.

“I haven’t gotten to yet, the Mariner players are breaking bones left and right.” Link chuckled, these last couple of years he had committed everything to the team.

“Scout what happened to your eye?” Ellis asked, she had been pretty uninterested in the conversation so she didn’t mind breaking it up.

“At recess I was playing soccer and fell and the ball was right next to my head and someone kicked my head instead of the ball.”

“Well that’s definitely a penalty.” Ellis joked.

“We have to go guys.” Amelia tried to stay as civil as possible, but was pissed Link was talking to the kids. She knew Bailey missed him, but thought he had more sense than to start up a conversation with him. She ushered the kids along, before Link stopped her.

“Wait.”

“What?” She snapped turning around, she hadn’t meant to, she was upset about the school not telling her that Scout got hurt, that her son got hurt in the first place, and now that Link was here.

“Can we please talk?”

“I’d rather not.”

________________________________________

“Mom?”

“Yes sweetheart?” Amelia carefully placed an ice pack on his eye causing him to wince.

“Why was the baseball doctor at the hospital today?”

“Dr Tom needed his help.”

“How did Bailey and Ellis know him?”

“Well he used to work at the hospital, it’s kinda like how you know Dr Tom, Dr Winston, Dr Carina, it’s just like that.”

“He seemed pretty cool.” Amelia simply hummed in response, she prayed he wouldn’t make the connection that he was his father. “Was he your friend?”

“Yeah, kinda. Now we’ve gotta get you to bed.”

“Auntie Mer isn’t here yet, so are we sleeping here tonight?”

“Yeah, we’re here for the night.”

______________________________________

The neurosurgeon tiredly sighed as she collapsed into the couch. It was easier to put Meredith’s kids to bed now they were older, but her son hated sleeping in places that weren’t his own bed, and it was always a fight to put him to sleep. She assumed Zola was still up though, now that she was a teenager Meredith was lax on her sleep schedule. A knock at the door chasing her to groan. It was close to 11 at night, she assumed it was Maggie and she forgot her key and has three jugs of milk because she had a fight with Winston.

“What are you doing here?” She groaned as she opened the door revealing Link.

“I wanted to talk.”

“About?”

“About life, us.”

“There is no us.”

“Only because you made it that way.”

“Yeah, whatever Link.”

“Come on, I messed up. But you could’ve told me he was mine.”

“Who said he was yours?”

“Well you named him Scout, and Meredith told me.”

“Did she?” Amelia rolled her eyes, pissed at her sister. “Anyway it wouldn’t have mattered, you’d only be there for Scout and not me.”

“Amelia how could you be that selfish?”

“How was I being selfish?”

“You’ve been keeping him from me, and Meredith says he’s been asking.”

“I don’t know why Meredith is telling you anything.”

“Please Amelia, we both screwed up. But it wouldn’t have mattered if he was mine or not I would’ve loved him and you.”

“Sure didn’t seem like that.”

“I haven’t stopped loving you, I haven’t felt the things you made me feel with anyone else. Your the only person I’ve truly loved.”

“Seems really convenient to saying this now that you know he’s your kid.” Amelia walked back inside and shut the door. “Bye Link.” She let a couple of tears run down her cheek before she sucked them up, and walked upstairs to check on the kids. Zola was in her former room engrossed on her phone, Bailey in his attic room with Scout on the floor, and Ellis in Maggie’s former room.

“Amelia are you here?” She heard a voice from downstairs and saw Maggie.

“What are you doing here?” She whispered while cautiously walking down the stairs.

“Meredith got pulled into another surgery so I offered to come by, so you and Scout can sleep in your own beds.”

“Mer just didn’t want to see me because she knew I’d kill her.” Amelia crossed her arms, giving Maggie her mom look.

“She really does feel bad.”

“No she doesn’t. She always thought it was wrong I didn’t tell Link.”

“Yeah, she really thinks she’s right.”

“Of course she does she’s Mer, she does no wrong.” Maggie chuckled at the accuracy. “Do you think I’m wrong?”

“I don’t know. I know Scout wants to know his dad, and Link wants a chance to be a dad. But I also know all you want is for your kid to be loved and you’ve done a great job with him, and you just want to protect him.” Amelia embraced her sister in a hug, before reluctantly letting go.

“I don’t know what to do. Link came by today, and he called me selfish. Do you think I’m being selfish?”

“I think your trying to protect your kid.”

“I just want him to be loved.”

“I know, and he is. He has a village of people, no matter what you decide.”

________________________________________

Amelia heavily sighed, it’d been a week since Link had showed up on Merediths doorstep. It had been all she was able to think about. She patted her phone across her palm, debating whether or not she should call him.

“What’s for dinner?”

“I’m not sure, what do you want?” She patted the spot on the couch next to her.

“Pizza?” The small boy suggested.

“We had pizza the other night. What about chicken and rice?”

“Just don’t burn the chicken.” Scout smiled while he said it. Amelia playfully rolled her eyes as she stood up.

“Why don’t you help, to insure that doesn’t happen?” After the pair had dinner, she helped her son get ready for bed. Leaving her alone once he fell asleep, and contemplating whether or not she should call her former boyfriend. She impulsively clicked the call button, and immediately regretted it but it was too late.

“Amelia?”

“Hey, Link. I-I umm, Scout has been asking about his dad. And I know I’ve hurt you, but maybe we can arrange something?”

“Of course I’d really appreciate that.”

“Okay, umm how do you want to do this?”

“I think we should both be there first off, and what does he like to do?”

“He loves the outdoors, he really enjoys when we go hiking or to the zoo.”

“Okay, how about Mt Rainer?”

“Sounds like we would be stuck with each other on a mountain for a whole day. Why don’t we just go to the zoo?”

“Sounds good. Friday?”

“Friday.”

“I’m sorry I called you selfish. I didn’t mean it.”Amelia abruptly hung up her phone.

#amelia shepherd #amelink #atticus lincoln #greys anatomy #greysanatomy #maggie pierce #meredith grey #zola shepherd #scout lincoln #greys fanfic #greys anatomy fanfic #bailey shepherd #ellis shepherd

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overheardatthecontinental · 3 years

Text

Worst Fears and Dreams Come True

Originally posted on tumblr over a year ago, I finally got around to uploading to AO3.

AO3 Link

She was always stunning, John thought, watching as Helen kicked off her shoes. But there was something damn special about the way she lit up with her feet in the sand and the sun shining on her face. She glowed.

And it didn’t hurt that her sundress was cut high on her thighs or that the sleeve that slipped alluringly off her shoulder. Her dark hair twisted in the wind as John watched her from the deck of the cottage.

It was surreal. She was surreal.

He didn’t date. He didn’t do relationships or have one night stands with strangers. And he didn’t have any real friends, let alone ones with benefits. And he had never intended on it.

But Helen Kingston had captivated him from the moment he laid eyes on her. It wasn’t just that she was beautiful. John knew plenty of beautiful women. No, Helen Kingston was so much more than beautiful. It was her kindness that had piqued his interest and her genuine heart that had fucked with his head over and over.

He didn’t deserve her.

But there she was: dipping her toes into the water while he watched, sipping at his morning coffee.

It had only been two months but those two months had more meaning than the rest of his miserable life combined.

She turns back to look at the house, pushing her hair back over her shoulder.

Helen smiles up at John and crooks her finger.

How can he resist?

John sets down the coffee and walks down the steps to the beach. It was official. He was going to buy the damn cottage. It wasn’t for sale but that didn’t matter. He would call the man who was renting it and make an offer. It wouldn’t be turned down.

Anything to keep that smile on her face. She looked so relaxed, far away from work, far away from the city. She would never quit her job. She did too much good but he wouldn’t stop reminding her that the world was hers.

He crosses the beach down to the water in suit pants and a crisp white button down. He only had suits and clothes for working out. Helen teased him about it sometimes but, truthfully, John had never had the need for something casual before. He had never really been shopping outside of a tailor. Helen would love it, though. Taking him to the mall, finding sweaters and casual shirts for him to relax in. That was enough to make John almost want to interact with people.

“Hey you.” She says as he approaches, a small smile on her face.

John says nothing, stalking toward her in a way that had her licking her lips.

He reaches for her face and kisses her softly yet soundly. The waves crash on the shore, the wind stirring up the sand and their hair but nothing is as loud as his own heart beating.

Helen nips at his lower lip as he pulls away. "I love you."

"I love you too." John says, still in awe that the words flow so easily off his tongue. There is no one like her. "Here is the plan."

"What's the plan?" She rests her head on his chest, staring out at the sea. The sailboats on the horizon cut easily through the waters.

"You're going to quit your job."

"Am I?"

"You are." He can feel her smile. "I'm going to leave mine and you and I are going to run away."

She hums, "where to?"

"Somewhere warm. Thailand. Belize. Somewhere with white sand, clear blue waters. We'll burn all your clothes and you can live in a bikini."

Helen snorts, "oh no."

"Oh yes." John presses a kiss to the top of her head, "We'll get a quiet, private residence and no one will find us. We'll spend every day on the beach. We'll read and relax and make love."

"Just us."

"Just us. Forever."

Helen looks up, "That sounds wonderful."

It really did, John thought. But near impossible.

Helen stepped back and out of his arms, hand gliding down so that she can link their fingers together. "In the meantime, we have right now."

"That we do." John agrees, stepping with her as she starts to traverse across the beach.

She is so serene. The calm in his storm.

Helen Kingston- she is good and kind and pure and makes him want to be a better person. It's too late for redemption and he knows that, but she has accepted him with all his flaws. Her hand was intertwined with his despite knowing what he did with those hands when she was away. She slept in his arms every night. The monster wasn't under her bed… he was in it.

"You know I would never quit my job." Helen says conversationally.

"I know." It was part of what he loved about her- the dedication to the kids she worked with.

"Days like today make me want to."

John stops, spinning her in front of him so he can hold both her hands, facing her.

"Move in with me." Its neither an order nor a question. He's not sure what it is but it feels like a plea.

She smiles softly, "it's been two months, John. What happens when you get tired of me?"

"Never going to happen. If anything, this is insurance that you won't leave me."

She reaches up and runs a hand down his beard. "Why are you so sure I'm going to leave you?"

John feels unnaturally heavy. His stomach and heart sink because, damn him, he is not enough.

"Because you're smart. You're going to figure out that I'm no good. That you can do better."

"I don't want good. And I don't want better, John. I just want you."

Her eyes narrow suddenly, her lips parting and she starts to shout, “John, get--!”

Suddenly she is launched forward, crashing into him. Behind her, far from the shore, is a boat. A sniper rifle peaks out from the side and John throws both himself and Helen to the ground, rolling on top of her to cover her body with his.

Her eyes are wide, breathing frantic. A quick look down reveals his worst fear. Dark red blooms from her abdomen, staining her dress.

"Hey, hey," John places his hands on either side of her face as another shot fires just over their heads, "stay with me, baby!"

He is unarmed, save a small knife. They are sitting ducks in the sand and he can feel her blood soak through his shirt.

He takes her hands and places them over the wound, "keep pressure, okay? I'm going to get you out of here."

She nods shakily, her eyes so trusting even as her face contorts in pain. His arms wrap around her and he moves to his feet, swinging her up while still shielding her with his body.

The adrenaline is pumping through his system. He'd been in a thousand fights before but nothing had ever filled him with terror as moving across the beach, trying to run off center but still as quickly as possible to the cover of the brush.

He hears a motor and it sounds like the boat is driving away but he can't look. He can't risk slowing yet.

He jumps down into the brush, laying Helen behind a log within the reeds.

Looking up, the boat has disappeared. But that didn't guarantee they were alone.

The shot went through her abdomen. He rips his shirt off, not giving a damn about the buttons that fly in every direction as he rolls it and pushes it against her wound.

Her head lolls back. "Come on, Helen. Stay with me!"

John reaches into his pocket for his phone. He's never called 911 before. He's never needed to but he can't wait for the doc to drive from New York.

"911, what's your emergency?"

"Woman shot. It went through her abdomen. It was some kind of rifle, a few hundred feet out." He rattles off the address.

"J-John?" Helen's face is layered with sweat.

"I'm here, baby."

"Is the shooter still out there?" The operator asks.

"No. They rode off."

"The ambulance is on its way and police have been dispatched."

He does wait for her to finish, hanging up the call and dropping the phone to the ground.

"I'm cold." Helen whispers.

"I know, baby, I know. Help is coming."

"Always hurt this bad?" She says through grit teeth. "How do you do it?"

"Oh you know…" John keeps the pressure on the wound, trying not to let the fear in his heart reach his face. "Practice, practice, practice."

She tries to smile but the pain is overwhelming. Her eyes start to close.

"No, no, no. Helen!" He says her name sharply and her eyes open. "I need you to stay with me."

"Want to sleep." It's almost a sob and John fights the urge to match her.

"I know. But you gotta stay awake, baby. Gotta stay with me until help gets here."

Where were the damn sirens?

"Trying…" He sees her hands shaking on either side of her. The color has drained of her face and he doesn't know what to do.

"Tell me something."

"What?"

"Anything." She needs to stay conscious. "Tell me anything. Something you've never told me."

Helen nods and exhales shakily, "Okay. I fucking hate your convertible."

John blinks in surprise. Of all the things she could say… say wasn't exactly news but she had never admitted to it aloud.

"It's not safe. It's too flashy."

"What else?" He asks, a smile on his face.

" Its grossly cramped and there's no back seat to fuck in."

"Make you a deal. I'll get a new car if you let me buy you one too."

"John," she whimpers but keeps a brave face despite the pain, "I was just shot. This is coercion."

"That Chevrolet is going to fall apart on you."

"Be nice. Chevy is the great American car."

Her eyes start to flicker and John pats her cheek, "stay with me, Hel. I’ll buy you whatever shitty car you want.”

Her eyes close and John slaps her just a bit harder, heart clenching as he did.

"Bitch." She mutters, eyes opening as she trembled.

He could hear the sirens now. They were getting louder by the instant

"Come on, tell me something else."

"What you want to know?"

"Something new. Something I wouldn't guess this time."

She nods, "if I live,"

"You will."

She had to. There was no other alternative.

"I'm going to marry the fuck out of you, John Wick."

The last thing she saw, as the world went dark, was John's face agape in shock.

Helen had been rushed from the ambulance into surgery and John's only assurance had come from a paramedic promising him that the doctors would do all that they could. His hands shake. John couldn't remember a time in his life where his hands had shaken.

His stomach turns and it takes all his self-control not to lose the contents of his stomach in the nearby trash can.

He takes his cell out from his pocket. It is stained with her blood. Trying to ignore the way it feels under his fingertips, he dials a familiar pattern.

The ringing stops as the receiver is picked up. Before they can speak, John says, "Helen was shot."

Silence.

"Is she alive?" Marcus asks finally.

"In surgery."

More silence.

Marcus had told him, had warned him. John hadn't listened.

"Where was she shot?"

"Abdomen." He leans back in the chair, "it was meant for me."

"Well, I doubt anyone would go to shoot Helen for the fun of it."

John ignores the stinging remark. “I’m at the hospital now. Can you find out if anyone has a hit on me? I need to know where it’s coming from and I need to know who has been hired.”

“It isn’t open. I would have heard if it was. But I’ll head to the Continental. See if I can find out anything.” There is a moment of silence, “Aside from me, does anyone know about Helen? Winston? The Concierge or the Executor?”

“The Executor but he hasn’t met her.”

"Of course. You know, depending on who they sent, its very possible that half of the underworld knows about Helen by now."

Fuck, he wanted to vomit.

He had tried so hard to protect her. To keep her secret from his world. Marcus was right. He should have known better.

"Please, just do what you can."

"Just focus on her. I’ll take care of everything on this end.”

And Marcus is gone, the line dropped.

John sits down in a chair and watches the clock tick on and on.

She'll live, the doctor tells him and John breaths again. His heart stutters in relief as he receives the rundown of her procedure.

He barely listens, "I need to see her."

"Of course. She is, still, unconscious but I can take you back."

John nods and follows back to the recovery room. She is still pale but her vitals look good. He caresses her face lightly, her earlier words still echoing in his head.

His beautiful, crazy girl was lying in a hospital bed because his enemies found them.

He hadn’t protected her and she had taken a bullet meant for him.

Gladly, John would have taken it if it meant she did not lay in front of him.

John reaches for her hand. It is limp but warm and he holds it between his. Marcus had been right. There was no way to pull Helen into their world and still keep her safe. But he could not let her go, even if he wanted to.

Helen startles awake and blinks in the sharp white light of the hospital room.

“It’s okay. It’s okay.” John’s voice soothes, hand tightening in her own while his other reaches up and rests on her forehead. “You’re okay.”

She blinks again, “Hospital?”

“Yes.”

“Cool.”

John lets himself laugh, softly. His heart still heavy with the thought he came so close to losing her. But she was there. In front of him. Alive.

Helen looks him over. “Are you okay?”

“I think I’m supposed to be asking that question.”

Helen stays quiet, looking at him seriously.

“I’ve never been so afraid in my life.” He confesses, his hand sweeping back into her hair. “God, Helen…”

“I’m okay.” She whispers, squeezing his hand in hers. “I’m here.”

John releases the support on the bed and moves to sit on the edge, beside her. “Why didn’t you duck? Why didn’t you move when you saw the target?”

“It would have hit you.”

“One more wouldn’t have killed me.”

“It might’ve.”

“It might’ve killed you!” Did she not understand? He couldn’t yell at her, not while she was in a hospital bed but she had to understand. “My life doesn’t matter. I will gladly take a thousand bullets if it keeps you safe.”

“Your life matters to me, John.”

She had said ‘I love you’ fairly early on. He believed her every time she said it. He knew she cared, he knew he mattered but there was no one else who cared for him or about him as she did. All his faults lay at her feet and rather than step on him, she had knelt down and held him.

Nothing scared him more.

Except perhaps the words she had said in what very well could have been her last sentiment.

“It’s not worth yours.” He says finally, “If something happened to you, what would I be? You blow into my life and I don’t recognize the man I was two months ago. I don’t want to think about how empty I was before I found you. Before you, I was just a shell. What would you expect me to become if you died?”

Helen reaches up, her eyes so soft and open and so not like anything he was used to. She runs her hair up his beard and around back to his hair. “I would expect you to be the man I fell in love with.” She pulls his head and John obliges, bending forward to kiss her softly. Her lips are chapped from the anesthesia but neither care.

Only hours ago, he didn’t know if he would ever be able to kiss her again.

“I love you.” She says quietly, whispering against his lips. There’s a pause as Helen pulls back, just far enough to look at him. “And I meant what I said on the beach.”

John swallows, not meeting her eyes. “I can get a new car.”

“After that.”

He feels his lips twitch up softly, “The part about me being a bitch?”

“After that.” Helen smiles at him, “Although I won’t dispute that you’re a bitch sometimes.” She wraps her arm around his neck, wincing slightly at the way her body stretches, “When I get out of here, I am going to marry you, John Wick.”

John feels his hands shake. He’s not sure they’ve done that before. “Aren’t I supposed to ask you that?

“Our relationship is built off of me telling you what to do.” Helen flashes him a smile, “Besides, you were taking too long.”

“I have it on good authority you aren’t supposed to propose marriage after two months.”

“Nor are you supposed to propose moving in together but you did that this morning.”

“You still have an out, moving in with me. Once we’re married, you’re stuck with me forever.” And damn him, he’s considering it. She’s already dragged into his world. The wound in her stomach is proof enough of that but to put his ring on her finger, to put his name at the end of hers? “I won’t let you go.”

“I think I’ve established that I’m serious about you,” Helen tells him, eyes flicking down to her abdomen. “I have no intention of going anywhere. Aside from the courthouse.”

“You have to move in with me.” John feels a smile creep onto his face as he strokes her face.

“A given.”

“And I’m buying you a new car.”

Helen rolls her eyes, “Fine.”

“And a beach house.” It might be his best and only opportunity to negotiate.

“Now you’re pushing it.”

John surges forward and kisses her again. She’s here, in his arms. And she is going to be okay. Marcus had told him he was going to take care of it and John was going to let him. He had more important things to attend to, starting with his fiancée.

#john wick #john wick x helen #helen x john wick #john x helen wick #marcus (john wick)#overheard at the continental #the matrix has queue #john wick fanfic #john wick fanfiction

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xperfectlite · 4 years

Text

I know hashtags are geared more towards twitter, but fuck it, we're all dying and nothing matters.

I gotta be real with you, Unus Annus started during an okayish part of my life. I was passively suicidal, just kind of cruising through the end of my first semester at a new University. But, I had finally taken the step towards treatment. I was on meds and in counseling. At one point, waiting for my first bit of Unis Annus merch was one of my five reasons to keep living that I had to give to my counselor after a particularly rough session.

I wish I could say things got better, but that's not how this year worked. Not just for me, but for anyone. COVID19 kicked up, my University switched to telehealth services for counseling, but I didn't have a safe place to do sessions. I canceled my last session and never tried to get back into contact. My mom lost her job, our insurance was canceled, I got kicked off of my meds.

I was ready to go on a solo camping trip on my 23rd birthday. I had three plans to make sure I never came back.

While I was at my campsite, enjoying the only time I had ever been able to truly sit and do nothing. My mind wandered, my creativity kicked in, I used some of my time to catch up on Unus Annus or watch some of my old favorites.

I won't lie or be overdramatic, Unus Annus wasn't the reason I stayed alive. But having the time to sit and see two creative souls continue creating such amazing content through some tough times did inspire me to see what I could do to get through my own tough times.

Things still haven't gotten much better. I'm still struggling in school, I still haven't been able to get back into treatment, my professors and advisor have started telling me I'm in the wrong major. I still struggle with the concept of ending it all.

But in these moments, when all I really needed was a quick distraction.. something to make me smile, something to make my stomach cramp from laughing.. Unus Annus was here.

I'm writing this with thirteen minutes on the clock and I can't believe it. It feels like losing a friend. There's already an ache in my chest.

It'll be okay, though. It always will be.

Thank you, Amy, Ethan, Mark, and all the crew and editors. I can't thank you enough for what you've done to give me these minute boosts of life. I'm sure my friends and family are thankful for you as well.

I love you all.

Memento mori.

Memento vivere.

- Ashlee (he/him/his)

#mementomori #memento mori #unus annus #unusannus

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ohmightydevviepuu · 4 years

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our little life (rounded with a sleep) / chapter 9

our little life (rounded with a sleep) chapter nine [9/12] AO3

Once upon a time, there was a beautiful detective. She had blonde hair, green eyes, no family, and she was good at finding people; in fact, she proclaimed this on her office door. “Swan and Humbert,” it said. “Private investigations, missing persons, and bail bonds.”

Only lately, she's been thinking that maybe it should say "Emma Swan: Loner, Loser, Complicated wreck."

Her partner's been killed on a case after she made a deal with her landlord to find what had been taken from him. But when she tracks a possible perp to a bar on the outskirts of town, Emma will find out exactly how deep the rabbit hole goes.

as ever, none of this would exist without @thisonesatellite. pretty sure this kicks off another section that i made her read 3 times. after changing, like, five words. listen, i needed to know if it was better, ok?

to @profdanglaisstuff and @katie-dub, always.

to the @captainswanbigbang for a hell of an event. i owe you all so much.

chapter summary: Shit gets real. Very real. In her dreams--and in her life. Emma has to decide: is she ready to try something new?

Emma opened her eyes. She was once again on her back, on the least comfortable mattress she had ever had the misfortune to encounter--which was saying a lot, considering some of the places Emma had slept in her life. There was a single bare bulb illuminating the space and shadows cast along the wall by the bars of the cell door.

She was in one of David Nolan’s holding cells.

“What luck,” drawled a voice--a woman, haughty and self-assured and someone Emma had heard before. “The Savior.”

Emma did not sit up as she registered the words, or the obvious capital letters of the title; she merely waited, turning her head so that the speaker came into view. Her posture was impeccable, and though she did not appear especially tall she established a sense of presence. There was not a hair out of place on her head and her clothing was simple, but obviously expensive. It was easy to see where--who--Regina Mills had learned her habits from.

“Cora Mills,” Emma said, her attention going back to the ceiling and the bulb, making her affect as disinterested as possible. “You look pretty good for a dead woman.”

read the full chapter on AO3

chapter nine

Emma stood in the doorway, watching her son sleep for the first time in her--and his--life. His hair was just a bit too long, she realized suddenly, seeing the way his fringe fell into his eyes. Liam was on the floor, and his eyes opened when she took a step into the room. Emma shrugged--hoping he would understand what even she could not.

Because she needed to leave.

She needed to be somewhere else, out of all of this, out of this bullshit of magical nonsense and curses and--everything.

She was going to take her son and she was going to get the fuck out of Dodge, away from Evil Queens and Dark Ones and roommates that felt like family and a bartender that felt like he could help her be a part of something, if only he wasn’t so monumentally fucked up.

Liam just watched her, watched her as she shook Henry gently awake, and then he nodded. He looked sad, but resigned, and Emma had to wonder: how many friends did Liam Hook truly have? Maybe he was a little lost, too, just like his brother, just like she had been.

Like she still was.

“Come on, kid,” she said, hoping her voice cut through the sleepy haze in Henry’s expression. “We’re getting out of here.”

Ruby had caught her in the hallway as Emma left Hook’s office, and the grin on her face was devilish, her eyes glittering in delight. “Angsty midnights with the hot-slash-insane bartender?” she asked. “I love it.” But then she had sniffed, and though Emma knew it wasn’t possible, it was like she smelled the alcohol in the air around her, even though neither Hook nor Emma had had anything to drink.

“Angsty midnight drinking sesh with the hot-slash-insane bartender?” Ruby’s expression changed, and she pulled Emma toward her, both of her hands on Emma’s shoulders, her gaze boring into Emma’s skull. “Babe, listen. You know I love you. And I know we’re going through something terrible. But--”

“I know,” Emma said.

“This is insane, Em.”

“I know,” Emma said.

“There’s gotta be a better way for you to work through your shit,” Ruby said.

But that’s not what Emma did--was not how she operated.

She was going to do what she always did: run. It was all she knew how to do.

Emma tried hard to not imagine Jefferson watching them through his telescope as she guided Henry toward her car. Henry’s delight with the dilapidated little yellow Beetle was almost enough to banish the worry.

Almost.

Until she started driving toward the edge of the neighborhood and the questions started.

“Wait.” Henry was suddenly alert. “You want to go now? We’re leaving now?” He looked over his shoulder. “Where’s your stuff?”

“You’re all I need,” Emma said. “I’m getting you out of here. Away from all of this, away from her.”

“No.” There was steel in Henry’s voice. “No. Stop the car. You can’t leave--you have to stay, you have to break the curse.”

“I don’t,” Emma said. “I don’t have to do anything but help you.”

“Emma,” Henry said. He was pleading with her. “You’re a hero. You can’t run, not when you can help everybody.”

Emma bit her lip. “I know it’s hard for you to understand--”

“You’re scared,” Henry said. “That’s pretty easy for me to understand. I’m a kid, I’m not an idiot.” He crossed his arms.

“I’m doing what’s best for you,” Emma said, turning her blinker on as she came to the main street that would lead them back into the heart of the city. “That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? Isn’t that why you were looking for me?”

He shook his head. “I wanted you to break the curse. I wanted you to bring back the happy endings, and for us to be a family.” His voice broke. “Please, Emma, don’t make me go. We need you. Your family needs you.”

“Henry--”

He reached over and grabbed the steering wheel.

“Henry!” Emma swerved, yanking on the wheel to pull the car back onto the road and into the right lane. Her heart was racing as she turned to her son. “We need to--there’s a difference between fairy tales--fantasy--and reality.” “I’m not crazy,” Henry fumed. “Killian believes me!”

“Captain Hook’s opinion is not what I’m interested in right now, kid,” Emma snapped.

“You’re letting your feelings cloud your judgment. You’re scared, but you know I’m right. Running isn’t what’s best for me. Running is never what’s best. I thought--”

“What?” Emma said, her eyes flickering back to him.

“I thought you were different.” He slumped in his seat.

It was just a flash out of the corner of her eye--red eyes, four feet--and for a second, she would have sworn it was Graham.

The car went off the road.

Something was wrong with the apple tree.

It was black, the leaves curling in on themselves; the fruit wasn’t red, but shriveled and brown.

It was dying.

The man in the animal-skin coat with the glittery skin was visibly pleased, Emma could tell. His toothy grin was wide and his fingers positively writhed with glee.

“Excellent work, Savior,” he hissed. “The curse is weakening.”

“You want the curse broken,” she said. “Why?”

“I’m planning a little trip,” he said.

“You’re going to need travel insurance,” Regina said, and Emma whirled around. “Because I’ve found a solution to my Emma Swan problem.”

It wasn’t Regina Mills but the Evil Queen that stood before her, in a gown of jet black with divided skirts that trailed behind her. She held her hand, palm up, out in front of her, and there was a ball of fire in the air. “An old, reliable solution.”

“Ah, ah, ah,” Rumplestiltskin warned. “I’m sure I don’t have to remind you, Your Majesty, that all magic comes with a price.”

“Then you can pay it,” she seethed, and the ball of fire trembled.

An arrow shot through the air, causing the fire to extinguish itself, and Regina’s mouth dropped open. “You!” Her expression changed from shock to hurt to anger. “You could’ve hit me!”

“I never miss,” Graham said. His eyes flashed, one red and one black, and Emma saw the wolf.

They were back in the office.

Swan and Humbert.

“Emma,” he said. “I want to talk to you.”

“You--” Emma said. “You’re--”

“Please, Emma. I need you to understand.”

“Why?”

“So that I can understand,” he whispered, and kissed her, sending warmth from the tips of her fingers straight down to her toes. It wasn’t--it wasn’t a romantic feeling, it was comfort and affection and trust and connection.

It was being a part of something.

“Did you feel that?”

Emma nodded, speechless.

“That’s what you did for me,” Graham whispered. “I died a free man, Emma.”

She cupped his face in her hands, feeling the scratch of his stubble on her palms. He kissed her, again, on the crown of her head, and his fingers combed through her hair, stopping at the chain around her neck.

“Emma,” he said. “Your fate is in a precarious place. You must hurry.”

“Wait--” Emma said.

“The opportune moment will present itself,” Graham said. “The rest is up to you. Find your family, Emma. Free them from the curse.”

“You’re--can’t you come with me?”

“I cannot,” he said, but his voice held no regret. “I gave up my heart so that the queen would spare Snow White’s. Wait for the opportune moment. Don’t let my sacrifice be in vain.”

“Graham,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

She pulled him close, one more time, and kissed him softly on the mouth.

If the first time she kissed him had been a gentle brush against her soul--the warmth of a sunny day--this was an inferno, burning everything in its wake as the energy rushed through her. It was raw and unfettered as it pushed every molecule in her body, electrifying her senses until she couldn’t feel anything but him.

“It’s you,” Killian whispered. “Don’t you know, Emma? It’s all for you.”

She chased after him, searching for more, but he stopped her with a smile. “I know you feel like a pawn, love, but remember: you’re only a pawn if you don’t know you’re being played. There’s hope, Swan. All you have to do is believe.”

It was just a kiss, but it felt like--

“Just look at me,” he said, “and believe.”

It felt like magic.

She was in one of David Nolan’s holding cells.

“What luck,” drawled a voice--a woman, haughty and self-assured and someone Emma had heard before. “The Savior.”

“Cora Mills,” Emma said, her attention going back to the ceiling and the bulb, making her affect as disinterested as possible. “You look pretty good for a dead woman.”

“So do you, dear.”

Emma’s already-spinning head took a moment to process that, and a deep breath that she hoped was not noticeable--but she did not give Cora the satisfaction of a reaction.

There was a low, throaty chuckle. “I’m glad to see you’re not wasting your energy on pleasantries, Miss Swan.”

Damn.

A villain with a sense of humor, then. Not that Emma had the energy to spare for ‘pleasantries,’ not after the accident and the dreams and--

“Hook?” Cora said.

Emma once again did not allow herself to react, but she wanted to, as she heard the footsteps, low and languid, and the dry tone of his voice when he said, “Startling, aren’t I?”

It took no effort at all for Emma to imagine him making an ironic bow. “Some might even say striking,” he said.

Emma willed herself not to move, to maintain her calm demeanor. She didn’t even turn to look at him, not when she recognized the cadence of his words and the harshness of his consonants.

“I appreciate the warm welcome,” he said into the silence. He gave new meaning to the word deadpan. “And what have we here, Your Majesty?”

That got Emma’s attention--fucking hell, was everybody royalty in this magical, mystical Enchanted Forest? She turned to face him, finally, unsurprised to see the carefully blank expression on his face. He lifted an eyebrow at the movement. “Oh,” he said, licking his lips. “Don’t get up, princess. Not when I can think of so many pleasurable things to do with a woman on her back.”

In spite of his tone--and his leer and his stupid fucking eyebrow--a shiver went through her as Emma remembered all of the times in their crazy-short acquaintence when the space between them had seemed nonexistent, the pull between them too great, and she wondered. She thought of the way he had kissed her in her dream and the way it had made her feel, and she wondered.

Just how many things did he know how to do, with a woman on her back?

“‘Your Majesty’?” Emma repeated, trying to shake herself loose of his jibe, and his eyebrow, and that other title. Speaking of royalty.

“Do not misunderstand me, princess.”

“Cora is the Queen of Hearts,” Hook replied, and she did not have to imagine it this time, the ironic tilt of his head or the quirk of his mouth. “In Wonderland.”

“I hate Wonderland.” That’s what he’d said, and he’d meant it all the way down to his bones, but there was no emotion in his words as he turned back to Cora. As if he was done with her already.

“The time for that is done." "Just as I have done with you.”

It was his voice that was doing that to her, making her doubt, making her uncomfortable, and it didn’t help when he said, “Cora, darling--you seem to have a Savior in a cage. How does one come upon such treasure?”

“It’s you, Emma. It’s all for you.”

Emma closed her eyes.

“After everything we’ve been through, Hook, why do you still doubt me?”

It’s all for you.

“When I’m the one who brought you here, and preserved your memories--your purpose?”

“Your arrival reminded me of my purpose, but I cared not one whit whether this curse ever broke.”

“I may be a simple pirate,” he said, “but I know where my interests lie. How else do you think she wound up so easily in your grasp? It was all about waiting, my dear Cora, for the opportune moment.”

Emma covered her sharp inhalation with a cough.

“Wait for the opportune moment.”

That’s what Graham had said--that’s what the man in her dreams had said.

“You might have imparted that advice to Jefferson,” Hook said darkly. “You realize he almost cost you everything?”

Killian. Killian had said that. Not Captain Hook.

This was it, Emma knew.

The opportune moment.

“Satisfied?” Hook asked Cora.

Emma was in a cell with a woman capable of murder and worse on the other side of the bars, and all Emma had was her wits and--if she could let herself believe it--Hook. She ignored his words, his tone, his eyebrow, all of it, and listened to what lay beneath: the flash of desperation she was sure she wasn’t imagining, and that phrase. Hook didn’t know--couldn’t know--that she had dreamt of him saying that. He didn’t know that she had overhead his rift with Cora.

“You chose her. Now you have to live with the consequences of that decision.”

He was trusting her. Trusting her to trust him.

Try something new, darling.

“You,” Emma spat.

It’s you, Emma. It’s all for you.

She stood up quickly and walked the three steps to the bars. “That’s why--that’s why you gave me my necklace back. It was all about making me believe I could trust you.” Emma put the extra emphasis on ‘my’ and waited, watching him as he took two steps forward and leaned his head so that he was almost directly against the cell door--so that their eyes met, and Emma knew she wasn’t imagining what she saw there.

Hope.

Just a flash, and so quickly she almost missed it--so quickly that she would have missed it, except that she was looking for it for the first time in her life.

“I should have known,” Emma said, putting bitterness into her words. “You’re not exactly the sentimental type, are you?”

It was funny, or it should have been, to accuse the man who claimed to have carried a grudge for three centuries of not being emotional.

“I’m not,” he agreed, biting off the word. “You should have thanked me, Swan. That’s what’s customary when one receives a gift.” His body blocked Emma’s view of Cora as his fingers brushed against hers, and Emma couldn’t suppress the shiver as she felt him. The same warmth and tingle she had felt in the office--“Perhaps it shall serve as a reminder to both of us”--he’d said, and she felt it again, the anticipation.

“Right,” Emma said sarcastically. “Because you’re a goddamn gentleman.” She stepped back, as much for herself as for the pretense, and she clamped her fingers around the small metal pin he had slipped her.

Maybe they really were a team.

“Because I believe in good form,” he said. It was his turn to step away and return his attention to Cora. “And speaking of intentions, love, what are yours toward our captive friend? Mercy seems a bit out of character.”

“Oh, not mercy, Hook,” Cora said. Her eyes were sharp and narrow and focused entirely on Emma. “She’s going to help me, whether she wants it or not. I intend to get what I need.”

Emma straightened her spine and looked Cora dead in the eye.

“It doesn’t matter,” Emma said. “You’re still going to lose.”

Cora laughed. “Such bravery.”

Emma could do this. Emma did do this, day in and day out--got her skips and perps and clients to talk to her, to stall, to tell her what she needed to know. She could do this. She could get out of this cell and out of this fuckery and take her son--

Her son, who had been in the car with her when she’d gone off the road--oh, shit, this was why she could never be a mother; where was her son, was he ok, who had him, all of the questions she should have had on repeat from the instant she’d regained consciousness were on a loop in her head as she tried to maintain her composure in front of Cora. The fucking Queen of Hearts.

Emma didn’t even know how long she’d been in this cell.

“You get off on this,” Emma said. “This is the part that you like, the control and the power trip--”

But Cora knew. The bitch could tell, could see it in her eyes or some shit, because she laughed.

Again.

“The Savior,” Cora said, drawing out the word in what was unmistakably a gloat. “But all you are, child, is a name on a piece of paper, did you know that? Did you know that Rumplestiltskin mapped out your life before you were even born?”

Emma wanted to laugh at that--to laugh, or to cry, because there was absolutely no one in this world who could have predicted the path that her life had taken to lead her to this moment. She had made her own choices, and had to live with her own mistakes, but no one was going to tell her who she was.

Only--

Henry would tell her to be a hero.

“You’re not powerful,” Cora said. “You’re a pawn, which is exactly why you are here. You’re the Savior because it was all part of the plan.”

“You’re only a pawn if you don’t know you’re being played.”

“This is the part where you tell me what you need, right?” Emma said.

“I need to be close to my daughter again,” Cora said simply. “You and this curse are currently the only things in the way of that.”

Emma barely flickered her eyes toward Hook before she punched back, a sudden flash of insight becoming clear to her. “What about the dagger, then?”

“The what?” Cora asked. She hadn’t even batted an eye, but Cora wasn’t the only one who could read people. Emma had gotten to her. Behind Cora, Hook shifted his weight, holding Emma’s gaze for just a split second with a barely-perceptible nod of his head.

Try something new, darling.

“Rumplestiltskin’s dagger,” Emma said, quietly enough that Cora needed to step closer. “That’s what you really want, isn’t it? The power? I wonder, Cora dear, what your grudge against the Dark One might be?”

That had to be it, Emma knew, otherwise Cora would be holed up with Gold, plotting to do whatever the fuck it was that people who wanted to break goddamn curses did. Bad blood there for sure, Emma decided, and knew she’d hit her mark because Cora’s expression changed. She was a handsome woman, but the glare she leveled at Emma could probably turn things into stone.

If Emma believed in magic. Or daggers, or Rumplestiltskin, or one-handed pirates with sinful eyelashes who couldn’t keep their own personal space; who read her like a goddamn book, who told her secrets in the dark that made her feel seen and understood and made her wonder, in all of those times they’d been inches apart, what it would feel like if there was no space between them at all.

But she didn’t. She didn’t believe in any of it.

Liar.

“Listen,” Emma said, leaning forward. “You should know that I don’t have any fucks to give about this fight. I don’t give a shit about plans or saviors or curses. I’m just trying to get justice for my partner, and to move the fuck on with my life.”

Emma did not look at Killian as she spoke. She meant it--she meant all of it.

Liar.

Cora’s eyebrows narrowed; she was clearly unimpressed. Definitely another expression Regina had learned from her mother.

Which was fine--Emma almost had the lock open, anyway.

“I’m not like him,” Emma said, gesturing with her chin at Hook. “I don’t have any grand delusions about my life or its purpose. You let me out, let me go on my way, and I will tell you where your precious fucking dagger is. Or I will see you behind these bars, Your Majesty.”

Emma pushed the door open and stepped out.

Cora laughed for the third time. It was refined, and practiced, and unpleasant, and all of the hairs on the back of Emma’s neck were standing on edge.

“You’re going to tell me,” Cora said, “or he is. I’ve been waiting twenty-eight years for this.”

Hook interjected then. “I’ve been waiting a hell of a lot longer than that, Your Majesty.”

“So pretty,” Cora sighed, “and yet so useless. You can hardly blame me, Hook, for your failure to seize the--how did you put it? The opportune moment. I told you, Hook--”

Cora moved, and Emma attempted to dodge.

She was unsuccessful.

“You chose her. Now, there will be consequences.”

And then all there was--was pain. Her body, about to split open--her lungs feeling like there could not possibly be enough air in the universe. The feeling of something closing in around her heart.

Crushing it--

--or trying to.

Emma could feel it, Cora’s hand actually inside of her body, and the violation of it all--the physical intimacy, for Cora to be that close and to have her fucking hand inside of Emma’s body--was almost as bad as the literal physical pain. Which was overwhelming.

Until it wasn’t.

Killian had Cora in a headlock, his hook against her neck. “Let. Her. Go.” Each word was its own sentence, snarled directly into Cora’s ear, and Emma could feel him pulling Cora away from her in the way that Cora did not let go of her heart.

Her fucking heart.

“Don’t you know, Hook?” Cora gasped. “Love is weakness.” Her grip tightened, and she pulled.

Like she was trying to pull Emma’s heart straight out of her body, and this was it, this was what had happened to Graham, this was how he had felt in the moments before he had died, like his body was exploding and collapsing in on itself all at the same time, in horrifying, indescribable agony--

“I died a free man, Emma.”

Only--

There was a burst of white light, and Cora hissed in pain. Her arm, her hand, stopped moving, and Emma could take a breath again as Cora sagged against Hook, who had not released her from his grip. His face was devoid of any emotion but his eyes were icy chips of pure rage as he pulled her bodily away from Emma, who doubled over the moment Cora’s hand left her chest, heaving breaths and swallowing the bile that bubbled up in her throat.

“What was that?” Emma said. Her words came in raspy syllables.

“That,” Hook said, and his voice made his face seem expressive, “was Cora’s final mistake.”

And it really wasn’t fair, Emma thought--later, much later--that for all of her wishing to know what was happening, what the actual fuck was happening, and where was her son--Henry burst through the door, tailed immediately by Regina as she harangued David, who was pulling a bewildered Mary Margaret along with him--as Killian dug the tip of his namesake gently into the delicate skin along Cora’s neck, and she gave a horrifying shudder.

So much for not believing in magic.

“Mother?” Regina said, rushing up behind Cora and catching her as Killian let her fall. “Mother? What’s wrong?”

@kmomof4 @shireness-says @optomisticgirl @scientificapricot @captainsjedi @carpedzem @mariakov81 @stahlop @eirabach @snowbellewells @searchingwardrobes @spartanguard

#cs fic #csrt #captain swan rewrite a thon #our little life (rounded with a sleep)#canon divergence #S1 divergence #cursed!killian #an alternate theory of the curse

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watchmebackflip75 · 4 years

Text

How to Train Your Wizard

Maybe I wrote a RED SHOES story involving a Viking. No it’s not those dragon riding Vikings.

SourceURL:https://archiveofourown.org/works/25142545 How to Train Your Wizard - BleedingHeart911 - Red Shoes and the 7 Dwarfs (2019) [Archive of Our Own]

… The mermaids of the beach found the tourist humans too odd by a starfish-half. Giant umbrella over their fully clothed bodies; these landmaids were in the wrong climate. The strange landfolk separated from nature further by sitting in lounging chairs as if the boulders in the ocean weren’t cool enough.

“Gotta love that sun.” Snow White said under her sunhat. In one hand she fanned her soft chin, in the other her fingers laced in her boyfriend’s hand.

“Yes, and this fresh sea breeze.” Merlin said dozily, his eyelids closing under his sun-obstacles. He snapped his long fingers and a candle enchanted with bug-repellent burned green and smelled like a sunflower. They sighed in unison, their cares slipping away.

The cawing of seagulls became the yelps of scared mermaids. Snow and Merlin open a single eye each to see a wooden dragon raging towards the shoreline.

“Who would think building a giant dragon puppet easier than taking the beast as a pet?” Merlin asked as he dropped his lite beach-rob. He flipped through the spell-cards in his belt-satchel.

“Sweetie, that’s a Viking’s ship. You might want to pull out a big zapper.” Snow said as she closed their umbrella. Merlin had his magic, she had the strength to stab and whack. They sped-walked to the gentle waves, weapons in hand but allowing the strangers to arrive.

“Never fought a Viking before. Heard they’re like minotaur-pirates without dental plans.” Merlin said, watching the huge sails.

“That’s the stereotype. It’s not untrue but I’ve known some exceptions.” Snow said as the boat pushed into the sand.

Merlin smirked, he thought about asking if his princess had known a lot of disgusting pirates growing up in the sheltered ballrooms. He didn’t ask since the horned, hairy, man-like fiends jumped onto the beach, shaking the earth.

The hairy beasts groaned in warning, weapons in hand though they stood in wait. A huge, maybe seven-foot-tall, yellow-haired beast jumped off the side. His smell made Merlin’s stomach turn.

“I’m going to hit him with a soap-spell first.” Merlin said as he raised a spell-card.

Snow grabbed his hand, “Wait a minute. Brutechel?”

Under the unruly hair and horned-helmet Merlin saw bright blue eyes and the scruffy stubble of a young man’s sickly smile.

“Snow! You’re alright!” The Viking exclaimed, swinging his mallets over his head.

Snow laughed and ran into Brutechel’s hug. The Viking’s thick muscles had no problem raising Snow off her feet in a twirl. The sight disgusted Merlin; he felt a flicker of lightning trickle up his thin arms.

Brutechel placed Snow back on the sand and held her fair little hands in his hammy ham-hands.

“I wanted to come sooner- when I heard about your step-mother –“

“It’s fine, we’re fine. You had your reasons for not-“

“No, my chief hid your letters. He had- I had no idea… You must have thought I was the most selfish son of troll.” Brutechel said with regret.

“Never.” Snow’s big brown eyes looked up at the young man two-heads taller than she.

Brutechel sighed deeply with tears of joy. “Thank Odin you’re alright.”

“Yes, she is.” Merlin stated loudly, stepping to Snow’s side. He put an arm around her possessively and said, “Hi, I’m the hero who saved the White Castle, among others. Merlin, leader of the Fearless Seven, I’m sure you heard of us.”

“Thought you guys were a democracy.” Snow said, dropping her hands from Brutechel’s grip.

“When my quick thinking and skill can’t find an advantage, yes we can be.” Merlin amended.

“Oh, yeah I have heard the F Seven. Thought they died a year ago?” Brutechel said, eyeing the overly-groomed fishbone holding Snow.

“Sabbatical.” Snow shrugged slightly annoyed with Merlin’s bragging, “So yeah, Brutechel this is Merlin, Merlin this is my dear old…. Brutechel.”

Both boys heard her take a beat to avoid using ‘old/ ex boyfriend’.

“Uh-huh.” Brutechel said, folding his ox-like muscles across his chest.

“Yep.” Merlin said with a pop of his lips.

Snow groaned through a smile and pushed Merlin’s hand off her shoulder. “Bea, tell me you didn’t come all this way just for me and my problems.”

“I would’ve crossed any seas if I thought you were in danger.” Brutechel said gently.

Merlin tried to say something but Snow spoke over him with, “Then the least we can do is invite you to dinner.”

“I’d be honored, Snow Bunny.” Brutechel said, barely moving his eyes from Snow, “That alright with you, chum?”

“Of course, and allow me to cook for you, bud.” Merlin said with a very fake smile.

“I’ll bring something over, that fine with you, Murray?” Brutechel said unamused.

“Don’t go out of your way, Brutus, any allergies I should know about?” Merlin asked stepping closer.

“Nope, but I don’t eat meat or dairy, dude.” The Viking said, crouching over string-bean.

“You’re a Vegan Viking, lad?” Merlin asked, noticing a few teeth were metal and gold.

“You bet your pointy hat, pal.” Brutechel said, wondering when non-Viking men started wearing perfume.

Merlin held back a flicker of lightning in his palm, “We’ll keep that in mind, and don’t trouble yourself with dessert. I know a guy.”

“I know a guy, too.” Brutechel said, curling and uncurling his fist.

“Oh boy,” Snow said drily, she clapped her hands, “You guys, hey.”

They both stared at her, their postures aligned to pounce.

“How about we all agree to meet at the castle around sunset? That good for you, Brutechel?”

The smelly oaf softened, “Oh course, Bunny, I look forward to tonight.”

“Me too.” Snow said sweetly as she grabbed Merlin’s arm, “Let’s go get ready.”

“Of course, my darling.” Merlin said, looping his arm around Snow’s elbow. “Now don’t you pillage when we turn our backs.”

Snow pinched his arm and they waved to the Vikings to Brutechel’s horde. The couple noticed some had buckets of popcorn. The Vikings waived back in a friendly manner.

On Risky Rock, Arthur’s laugh dug so deep the side of his dwarf-green abbs began to ache.

“Pure barry,” Merlin’s oldest friend said while beating the table. “Snow use to date a Viking? One of those lugs would use you like a toothpick. This has to be killing you, Merlin!” “Shut up, Arthur.” Merlin said while pouting in his chair at their oval table.

“Poor Merlin, the cute cure to your curse came with some burly baggage.” Jack said, also still green, small and polishing his nails to a shine. Pino, Noki and Kio stated different similes for Jack’s alliteration.

“I really can’t see how a girl as lovely and demur as Snow would ever even think of going near one of those filthy vandals.” Merlin said, relieved he could complain far from his girlfriend’s ears.

“Ah, la vache, you would’ve said the same thing about your squat little self when she met you.” Jack countered. Arthur was still chortlings, rolling on the floor.

Merlin rolled his eyes, “I really doubt there’s anything hidden in that bear. But it is so like her to take a stray home and try to bathe it.”

“I’ve tried to do the same thing will all of you.” Jack stated, causing Hans’ brow to wrinkle in confusion. The ginger chef came out with meatless stroganoff in a glass dish with painted candies dancing around the sides.

“Here, Merlin, I replaced the beef with tofu.” Hans said. He liked trying an old dish with a new twist.

“Right, I’ll return it tomorrow.” Merlin said, he wondered if he poisoned the tofu would it hurt Hans’ feelings. After he closed the door his friends hovered at the oval table.

“We’re going to that dinner, right?” Hans asked in the huddle.

“Affirmative.” Pino said cheerfully.

“You got that right.” Said Niko.

“Let’s bring a boardgame.” Kio said.

In the White Castle the princess set the table. The incident of her step-mother, may she rest in peace, turning her entire court and staff into trees made rehiring very difficult. Princess Snow didn’t mind setting the table, it reminded her of childhood tea parties. The memories of the princess guests judging her when she ate a cookie or scone wasn’t so nice. Snow accepted the past, forgave the foolish, remembered how Princess Katherine got kicked by a unicorn for being too boney and looked forward to her future.

“Have you thought about hiring elves? I hear they’re inexpensive.” Merlin said as he folded the napkins into swans.

“I sent notice, and I offered to pay them above the average non-human rate. Did you know Elves can catch all the same diseases we can and still don’t get health insurance?” Snow said, lighting candles.

“Shame. But they should be grateful at least one saintly princess cares.” Merlin said, taking her hand and kissing the back of it.

“Aww. Oh, thanks for getting Hans’ dish.” Snow said, raising the lid to see the home-rolled pasta Hans made. He rolled two different colored pastas to look like a candy cane swirl.

“Gladly. Do something for me, darling?” Merlin asked with a handsome smile.

“What’s that?”

“Cancel on Brute-a-chelli and enjoy a private dinner with me?”

“Merlin.” Snow said in a balanced tone.

“Whhhhhy are you making me hang out with the man who’s obviously still in love with you? How do you think that makes me feel??” Merlin whined.

Snow put a hand to her hip and raised her fingers as she made these points; “Okay, One; he’s not still in love with me, two: he’s a great guy I think you’d like after you get to know him, three: because I want to remain friends with Brutechel he needs to see the wonderful man I’ve chosen.”

The doubt that any man would be evolved enough to see his former love happy with a new beau ran deep in Merlin. He carefully considered choosing his words so he could squash her hopes in the most respectful route.

Snow placed her hands on his chest. “How about this? You really try to be nice tonight and after I’ll show you the flexible Valkyrie dress in my closet.”

Merlin raised an eyebrow, “Bribe accepted.”

Brutechel brought a salad in what looked like a giant yak skull. Merlin didn’t like pesto but he generously complimented the inscriptions carved in the bone-bowl. Brutechel the Kittenish was an animal lover. He had a zoo of pets on his ship and more at home; all rescues. At age six he tamed a sabertooth tiger and dedicated the rest of his life to respecting and caring for beasts found during sailing by the family business. Officially the ‘family business’ was exclusive pottery and dishes from ‘recycled’ materials. The wizard found the doe-eyed Viking simple and boring. Merlin became less jealous the more Brutechel droned on about different feeding tests. To his joy he noticed Snow was only polite with the guest, she appreciated the kindness but was only just not asleep in her goblet.

“Oh look, the bottle’s getting low. Excuse me, I’ll grab a refill. Any preference?” Merlin merrily asked.

Brutechel took the last glup of his goblet. “More of this, please.”

“Yes, thank you.” Snow said, her porcelain cheeks a light pink.

Brutechel watched the skinny snob leave the room. He searched for his courage and gazed at the glorious queen before him.

“So how’s your cousin with the pegle-“

“Bunny, I love you!” Brutechel admitted, his eyes wide with seriousness.

A lump formed in Snow’s throat. “What?”

“I am crazy about you, so how about we leave and talk about the rest of our lives for the rest of our lives?” Brutechel said, leaned him large hands over to hold her.

Snow gently whacked them with her soup spoon. “Brutechel, no! How can you say that to me with my boyfriend around?”

“He’s not around now. And Bunny, come on, he can’t protect you from bears.” Brutechel said, surprised she wasn’t thanking him for the out from the malnourished lizard.

“Why do you always bring it back to bears?” Snow winced and raised her hands, “No, I am not engaging in this conversation again. I say no, Bea.”

“But he’s so…. Shrimpy!”

“He’s also kind and clever and cute in all the ways and I choose him.” Snow said, putting a hand over her heart.

Brutechel felt his heart drop. He looked over Snow’s shoulder to see the smug sorcerer dancing and meeting his eyes with a poking tongue.

“I’m not sorry, I love Merlin.” Snow continued, not aware in the slightest the Merlin was making insulting gestures of victory to the denied suitor.

“You sure about that?” Brutechel asked, growing agitated at the arrogant snake’s dance.

“Yes.” Snow said with resound certainty, “I love him with all my heart.”

Brutechel groaned, “I want you to be happy, Snow White. I should go.”

“I do want you to be happy too, Bea.” Snow said, she felt pity that such a kind soul hadn’t found his right person yet.

The Viking slung his bear-skin over his shoulder and said not to worry about returning the skull-bowl.

Slipping back to the pantry Merlin soundlessly stomped the floor in glee. He picked a random wine bottle, did a twirl, and swung his arms without shame. He had no idea the Dwarf Six were watching him under Jack’s invisibility cloak. He muffled their laughter and followed the goofy friend to the dinning hall entrance. Merlin exhaled his delight and put on a façade of indifference when he approached Snow.

“Here we are, darling. How’s your goblet, Brutty? Oh my goodness, where did he go?” Merlin asked in phony surprise.

“He said he had to turn in for an early sail.” Snow fibbed, her face a little slumped.

“I see. Oh, dear. I’m sorry you’re disappointed.” Merlin wasn’t completely fibbing.

“It's how it goes.” Snow said as he kissed the top of her head.

“It’s getting late, we can raincheck the skimpy outfit you promised me.” Merlin said, he was already happy with the night so he could extend the excitement.

“Really? Honestly yeah, I’m not feeling it right now.” Snow said, placing her napkin on her plate. “I’ll clean up if you get the pillows cleared off.”

“I’ll clean, you get the cuddle chamber ready.” Merlin said as he took Hans’ dishware to the kitchen. Placing the dish in soapy water Merlin caught his reflection in a shiny tea pot.

“Hello gorgeous,” Merlin said to himself, “The smelly beast is gone and now Snow can get Merlin’d happily.”

Lightly parting his hair Merlin noticed a figure on the slant of the teapot. Instinct had him swiftly crouch down and miss the blow of the sink-size mallet. Merlin jumped up to see Hans’ dishware was intact, good, and he slapped a spell-card on the assailant behind him. The man was four times thicker so there was plenty of target. Merlin slide to the side and clapped his hands for a blast of lightning.

Brutechel blew the smoke from the burnt spot on his pec. The blast stung like a bee.

“Okay, let’s talk about this.” Brutechel offered, he felt a bad sport to attack such a soft puncher.

“Oh lets.” Merlin raised more spells in his fingers, “You got dumped, I make Snow happier,”

The wizard said this as they walked around a kitchen island. “Brute, chum, you can leave with a smidgen of dignity and I can be alone with the woman I adore. Or I zap you until your thick skull is a soup bowl”

Brutechel scoffed as they circled the steak knife set.

“You have tricks up your sleeve where Snow lays out her heart. My Bunny doesn’t need that.” Brutechel said as he threw a ladle at the wizard’s head.

Merlin dodged the ladle and threw a lightning bolt at the Viking's face. The stubble wouldn’t kindle but the ungroomed eyebrows burned clean off. Brutechel grabbed the saucepan and swung it in his palm.

“From what I heard you haven’t a clue what she needs.” Merlin said, he held up his arms so her magic could block the blows. “And you are the worst listener!”

Braced for another punch Merlin felt winded when nothing met his sizzling force fields. He lowered his guard to see Brutechel kneeled on the floor, hands down at his side.

“Go ahead, demon-whisperer, take me out so my Bunny can live in peace.” Brutechel said sadly, offering his thick neck open to a strike.

“Oh get up. As much as I loathe hearing you call my love ‘Bunny’,” Merlin rolled his eyes and shook with revulsion, “it’s no sport to disfigure a martyr.”

Brutechel nodded at the reasoning. He stood up, a head taller than Merlin, and wiped his hands, “If I ever hear you hurt her, I will use your straw arms for oyster forks.”

“Sure. Want a meal for the road, er, sea?” Merlin offered, he pointed to the pantry of fresh vegetables.

“Oh come on!” An oh too familiar voice bellowed from the shadows. Merlin groaned with annoyance while the spooked Brutechel searched for the demon source. Arthur threw off the cloak and slapped Merlin’s thigh.

“Mate, if you don’t defend Snow-belle’s honor I will disown!” The cursed prince said.

“Demon!” Brutechel yelled, grabbing his mallet and aiming to smash the little green monster. The mini monster caught the mallet’s face and pulled it from the Viking’s hand.

“No, I wouldn’t do it right. You can go right ahead.” Merlin said flatly, the two lug-heads were already crashing and destroying the royal kitchen.

The rest of the group sat on the kitchen island, eating the leftovers. One of the triplets shook a dice inside a cup.

“Hey.” Jack nonchalantly said, signaling they would clean up before the sun rose.

“Hey yourself.” Merlin waved in a quiet thanks to his friends. He rolled his neck and walked to Snow’s bedroom.

A lit candle was left on her nightstand. Snow faced away from the glow as she slept. In the pajamas that matched hers Merlin slid between the sheets. He pulled her head under his chin and lightly ran his fingers over her skin.

“You took a while. I should’ve helped washed.” Snow yawned against his neck.

“You're fine, darling. You're perfect.” Merlin quietly told her, he snapped his finger and the flame sparked away.

#red shoes and the seven dwarfs #red shoes and the 7 dwarfs #red shoes #merlin #arthur #prince arthur #jack #pino #noki #kio #hans #snow white

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13-reasons-ideas · 4 years

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Finding Peace In Another Part 19

A/N: T/W: Discussion of drug addiction and dating violence. This chapter is coming out a few days early and I’m sorry for the delay, I've been really busy with school. I hope everyone is coping well with the virus and isn't going to stir crazy. Also note that this is a work of free fiction and as such I’m not sticking to exact US immigration protocol. Much love!

A few weeks after my dinner with Scott, things were going well. His suspicions were quelled, Monty and I were good and there were no lingering issues with me hanging out with Scott. Since things had calmed down some, I decided to partake in my new favourite pastime. Recently I started surprising Justin at Monet’s after his shifts.

“Hey Justin, can I get peach tea and a raspberry scone please?”

“Coming right up. Usual table?”

“Depends, do you have leftovers?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see. I’m beginning to think you’re only using me for a baked good fix.”

“Maybe. I do bake as a hobby though, so its definitely more that I like you.”

He laughed as I took my drink and wandered over to the table. I people watched while he finished his shift.

“So, how are things with you?” I asked, casually after he sat down.

“You know, things are going. Clay is kind of oblivious to things, mom and dad are trying to judge what they should and shouldn’t push me on. The usual stuff. You?”

“Yeah. Things are going with me too. Dad still occasionally pops in town for a few days before going to wherever he needs to again. Still acts like I don’t essentially live on my own. I think he’s going to be in town for like two weeks sometime soon so that will be interesting.”

“Oh?” He asked, surprised. “Interesting how?”

I had to be careful how I answered. Man, this hiding our relationship thing is getting hard. “Well, he could decide to actually parent me. I’m an adult though so that could cause problems. May end up being a very silent couple of weeks.”

“Sounds like a trip.” He said, laughing.

“Justin. The last time he was home for any length of time, he told me to go look for a job.”

“Uh, why?”

“I have no idea. I can’t even legally work here. Dad’s work did something with the paperwork or something because I am still in high school. I literally can’t work, even if I wanted to.”

“I know. That makes no sense. Could tell him to send you home really.” He said, jokingly. There was a skepticalness to his tone that seemed to indicate he was nervous for my answer.

“What? No. I have finally finished settling in and have begun to think of Evergreen County as my second home. Alberta will always be my home, but that doesn’t mean I want to move back. I still don’t understand your reluctance for universal healthcare but that’s fine. Technically it hasn’t been long enough to be removed from Alberta Healthcare, but I’m not about to go to the trouble of going all the way home to deal with something that can be dealt with here. Dad haggled and made them give him really good insurance to move here and give up the free healthcare.”

“Okay good. Because we like you and don’t want you to leave.”

We talked about some school stuff for a while before I noticed him start to seem a little restless. I knew about his addiction issues and we talked about it often. “Hey, you still with me Justin?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah. Sorry what were we talking about?”

“Math test, but that’s not important. How are you doing right now?” I asked, subtly referencing the possible cause of his restlessness.

He sighed before answering, “I’m doing okay I guess.”

“Do you want to talk about it? We can go for a walk if you’re not comfortable talking here.”

After a moment he nodded. I got up and went to order us two coffees to go while he waited, trying to organize his thoughts.

“You ready to go?”

“Yeah, let’s go. Your usual?”

I rolled my eyes at him. Obviously.

We left the shop and wandered around a bit before he broke the silence. “It’s just harder than I expected it to be. Even with going to meetings, it’s hard to manage sometimes.”

“I get it. Have you talked to your sponsor at all?”

“I call him every afternoon to check in but that doesn’t mean it’s not hard. And I want to talk to Jess about it, but I don’t want to scare her or push her away. And I want to talk to mom and dad about it but I don’t want them to be mad or….”

“Or what Justin?”

“Or kick me out or something? I don’t know.”

“Well, I’m pretty sure that wouldn’t happen, but I hear you and I understand what you mean.” We sat on a park bench and people watched for a while. “You should tell Jess. Trust me when I tell you she is probably going to figure something out sooner or later.”

He looked at me in surprise, “You…?”

“No, not me. My ex-boyfriend was a prescription drug addict. Percocet was his drug of choice. He was in quasi-recovery, still drank and smoked weed so not actually trying stay sober, when we started dating. It wasn’t pills though so I wasn’t going to push the issue. But as time went on, he started using again and tried to hide it from me. It wasn’t that hard to figure it out. Things got… bad towards the end. Not that you would ever… just. I knew.”

“Oh. I-I didn’t know. Are you like, okay?”

“Yeah. It wasn’t that bad. If we stayed together it would have been worse, but thankfully we ended up breaking up after he went on a bender and I said enough was enough. But we aren’t talking about me, we are talking about you.”

“Do you think she would understand?”

“I think so. It might be hard at first, but I think she will. And she needs to hear it from you, not figure it out on her own like I did or be told by someone else. That will make it easier.”

“And my parents?”

“If you want, I can go with you to talk to them.”

“I think that would be good, yeah.”

“What do you want to do Justin?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, what do you need? Do you need to go to more meetings? Do you need someone to take you to meetings? Do you need to consider going to rehab? What do you need?”

“I don’t know. I know I need help. I just don’t know where to start. Why?”

“Because I want to help you. You’re my friend. And your parents will ask, so maybe thinking about it before you talk to them would be helpful. If not though, I understand. And if you need anything, just call me. Okay? Day or night.”

“Okay, I will. Thanks Becca.”

We chatted randomly for a while again before calling it a night and parting ways.

The next day went smoothly as well. At least until lunch that is. The guys were goofing off as usual and since Scott had seemed to quell his suspicions at least for now, Monty and I didn’t have to walk on eggshells as much around him anymore. Bailey called me about halfway through lunch. It wasn’t unusual for him to call me in the middle of the day, given he had a spare after lunch, but he didn’t usually call and then text and then call again. Odd. I hope everything is okay….

“Someone’s popular? Hot date you forgot about tonight Becca?” Garrison joked. I wasn’t looking at Monty but I knew his eye twitched ever so slightly, as it did whenever someone made a comment like that.

“Uh, yeah sure. Whatever Garrison.” I said, distracted as my phone began to ring again. Something is going on. I answered it at the table rude I know, but I don’t think a bunch of teenage boys care much about table etiquette. “Hey Bailey, what’s up?” I asked.

“Hey so I didn’t want to get involved or get you involved since you aren’t here to defend yourself, but I feel like you need to know. And it’s my problem because you’re my best friend.”

“Need to know what?” I put my hand up to quiet the boys down a bit.

“James has been… saying stuff. About you. And your relationship.”

“Uh okay? Why is that a problem?”

“Because of what he has been saying and what it involves regarding your relationship.”

“What has he been saying Bailey?” I felt my cheeks begin to warm and Monty and Zach’s eyes on me.

“He’s been telling our friends uh… intimate details about your erm… private relationship.”

I laughed in disbelief. That little prick. I took a deep breath to centre myself, though it did little to quell my growing anger. The table grew silent as I started to vibrate, “well Bailey. You tell James that if he keeps running his damn mouth, I will get on the next plane home, find him, and shove my foot so far up his ass he will taste it.” I heard Bryce let out a laugh and glared at him threateningly.

“Okay. Is it wrong that I would pay to watch that? Because that would be great.”

“Bailey.”

“Sorry, just trying to break the tension.”

“Has the little slime ball been saying anything else?”

“I mean, he complains about the end of your relationship, which I don’t like but that’s not unusual.”

“Remind him that I kept my mouth shut about a lot of shit he did, to protect him. And remind him about the little agreement we made when we broke up. I may not live there anymore, but my phone plan has international calling and I am on very good terms with the school resource officer.”

“What agreement Rebecca?”

“The agreement that keeps his dumb ass out of jail for various things that I cannot talk about right now. And certainly not with you.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t have money to bail you out of jail and the exchange rate is terrible right now. That’s why.”

“O-okay then. Talk later?”

“Yeah, I might call tonight but if not, later this week. Depends on my plans for the evening.” I heard a bell on the other end of the line.

“Gotta run, love you Becky.”

“Love you too Bear.”

When I looked up, the table was staring at me, slack jawed. Scott looked the least surprised out of the group, considering he had a little more insight than everyone else regarding my last relationship. “What?”

“What the fuck was that?” Matt asked.

“My ex was talking about shit he shouldn’t have been talking about.”

“Okay we got that much but… what was that?” Zach asked.

“You’re so small. How can such a small person have that kind of anger in them?” Garrison added.

“Could have something to do with people not watching where the hell they walk and stepping on me, or it could have something to do with my tolerance for bullshit getting lower and lower the older I get.”

“But you hang out with us. So, I don’t see how that is possible? That was kind of hot though.” Scott asked.

“No offence, but I’ve met second graders who exude more bullshit than you guys do all put together. Well if I knew that’s all it would take to turn you on Scott, I would have told Bailey to call me during lunch a long time ago.”

“Okay, that’s fair. Hurtful but fair. What can I say, it’s the simple things. Are you going to eat your apple?”

“Depends Scotty. Are you going to take it anyway?”

“I plead the fifth.”

“Uh huh. Since I don’t get a choice anymore, knock yourself out.” I chucked my apple at him, half hoping he would miss. He never did.

Zach and Monty shared a look. Still haven’t grasped subtlety yet I see. “Do you want my carrot sticks Monty? I’m not very hungry.”

“Why?”

“Big breakfast.”

“Right. Sure, not one to say no to free food. Even if they are someone’s leftovers.”

“They aren’t leftovers you meatball. I cut them this morning. I had green beans last night.”

“Do you eat other vegetables Becks?” Monty asked, teasingly, taking a bite of the stick.

“Dude, chew your fucking food.” Bryce chided.

“Why? What is this? Interrogate Rebecca day or something? Eat your damn carrot sticks.”

There was a beat of silence, where the boys sat with perplexed looks on their faces. Zach, bless him, jumped in with some game related question that I tuned out as it went over my head. I’m dating a sports player. I never said I understood any of it. The heat seemed to be off of us again, though I could feel Scott glancing my way every now and then while I tried to brush up on some geometry before math class.

I had full intentions to lessen Scott’s once again raised suspicions, so instead of waiting for Montgomery a minute or two after the lunch bell as usual, I merely waived goodbye to my friends and ran to math. I was the first one there so I pulled out the book I was reading between classes.

“Good book?” Cyrus asked, startling me as he sat down.

“God! You scared me. Yeah, I have read it a few times though.”

“Cool. Did you want to come hang out tonight? Mack is going to Chad’s place to talk boys or something.”

“Maybe, I’ll have to check my schedule.”

“Dad is making baked ziti for dinner. You can have a corner piece.” He bribed.

“A corner piece of ziti you say? Well in that case, my schedule is clear as day.”

“It’s a plan.”

Mr. Daniels started class a few minutes later. Will geometry ever get easier?

I met Cyrus at my locker after school and yelled a goodbye to my friends, who were having an animated discussion about who would in a fight, someone I had never heard of or some other guy I’ve never heard of. There was a chorus of ‘byes’ and grunts of acknowledgement. We parted ways and met again at his house.

“Hey Andrew.” I greeted his dad.

“Hey kids. How was school?”

“It was school dad. The establishment and crap.”

“I see you had a good day Cyrus.”

“At Liberty? Sure.”

“I had a pretty good day. I told my friend at home to tell my ex where he can stick his opinion. Do you need help with anything?”

“No, that’s okay thanks though Becca.”

“Oh this I need to hear.” Cyrus said, grabbing a Coke from the fridge.

“Pass me a Diet and I’ll tell you.” After opening my drink, I told the father and son the story of the lunch phone call.

His dad raised his brow and muttered something about punk ass little shits who don’t know their cocks from their feet.

“That is awesome dude. You should have told him to Facetime you when he told this James dickwad.”

“That would require me seeing the asshat’s stupid face. So no sadly.”

“Fair point. We are going to my room to do some homework Dad. Call when dinner is ready? I bribed her with a corner piece so save one for her.”

“For sure kids. Have fun.”

With that, we ran off to his room, but we didn’t work on the non-existent homework. Instead, we went through his records and Spotify account and argued about which to play. “Just go to a radio if it’s going to be an issue Cyrus.”

“No no. You’re my guest, you choose.”

“I already chose and you said no.”

“Fine. Defy it is. You’re lucky I like you.”

“Mhmm. Just play the damn album Cy.”

He laughed as he hit play and the sounds of Of Mice & Men filled the room.

“You better not have been lying about the corner piece man.”

“Lie to you about dad’s cooking? I would never.”

“Right. And I’m the Queen of England.”

We joked around for a while before dinner. Andrew called us down later and as promised, I had my crispy corner slice of ziti.

“Thank God it’s Friday. I want this week to be over. Thank you for dinner again.”

“Everything okay Becca? It’s no problem.” Andrew asked.

“Yeah, it’s just been busy. Lots of assignments and stuff.” Too much work and not enough boyfriend time.

“Well you have the weekend to relax at least.” Cyrus pointed out, waving his fork.

“If you don’t stop that, you’ll poke your eye out one of these days. Are you going to the game next Saturday, Cyrus?” “Maybe. Not really my scene.”

“Oh come on, it’ll be fun. We can not care about the sport together. It’s high school. You only go once.”

“Fine, but you are buying me popcorn.”

“Deal.” I said and shook his hand.

Andrew made sure to send me home with leftovers and a standing invitation to come for dinner any time at the end of the night.

#monty imagine #monty x reader #montgomery de la cruz x oc #montgomery de la cruz #montgomery de la cruz imagine #montgomery de la cruz x reader #monty de la cruz #monty x oc #Justin Foley #justin foley jensen #Bryce Walker #trigger warning #cyrus 13rw #scott reed #zach dempsey #FEEDBACK PLEASE

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cecilspeaks · 5 years

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154 - The Heist, part 2

You have orbited the sun. You have been to the Milky Way galaxy. You have seen the moon. You are an astronaut. Welcome to Night Vale.

The Sheriff’s Secret Police announced today that they have no new leads into the ongoing investigation of the robbery at the Last Bank of Night Vale. The three people who stormed into the bank, held the staff and single customer at gunpoint, but did not at first even ask for any cash from the registers’ drawers. And yet in only a few minutes, and with no damage to or forced entry into the vault, they had managed to steal millions of dollars from it. Sheriff Sam described the details of the robbery as follows.

The robbers entered the bank repeatedly shouting “This is a robbery” and waving their guns around. After a minute or so, teller Genevieve Daly finally asked: “Do you want me to give you money?” “Um, yes,” the robbers decided. “We want you to give us money.” “How much money?” Genevieve asked. “How much do you have?” the robbers replied. Genevieve then had to count the money in her till, which took a while, because bank protocol requires that tellers count the money multiple times, until the total amount matches twice in a row. But on her second count, Genevieve was two dollars off from her first, so she had to start over. “Hang on,” she told the masked intruders, “gotta do it again.” “No worries, the robbers said, truly looking like they were not worried. Customer Joel Eisenberg, who had dropped face down on the floor the moment guns were drawn, immediately handed over his wallet to the robbers. “What’s this for?” the robbers asked Joel. “You’re robbers, aren’t you?” Joel said, careful not to look directly into their eyes. “I’m giving you my money, not trouble.” “Cool, cool,” the robbers said without looking in the wallet. Genevieve’s manager, Susan Willman, stood behind her new employee nervously explaning to the thieves, “I don’t have access to the vault. I-I-I don’t know the combination.” “That’s fine,” the robbers said. The security guard on duty that day and every day for the last 50 years was Jesse McNeil. Jesse does not carry a gun, so he couldn’t intervene, but he has always been known for his friendly charm and grace. He tried the old “kill them with kindness” approach by complimenting the fine work the robbers were doing. “I understand you’re robbing our bank,” Jesse said. The robbers cooed and said, “What a nice thing to say, old man, thank you.” “You can’t tell because we are wearing plastic masks of former US presidents,” said the robber with the face of Richard Nixon, “but we are blushing, kind sir.” Within minutes, the Sheriff’s Secret Police had arrived. “Who called the police?” the robbers asked, but without urgency, as if it was the first table read of a pilot TV script. “I did not,” Susan and Genevieve said at the same time. “I left my phone in my car,” Joel said from the floor. “I am sitting in a chair by the door,” Jesse said and the robbers guffawed at the audacity of this old man, so highly complimenting himself. “Well we have to take hostages now,” the robber said and soon, the police had entered the bank. There was a brief shootout with no injuries, and the robbers were apprehended and the hostages freed shortly thereafter. There was also a fire that engulfed the front of the bank, which helped their efforts to arrest the perpetrators, but police do not understand how it started. They believed it was a diversion, during which time the criminals were able to empty the vault. But they have no leads yet on where this money was taken or how they got into the vault.

The only other person in the bank that day was vice president Steve Carlsberg, who was not taken hostage, because he had accidentally locked himself in his office. Oh, Steve. Steve said that he eventually kicked his door open, breaking his foot in the process. Oh, Steve! He got free, but only after the criminals had been arrested and the fire extinguished.

None of the three robbers is talking to the police, even after their HBO privileges were taken away from them, so the sheriff is asking anyone in Night Vale with information about this heist to contact him immediately. You can do this by calling the Sheriff’s Secret Police secret tip line, which can be reached by just speaking aloud. They are one of the several organizations that have universal access to your phone’s mic and camera.

I talked to Carlos today. He’s been running his experiments over at my sister Abby’s new house, in an old storage shed out back because, well his laboratory is under renovations and he was making such a huge mess over here with all of his chemicals staining everything. Abby is, of course, married to Steve Carlsberg who is home from the hospital with the cast on his foot. Carlos told me Steve is fine. He is having a hard time adjusting to crutches and he’s still shaken by the whole experience. But he’s focused on rebuilding the bank and getting everyone back to work. He’s been inviting his employees over for lunch this week, to keep everyone on task for reopening the bank, and to treat them to his famous medium rare rosemary chicken recipe.

Carlos said he had met Susan Willman several times before. “She’s delightful,” Carlos said, which I’m sure I misread. He’s also met Jesse before too. “Oh, he’s always over there, real nice guy,” Carlos said. “He once told me, ‘you’re a scientist’, and it was the kindest thing anyone’s ever said to me. So I showed him my lab and just talked his ear off about my doorless fridge project. Jesse got so excited he had to leave after only 15 minutes.” Carlos said that since the robbery, though, Jesse has not looked as cheerful or healthy. Jesse looks sick, like he’s nauseated.

Carlos said he joined the crew for lunch today and cheered them all up with funny stories about science, but he’s taking a break from his experiments and should be home early today. Carlos ran out of the chemicals he needed to continue his work, and has to wait a few more days to get more. “I thought I has plenty of it,” Carlos said, “I calculated exactly how much I needed, but it wasn’t near enough. Well, this is why I studied science instead of math. “Anyway, Steve’s going to be fine,” Carlos said. “I love you.” And I said, “I love you too.” You might think that last part wasn’t necessary for the news story, but it was. Love is the most important news story.

The Sheriff’s Secret Police have announced a breakthrough in their bank robbery investigation. They’ve been interviewing witnesses and combing through their notes and evidence, and they think they have figured out exactly what happened at the bank. They’re planning a full report later today. They had the report ready to go now, but right when they started the press conference, they realized that they probably should make an arrest first, and also because in their excitement to make this announcement, every single person on the police force showed up, leaving the abandoned mine shaft where they keep prisoners unattended, which is probably fine because the cells are all completely locked, but - wow, you never know, right? Better safe than sorry. “Hoo wee,” the representative from the Secret Police said, “We really should go check on that jail. My bad!”

And now a word from our sponsors. Today’s show is brought to you by Budweiser. Have you ever wondered about that house at the end of your street, the one with the windows boarded up? The one that does ever receive sunshine? The one with the incongruous Victorian architecture in your otherwise ranch style tract home suburb? Have you ever dared your friends to spend a night in that house? And they did it, because they don’t like being called weak, and then they re-emerged the next day completely normal as if nothing had happened, only something did happen? Like you couldn’t tell at first because your friend was like, “It was just a house, totally boring”, but you started noticing weird things in their behavior, like they suddenly were fluent in Romanian and they would whisper it to someone you could not see? And then there was that time your friend laughed for 10 straight minutes, and you did not know why, never learned why, and when they finished laughing, all of the trees in your neighborhood were dead? Well, we here at Budweiser know exactly what made your friend laugh, and we know what happened in the house that night. And some day, you will know it. but not today. No, not today. Budweiser: Be glad today is not the day.

The bank robbery earlier this month has understandably shaken customer confidence. So vice president of the Last Bank of Night Vale, Steve Carlsberg, has called a press conference to address public concerns over the security of their bank accounts and investments. Here’s Steve’s statement.

Steve Carlsberg: First I wanna say thank you to all of my valiant and valuable employees. They faced down danger, and without their bravery, we might all be much less fortunate. To Susan Willman, my dear friend: thank you for your leadership under such duress. To Genevieve, our newest employee: you deserve the quickest raise we’ve ever given out, and I promise it won’t always be like this. And to Jesse: you protected our bank for nearly 50 years, and your training finally paid off. Thank you for your service to our safety. And Joel Eisenberg, our lone customer, who stared down those monsters and did not give an inch: to you I say thank you.

I want the people of Night Vale and the customers of the Last Bank to know that we have your security in mind. We are cooperating with the Secret Police, and while this crime is not completely resolved, no customer has lost a single dollar of their savings. We are well insured, and I guarantee you [muffled] all protections are in place.

Cecil: But while Steve Carlsberg was talking, the Sheriff’s Secret Police returned to finish their announcement from earlier.

Steve: Wait, I’m not done yet!

Cecil: Seeing that Steve had claimed the podium in their disorganized absence, the Secret Police had to stand at the back of the room and wait impatiently. Their feet tapping, arms folded, each of them exhaling deeply and intermittently, one of them groaning aloud, “Is he done yet? Ugh.”

Steve: OK, yes, but…

Cecil: One of them staring demonstrably at the clock.

Steve: ..I signed up for this time slot at the podium and no one was here when I arrived, so I’d like to finish. [pause] Are we good? OK, fantastic. So uh, where was I? Oh, I was trapped in my office! I regret that I was not standing with my brave staff during this terrible event, but see, I think someone barred my door to prevent me from coming out there, really letting those robbers have it! I’m a nice guy, but not when my family is in danger. And these people, Genevieve, Susan, Jesse – they are my family. Joel and every other bank customer is my family, and I would do anything, anything, to protect them if they were threatened.

Cecil: Just then, the Secret Police – did you know that a group of police officers is called an obstinency of cops? [ahem] Marched to the podium declaring: “Four o’clock, your time’s up.” Two officers grabbed the mic shouting “Dibs” simultaneously, and then had to play rock, paper, water torture to see who got to speak.

Steve: Hey, hey watch it buddy! I-I-I mean officer. Sorry, uh…

Cecil: The police then announced they had in fact left all of the cells at the abandoned mine shaft locked earlier today, but somehow the three bank robbers escaped. Their cell was still locked and no tunnels or holes were found, yet the three were completely gone. “Dang it,” the police spokesperson said. “The important thing is we tried our best. Anyway,” they continued, “we’re proud to say that we have made an important breakthrough in the bank heist case. We have made a new arrest of the person we believe responsible of the theft at the Last Bank of Night Vale.

Steve: Oo, that’s great!

Cecil: The police then turned to Steve Carlsberg and said: “We have arrested our prime suspect in this conspiracy: Steve Carlsberg.”

Steve: What?

Cecil: The police handcuffed Steve. Oh, Steve…

Steve: No! (--) I didn’t (--) [yelping, inaudible]

Cecil: And led him outside to the back of a squad car. Listeners, I-I-I, I wish I could tell you I’m happy that the police think they have solved this bank robbery, but I cannot tell you that, this is not right. Steve would never. [sighs] While I sit with my feelings, you will sit With the weather.

[“Only One Star” by Ann https://soundcloud.com/carlitta-ann]

Sheriff Sam talked to reporters. These reporters were confused and angry, upset that such a good man, their brother-in-law in fact, could be confused for a master criminals. The Sheriff said the robbery of the bank vault required inside knowledge, someone who worked at the bank, someone who knew the combination of the vault, and could get the money without any damage to the vault, walls or door. Steve is the only employee present who knew the combination. The frustrated, enraged reporters then asked what happened to the money. If Steve stole the money, as they said, surely the police must have recovered it. Sheriff Sam said it’s clear the money has been spent on luxury. The suspect, Steve Carlsberg, bought a brand new house with a storage shed even, the most obvious symbol of opulence. “But he closed on that house weeks ago,” the infuriated reporters stated. “How could he have paid for something before he had the money?” The Sheriff then held up a life-sized promotional cardboard cutout featuring the text “Great mortgage rates are inside of you”. The Sheriff said: “He used something called a mortgage, and elaborate financial scheme where you don’t have to pay until later, a brilliant and evil ploy for bank robbers.” “Mortgages are normal, I have a mortgage,” the displeased reporters responded. “Maybe you’ll be arrested next,” the Sheriff spat. “Also, Steve Carlsberg bought a fancy car for his daughter. He even upgraded the vehicle with hand controls for braking and acceleration. We could tell right there we was flaunting his stolen wealth.” “She’s in a wheelchair,” the disgusted reporters snapped back. “Those controls are necessary and standard.” The Sheriff shrugged and said: “You say tomato, I say criminal.” And with that, they stepped away, smug in their arrest of this innocent man.

I didn’t know what to do, so I called Carlos. He said he was coming home early today, but I haven’t seen him yet. He didn’t answer his phone, so I called my sister Abby. She was understandable upset about her husband’s arrest. I told her I would do everything in my power as an investigative journalist to vindicate Steve, even if it means starting a podcast. She sighed and said: “I know.” When I asked if Carlos was still at her house, she said: “He’s gone.” “Oh good. I’ll see him soon then,” I replied. “No,” Abby said, “You won’t. the police were just here questioning me and Janice. Then they took Carlos with them to the station. They said they’re not done with their investigation.

Listener, stay tuned next for a song and language you have never heard, written in a key not on any scale, played in a time signature that changes with each measure.

Good night, Night Vale, Good night.

Today’s proverb: The gum you like is out of style again.

#welcome to night vale #wtnv #wtnv transcripts #episode 154 #the heist part 2 #the heist

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etraytin · 4 years

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Quarantine, Day 63

I did not go anywhere today, and I know that only because I am still wearing my clothes from last night and now it is tonight. Usually when I go someplace, I at least make the effort to change my clothes. Tomorrow I must take a shower and put on clean clothes, yeesh. I am setting a terrible example for my stinky child, no wonder it's hard to get him to take a shower. Time needs to get real again very soon before we start growing fungus behind our ears or something. Anyway, we spent most of the morning preparing for and then actually having the telemeeting we were supposed to have yesterday, and it was both productive and depressing.

Things are not getting better with my FIL; the occupational therapy does not seem to be working yet (though for fuck's sake, he's in his eighties and it has only been a week), and the staff believe it's likely that the insurance is going to kick him out soon because fuck insurance companies. The doctor at the hospital said at least two weeks of rehab, but that doesn't matter because the insurance company said 5-7 days plus reevaluation. I just do not understand anybody who says private insurance is better because it's better to be a customer than a citizen. We are customers of the insurance companies and they constantly treat us like hot garbage while we pay out the noses for the privilege. I mean, I do understand why people want private insurance instead of universal healthcare, it is because they understand that the current pool of healthcare has a limit and they want to make sure it stays limited to people with money, but that's another fucking rant.

Anyway, he's not getting better, which means we are very unlikely to be able to bring him home when insurance decides he is done. We just can't provide the incredibly comprehensive care he needs when he forgets that he is eating with a bite halfway to his mouth and cannot brush his teeth without step by step coaching, not to mention whether we are physically up for moving him in and out of bed or emotionally up to dealing with the fact that he is often only tenuously connected to what’s going on around him. It sucks, it sucks so bad that I can't even describe it, but it's reality and it's just staring us in the face.

The only good news is that there is a bed available at our second choice facility (we're still waiting on the first choice, but second choice is good too) and we learned that there is a move-in period where we will be allowed to send things to decorate his room. So we're brainstorming ideas about drawing pictures for the walls and making photo albums, and I might try to crochet a quick lapghan if there is enough time. The insurance is required to give us two full days notice before they cut us off, which is a heartlessly short time period, but at least it is some kind of notice. When he's in a regular room he won't be so isolated (he is in semi-quarantine till his second COVID test comes back), and we can make his room more homey, and maybe he will start to feel a little better.

I didn't feel like eating lunch today, which was a bad choice because I ate two billion comfort snack foods instead and made myself half sick. To make up for it, I made egg noodles, hand rolled them because my pasta maker is still in Virginia, and am drying them for soup tomorrow. When I go home, I should bring back my pasta maker. And my plants. And some kittens. I wonder if I could convince my rescue to give me some weanlings, at least. If they send me healthy three or four weekers and I take along my kitten medical kit, all they'd need to give me is some Strongid and maybe some ponazuril just in case and we could telemedicine. I feel terrible because my rescue is now suddenly up to the eyeballs in kittens and I'm sitting four hundred miles away and not helping. And I know being here is more important, but god, most of the time it feels like what I can do here is pretty damn limited as well. Kittens would certainly keep me too busy to be frustrated.

MIL fell again today because she was wearing the bad shoes, but at least she was using the walker and fell on her butt and not her knee again. These hardwood floors are a bitch and she really, really needs to walk less. A lot less. Still caught her sweeping the kitchen floor this morning, ffs. That was the subject of tonight's post-bed conversation with the kiddo; he is upset that things are rough with Nana and Papa both at the same time and that Nana is not taking care of herself. He has been watching me ride herd for days and is also trying now, with even less results than when I do it. I reminded him that Daddy and I are trying to help Nana remember to slow down, and that it is not his job to have to be the Nana police and make Nana sit down. We told him that he is doing all the right things already by fetching things for her and reading to her while she is resting, and by helping her be happier. Before we got here, things were a lot worse and Nana wasn't eating or sleeping enough, but now she is and that is very good. I also reminded him of the good things we were planning to do for Papa's new room and that he was going to be instrumental in helping with that, and that was enough to make him feel better.

Anyway, he's gone to sleep now and I have been entertaining myself with podfic and browser games, my current go-to happy place. There's something about being able to listen to a story and play a game that requires little thought that just takes up enough of my brain that I don't have to worry or think too hard about anything, and it feels good. Gotta be careful though, out here on Day 63 where time hasn't been real for months, it's easy to lose track of how long you spend doing nothing.

#quarantine #self care and the lack thereof #at least showering less is making my hair color stay looking really good?

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vinyls-and-valentines · 4 years

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Okay, it's like 2:30am as i'm starting to type this, but i really wanna talk about my robobro ocs okay. Like, i love these mfers.

Anyway, if you don't care you can just scroll past(if ur interested though you should be able to look up 'gasoline firefly' and/or 'lighter stars' if u don't know who they are)

TW: for canon-type violence and breif mention of sexual assault

~°~°~°~°~°~°~

Okay, so, of course, our story begins in The Slums where one of the upper class droid lounges is having one of their semi-anual maintanance check-ups. Afterall, these are top line droids and the lounge has a reputation to uphold, so they gotta make sure everything is pretty much perfect- think of it as a fucked up life insurance situation.

Anyways, some droids need new batteries since they're starting to lose charge- an intentional factory fault made to sell more batteries- and they get replaced with new ones. What they didn't account for, though, was two particulary stubborn souls wiggling their ways into the electricity contained by the batteries. And so two droids 'wake up' in the middle of the night freaking the hell out and nearly getting in a scruff when they run into eachother in a panicked haze.

The two don't recognize eachother- how could they, they'd been lost in the static for so long they couldn't remember nearly anything- but they have a gut feeling they know eachother, so they get back up and start exploring the lounge. They find out they're stuck inside with no one else up and about, but they make quick work of one of the rooms' windows and step out onto the fire escape. By the time the owner arrives the two are roaming the streets of the Slums, lost and disoriented- and cold as fuck because it'd been so long since they were alive they forgot everything about clothes.

They stumble over a band of Juvees and Ritalins who are mostly nice to them, giving them clothes and asking questions they didn't exactly know to answer. A guy quietly fixed them with his gaze for a while before actually walking up to them and pinning one of them- though they can't tell you which one- to the wall and begining to full-on full-out have a heated make-out session. No one seems bothered by this turning away to do their own thing except for the other droid who tries his best to pry the man off his friend though streght, it turns out, wasn't his model's strong point, so to speak.

However he did manage to free him, as the man turned around hissing in pain and shoving him off as the former's nails dug into his shoulder; re-opening an old wound, perhaps. Taking advantage of this the droid pinned to the wall kicked the man in the groin making him stumble back in pain and the two took off running again, only this time chased by angry Ritalins shouting degrading things after them. They reached a deadend when a hand pulled them in through one of the doors just below ground level ending up in what looked like a dressing room.

There were other droids there too, who offer to let them stay with them as they prepared for whatever they were about to do. The two agree reluctantly and frankly a bit suspicious given the encounter they just had, but the other droids turn out to be super nice. Their questions are certainly different from the Halls and the Ritalins', but they aren't sure they were all that better. Still, they help them out a lot, even going as far as allowing them to trade in their bland white wigs for some more colorful ones that they cut down to match their preference since the bob didn't feel right.

They decide they are brothers when a green-haired droid comments how much they look alike- and it sticks. Not all things last forever, though, and one day low-level scarecrows come flooding in firing their white blasters in waves; turns out that whatever the was going on there wasn't exactly BLi approved. For the first time the two leave the dressing area into a large dimly lit room where they duck under a bar, waiting huddled until the gunfires stopped and then some.

Then there was silence. Just perfect silence for what must've been hours on end before a pair of mutters started growing louder and louder, a head of hot pink hair shortly poping up from behind the counter. The girl didn't seem like neither the Halls nor the droids. She asks them if they are alright, they don't answer. She asks them about their name and still no answer. Eventually she gets to the one question that at least one of them had an answer to; what's their age.

17. The number rattles in the orange-haired droid's head and when he says it outloud the pink haired girl seems taken aback for a second before she disappears behind the bar again only to reappear a few moments later. She tells them to follow her and they do warily, not wanting to argue with someone who clearly could overpower them both- they had longs cut down their nails as well, but in the moment it felt so much better and they had worried less about their practicality.

The pink haired girl turns out to be no threat, though, as she welcomes them in her and her girlfriend's studio apartament and introduces herself as Laser Babe and her white-haired partner as Moonflower. They ask her if she's like them. She doesn't understand. They end up getting names as well- the orange haired droid naming himself Gasoline Firefly and his blue haired brother naming himself Lighter Stars. Everything goes well until it doesn't.

The brothers start spacing out more often than not, sitting down somewhere and waking up doing something completely different, missing snippets of conversation and so forward. It takes extensive research and looking around, but one day Laser returns home with two batteries and a solution. They had to switch the twins' old batteries for the new ones, but they had to do it quickly for reasons they didn't quite exactly understand either. It was their only option, though.

First time it went smoothly, Lighter only being out of 15 minutes before booting up and snapping back to his usual self. In Gasoline's case, however, they almost passed the one hour marker when he returned coughing and sputtering, being tackle-huged by his brother before he could even get back up. As time went by it didn't get any easier, they still wait with their hearts in their teeth everytime they have to do it. They haven't lost any of them yet and developed a way for them to shut down during the night to save power, though, so they figure they're doing pretty alright.

#welp it took me 1½ hours to write but here it is #the backstory of my robobois!#really wanted to talk abt them idk #killjoys #killjoys ocs #pornodroid #droid oc #the true lives of the fabulous killjoys #ig since that's the universe/aproximative time frams #like is a few years before the comics #boo's writing #misc writing #oc backstory #long post #lighter stars #gasoline firefly

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violetsmoak · 5 years

Text

Philtatos [9/?]

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20101543/chapters/47690671

Blanket Disclaimer

Summary: During a patrol where Red Hood and Red Robin cross paths, Jason is infected with the blood of the Eros, the ancient God of Love, who informs them that they must track down his missing bow and arrows, or Jason will go slowly mad with an obsessive desire–for Tim. Though overwhelmed by the sudden attention being paid to him, Tim sets to work trying to solve the case, before Jason succumbs to madness. In the meantime, Jason discovers that there’s more than godlike powers at work here, as well as a legacy that reaches back through the sands of time.

Rating: PG-13 (rating may change later)

Beta Reader: None at the moment.

JayTimBingo Prompts This Chapter: #gold #warriors #gods in disguise

First Chapter

________________________________________________________________

“Just going to put this out there, but if breaking into a flower shop is your idea of a first date, it might explain your lack of game,” Jason remarks. Tim glares up from the rear door where he’s disabling the building’s paltry security system. The other man sniggers, the sound echoing through the vocal modulator of his helmet. “Too soon?”

“You’re an ass,” Tim informs him, clipping a wire to ensure there will be no outgoing calls to the alarm company.

Jason is still chuckling as he picks the lock to get them in. He’d complained when Tim insisted on no unnecessary smashing of their way into some innocent owner’s shop. Thankfully, he’d also yielded with an uncharacteristic lack of fight.

Vigilantes cause enough property damage fighting the villain of the week, we’re not going to send some poor guy’s insurance premiums up because the Red Hood wants to kick in a door.

“How come you never broke into a flower shop for me?” Steph wants to know, voice crackling across the comms.

“That ship sailed when you hit me in the face with a brick,” Tim mutters as he and Jason slip through the rear entrance and begin looking around.

“Hold a grudge much?”

“Looks like the roses are back here,” Jason says, shining a flashlight into a cold storage display. “Think the color affects the spell?”

“Everything about this is cliché already, so I’m guessing it has to be red,” Tim deadpans, digging into his belt for a few bills to pay for their break-in and theft. Meanwhile, Jason reaches into the display and removes a bunch of red roses.

“Gotta say, this is easier than the usual job. Kind of lackluster.”

Tim raises an eyebrow. “Feeling cheated? I could queue up the Mission Impossible soundtrack for you on my phone.”

“More like Beauty and the Beast, given the situation.” Jason considers and then snorts, “Actually, definitely like Beauty and the Beast. You know that story was actually based on our annoying feathered friend?”

“Seriously?”

“Yep. In the original version of the myth, an oracle tells this girl Psyche she’s destined to marry ‘a monster that neither god nor mortal can resist.’”

“Eros.”

“Bingo.” Jason pauses, seeming to remember where they are, and then clears his throat, holding up the flora. “So, we good? Ready to channel your inner Zatara?”

“Only if I can be Zatanna.”

They leave the shop.

“Go for it. I’ve met that cousin of hers. He’s a douche.”

Tim laughs out loud. It’s not anything he hasn’t heard before—or agreed with.

The comms crackle then, bringing him back to present.

“Are you flirting?” Steph asks, sounding amused and awed. “Oh my god, you are. This is totally you flirting with each other, isn’t it?”

“We’re not flirting,” Tim grumbles, looking away from Jason, pulling his cowl down a little lower to hide his warming cheeks. He had completely forgotten about the open commlink.

“I’m flirting,” Jason confirms without shame. “But I’m allowed. I have a note.”

“You are both embarrassments,” Damian disdains.

“I think it’s cute,” Steph coos. “I know it’s temporary and all, but we should give them a ship name.”

“A what?”

“A name for their relationship. A portmanteau. All the celebs do it. Like Kimye. And technically Tim is a celebrity, so—”

“Keep the comms clear,” Dick growls, attempting to mimic the Batman voice, but there’s a tightness to it that screams discomfort. “And no names in the field.”

“Spoilsport.”

“Aw, are we makin’ you blush, Dickhead?” Jason jeers. “I thought you out of everyone would appreciate a good flirt…”

“Not when it involves my brothers. Magically induced feelings or not, I don’t need a play-by-play…”

“Consider this repayment for all the times I walked in on you and Kori at the Tower,” Tim says easily.

Dick groans. “You really did grow up mean.”

Jason roars with laughter.

“This surprises you?” Damian interjects. “He had a hit list of potential threats with all of us on it.”

Jason whistles. “Seriously? Babybird, I’m impressed! Also, annoyed—how am I the only one that gets labeled the bad one?”

“Because you don’t understand the meaning of subtle.”

“Careful, Robin, that almost sounded like a compliment.”

“Can we just get out of here?” Tim mumbles, ears still burning a bit.

It’s not like he’ was trying to flirt or lead Jason on in any way. It just seems like treating this enforced dynamic lightly, trying to find some humor in things, makes everything seem a little less…terrible.

And okay, maybe he’s kind of enjoying the fact their recent interactions are lacking their usual bite. When he was a kid, he dreamed about befriending Robin; after Jason died and even after he resurrected, that became something impossible.

But this, even in the backdrop of a horrible situation, it’s like getting a taste of that.

Which is dangerous, since it’s not going to last.

No matter how tightly Jason holds Tim’s hand as they speed toward Robinson Park, or continues to watch him as they park Redbird under camouflage nearby. He can’t know for sure, but he suspects that under the helmet, Jason may be smiling at him.

Like he’s his favorite person in the world.

But that’s why Eros said he was the one who had to do that, right?

It still sucks.

“Everyone in position?” Dick’s voice crackles over the comm line. “Batman – north quadrant.”

“Robin – south quadrant. This is still a bad idea.”

“Most of our ideas are bad ones. Batgirl – east quadrant.”

“Red and Red at the drop point,” Tim says, scanning the open glade they’ve chosen. “We’ve got the west quadrant once we set the trap.”

He crouches down on the ground and sets to work.

“You really think an electric cage is gonna be enough?” Jason asks as he loiters beside Tim, twirling the rose between thumb and forefinger. “Considering her talents avoiding capture, Carrie Cutter probably knows how to get out of a trap.”

“Which is why we distract her and knock her out as soon as we confirm she has the diviners,” Tim reminds him as he finishes placing the electromagnetic field generators in the ground. Rather than dig up the earth, he hides them beneath debris and branches.

“Which is why you distract her, and I knock her out,” Dick reminds over the comms. “You two are to get clear of the area as soon as the spell is done.”

“Father would not approve of us relying on spells.”

“Luckily B’s not here,” Jason replies, using a knife to sharpen the rose’s stem to a point. “Now what?”

“Eros said we have to join hands, and then you have to say this—” Tim digs into his belt and passes the ripped magazine cover, “—apparently it invokes the words of Eros. I can’t read it, but he said you could.”

Jason takes the page.

“How the hell would I know how to—oh.”

“I guess the same way you were speaking ancient Macedonian?”

“Looks like.”

“Anytime now, imbeciles,” Damian snaps in their ear. “The sooner this foolish plan fails, the sooner I can say ‘I told you so’ and return home.”

“Sounds like the toddler’s gettin’ cranky,” Jason snorts. “Must be past his bedtime.”

“At least he’s being optimistic,” Steph points out. “Assuming we’re getting back home and all.”

“Once again you’ve displayed your tendencies towards selective hearing, Fatgirl, I said I intend to return home, not that I expected you to do the same.”

“Charming,” Tim drawls.

“Damian’s right,” Dick interrupts. “Let’s get this over with.”

There’s a moment of fumbling where Tim grabs the rose so that Jason can use one hand to hold the incantation and take hold of Tim’s with his other.

Tim stares down at their joined hands, Jason’s on top of his; he notes the collection of scars on the backs of his knuckles. Knuckles his face has been intimately acquainted with in the past—

“Here goes,” Jason mutters, brandishing the invocation. When he next speaks, it’s in a language Tim has never heard before, as incomprehensible as what he was saying the other day when he nodded off during the movie.

And yet it still sends shivers down Tim’s spine.

The rose glows with golden light and then flies out of his hand to hover in the air above them.

“What’s next?”

“He said something about palms together, so—”

They readjust their hands.

“No, wait, yours should be on top,” Jason suggests. “Minimize the chance of you getting in on this oh-so-fun obsession thing.”

“Yeah, hard pass…”

As soon as their hands are horizontal over the ground, the rose gives a pulse of energy and then shoots downward, piercing fully through both their hands.

“Motherfucker!” Jason shouts.

Like Tim, it’s probably only years of training that keeps them from jerking their hands away from each other with the rose still piercing them.

“What happened?” Dick demands.

“We’re embracing a new career as human pincushions,” Jason snarls.

“He didn’t tell me what was going to happen,” Tim says through gritted teeth; the pain is nothing compared to what any of them have been through, but it still makes his stomach twist like he wants to throw up.

Blood wells around the stem of the rose, sliding around their hands and dripping onto the ground. They stay completely still, waiting for the flow to drip to an end and then stop completely.

In that instant, the rose vanishes like nitrocellulose paper, freeing their hands. Jason shakes his hand, still cursing as he studies the wound, while Tim kneels in the dirt to etch the symbol of Eros into the ground.

There’s a golden shimmer against the grass, and then—

Nothing.

Tim won’t lie, he sort of expected more smoke and explosions or some indication that something magical was about to happen.

From the way Jason’s head tilts to one side, he expected the same. “Now what?”

“Now we wait, I guess. She’s human, it’s not like she’s going to teleport here I guess.”

“She has been taking the slow route so far…”

“Take advantage of it,” Dick orders. “Get to cover.”

“And no making out,” Steph says cheerfully. “No one wants to hear sucking noises.”

“Seriously, Batgirl?”

“Why would you say that?” Damian sounds scandalized.

“Muting our comms then. Wouldn’t want to offend your delicate sensibilities,” Jason says, tapping the side of his helmet. There is a chorus of complaints and disgusted groans in the background. A beat later, his shoulders tense like he’s wincing and he glances at Tim, head ducked down. “Sorry. That made it sound like—”

“No, they’re being jerks,” Tim says as he mutes his own comms. “Let them stew.”

Jason’s mischievous, conspiratorial laugh is entirely worth the flack Tim knows he’s going to get from Dick later.

They retreat to their designated spot, crouching down to await the supposed arrival of their query.

“I was sort of expecting us to be struck by lightning or something,” Jason admits after several minutes, drumming his fingers against his thigh in a quick and nervous rhythm. His other hand keeps reaching for the catch of his helmet, then jerking back downward, like he’s fighting the impulse to pull it off. Whether to tear at his hair or scrape at the skin of his neck, Tim isn’t sure, but either compulsion worries him.

He’s been good so far tonight, ever since they all got their marching orders, but now that he’s sitting still, he’s clearly without a distraction.

Tim stretches across the small distance between them and takes his hand in his.

“Struck by lightning, huh?” Tim says, swallowing against the awkwardness. He can feel Jason’s eyes on him from beneath the helmet. “Looking to defect to the Allen family?”

“Well, red is my color,” Jason jokes tensely, then shrugs. “Actually, I was thinking in terms of the gods. It happened a lot in all the myths, where if you pissed someone off Zeus would fry you with a bolt of lightning. Or, you know, Hera would trick some poor girl to ask to see Zeus’s in all his immortal glory and then she’d get fried.” He snorts. “Almost all the myths basically boil down to trouble started because Zeus couldn’t keep it in his pants.”

“Clearly,” Tim mutters. “Guess Flash and Kid Flash were lucky they got powers instead of dead. Somehow the Big-Pile-Of-Dust doesn’t have the same charm as Scarlet Speedster.”

Things go quiet again.

Out in the open, there’s still no sign of Carrie Cutter. Tim wonders if maybe this whole thing really is just Eros having fun at their expense.

Oh well. Even if it all turns out to be a bust, this is keeping Jason’s mind occupied. Better than anything we could do for him locked up in the manor…

“I’m glad it was you I was working with at the time, and not Grayson or the bat brat,” Jason says suddenly.

“Why’s that?” Tim asks absently.

“Because you’re not family.”

Tim tries not to react. He’s had punches to the gut that hurt less than that.

It’s pretty much what I figured, but still…

“At least not the way they are,” Jason continues, oblivious to Tim’s reaction. “Nightwing wasn’t around much when I was a kid, but it was like having an older brother in college or something, right? Anytime I picked up the phone to bitch about the old man, he’d take the call.”

Tim swallows, needing a beat to ensure his voice doesn’t sound heavy, and ventures, “Did you…do that often?”

He’s not sure how to take the older man’s sudden candidness.

“More than you’d think. Not the first year—he still wasn’t that real to me before then, just a name I kept getting compared to. Also, he was always fighting with B, or treating me like his replacement.”

“Imagine that,” Tim says wryly.

“What, you thought you were the only one to get the cold shoulder?”

“His cold shoulder didn’t involve causing permanent scarring.”

Jason winces. “Fair.”

“Forget it. I told you before, water under the bridge,” Tim dismisses. “How’d you end up making good with N, back then?”

“I ran away. Tried to make it on my own because B was being…you know. Shit went down and I came back to the manor, and then Dickiebird showed up and told me about how he ran away shortly after B took him in.”

Tim blinks. “I never knew that.”

“Must’ve been before you took up your stalking hobby,” Jason says, and Tim can hear the grin in his words. “After that, he was more real to me. And he tried to actually be there. Except when he was off-planet.” He pauses for a moment, thoughtful, and Tim remembers that that’s where Nightwing was when Jason was making plans to go to Ethiopia. “And then with the brat—we come from the same place. Mothers sold us out, don’t play well with others, never really had a childhood…trying to toe B’s stupid line when we know it’s never gonna work…”

“You don’t know that.”

“Agree to disagree, Timbers. The point is, with those two, I get it. They’re family, even if I don’t want them to be. But you—”

Tim’s shoulders slump. “Not damaged enough?”

“Bullshit, you’re plenty damaged. You chose this shit, and there’s a special kind of insanity in that.” That should be an insult, but Jason’s tone is admiring. “What I’m trying to say is that I’m relieved. That I’m fixating on you and not—look, I couldn’t take the incest guilt on top of losing my mind. It’s one less thing to hate myself about.”

There’s a lot to unpack there, Tim thinks, especially that bit about Jason hating himself. He opens his mouth to say something about it, but then Dick’s voice growls, “We’ve got company. Everyone stay sharp.”

Looks like we’ll have to table things until later…

A motorcycle speeds into the park, the growl of the motor shattering the otherwise quiet night. The woman upon it, clad in green combat gear and without a mask or even a helmet over her bright red hair, practically leaps off the bike without stopping, letting it skid to one side.

Her eyes are wild, and her arms snap out in front of her in an oddly zombiesque. Tim understands the reason for the latter when he takes note of the wrist-mounted crossbows on both hands.

Ten to one those are Eros’ diviners.

Cutter marches straight up the sigil, which shimmers and vanishes, and she stops, looking around.

Tim’s finger hovers over his wrist computer, waiting with bated breath as she edges closer and closer to the trap.

“Come on,” Jason murmurs under his breath, attention fixed on that as well.

“Where is he?” Cutter growls and Tim is surprised at how rough her voice is compared to the way she’s sounded in various interrogation videos he’d used for research. “This is his blood, so where is the brat?”

She finally takes the final step and Tim engages the cage.

Fingers of electrical energy spring to life around her, creating a contained dome around Cutter. She snarls, trying to jump backward, but the forcefield keeps her immobile. She can’t even move her arms.

Across the clearing, Dick materializes from the shadows in silence.

“Be careful, Batman,” Tim cautions in a low voice. “The electric field was supposed to knock her out.”

“If you really thought it would be that easy, you haven’t been doing this long enough,” Jason murmurs.

Tim ignores that. “The field will keep her from shooting you while she’s in there, but the minute I deactivate it, she’ll try something. Get her disarmed first.”

“It’s like you think this is my first time,” Dick mumbles before he growls out his imitation of Bruce, “Carrie Cutter. You made a mistake coming to Gotham.”

The woman’s slightly manic expression freezes on her face and then smooths into something predatory. “Oh, I see. So, you’re the Batman. I have to say, I’m underwhelmed.”

Dick remains silent, and Jason snorts, leaning in a little too close to Tim to murmur, “Wonder how hard it is for him right now not to make a joke.”

Tim grins.

“Your murder spree ends tonight,” Batman says. “If you cooperate, it will go better for you.”

“Isn’t that what every guy says?” Cutter purrs. “What if I like it a bit rough?”

“It’s up to you. You’re getting arrested either way, but if you work with me, I can ensure a lighter sentence.”

Tim can practically hear Jason grinding his teeth at that. He nudges him.

Now’s not the time for a rant about Red Hood’s brand of justice…

“That’s awful accommodating for the Big Bat. I must have something you want,” the woman muses, shifting as she continues to test the bounds of the forcefield. She glances down at the ground and then snorts. “You’re working with Eros. The little brat wants his toys back, doesn’t he?”

Damn. So much for surprise.

“And if you give them up without bloodshed, we can figure out a deal.”

Her expression becomes pinched. “What makes you think I care about deals?”

“Because without making one, you wouldn’t have been able to steal those in the first place.” He gets closer until he’s looming over her. “Tell me who helped you steal the diviners. If I know who it is, I can protect you from them better.”

“Protect me,” she repeats. “What makes you think I need protection?”

“I already have intel that says the only ones who know about the diviners and how to wield them would have to be Olympians or beings of similar nature. They don’t tend to be the most altruistic—or forgiving.”

“Well, you have a point there,” Carrie agrees with a smirk, and Tim suddenly has a really bad feeling about this. “But then, I knew what I was getting into when I struck my little bargain.”

“We can help you,” Batman insists. “You don’t have to be alone in this, Carrie.”

“Now see,” she purrs, “your mistake is thinking I came here without their help.” Her eyes burn a bright, unnatural red, and her entire body begins to glow. “Or that we mind a bit of bloodshed.”

⁂

“Well, that, wasn’t in her files,” Tim remarks lightly, in a mild voice that tries not to betray the ‘oh shit we’re screwed’ sentiment of the moment.

“I’m not usually one for negotiations, but I think that means they failed,” Jason remarks.

“Your grasp of the obvious is impeccable!” Damian sneers across the comms.

Jason can’t help blink as Cutter seems to draw into herself, her back rounding and arms tucked in before she emits a wordless growl. She shoves her hand right up and through the electric cage holding her—and wraps it around Batman’s throat faster than he can avoid it.

I know she’s enhanced and all, but something tells me she’s not usually that fast!

Sparks sizzle and fly as the cage around her shorts out, and she lifts Batman over her head.

Or strong.

Freed from the cage, Cutter pulls back her left arm, priming the miniature crossbow on it. Jason doesn’t hesitate—he’s got his guns out and takes two shots in rapid succession, hitting both her wrists directly where the devices are attached.

Cutter curses as they fall to the ground, dropping Batman, who immediately tries to reach for the discarded diviners. A steel-toed boot to the chest and more force than should be possible stops him, leaving him momentarily winded on the ground.

“Converge!” Tim orders. “Don’t let her pick up those weapons again!”

“No, I thought we’d let her have them, she seems so reasonable!” Steph snarks, but is already dashing from her hiding spot.

“Hood—get the diviners while she’s distracted!”

“Easier said than done, Red!”

Steph reaches Cutter first, lunging forward with a right hook that is neatly evaded. Cutter grabs her by the shoulders and shoves her downward, kneeing her in the face. As Steph stumbles back, trying to shake off the blow, Cutter backhands her.

Dick is back on his feet, kicking out with a roundhouse that Cutter ducks before grabbing hold of him again. Undeterred, he headbutts her and this time it’s Cutter that staggers back, reeling enough for a front-kick that nearly downs her.

“Stay down, Carrie,” he growls.

“It’s cute you think that’s going to happen,” she laughs. The timber of the sound doesn’t seem quite right for some reason.

As she rallies, she aims a kick to Tim’s face when he tries to get close enough to grab the diviners, forcing him to bend backward. Jason snarls, whipping a knife at her face in retaliation, which she catches and lobs back at him, forcing him to bend backward to avoid it.

As reaches for a gun, Steph recovers, trying for a downward chop to Cutter’s blind spot. However, the redhead rallies, manages to get an arm around her neck and hold Steph up, choking her in the crook of her elbow.

“Go on and take the shot, warrior,” Cutter taunts.

Goddamnit—she knows I can’t.

Normally he would, but his hands aren’t exactly steady today. Beyond that, he gets the sense that training or not, Cutter is a lot faster right now than she should be.

Damian materializes behind her and tries to clothesline her, but this fails as she whips around and punches him in the solar plexus, making him lurch backward.

“I never liked children...”

Dick’s attempted right hook fails, too. Cutter twists around and knees him in the jaw, all while Steph continues to struggle against the chokehold. Her arms slap uselessly against her adversary, who still has the strength to punch the still rallying Batman so hard he flies backward several yards, forcing Tim to duck out of the way or be bowled over.

Damn it. She’s taking them out too fast, there’s no opening to get the diviners.

Cutter throws Batgirl over her shoulder and into the ground, hard. Steph doesn’t move, and Cutter makes another attempt to pick up the diviners.

His line of sight clear now, Jason fires several rounds, targeting her joints, but somehow, she avoids them all.

“That…should not be possible.”

Jason knows his marksmanship capabilities, and unless she’s got precognition, she shouldn’t be able to avoid being hit.

Definitely faster than human. Either that, or she’s got tougher skin than expected and just isn’t bleeding.

As he pauses to reload, Red Robin creeps up behind her, once more trying to get his hands on one of the abandoned crossbows. Cutter spots him, grabs him by the folds of his cape and sends him flying straight at Jason, who’s forced to stop shooting and catch him.

“You okay?”

“Fine—let me up.”

Jason hesitates a minute.

Even with the body armor, he’s way too small…

“Hood!”

“Right—yeah,” Jason shakes his head, forcing himself to remember the fact they’re in the middle of a fight.

Several yards away, Damian darts back again, this time with a sword that Jason’s sure he’s not supposed to have with him. He swings in an underhand arc at her unguarded back, but she whirls around, diverts the blow by catching and pushing away the hilt. Robin is already twisting his body around, trying to aim a downward swipe to her abdomen—and she bends back to avoid it with ease. He makes a third attempt, slices the blade overhead again, and she dodges it by inches, the steel passing harmlessly over her. He doesn’t get a fourth shot, as this time she grabs hold of his hands where they grip the sword and throws him away from her, sword and all. The blade slips from his hands as he skids to the ground, rolling several times in the dirt.

Tim’s sprinting forward again, bo staff at the ready, but Cutter is ready to catch him, neatly avoiding his attempt to shatter her collarbone with the staff. Still, he turns, using the momentum to follow through, shoving the staff backward to hit her abdomen. Before it can connect, her hands fasten around the staff, and she tries to pull him forward. Red Robin evades her hold the first time, freeing his staff and comes back around with an overhand swing from the right, but Cutter dodges, shoving a palm at his sternum and sending him flying into Batman.

With Tim clear once again, Jason lets loose another volley of gunfire, stalking forward. His accuracy improves the closer he gets—he can see her clothing shred in places as the bullets glance by. She seems to notice this too, because then she’s bending forward and kicking out, foot under Batgirl and sending her directly into Jason’s path, forcing him to drop his weapons and catch the other vigilante.

“Oof! Did you gain weight?”

“Rude. You didn’t say that to Red Robin.”

“He doesn’t have your ass.”

“He wishes he had my ass,” she replies, pushing off Jason and crawling off to the side.

“You’re both asses,” Tim grunts across the comms.

“Once again you state the obvious,” Damian puffs. He’s recovered by now, sword back in hand, and is unsuccessfully trying to swipe Cutter’s knees from underneath her. Somehow Cutter manages to slip beneath his guard and kick him in the chest, forcing him into the same heap where Steph and Jason are struggling to their feet.

Tim gets up again, dashes forward to jab with his bo that Cutter continues to avoid. He rolls it over his wrist, changes his grip like he’s holding a baseball bat and tries to sweep her legs out from under her. She avoids that and neatly moves to one side as the energizer bunny that is Damian returns to the fray.

Instantly, the two birds take up positions on either side of her, Robin slicing downward, forcing her to jump again, while Red Robin attempts to knock her out from above.

Somehow, Cutter’s body appears to scissor, and she executes a complicates midair flip that twists her almost horizontally between the two swinging blades.

Holy shit, it’s like Raiders of the Lost Ark…

As she lands, the guys move in sync to hit her with their weapons, but she fastens her hands around theirs and with seemingly no effort, spins and throws them off in a whirl of counterclockwise motion. They land close to Steph and Jason, and Cutter is left holding the bo and sword, which she curls her lip at in disgust, and launches them into the air with unnatural force.

Her eyes flit over them, narrowed in suspicion, before she suddenly whirls around to find Batman—and a well-placed right hook—waiting for her.

She falls hard to the ground, barely able to brace herself on the heels of her hands.

“It’s over, Carrie,” he says coolly.

She blinks guilelessly up at him and then smiles coldly. “'Flowers of this purple dye’.”

Dick’s mouth turns downward in confusion, but Jason feels like something’s just jolted his brain.

“'Hit with Cupid’s archery’,” he murmurs.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Steph asks.

“Batman, watch out—!”

Cutter swings her left leg out, hobbling Batman at the knees; as he moves in the air to regain his balance, Cutter gets hold of the nearest crossbow and stabs one of the tiny arrows into Batman’s thigh, somehow with enough strength to burrow past all the body armor.

“No!” Red Robin shouts as Dick groans in pain.

“Sink in apple of his eye,” Cutter singsongs, "when his hate he doth espy!” Then she laughs and in a harsh language that resembles the one Jason used to summon her, “Hate them, Batman. Throw caution to the wind and kill them all.”

The arrow vanishes into stardust and Dick’s entire frame goes tense. Then, he slowly turns his head towards them. His mouth curls into a horrible smile, and beneath the lenses of his mask, Jason sees an unnatural red gleam.

“I’m guessing that was one of the lead tipped ones,” Tim murmurs.

“Yeah…that’s a complication,” Jason replies, stomach sinking.

Which is an understatement.

Dick Grayson is a force of nature on a good day—well on par with Bruce in terms of skill, maybe even better in other aspects. And Jason’s tangled with him a few times, both when he’s been in his right mind and with the human decency brainwashed out of him.

Neither one’s good.

Add the danger Dick poses to a murderous psychopath with the untold backing of an unknown god, and Jason will be really surprised if they make it out of this one alive.

“Hood,” Red Robin begins, both question and warning.

“I’ve got him,” Jason murmurs. “You guys deal with her.”

Cutter is priming the wrist-crossbow again, only for one of Robin’s incoming Batarang to knock it free.

“Oh, you’ve got me, do you, Little Wing?” Dick taunts, stepping forward. “Always with the overconfidence. That’ll get you killed. Again.”

“Right—because I haven’t heard that one a million times before.”

Dick winds up an overhand punch toward Jason’s head, which he ducks, and continues with a flurry of blows that Jason’s only just able to stumble back from.

“I always forget you’re fast like a freak,” he mutters, regaining his stance and throwing himself back at Dick. When the older man continues to avoid the assault, Jason tries to take him out at the knees instead.

Several yards away, the other Bats have surrounded Cutter and are trying to coordinate taking her down.

“Who are you?” Steph demands. “There’s no way you’re just Carrie Cutter in there.”

“Smart girl,” she purrs. “I hate smart girls.”

She tries to jam a knife hidden in her gauntlet in her face, but Steph ducks; Tim and Damian dive forward to pick up the slack.

“I’m surprised you’re not asking me if it’s really me in here,” Dick sneers at Jason, drawing his attention once again. “Or trying to convince me this ‘isn’t me’.” He kicks his heel to Jason’s chest, knocking him back. “Appeal to my better self?”

“You forgettin’, Dickhead?” Jason pants. “I’m the only one that knows you don’t have a better self. Just a pretty-boy smile and a horseshoe up your ass.” He jumps to his feet. “Been telling everyone for years that you’re just a tool. This is just confirmation.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Dick grunts, going for an overhead roundhouse, and when that doesn’t work, aiming low. As Jason staggers back, Dick slices at him with a Batarang, penetrating the thick material of his gear and sending a spray of blood into the air.

In the background, the fight with Cutter doesn’t appear to be going any better.

“Was Carrie Cutter aware you were going to take over her body?” Tim demands of Cutter. “Or did you trick her?”

“As if there was anything to trick—we have an arrangement. And luckily, we both like raising a little hell!” She sends both Tim and Steph flying backward and then gets a hold of Damian as he swoops in from behind. “Wanna see how much?”

And she’s got one of the diviners in her hands again, ready to bring down an arrow on the kid’s head.

Ensorcelled demon-brat is not something we need right now!

Jason barely thinks, throws himself forward and rolls beneath Dick’s grasping gauntlet, skidding across the grass and dirt to knock Damian out of the way. Cutter’s weapon is still on a downward trajectory, and there’s no time to grab anything to block it.

But he doesn’t need to.

Without true thought or intent, the pulsing energy of the All-Blades simmers into being, manifesting in his hands and topping Cutter’s arrowhead inches before it hits him. There’s a small wave of impact that separates them, but judging from Cutter’s expression, that’s not what puts her off guard.

She stares at the blades a beat, before the red flashes in her eyes again.

“All-Caste,” she snarls.

Jason smirks. “Yeah, I’m not just a pretty face.”

“You’re about to have no face!”

They disengage, but not before Cutter manages to grab hold on her crossbows. Before their eyes, they vanish, transforming into twin double-edged blades, one gold and one black.

“Something you want to share with the class, Hood?” Damian asks, spinning his own sword in his wrist.

“Not now. Go help the others deal with Batman,” Jason orders.

“You’re outmatched—”

“We’re all outmatched if you don’t stop your mentor over there, now go!”

He and Cutter cross blades, sparks and energy flying before they disengage to circle one another.

“Tt.” But the kid darts off to where Steph and Tim are already flanking Dick defensively. “Apologies in advance, Richard. I’ll make it quicker than the last time.”

“Keep overestimating your abilities, brat,” Dick sneers in a voice he never uses on Damian. “You don’t even know how much I hold back with you.”

“I could say the same thing to you,” Cutter tells Jason as they circle one another. “You really think this is a wise decision, boy?”

“I really think you look nervous,” Jason counters.

Cutter hisses, but there’s something uncertain in her eye.

“Not hard, I guess,” he continues, flipping out of the way of an attempted jab. “You’re as nuts as Arsenal said. You know Arsenal, right? Green Arrow’s protégé? He said GA said you were a delusional hot mess.”

The red in Cutter’s eyes flicker to green and back.

“Knew you were in there,” Jason goes on. “So, Carrie—was it you that sliced that kid’s throat, or your mystery passenger? Because you’re a lot of things—crazy being one of ‘em—but you’ve never killed kids.”

She falters for just a minute, and red glow vanishes.

At the same time, the blades in Jason’s flicker in and out of existence.

Crazy doesn’t mean evil—and when she’s not being possessed, clearly the All-Blades don’t consider Carrie Cutter to have gone completely dark side.

Cutter’s eyes dart to the blades, then back to Jason’s face, and she snaps her head forward, butting him hard enough he’s forced to let go of her.

In his periphery, Damian makes an angry noise and throws himself forward, earnings a broken nose for his trouble. Dick launches himself at Tim, who feints to one side and crouches down on his knees, turning and throwing two metallic disks at the older man. Electric beams crackle to life, only to die as Dick flings two Batarangs into them, destroying them in a fizzle of electricity and smoke.

“Look at this—the unwanted family screw-ups, getting along,” Dick mocks.

“Don’t pay attention to him, Robin,” Steph orders. “He knows what pushes your buttons.”

“Trying to be the Team Mom, Batgirl?” Dick taunts. “If you wanted that job, you shouldn’t have given up your own brat.”

“Batgirl—!” Tim warns, but Steph is already moving.

She vaults over Tim, who hasn’t gotten to his feet yet and somersaults in midair, heel coming down on Dick and knocking him into the ground. It downs him for a moment, but when she follows up with a left hook, Dick catches it and twists.

Everyone hears the snap of bone and Steph’s pained cry before Dick tosses her to one side. Tim hurries to check her.

“Uh-oh,” Cutter whispers, manic gleam in her eye once more replaced with glowing red. “Looks like things aren’t going too well over there.”

“Better than how things are going for you,” Jason replies, calling up his blades again.

Damian is taking a run at Dick, sliding between the older man’s wide stance and slicing the sharp edges of his gauntlets at Dick’s ankles, injuring the places not covered by armor. Dick goes down on his knees, and Damian is up, knocking him hard across the back of the head. But Dick jerks his head to one side, dodging the blow, and then reaches with his right arm to drag Damian over his shoulder and shoving him down on his back on the ground.

Winded, Damian struggles to breathe, and Dick draws back his hand like he’s about to crush the kid’s skull against the dirt. But then throws himself at him, knocking Dick away and the two of them roll to the ground.

There’s a brief tussle, and then Dick is on top of Tim, pinning his arms to his sides with his thighs. As Damian sails forward with a kick to the head, his arm snaps out, catching him and flipping the boy upside down. Then, laughing, he leans forward, forearm on Tim’s throat like he’s trying to crush it.

Jason’s concentration shatters. “No!”

Tim’s in trouble!

He’s already turning to go help, All-Blades vanishing, when he chokes, staring at the golden sword that suddenly protrudes from his abdomen.

⁂⁂⁂

Next Chapter

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acrobaticcatfeline · 4 years

Text

The Fear of the Dragonwitch (Triplets RoLoRem AU) Chapter 4!!!

Word Count: 3536

TW: Swearing, hospitals, anesthesia, Remus, Deceit, homophobia talked about, there’s a threat at the end that is a bit violent and inappropriate but its from Remus so like meh.

Notes: This one wraps up the hospital bit with Lo and moves on to the uh, happiest character arc, which is Remus’. It’s pretty cute honestly, There’s a bunch of venting on his part because of the whole Logan thing. But it has a funny ending and he gets to do a happy so like yay! Last chapter here, first one here, I hope you enjoy!

Pairings: Receipt. (receit or demus)

Summary: “This is not ok and if I have to make sure those kids end up in jail before my son goes back to school I will. …sir I'm a lawyer” Logan recovers slowly but surely, but hes still in denial of all that has happened, making it out to be less than it is. Remus thinks its bullshit, and he needs a break; something Damián is completely willing to do. Will the tension between the two snap or will it bloom into something they’ve both wanted for longer than words can describe?

“yeah no I'm sorry sir, but this is not ok and if I have to make sure those kids end up in jail before my son goes back to school I will. …sir I'm a lawyer, I very much know what my rights are, and I have grounds to sue your school. You have two options, you expel the students who assaulted my son and his partner, or I press charges on them for attempted murder and your school for discrimination and failure to keep your duty to assist. I can tell you what would be easier for you to do, and cheaper by a long shot.”

Logan was in a hospital bed. The nurse was finishing setting his new cast as his brothers sat on either side of him. Mimi sat next to Remus, who was crying into her chest, trying to muffle himself as their mom paced while on the phone with the school. She covered the speaker of her phone for a minute, looking to the nurse.

“I don’t know if you know this, but how much would this and all subsequent visits for his injuries cost if we didn’t have insurance?”

“um, well a cast alone without surgery is about 2500, and there would be two normal check ins after so for that I’d say 2940 for that route if you had done it, for the surgery it would be 17,350 alone, I think you'd get out with around 20000 spent on it.”

“thanks! Yeah, so are you ready to do what's right?”

She went back to the call, apparently reaching an agreement as she soon got off the call and leaned against the wall, releasing a breath she had been holding. Logan was groggy. They had just been in surgery and they had put him under, no matter how much it panicked him. The surgery went well apparently, they were keeping him overnight though, mostly for his other wounds. They had noticed the bruises on his chest and legs and were keeping diagnostics to make sure his ribs weren’t broken, or his legs fractured. They had told him he would miss the rest of the week to really recover properly. Eventually it got to be late and the family was asked to leave for the night, save for a parent if need be. Vivian and Mimi both had to go, and all of them gave Logan a gentle hug before stepping away.

He reached haphazardly for his phone, dialing Patton on instinct. It answered on the first ring.

“Logan? Hi Hun, are you ok? What's wrong? Do I need to come help you out of something? Are you even more hurt?”

“I'm- I'm fine pat. At the hospital right now actually, just got out of surgery and got my cast set.”

“oh Logan! Oh, I'm so sorry you're so hurt!”

“meh it’s no big deal. How are you doing?”

“I'm good. every once in a while, I’ll move the wrong way and remember my ribs are bruised, but I'm icing myself, and I'm feeling better already.”

“heh, me too, but I think that’s probably the anesthetics. Mom and Mimi had to go, I'm stuck here for the night, do you mind staying on call with me until I go to sleep?”

“of course not sweetheart.”

The next few days are rather uneventful. After he gets home, he spends most of the day in bed. Mimi brings him his meals and makes sure that he's ok. He feels bad that she's staying home from work for him, but he can’t really convince her not to; as much as he hated it, he was clumsy and really bad at doing most mundane things he could normally do. It was infuriating at first, but he got used to it rather quickly. By the time the next school week begins, he's ready and outside 10 minutes earlier than usual. He tries to start the car. He tries again. He drops his keys. He gets frustrated, picking them up and finally starting the car. He sets his hands on the wheel and realizes the true problem. He flexes his right set of fingers. The cast is too bulky. He can’t wrap his hand around the wheel. He face plants on the wheel in compliance. He steps out and moves to the passenger seat. When Roman and Remus step out, they're surprised to see him out of the driver’s seat. They pop open his door with a questioning glance. He sighs.

“my cast is too big. Can’t wrap my hand around the wheel.”

Roman and Remus share a look. Remus steps over to the driver side, waiting for Roman to get in before hesitantly heading to school.

This time it’s different. Remus and Roman don’t split off to their own groups. They aren’t quite guard dogs, but they definitely pose a threatening image. They get stares and Logan hides in his flannel, hoping to disappear. Remus grits his teeth and is glaring at anyone who looks too long. When Virgil and Patton get in their sights, Virgil's already running over. Patton is following at a jog.

“oh my god L, what did those bastards do to you?”

“meh, broke my wrist, covered me in bruises, you know, the usual. In 2 months, it'll be like it never happened.”

He heard a pop and a scrape against concrete. When he turns around, Remus is walking away and Roman is looking after him and then over to Patton and Virgil.

“can you make sure Logan stays out of trouble please?”

With a nod from them both, he dashes after Remus. When he catches up, Remus is fuming. His fists are clenched and shaking and the grit in his teeth is like cement. Roman rushes in front of him to stop him.

“rem, you need to calm down-”

“he thinks this is funny.”

“what? What do you mean?”

“Logan. He thinks this is a joke. He brushes it off like it’s a scrape, Roman he almost died. He almost died and I wouldn’t have been able to do anything. Do you understand how absolutely terrifying that is? And he thinks it’s just some inconvenience! What would we do without him Ro? Mom may have made sure those kids were kicked out of the school, but they live here. What if they try it again to finish the job? What if there's more kids like them lining up to see him dead because of the person he loves? What does that mean for us? For me? if I was publicly out, would this have happened to me? how do we keep ourselves safe? How do we keep each other safe?”

“I-I don’t know. I- he wasn’t, he wasn’t the one targeted, tech-technically. I-I think they both were just, uh, too-too gay, I think? Eas-easy target? I don’t think anyone’s gonna try anything I think we’ll be fine we just need to calm down. freaking out won’t help any of us. We just- we gotta just cope. That’s all we can do.”

Remus’ fists shook more until they stopped and fell open. He bowed his head and one of his hands instinctively scratched at his neck, ignoring the tears falling from his eyes. He nods wordlessly, wiping his eyes before walking to his friends. Roman stood still for a moment. He wondered how his family had won the lottery on unstable emotions before going to the theatre room, hopefully his safe space would help him relax.

Remus sulked back to the parking lot of the school, smiling a bit seeing his friends looking back at him from next to Damián’s motorcycle. Toby and Remy were giggling, and he saw Damián shove Remy hard enough to knock him on his ass without even looking at him. Remy, true to his nature, continued to laugh. By the time he actually reached them, their giggles had died off for the most part. Damián flashed him a crooked grin and wrapped him in a sort of side hug which Remus quickly turned into a full one, bouncing a bit, throwing a smile on because he was happy now, right? He let him go and Damián stared him in the eyes unspeaking for a moment before the heterochromatic eyes took a worried form and he reached up to Remus’ cheek, wiping some stray tears away. He fixed him another look before letting go.

“what happened re? do I have to kill someone?”

“what? No, it’s just-”

Remus crossed his arms and looked pointedly away from him. He mumbled something out into his hair and tapped his fingers. Damián sent a glare and Remus sighed.

“my brother was put in the hospital last week.”

“what? Wait, you're fucking kidding, is that why you left early last week? Wait wait, was he the one who was attacked in the halls? Holy shit, why didn’t you tell me?”

“it was, I don’t know, I was worried you were going to like, do something. I almost got suspended for protecting him, and with your record I was worried you would get expelled. My mom had to threaten legal action towards the school to reverse my suspension.”

Damián’s eyes went wide, then fell soft. He reached to scratch at his face and nodded.

“yeah, yeah I imagine I would get expelled for murder. But that was last week, you seemed fine the next day, what's happened since?”

“he- my brother isn't taking it seriously. He hasn’t taken it seriously at all. He just, he tried to go back to class the same day because he was worried he would be marked as ditching. He's joking that its fine and it'll just disappear in a couple months and its infuriating! My brother was attacked with his partner because they're both gay and because Patton is genderfluid. If that could happen, what could happen to me or Roman? What could happen to other out LGBT students? Those kids almost got away without any penalties, they still only got expelled, what if they find us and try it again? Damián, my brother could have died, and now so many people are in danger and he doesn’t think it’s anything more than an inconvenience!!!”

Damián stayed quiet and looked thoughtful. He looked back at Remus and let out a breath before starting to speak again.

“I understand why you're upset re. I really do, but unfortunately, both you and your brother are on the schools watchlist now. I overheard the students in the fight were originally going to be suspended, and that means that staff is watching you both and waiting for you guys to mess up, so they have grounds to actually go through with the suspension. You need to be… good I guess, for lack of a better word. Most of your worries, though valid, are unrealistic. You're gonna be ok, so are your brothers. I can’t help make your brother fully realize his mortality, but that’s really an issue he needs to deal with. No one can help him with that.”

Remus nodded, already feeling better; hearing Damián expel his fears always helped him relax. Remy and toby had guilty expressions, they both patted Damián on the shoulder and gave Remus a short hug and did a special handshake before heading out, trying not to get too involved in their personal business. Damián then looked back at him, looking as if he had more to say, and he encouraged him with a smile.

“look, you seem stressed, and you sound like you're a little frustrated with your siblings, how about I take you out for a night? You'd get a chance to decompress, plus, I heard they opened a new sushi joint downtown, and its supposed to be high class good shit. What do you say?”

Remus fought to keep his face under control, his cheeks wanted to redden, and he wasn’t quite ok with that. He smiled wide though, hugging him tightly. When he released him, he still had the smile on his face.

“I’ll have to pass the keys off to Roman, but yeah! That sounds great dee!!!”

The bell sounds and Remus turns to look at the school, turning back quickly with a smile as he heads off to class. Damián stalls a bit, watching him sprint to class with a smile. He shoves off of his motorcycle and strolls to the gate, getting inside right as the staff was shutting them.

The final bell of the day rings and releases Remus from his infernal English class. He had packed up 5 minutes ago, excited for spending time with Damián. He was the first one out of the door, sprinting towards the parking lot, ignoring the world as he fell into a giddy trance. He reached the lot after Damián, whose class is right next to the gates. Damián was holding his helmet out with a grin, handing it to Remus, who put it on with a little effort to manage his hair. Damián hopped onto his bike and bid Remus do the same.

“you remember how to ride right?”

“mhmm!”

Once he got his balance, he wrapped his arms around Damián’s middle, feeling the blush rise in his cheeks involuntarily. He was glad the helmet hid his face. He peeked his head over Damián's shoulder to indicate that he was ready.

They were downtown soon; Remus was half wondering if they were speeding the whole way. Damián parked and took the helmet, setting it on the bike, before shoulder bumping Remus and walking to the door of the sushi spot. They went in and it looked futuristic, blue neon lights and black walls, a pond in the front area, and the booths looked like they were in little secluded bamboo rooms. It wasn’t dinner rush yet, so they were seated immediately. They both ordered a total of 5 rolls each and just chatted.

Remus jumped in excitement when he remembered the new drawings he had made, pulling his sketchbook out of his backpack. Damián just smiled and sipped at his bottle of ginger ale. Remus set his book on the table, flipping past some of his older drawings and to his newest ones. There were some silly doodles around the edge of the page, but in the center was a hauntingly gorgeous drawing of a wendigo, its horns cracked and chipped, it was mangled in a painful position. It had deep wounds and weapons sticking through it at certain spots. It looked weirdly realistic. Damián was in awe at all the hyper realism Remus put in his art. When Remus turned the page, Damián wasn’t really expecting an in depth drawing of him. It was a side perspective of him in a desk at school, leant forward over it, hiding his phone as he looked forwards. He gaped at it, seeing the depth in the wrinkles in his leather jacket, the sense of blurred light emitting from the phone, the shadows cast over him, his small patch of vitiligo that crept up his neck, everything in such loving detail. He took the sketch pad and looked closer, seeing little details he had missed at first, his terrible freckles, the detail in his hair, the discolored spots that were on some patches of his jacket from being old and worn. He looked up at Remus who had the audacity to look sheepish and red, or rather, purple in the lights of the booth.

“uh, you looked nice in history today. I was a little inspired. And, uh you were sat still like that for most of the class period.”

There was some emotion bursting through Damián's dual colored eyes, but Remus sucked at reading peoples faces, that was what Logan did. So he just continued to smile shyly as he was stared down by his best friend and crush.

“…this is… incredible Remus! Holy shit, I have been blessed, you have blessed me! oh my god I can’t believe you did this, its so good! how do you just do this?”

“huh? Oh, uh, I was bored, that’s all. And its not that good, it’s missing a few really key details.”

“like what?”

“oh, um well you had your necklace on and it was too difficult for me to draw at the right scale, so I just didn’t draw it, your bracelets are blank, your like, your fang? Was stuck out a little bit but I couldn’t figure out how to draw the dip in your lip, so I erased it. Your hair was more messed up, but every time I draw messy hair it looks wrong, so I just drew it like normal-”

“like normal?”

“yeah, I have a few other drawings of you back at home, and when I draw you from memory, I draw your hair like this.”

“I didn’t know you drew people rem!”

“I uh, I don’t, really. I only ever draw you…”

Damián looked ready to say something else when the waiter came in with their food. Remus put away his sketchbook and he seemed have realized he had lost his chance.

After they had finished, Damián took them to a park nearby. It was in the middle of the town square, and they sat and talked, huddled together. It was mid-January, and freezing, but they refused to go home yet. While Remus was mid-sentence he stopped. Damián was confused as he stood up with a grin. He spun in a circle before directing his grin to Damián.

“it’s snowing!!!”

Damián looked up and smiled, standing up as well. Remus bounced in excitement, and Damián had a fond expression directed towards him. He felt the last of his resolve break when a giggle escaped from Remus. He walked over, placed a hand on a now confused Remus’ cheek and kissed him. It lasted less than a second before he pulled away, backing up as the fear filled his eyes. Remus stood still; brain having gone blank.

“I'm sorry, I shouldn’t have done that, oh my god Remus I'm so sor-”

Remus rushed to Damián, arms wrapping around his neck and kissing him with all the passion he had wanted to for so so long. Damián wrapped his arms around Remus’ waist, pulling him closer before picking him up and spinning him around in a circle. He set him back down and broke the kiss again. He reached a hand up, brushing the strand of green hair out Remus’ face.

“never mind, I uh, I don’t think I'm sorry after all.”

“good.”

“hey, it’s getting late and I don’t think I want to leave quite yet. My place is pretty close, you want to just stay the night?”

Remus could barely focus on what he had said, far too busy gazing star struck into his eyes. Once he had fully processed what was said he smiled even wider and nodded.

“yeah. Yeah that sounds great. I’ll text my mom later.”

They stood there swaying together for a few more minutes in the snow before deciding that if they stayed any longer that the ride back to Damián's would be awful. When they get to his house, its late enough that his parents are asleep. They quietly go to Damián's room, and curl up together, falling asleep easily.

The next morning, they leave for school early to miss Damián's parents and stop at a fast food joint before they arrive. They're still there 45 minutes before the first bell rings and they just chat absently, Damián letting one of his arms wrap around Remus’ waist as they waited for people to arrive. Remy and toby approach with cocky grins.

“finally, they get together, it’s about time!”

“man, does this mean we’ll have to deal with 3 am calls about Re’s eyes even more?”

“oh my ra shut the fuck up you twerps.”

“love you too dee!”

Shortly after, Roman rushes over with Logan close behind, both with angry expressions. Remus makes himself small, suddenly remembering a key detail he had forgotten yesterday.

“Remus what the fuck?! Where were you? You gave me the keys and then fucking disappeared; mom is losing her shit; she thinks you're dead in a ditch somewhere!”

“uhhh, I guess I forgot to text her. Oops? I uh. I stayed the night with Damián, sorry. It was late and it started snowing. Sorry”

Roman and Logan both seemed to deflate. Logan took a look at Remus and Damián and shot an inquisitive eyebrow to them.

“I hope it was a simple staying the night and not something I might have to get expelled for?”

Remus’ eyes blew wide open and he took a sidestep out of Dees grasp. He rubbed his arm nervously as he felt a blush rise in his cheeks.

“NO! no it was just, just a couple of uh, du-dudes being bros! bros being dudes!”

“a couple of dudes being gay-”

“REMY I WILL CUT YOUR DICK OFF WITH SAFETY SCISSORS IF YOU DON’T SHUT YOUR FUCKING TRAP!”

Logan let out a chuckle then turned around, beckoning Roman do the same.

“come on Ro, let’s leave baby bro alone with his friends. Don’t get into too much trouble Rem!”

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#logan sanders #remus sanders #duke remus #roman sanders #my ocs #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit #rolorem triplets au #familial creativitwins #familial lomus #familial logince #tw swearing #tw cursing #tw hospital #tw anesthesia #tw homophobia mention #my writing #my fanfiction #chapter 4

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